#pov i need to stop talking in the tags so much

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Ten

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 5.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ MDNI. Masturbation, dirty (self) talk, brief daddy kink. This fic contains mature themes. Domestic violence. Grooming. Feelings of fear and anxiety. Nurse!reader. Kissing. Lots of dialogue. Bun considers making a friend. Penny is cute. Flirting. Touching. Comfort. Bun refers to herself as "heavy". Simon is Simon. POV switch. Dinner date.

“I’m Philip.”

The handsome brunette smiles, grabbing onto your hand. You blink, trying to understand, trying to make it make sense, when he prompts you with a teasing grin. “This is the part where you tell me your name, sweet thing.” 

Oh. You stumble over it, tongue tied into a million knots, sweat from the Texas sun beating down your back, sweat slicking your shirt to your skin. 

He’s still holding your hand, and you’re standing there with wide, doe eyes, shell shocked. 

He’s… so handsome. And older. Older, and handsome. Polished type, with good teeth and good hair. He looks like he just stepped off the golf course. 

Why is he talking to you? 

He glances down at your drink. 

“You even old enough to be drinkin’ that?” 

“I-“ You’re terrible at lying, and like he can read it on your face, he chuckles. 

“You live around here?” 

“I go to Rice.” 

“A bit young for college, aren’t you?” 

“I just turned eighteen!” You’ve heard it a million times. You’re too young to understand something, or know something, or do something. You don’t get the way the world works yet. You’re not an adult. 

He holds his hands up. “I’m sorry. I bet you’re one of the really smart girls that make all us men look like Neanderthals.” Your face heats. 

“N-no. I just… I graduated early. I’m not a know it all.” You defend yourself, desperate to create distance from the usual stereotype, the way most people see you. The way boys see you. 

Too smart. Face buried in a book. Awkward and stiff. Uncool. 

He traces you from head to toe, appreciative gaze grazing over the swell of your hips, the generous curve of your ass. “I didn’t think you were. Too mature for that, I bet.” He croons, and your knees go weak. 

“Y-yeah. A lot of people say I’m really mature.” 

Two things compete for your attention when you open your eyes.

One: there is a soft, lovely song playing downstairs, something spring-like and sweet, vibrant without being too loud.

Two: the house smells like pancakes.

You check your phone, shocked to see you’ve slept for yet another 12 hours. There’s a text from Nia, and a text from your boss.

>You have a lot of time accrued. Take as much as you need. 

That settles that, you guess.

There are also text messages in the group chat, one from Simon, and one from Johnny, coming in only a few minutes ago.

Simon: >Penny gets pancakes on Saturday mornings. They’ll be plenty, come down and eat when you’re ready. 

Johnny: >I’m missing all the good stuff. 

You stretch, cautiously, wiggling fingers and toes, spreading your limbs as far as you can without pushing it too much. You’re sore, uncomfortably so, and still exhausted, but if you stay in bed any longer, you’ll rot.

In the kitchen, Simon holds Penny and a mixing bowl, alternating hands to get a whisk through the batter while humming to his daughter on her hip.

You stop dead in your tracks.

He’s… he’s not wearing the mask. 

You stare at his face, his whole, naked face for the first time, taking in the broad jaw, every shiny white scar, and his (twice, if you had to guess) healed broken nose. He’s handsome, differently from Johnny but no less striking, and you can’t look away, stunned by his raw, depthless and rugged beauty. Penny’s leg has kicked up the hem of his shirt, exposing his midsection, and the flash of skin there feels like a scandal, something you shouldn’t be seeing but cannot get enough of. He looks nothing like you expected and yet… everything you hoped for.

“Morning.” Pen tucks her face into his chest shyly, peeking out from the corner of her eye, curious and cute. “Can you say good morning to bunny?” He bounces her a little, and she giggles.

"Bunny." She says quietly, and Simon laughs.

“That’s right. Good job.” After a second of silence, you try to ask him about the missing mask, but the question gets confused on your tongue, and what comes out instead is clumsy and stunted.

“Your mask.” You cringe, immediately. It’s the first thing that slips loose, insensitive, and uncouth. “I uh, I’m sorry, I’m just… surprised?” you falter, and makes it worse. You think about trying to run back upstairs, hightailing it for the hills when he smiles, and points to the empty stool at the kitchen counter with a batter covered whisk.

“Sit.” There’s already a stack piled high, plain, and ones with big, juicy blueberries. Your favorite. 

“So, pancakes every Saturday?”

“Mhmm.” He settles Penny in her highchair to your left, and pulls an already cooled pancake from the stack, cutting it up into little, tiny pieces with a child’s knife and fork. “Pen and her Da,” he pads some butter across the top of his handiwork, grabbing her sippy cup and filling it with milk. “Have pancakes every Saturday when he’s home. It’s their favorite. Right?” He points at her, “your favorite?” and taps his middle finger to his chin, others outward, straight up. “Your favorite?” Signing?

“Are you teaching her sign?”

“Trying to. Pen’s birth mum is deaf. It’s important to us, that she’s able to connect with her when the time comes. Plus, my hearing is shot. So is Johnny’s. It’s a great way for her to communicate with us.” He strokes some fingers through her curls, and she doesn’t even look up, too busy shoveling as much pancake into her mouth as she can. You have a million questions now, curiosities bubbling to the surface, about Pen’s mum, about her life, about how she came to be their child. All too rude, and too invasive to ask. “Or, to use when she’s feeling sassy and can’t find the words. That happens, too.”

“She’s what…sixteen months?” You watch her intently, unable to not smile when she cheeses at her dad with a mouthful of food, even though your tender skin stings with the movement.

“Yeah. Top percentiles in a lot of things for her age. Said her first word before she was one.” He’s rich with pride, a deep well of love shining in his eyes, and you force your own down to the plate, stifling the ache bleeding from your heart.

“Of course she is.” Penny holds pieces of sticky, syrupy pancake with both hands, attacking them with vigor, smearing her cheeks purple with the squished blueberries.

You need to eat something, but your brain is buzzing, unnatural discomfort stretching long in the back of your mind.

What’re you doing? Sitting here eating pancakes like everything is normal? Like everything’s okay? 

Everything is not okay. 

You drift, back to your apartment, back the venom of Phillip, the hands around your neck, the twist of your shoulder, back slamming into the wall. You can still feel him, still hear him, these memories like all the others, your body beaten on the floor, mind nearly broken. Trying to shift away from the hot end of a cigarette, screaming for help, running through a-

A hand covers yours.

He coaxes the fork from your fingers, metal vibrating within flesh.

“I think… I think I should go back to bed.” You whisper.

“Are you tired?”

“No… yeah. I don’t know.”

“You don’t have to run away, you know.” He flips a pancake onto your plate from the stack. “Just because you were somewhere else for a little bit.” Your cheeks burn. “We’ve got a pretty nice couch in the living room though, if you want some time alone and don’t feel too keen on the stairs.” Saturday morning pancakes and curling up on the couch? It sounds so nice, so normal, and must show on your face, because he chuckles. “Help yourself. You might have to share the TV though, in a bit. We watch baby Einstein on Saturdays, and she’ll need some entertaining for a minute while I get ready.” Your lips twist, an entire hearth lighting up in the bottom of your heart.

“Alright.”

Baby Einstein is as enthralling as you thought it would be, though Penny disagrees. She stares at the screen, wide eyed, open mouthed, sippy cup long forgotten, and even Simon struggles to get her attention after returning from getting dressed.

You force your eyes away from the strain of his thighs in blue jeans.

“We’re goin’ down to the hospital.” He tells you, pulling her upward over the back of the couch and rubbing his nose through her curls. It’s still… weird, to see his whole face. To clearly watch his expressions, sublime bliss pushing his mouth upward whenever he looks at his daughter. “Want to come?”

“I can’t, not if I’m taking time off. It… looks bad to admin. I can probably go in at night but, during the day is just a recipe for disaster.”

“Of course.” He looks around, for what you don’t know, shoulders tensing, then relaxing. “Well, you’ve got the remote. And my number. Are you… going to be, okay? Alone?”

Say yes. 

You can’t. All you can do… is nod.

“Okay well if you’re not. Just call.” You nod again, getting to your feet. Once you’re standing, you’re out of place, flailing in their living room, about to be here alone, with your memories, your poisoned mind.

What’re you doing? You’ve ruined everything. Broken all your rules. 

“We can stay.” Simon steps close, hand grazing the middle of your back, and you shake your head.

“No, no- I… I’m sorry.”

“You don’t-“

“Yes, I do.” Your voice shakes, and you slam your eyes shut. You can’t do this. “I shouldn’t be here. I’m putting you in danger, and I… I’m putting myself in danger and I’m being so- so stupid, Simon.” His gaze is heavy, serious, and he steps around you, sliding Penny into her bounce seat, turning it to face baby Einstein.

“Listen to me.”  As he returns, he reaches, carefully pulling you close, close enough you’re nearly in his chest, timing the rise and fall of his diaphragm. “We are safe, you are safe, sweetheart. ‘m not going to let anything happen to you, or Penny, or any of us. Alright?”

“You don’t understand.”

“Tell me.” You almost laugh, but something comes over you instead, something delirious and desperate. You lean into him, letting him hold you, hand smoothing over the back of your head. “You can tell me. You can trust us. We’ll take care of you.”

God, you want to. You want to so bad it aches, burns a ravenous fire in your heart. You want tell him, let them in. Tell them everything.

“Bun.” He murmurs, bringing you back, a finger under your chin.

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s… it’s too much.”

“It’s alright.” He soothes, but doesn’t pull away, and you’re drawn in like a magnet, rising to the balls of your feet, stuck in a trance, luring you closer.

He meets your halfway.

And then-

He’s kissing you, plush lips on yours, pancakes and fresh laundry and stained-glass windows of sanctuary on his tongue.

You’re standing in the sun, in the trance of another spell.

It’s a mouthful of butterscotch and maple. Sweet, delicious breakfast in bed, lazy Saturday mornings and whispered, tender words. It’s life unlike your own, a home, the promise of a love not fractioned, chipped away, or strangled… but multiplied, magnified. His touch is painfully gentle, slow and easy, encouraging you to follow his lead, carefully constructing a tiny universe to disappear to, where shadow cannot touch. A fantasy, cocoon of stars, ambrosial and sacrosanct, an escape from the hell nipping at your heels, the hell chasing you through your dreaming and waking hours. 

The anxious hum radiating through every cell in your body flatlines.

The girl in the mirror weeps.

Everything goes silent. Your breathing slows. Your hands fall to the side, listless and stunned.

Penny grunts. The moment shatters.

You can only stare with wide, terrified eyes.

“Johnny.” It’s the first word out of your mouth, the only thing you can conjure. “I’m sorry, I don’t know… I’m sorry.” Johnny. Johnny’s not here. How can he kiss you when his partner isn’t here? His heart will be broken, you’re destroying their family, you’re-

“I kissed you, bunny. Nothin’ to be sorry about.” Simon hums, still holding your face. “Johnny’s okay. He’ll be a bit jealous he didn’t get one too, but he won’t be upset.”

“How?” the question squeaks, and he takes your hand, tugging you towards the couch, settling you back into the cushions, easily guiding you with deft hands. He's so careful, so gentle, the touch of a man who raises a daughter, who loves his partner, adroit and nimble, anticipating movement before it happens. 

“After Penny goes down tonight, let’s have a drink. Or some late dinner. We can talk, and I’ll answer as many of your questions as I can. How’s that sound?” He strokes a thumb across the apple of your cheek. Talking can’t hurt, can it?

“O-okay. Yeah.” You try to shrug, pain lancing through your shoulder, and you try to smother your wince. He frowns.

“I want you to get some rest today.” A small grin creeps across your face.

“You always tell people what to do?” He nods, solemn.

“It’s my job. Takin’ care of you lot is an added bonus.” He breezes by the grouping of you with his family, like it’s a normal thing, rubbing circles in your palm. “Let’s get you comfortable.”

“I can-“

“I’m here. Let me help.” You don’t say anything at first. Can’t say anything, can’t formulate a response that encompasses everything you’re thinking and feeling, stuck on the mile high wall that is your fear and denial, afraid to jump. Afraid to fall.

He doesn’t push. Doesn’t ask you to respond, He just… settles you, cautiously arranging the pillows to support your injuries, lets you sit there atop the wall, staring down at the ground where they wait. Patiently. He rubs your back and your good shoulder until you’re drifting away in heady, hazy dream world, unable to stir when he slips free, tucking the blankets in around you, and pressing another long, lingering kiss to your brow.

You wake in a panic to the doorbell ringing. Your heart races, and you’re up off the couch, tucked around a corner of the hall, hiding, in a blink, even though your shoulder and neck scream at the sudden change of position.

Breathe. You’re losing it. Philip wouldn’t ring a doorbell. 

The door clicks open.

“Hello?” A woman’s voice echoes to where you’re still curled around the hallway, back pressed flat, eyes closed. “Hello? Anyone home?” Who is that? 

You peek, like a child. Peering around to see a familiar woman with grocery bags in her hands, depositing them on the kitchen counter.

She spots you immediately.

“Hi!” She’s grinning, pretty and bright, pulling a carton of milk from a brown paper bag and putting it in the fridge. “I’m Lou. Sorry, did I scare you? I tried to ‘announce’ myself.” She makes bunny ears with her fingers before and after the word announce, with half of an eye roll. “John’s always telling me I have to when I come over. Can’t be giving anyone surprises, and I knew you were here. Just wasn’t sure if you’d be up for visitors. Sorry if I gave you a fright.”

“No, I…” you trail off, readjusting, giving her your name. She nods and smiles again. “I remember you. In front of the elevator that day.”

“Yeah, that was me.” She’s earnest in her focus, beaming at you, almost like she’s excited.

“You look a little different out of your cute scrubs.” That gives you a small laugh, and you smile honestly at her, flattered.

“Thanks.”

“Sorry if I’m disturbing you.”

“Oh no, you’re not. I was just… I’m fine.” She pulls a flat of eggs free and stacks them next to a colorful pile of produce.

“I do the store runs for Simon right now. It’s too much, with Johnny in hospital and taking care of Pen. We’ve been trying to lighten his load.” Guilt twists. And here you are, adding onto it. 

“That’s very nice of you.” She waves it off.

“They’ve kept my husband alive a million times over. It’s the least I can do.”

“Right… they… work together?”

“Simon is semi-retired but yeah. They’re in a global task force. It’s the four of them. Have you met Kyle yet?”

“Oh, yeah. At the hospital one day.”

“Best guy, really.” Her clothes swish, warm and sweet aura practically glowing.

“Yeah, he was really nice.” She rests her hands on her hips and looks you over.

“You okay?” This woman is direct. She's got a no nonsense approach, and through intense, there's true ardor in her, passion and care. 

“Yeah, I’m just… still recovering.” You don’t know what she knows, not sure what they’ve told her or John, so you’re not sure how much, or what even, to say.

“Simon told us, about you being mugged. I’m so sorry, it’s just awful.” She’s sincere in her sympathy, big brown eyes sad and considerate.

“It’s okay, thank you. I’m okay.”

“If you need anything, I’m always around. Or if you want to talk to another girl that isn’t a toddler.” It’s an olive branch of friendship, you realize, or the beginnings of, and you’re startled, considering it, wondering if it would be so bad… to have a friend.

“Thank you.” She gives you her number, and you tap it in, shooting her a text with your name.

“You should sit.”

“I can help with these.”

“No, no. No offense, but you look half asleep. I’ve got it.” You laugh even though it hurts, awkward half shrug with good shoulder, and agree.

“Yeah, I’m still recovering. It’s been slow.”

“I’m sure.” You sit at the counter, watching her organize the fridge with scary efficiency. “I’ll be out of your hair in a minute. Just had to drop these off.”

“Oh, you’re fine.” It’s nice. You’re nice. She feels safe, the proximity to Simon and Johnny naturally leading you to feel comfortable, knowing she’s welcomed by them, she’s a part of their life. It makes you feel more at ease, and you try to convey it without getting tangled up in awkward words.

You don’t know how. Not really sure how to make genuine friends anymore, so you just sit there and watch, listening to her talk, enjoying how she rambles a little bit, laughing at herself.

When she says goodbye at the door, she promises to text you the next time she’s coming by, so you’re not surprised, and you linger there, watching her go, wondering if it’s real, surprisingly mourning the loss of companionship already.

“Johnny misses you.” The ice in Simon’s rocks glass clinks together as he sips his bourbon, corner of his mouth lifting in a partial smirk. “Not too fond of his new nurse, I’m afraid. Think he’s spoiled now.”

“How is he?” You’re on the edge of your seat for an update, but not wanting to pry too much. It’s a delicate line, one where you don’t know on which side to stand.

“Good. Wrist fracture is nearly healed, so he’ll be able to start on crutches soon. Once he does, he’ll be doing physical therapy for most of his day, and ready to come home. Should be soon.” He really smiles now, and you mirror it, unable to deny the infectious bloom of happiness spreading from him to you.

“And his liver?”

“No complications. Grafts for his burn are in great shape. Hip is the trickiest part.”

“Yeah, they take a lot longer to heal, but I’m sure he’ll do a great job of it, just like everything else.”

“Thanks to you.” You sip your wine, citrusy peach and passionfruit coating your tongue. It’s a nice bottle, and you were surprised when Simon brought it home, bag of takeaway in one arm, Penny in the other.

“No.”  Your cheeks heat. “I was just there. You guys did the hard work.”

“Wouldn’t have made it without you though. Think I would’ve lost it. Him too.”

“You would’ve been fine.” You brush it off, and he shakes his head.  

“You’re too modest.” He drains his pour, uncapping the bottle on the coffee table between you and refilling it halfway. Glass on glass chimes, and you sink deeper into the couch, relaxing, tucking your knees up until you’re half curled into a ball, wine glass cradled between your palms.

“So…”

“I told you; you can ask me whatever you like.” You knew this was the case, but hesitance is still brimming in your heart, uneasy feelings festering beneath your skin, burning question shoving to the surface.

“Did you tell Johnny we kissed?”

“I did.”

“Was he upset?”

“Only because he feels like he’s missing out. I told him we’d make it up to him.” Fire enflames your skin. We?

“And by we you mean… us. Together. Like… the three of us.”

“I do.” The girl in the mirror screams. She doesn’t understand, why you continue to act against her better judgement. Why you’re entertaining something so, so dangerous, something so stupid.

“Simon, I… I can’t.”

“You keep saying that but look where you are, bun.” He motions to the table, takeaway cartons scattered across the top, half empty bottle of wine, his bourbon, and a baby monitor. It looks like a nice night in, a simple, sweet life, not even close to being your own.

Still, the girl in mirror combats. Still.

“This isn’t… this isn’t a thing it’s just… we’re hanging out. I’m not going to be here forever, I’m looking for a place and I-“ His face changes, flicker of shadow fading across his brow before being chased away by the sunlight in his eyes. You thought he'd be easier to read, without the mask, imagined you'd be able to place his expressions but you're just as confused and lost as ever. 

“Slow down. There’s no need to look for a place to live.”

“W-what?” The wine has made you a little slow, a little sleepy, and you blink through the stupor.

“You’re still healing, sweetheart, and I know you're scared. I’ve known since the first day you stepped into Johnny’s room.”

“No.” You shake your head. Pain fizzles, numbed by alcohol, and your head swims.

“I know you weren’t mugged.” How? “I know you’re running from someone.” Oh god. The urge to get to your feet and bolt washes over you like a wave.

“I- I’m not.” The lie is bare-boned, pathetically unconvincing, and you know it. He knows it too; you can tell by the look on his face.

“You’re not ready to tell me, that’s fine. I’m patient. But you won’t be going anywhere if I don’t know you’re safe. And right now, to me, it doesn’t seem like you’re safe.” The pale yellow of your wine shines in the low lights of the living room, and you get lost in it, swirling around in his words, trying to put them together and pick them apart, desperate to understand what he means.

“Are you… are you saying you won’t let me leave?” You gulp. It’s a ridiculous conclusion, but the first one you jump to.

And in that, you know you’re giving too much away.

His face softens, and he reaches, pulling your free hand into his own, petting some sort of sequence into your skin. 

“Of course not, sweetheart. I’d never, ever force you to do something you didn’t want to do. But I do want you to stay, here with us. Where we can keep you safe, take care of you.”

“I don’t need-“

“I know you don’t. I know you take care of yourself just fine.” The indignant roar in the back of your mind settles. “But I’d love an opportunity to do it instead.”

“Simon…”

“Did you know the cells in our body hold onto trauma? They carry imprints of traumatic events. It can change your biology, the way you function.” He squeezes your hand. “It’s hard to realize… that it’s not normal, the way you might be, the way you think, or do things, when you’re carrying the physical memory of terrible things.” He’s not talking about you. There’s a fleeting flash of sadness in his eyes, ghosts circling the drain around his irises, and your heart aches. “We can help you. I don’t know who you’re hiding from, but I can guess what they’ve done- look at me.” You force your eyes back to him, and he cups your cheek. “You do not have to be afraid here. You are safe with me, with us. I know you don’t believe it, and I’ll tell you as many times you need, but it will never not be true. We can help you.”

“You don’t know… you don’t know what you’re saying.” Your denial is steadfast. They cannot possibly understand. 

A small seed of light blooms under darkness. It’s the sun, struggling to break free, trying to drag you into its warm, golden rays. It tugs and tugs, clawing towards you, illuminating the path forward.

The words come out before the girl in the mirror can stop them.

“You don’t know him. He’s sick and… powerful. He’s a monster but he’s smart, has connections, has ways of doing things that… I don’t even know. He’d kill you.” You clap your hand over your mouth in shock, surprised at yourself. It’s the most you’ve said about Philip in years.

You expect pushback. Expect Simon to flinch, or cower, or have good sense… a rational reaction to being told someone might try to hurt him.

He smiles instead, settling back on his side of the couch.

“I’d just have to get to him first, then.” Is he… is he? Simon watches you, reaches into your brains to peer inside, rooting around in your head. The way he looks at you, like he knows everything you’re feeling, can see what you're thinking, makes you shiver, makes you feel like you’re a tiny mouse in the shadow of a mountain. He sighs. “Give us a chance.”

“A chance?”

“A chance, to know you. Let us in, let us try. Stay here, with us, spend time with me and Johnny and Pen. No strings attached. If you decide it’s not for you… we’ll understand.”  

No strings attached. 

You could pick up and leave if you wanted. If you had to. 

What’re you doing? 

“How does it work? Would we all…” you trail off, confused.

“Date?” Simon finishes gently. “Yes.”

“So, you guys are… bi?” He chuckles.

“Yes, sweetheart. We’re bi.”

“Is this… a thing? Something you guys do?”

“We’ve never taken another partner before, no.” Your eyes widen. “You’re our first.” You don’t know why, but knowing is exhilarating and terrifying, all at the same time. You’re their first. 

He’s talking about it like it’s already happened. 

Fatigue settles in around you, thick fog of it draping over your shoulders and clouding your head.

“I… I don’t know.” You stifle a yawn. “I need to think.” He abandons his perch for one next to you, pulling your wine glass free and setting it on the table.

“Tired?” His fingers sweep over your cheek, skin warming under his touch.

“Mhmm.” You mumble, sleepily. Your head is very heavy, suddenly, hard to hold up.

“Alright.” He stands, bending to slide an arm under your knees, the other supporting your back in one fluid movement.

“What are you doing?” You squeak, grabbing onto him as he rises, lifting you into his chest at full height. Panic floods your nervous system, fevered tone pitching into a plea. “Put me down! I’m too heavy. Please, I’m too heavy, you can’t-“

“I’ve lifted a car off a teammate before.” He tells you, the thick of his body beneath your ear vibrating. “And I’ve dug Johnny out of a collapsed concrete wall. I’m made to pick things up, bunny. Heavy or not.” He holds you right there, all the way up the stairs, down the hall to the guest room, before settling you back on your feet, big hands around your waist for balance. Your back is to his chest now, and his nose drifts across the top of your head, slow path of his fingers stroking down your hip. “Alright?” He asks, and you nod, throat too dry to speak.

He squeezes. You stifle a gasp, resist the urge to press your thighs together.

It’s been so long since you’ve been touched, since anyone has handled you with reverence, with affection. You almost don’t recognize it.

His hand drifts, slipping between your thigh and cheek. “This okay?” He murmurs, and you manage a rough yes, word sticky and thick in your throat. Yes. Yes, don’t stop. A fingertip strokes along the crease there, back and forth, before trailing upward. He takes as much of your flesh in his palm as he can, squeezing again, caressing, mouth skimming along your neck.  

“Oh.” you breathe. The room is warm, barely lit by the bedside lamp, and you burn in the dark, sensations sparking alive that have long laid dormant.

The girl in the mirror curses you.

“Need help getting to bed?”

“N-no.” Yes! “I’m… fine.” His lips touch your cheek, then your ear, breath blowing over you, firm, solid warm mass at your back exhaling shakily.

“Get some sleep.” He steps away, but not before he swings, slowly, softly, into the pillow plush of your ass. It’s a gentle tap, but the fire between your legs roars. “Goodnight, bun.”

“G-goodnight.”

Simon's got his sweatpants and boxers off before he's even fully in the bathroom, running right into the shower, hand wrapped around his throbbing cock as the water flicks on. It's not hot enough, but he doesn't even notice, cock heavy in his grip, tip already smeared wet with pre-come. 

"Fuck, bunny." He grits, trying to stay quiet but unable to hold his tongue.

He's awful, for this. Awful for doing this after you've had such an emotional night. Awful for touching you when you're still healing, awful for grabbing a handful of your ass and imagining sliding his dick through the space between those cheeks. He can't stop, strokes himself long, squeezing the base and pulling up and back as he imagines you on all fours, perfect globe perked up in the air for him, his cock sinking into your soaking wet pussy as you moan. He knows you would make the prettiest sounds for them, sweet gasps and cries, bouncing on Johnny's cock in his lap. 

"Hop like a bunny." He'd coo, and you'd whine, riding Johnny as Simon coached you until you were so close, almost there on the edge. "Show daddy how bad you want to come, little bunny." 

He jerks himself harder, eyes closed, imagining the ripple of your flesh, the way you'd bounce so perfectly, how Johnny would be gripping your hips with his head tipped back, throat exposed for Simon to nip and suck a mark into.

His bunny. His boy. 

His toes curl. Water streams down his back, slicking his skin, forearm burning with each stroke, imagination running wild as he gets closer and closer, thinking about you and Johnny and him together, finally, your legs spread wide in front of their faces, perfect pussy on display. He can almost hear the way you'd whisper their names, and it blinds him, fills his head with white light. He knows you're beautiful when you come, as beautiful as you are when you let your guard down and give him a real smile, as beautiful as you are everyday, so pretty and perfect, kind, even as a ghost. He imagines it, pictures it, the sight of his and Johnny's come leaking out of your hole, fingers shoving it back inside, marking you as theirs. 

He comes with your name on his lips, a strangled whisper, painting the tile with himself. 

He falls asleep with a new addition in their bed, on top of Johny's t shirt and the baby monitor... there's now a long sleeved tee, plucked from your dirty laundry this morning as he was getting ready to leave. It smells like you, something he wishes he could bottle, and he holds it close, tied in tandem with Johnny's, curled in his arms on top of the pillow. 

#simple math #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley #john mactavish #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #ghost x soap #if you saw my technical difficulty earlier no you didn't!

[surftrips]

SHAPESHIFT | CLARISSE LA RUE

pairing: clarisse la rue x female!reader

summary: clarisse wonders if you know just how much she likes you.

word count: 2.1k

author's note: this is the first part of a two part series i'm writing based on jenna doe's songs: shapeshift + pink slips. this is from clarisse's pov and the second one is from readers' :) lmk if you want to be tagged in part 2 <3

i. i think you have a type, and it's not me

Clarisse has been watching you from the second you arrived at camp. Since you spent every day doing more or less the same thing, she was able to pick up on your routine pretty fast. Two sugars in your coffee every morning. A walk around the lake in the afternoon. Archery practice before the sunset. 

She felt weird going to practices at the same time as you, but she couldn’t help herself. Whenever she got a chance to sneak away from her siblings in the Ares cabin, she always found herself back in your presence. However, the thought to approach you like a normal person had never crossed her mind. Clarisse is the kind of person that needs to be in control, and talking to you one-on-one would mean letting her inhibitions take over, so she always made sure to keep her distance. 

Once or twice, Clarisse had seen you on dates with another camper. At first, she thought you were just having a picnic with the girl from Aphrodite, until the two of you began holding hands. The next day, Clarisse saw you in the other girl’s sweater, which made her so sick she avoided you for an entire week.

The Aphrodite girl (her name, Clarisse later found out, was Stacy) began showing up with you more often. Stacy wore bows in her hair and pearl necklaces, whereas Clarisse’s mascara was always smudged and accessories that didn’t double as weapons felt wrong on her. For the first time, Clarisse wondered why she couldn’t just be like all the other girls. Or at least, a girl you would pay attention to. 

It wasn’t for a lack of trying. Clarisse tried to make her penchant for you as obvious as possible, while actively hiding it from the rest of camp. This proved to be difficult because at the same time, she also didn’t want to get too close to you because, well— what would she even say to you?

Her flirting consisted of winking at you during Capture the Flag or from across the dining hall. She had an ongoing list of nicknames of what to call you when no one else was around, but those moments were few and far between. Once, she even went as far as brushing away a stray piece of hair that had fallen on your face. There seemed to be nothing left for her to do except put bows in her hair or maybe paint her nails, and the thought of doing either of those things made her almost as sick as seeing you and Stacy together. 

Between her and the Aphrodite girl, she knew which girl you would choose. Had chosen. 

ii. mold me how you want me to be

Still, that was not going to stop Clarisse. She had never backed down from a fight before, and this was no different. Even if Stacy didn’t know it, she had become Clarisse’s number one enemy, even more so than that Percy Jackson kid that had recently shown up at camp. It just wasn’t fair that she had been watching you for so long and here comes Aphrodite’s daughter out of nowhere to sweep you off your feet. 

Since Clarisse knew your routine by heart, she devised a plan to get you alone. She decided that she would finally make a move, and then you could pick for yourself who you wanted to be with. Easy enough, right?

At night, Clarisse lay awake in bed thinking about you, Stacy, then you and Stacy together. Though she didn’t want to go there, her brain wondered what the two of you were doing at that very moment. Her thoughts ranged from tame, to slightly more unhinged. Like, were you lying underneath the stars on your picnic blanket? Or was Stacy doing your makeup as she straddled your lap?

Clarisse didn’t pray often, but ever since she met you, she had taken to silently wishing you would acknowledge her. Each time she saw you with your arms wrapped around Stacy, she yearned to know what that would feel like. Not that she thought you would come near her with a ten-foot pole. Stacy is sweet, like bubblegum or strawberries from the fields, and Clarisse is the opposite. If you tasted her, she might make your gums bleed.

Before you, she was never the kind of girl to care about her appearance. Gods, she was the daughter of Ares, they weren’t known for their beauty but their strength and power and when it came to those categories, Clarisse knew that she had Stacy beat. 

And yet, Clarisse would change just about anything about herself if it would make you like her more. In your hands, she would turn into putty, moldable clay to take the shape of your ideal lover. Hell, she would change her name if she thought you didn’t like the sound of it.

iii. kill anyone if you ask me to 

A few weeks later, the Ares cabin and yours happened to be on the same team for Capture the Flag. It was the closest Clarisse had been to you ever since you began dating Stacy. The proximity to you was killing her, but she had to stay focused—on winning the game and your heart.

Putting aside her wandering thoughts, Clarisse barked out instructions to the campers. When she got to your cabin, she assigned you and your half-siblings to be the second line of defense for the flag. Clarisse figured this way, she could keep you out of harm’s way. Also, this was her one chance to talk to you without Stacy hanging off your body and she wasn’t going to let this opportunity pass. 

After the first conch blew, Clarisse went on high-alert mode. Her team had lost the last game to Luke and Annabeth’s team, but she was not going to accept defeat this time. Her eyes darted back and forth between blind spots in the forest and you and the flag. 

As she absent-mindedly waved her new spear around, Clarisse heard soft footsteps behind her. She whipped her head around with her weapon aimed in the air, preparing to fight whoever had approached her. 

“Shit, Y/N, you scared me.” It was just you. Wait– it was you.

“I’m sorry, didn’t mean to,” you responded, your hands in front of you.

Clarisse almost couldn’t believe her eyes. Did someone poison her earlier and she was hallucinating right now? Okay, keep it cool.

“Is something wrong?” Clarisse managed to ask after composing herself, realizing that you had moved away from your post. 

“Uh, no. I- um… heard about what happened to your spear last week, and I just wanted to say I’m sorry,” you smiled nervously. 

“Why?”

“Why…. am I sorry?”

Clarisse wanted to slap her hand across her forehead. Why did she say that? She meant to ask why are you talking to me right now? What did I do to deserve this? But she didn’t know how to word that in a way that wouldn't make you think she was crazy. 

When she didn’t respond, you began backing away. “Look, I’m sorry if this is a sensitive topic. I just felt bad, is all.”

“No!” Clarisse began panicking. “I didn’t mean it like that- just, why are you talking to me now? We’ve never had a real conversation before.” 

“Does it matter?” She expected you to be confused, but the look at your face seemed more amused than anything. 

“No, I guess not,” Clarisse couldn’t help but smile. Gods, why was she so awkward? Anyone else, she would’ve been perfectly fine, but in the last few minutes, her mouth had gone dry and her legs felt as though they would give out at any second.

“Great,” you beamed in return. Clarisse’s eyes catch yours and the two of you stare at each other in content for a minute. Or at least, you are. Clarisse is convinced an Aphrodite kid has changed her pupils to hearts. “I haven’t seen you around lately,” you broke the silence. 

“What do you mean? I’m always around,” Clarisse stammered for an excuse. 

“Well, sure. It’s a small camp.” You seemed to be enjoying seeing Clarisse fumble for words. “But I used to see you all the time. At breakfast and archery.” 

Clarisse ignored the implications of your comment. “Oh, I guess we just started going at different times then. You know you’re always with Stacy now—” 

At the mention of your girlfriend’s name, your face contorted into something strange and unfamiliar to Clarisse. But before she could figure it out, a noise behind you caused the two of you to turn around abruptly. 

“Y/N, watch out!” Clarisse shouted at you, but it was too late. Someone had dragged you backwards, knocking your weapon out of your hand. You struggled to free yourself, but whoever was holding you had revealed a dagger and you didn’t want to risk accidentally cutting yourself. 

“If you know what’s best for yourself, let her go.” Clarisse breathed furiously, pausing between the last three words in her sentence. You couldn’t see who was restraining you, but you could feel their heart rate quicken at the sight of Clarisse’s spear getting dangerously close. 

“And what if I don’t?” they responded. You knew that they were just putting on a front, you could feel their chest heaving up and down on your back. Clarisse seemed to know this too, she’s always been able to sense fear in people— mostly because she is the one that invokes it. 

“I don’t think you want to find out,” she grinned, a wicked smile on her face. The next second, her spear had jabbed into the camper’s side, causing them to let go of their hold on you. You dropped to the ground. 

“Shit!” the camper swore, rubbing their ribcage. “You’re not supposed to actually hurt me!” You could see their face now, one of Hermes' kids you’ve seen hanging around Luke. 

“Now, what’s the fun in that?” Clarisse laughed. “Besides, the spearhead is blunt. You’ll be fine, drama queen.” 

The kid scrambled away, leaving behind the dagger they had previously threatened you with. Clarisse ran over, instinctively putting her hands on your face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think so.” You began to stand up, but Clarisse pushed you back down. 

“Clar, come on, I’m fine.” 

“Are you sure? Let me just get a look at you,” she insisted, ignoring the way your nickname for her made something in her stomach flip over. You relented, knowing it was useless to argue with her. You allow her to scan your body for any signs of harm. Clarisse took her time, unsure of when the next time she would be this close to you again. Most of your body was covered by your armor or clothes, so her eyes drifted toward your exposed arms and the area where the kid had touched you. 

Hesitantly, she reached for the side of your stomach. “Are you sore? Did they leave a mark?” 

“No, I don’t think so,” you shook your head, lifting up the hem of your shirt to see. You heard Clarisse’s breath hitch. “What? What’s wrong?” You were fully sat up now. 

“N-nothing!” Color rushed into Clarisse’s cheeks, causing her to turn her head away suddenly. 

You giggled, her reaction not going unnoticed. “Thanks for saving me, tough girl.” 

“Of course.” Clarisse pulled you up on your feet. “Anything for you, pretty girl.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she could register it. The two of you stared at each other again, it seemed as though eye contact was your main form of communication at the moment. And right now, Clarisse’s eyes were sparkling with something familiar, almost like how Stacy looks at you—

“Oh my god, babe! Are you okay?” Speaking of the devil, Clarisse rolled her eyes at the sight of your girlfriend running up. 

“Stacy! How’d you know something was wrong?” You were pulled into a stifling hug, the air thick with floral perfume. 

“Silly girl, I am the daughter of Aphrodite. I have a heightened sense for these things,” Stacy pulled her arms away and gave you a once-over, presumably to check for injuries, before smothering you with kisses. 

Clarisse coughed, once, and then again a little louder. “Oh!” Stacy turned toward her. “Clarisse, I didn’t see you there.” 

“I wouldn’t be standing here if it weren’t for her,” you said, sensing Clarisse’s uneasiness. 

Now, Stacy’s face contorted into something strange. Shamelessly, Clarisse took pride in being the cause of it. 

“Well, thank you,” she responded tersely. “Come on, let’s get one of the Apollo kids to look at you.” Stacy pushed you away before you could protest. You offered Clarisse a weak smile before turning around. 

Clarisse sighed, maybe if she had been a daughter of Aphrodite, she could shapeshift into someone you walked away with— not from.

That night, she prayed to Ares for the first time in months.

#WHERE ARE ALL MY SAPPHICS #WOMEN LOVERS #WARNING: YEARNING #clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #percy jackson series #percy jackson #pjo #dior goodjohn #dior goodjohn x reader #clarisse la rue imagine #pjo x you #clarisse la rue x you

[swiftispunk]

your summer dream | joel miller x f!reader

day three–activities

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pairing: joel miller x fem!reader rating: 18+ minors dni word count: 8k series summary: fresh on the heels of the worst breakup of your life, you find an unexpected kindred spirit (and maybe a little more) in family friend joel miller, who's agreed to tag along for seven days to a tropical resort with you and your parents. series warnings etc:[NO OUTBREAK] we'll call him dad's buddy!joel, fairly soft!joel, age difference (28/50), alcohol, food, sexual tension, smut like whoa smut (will specify with each chapter), fluff, anxiety, mentions of infidelity, mentions of divorce, jet skis????, secret relationship. chapter summary: tensions soar as you and joel open up about your past relationships. later, an unwelcome message becomes the catalyst for a new experience. chapter warnings: brief smut, mutual masturbation (m+f), use of a sex toy, brief dirty talk, little bit of competency kink, sexually explicit thoughts, sexual tension, flirting, mutual pining, discussions of infidelity + marriage, feelings, alcohol, food, oops only one jet ski (you were warned), shitty moms bc i can't help myself apparently, POV swapping. no use of y/n.

A/N: who said the smutty summer fic series can't have feelings? no one, so i did it. we are right on the edge now, ya'll so hang on tight. also please don't hate mom too much, she's just a little misguided. also - i'm so sorry, tess babygirl ily.

followers suggestions in this chapter: jet skis, reader getting turned on by joel figuring out said jet ski, joel replacing reader's swimsuit

The first sound could have been anything.

Maybe he'd rolled over in his sleep or stretched a muscle a little too far. That's how you justify it anyway, as you lay awake in your bed, keyed-up and restless after your evening with Joel. Because surely he couldn't have been–

Except then the second sound comes, undeniable this time; a quiet, strangled moan, carrying easily through the thin wall that divides your room from his. 

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck, you shouldn't be hearing this. You bite your lip, turning over on to your side and struggling just to get a breath in as a hot wave of arousal spikes through you at the image your mind is currently conjuring up.

Joel is–fuck. 

You find yourself squeezing your thighs together in search of relief, suddenly aching with need. Something stops you from actually touching yourself–that same feeling again from the bar, that feeling that it would be too much, too close to something real. To get off with him, even if he'd never know...feels like crossing a line.

Then comes the sound of a rough, heady sigh of release followed by the quiet pad of footsteps and a tap turning on. No mistaking it now. 

You burn where you lay, frozen in place as you fight to stay silent, to make sure he doesn't know you'd heard. You swallow back the heat threatening to consume you whole and wait for the tap to turn off, listening closely for the gentle thud that tells you he's made his way back into bed. 

Sleep evades you after that, as you stare wide-eyed out your balcony windows until the initial shock wears off. The buzz of arousal never fully leaves your body though, and when you do finally begin to drift back towards unconsciousness, you inexplicably hope that maybe, maybe, he'd been thinking about you.

-

The buzz lingers as you get ready for breakfast the next morning. Your dreams hadn't let you off the hook, a never-ending collage of Joel–his hands, his arms, his chest, his thighs–spinning in your mind as you'd fallen in and out of sleep. You shower away any remaining chlorinated water from your skin along with the unwitting mess that's developed between your legs, before throwing on a pair of jean shorts and a tank top. 

You step out into the hallway, body still alight with unrelieved tension, ready to make your way straight to the resort shop to replace your stupid swimsuit. You stop in your tracks the second the door shuts behind, though, because of course there's Joel, leaning against the wall across from your rooms, plastic bag in his hands donning the resort logo.

"Oh," you greet him breathlessly. "Good morning."

"Hey," he smiles, seeming shyer than yesterday, more tentative somehow. The sunburn that had painted his cheeks the day before has faded to more of a tan, a healthy glow brightening his hooked nose. His arms look darker too and you wonder if the rest of him has turned the same colour. His light blue t-shirt conceals his chest today, a fact you find deeply disappointing. 

Besides all of that, he looks exactly the same as he had the morning before. 

And yet, everything feels completely different now. 

"Were you…waiting for me?" you ask. Your voice sounds timid to your ears too.

"Oh, uh–" he stammers, his eyes dropping to the carpet like he's considering lying. You're glad he doesn't. "Yeah."

"What's that?" You nod towards the bag in his hand. 

His smile blooms wider and he shrugs impishly. It's a ridiculously charming sight. 

"Well, uh, I kinda felt for you…sayin' your only bathing suit broke so, I, uh–grabbed you a new one."

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

"You…what?"

"Here," he says, finally meeting your wide eyes as he hands the bag to you across the hall. "If you hate it or if it's the wrong size or whatever, you can take it back. Won't hurt my feelings or nothin'."

You're quite literally dumbfounded, overcome with the thoughtfulness of it, simultaneously mortified at the memory of you drunkenly confessing your mishap to him the night before. 

You're also burning with curiosity as to what exactly Joel Miller might have picked out for you.

"Wow, um…thank you," you tell him reverently as you grab the bag from his hands. "I'll, uh, go try it on."

You make to turn back into your room but Joel's voice stops you before you can. 

"Hey, uh, what's your plan today?"

"My plan?" You face him again, shrugging. You know your parents will be at the spa all day and, truthfully, you'd been considering cashing in your own "luxury activity." You tell Joel just that.

"Activity, huh?" he smirks. "Would you, uh, mind if I joined ya?"

Is he fucking kidding? You're not sure why he sounds so uncertain; at this point you'd figured it was a given you'd be spending the day together.

"Not at all," you insist easily. And, because you're starting to feel more inclined to throw subtly to fucking wind at this point, you add, "I would–I'd like you to."

He grins, his face all calm and warm. You find yourself picturing what it might have looked like last night, contorted with pleasure. You have to look away before you think too hard about it. 

"Did you have somethin' in mind?" he wonders.

"I did but…it's kind of silly," you admit. True to your original plan, you really have been looking for something more on the adventurous side. But you have no way of knowing if that's something Joel would be interested in. You're praying he doesn't laugh you off. 

"What is it?"

Please be into it, please be into it, please be into it.

"Well, I saw they have these jet skis…and it's dumb, I know, but I've never done it before and–I know you said you're not good on boats or whatever but–"

"Alright," he agrees.

Yes, yes, yes.

"Seriously?"

He just shrugs, that same endearing smile never wavering from his sun kissed face. 

"Yeah, why not?"

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

"Okay, cool, um. Cool." Maybe if you say it enough times you'll actually start to feel it. Because the truth is, your heart is hammering in your chest, that excitement you'd felt yesterday at the prospect of spending the day with him amplified by a thousand. 

"I'm gonna go, uh, try this on. I'll meet you at–"

"I'll wait here for ya," he cuts you off. 

Good, stay. Don't go.

"Okay."

Your chest pangs the second you're alone again, a few steadying breaths needed just to refocus yourself.

Why does it feel so different all of a sudden? Hearing him last night…it's like something's been awoken, like a door's been opened that can't be shut again. 

The anticipation is driving you wild, the need to know what he'd bought for you overwhelming your brain as you dump the contents of the bag out onto your bed. Your eyes just about pop out of your skull the second you see it, a small gasp catching in your throat as you hold the swimsuit up to get a better look. 

It's like he'd been actively trying to recreate the one you'd brought, picking out an all-black number with no notable design or pattern to speak of. The only difference is that the number Joel's chosen for you is ludicrously skimpier. Your heart races as you strip off your clothes and slip on the strappy bikini, all but running to the bathroom to look at yourself in the mirror.

You contemplate your reflection, swallowing harshly as you run your hands over the material. The triangular cups of the top barely cover your tits–not because the thing is too small (Joel had nailed the sizing) but because it seems just to be designed that way, made to make you appear as though you're bursting out of it. The bottoms meanwhile are cut high on the hip, exposing a near-obscene amount of your ass and thighs, a fact you notice as you twist to get a better look.

Jesus fucking…

This is what Joel picked for you? Is this what Joel wants to…see you in? You can't deny it–you look fucking hot, anyone would in a bikini like this. Had he known that when he'd chosen it?

You kind of hope so.

You throw your shorts and tank on over the bikini and rush to meet Joel back in the hallway. 

"S'it fit alright?" he inquires when you emerge, expectant smile on his face. His eyes rake over you as though he could see through your clothes to the swimsuit beneath. 

"Great," you nod, pulse pounding in your ears, your face hot. "Thank you, again. For doing that. You didn't have to."

"'Course," he smiles. "Lookin' forward to seein' it on ya."

Your skin prickles at that. Apparently Joel has also given up on subtly then, you think. It also seems to confirm your suspicions; Joel had known exactly what he'd been doing when he'd chosen the bikini for you.

The beating of your heart erupts into a sprint as he guides you into the elevator with a big hand on the small of your back.

Today is going to be a day. 

-

Your parents are nowhere to be found at breakfast, presumably already off on their day at the spa. It's later than you'd thought–nearly ten by the time you finish your toast and coffee with Joel. You walk through the already-crowded resort to the bustling beach, passed the throng of sunbathers to a long, white wooden dock. A hut stands on the sand at the end of it, attended by a uniformed resort employee and adorned with signage indicating jet ski and paddle board rentals. The employee looks up your names on his computer; your packages include three hours of time with the jet skis, though there is one minor issue–

"We've just got the one two-seater left, are you guys cool to share?" the employee (Kyle, according to the name on his badge) asks.

You open your mouth to answer, but Joel gets there first.

"No problem," he says without hesitation and there's that thunderous pounding in your chest again. 

Of course there's only one jet ski. Of course you're going to have to share.

You're never going to survive this fucking day.

Kyle retrieves two life jackets from a closet in the hut, including one particularly large one for Joel (though you still wonder if it will fit over his broad shoulders). You peel off your shorts and tank, mindful of the way Joel is watching you, the way he inhales sharply at the sight of you in the bikini he'd chosen for you. There's no question about it today; you love the way it feels to have his eyes on you.

You take your time slipping each of your arms into the life jacket and fastening yourself in, Joel's gaze constantly trailing up and down over your body, not even bothering to be discreet about it. Good.

You're no less subtle with your own staring when he strips his t-shirt off, unsurprised to find that you'd been correct; the life jacket strains over his shoulders in the most delicious way, the slightest hint of belly poking out from the bottom. 

The sight has you feeling fucking primal, like you could just bite into the flesh there and nuzzle under the life jacket, making a home against his chest forever.

Keep it together.

You leave your clothes in the hut and then Kyle tells the two of you to wait by the shoreline. In the distance, you can see streams of white cutting through the blue water, the other jet skiers nothing but faint black dots against the clear oceanic backdrop. Further out, sailboats meander in the calm waters, miles out from the swimmers that occupy the resort's sandy beach. The lone jet ski that remains is sitting on a launching pad attached to the dock and you watch with fascination as Kyle mounts it and expertly steers it towards you and Joel, its noisy engine coming to a halt as Kyle parks it in the knee-deep water closest to the sand.

Turns out Kyle is also your designated jet ski instructor, a quick lesson necessary before the two of you can head out on your own. You can sense Joel's uneasiness when he volunteers to be the one in charge of driving the thing, awkwardly situating himself into the driver's seat and looking obscenely out of place. You almost feel bad for subjecting him to this, even if you are openly ogling his thighs spread open across the wide seat of the watercraft and the way his thick arms brace powerfully on either side of his body when he grips the handlebars.

What's more, Joel seems to figure out the mechanics of the thing without any trouble at all, quickly mastering the controls in a matter of minutes, impressing even Kyle as he takes an experimental ride around the bay, just a small circle through the open water before he's cruising back towards you with a smug smile on his face.

There's something inexplicably hot about how naturally he picks it up, how competent his massive hands look when they squeeze the throttles, like he's been doing this for years rather than trying it for the first time today.

"Right on, man," Kyle praises Joel, while you offer him a performative little round of applause that makes him smile even wider. "Let's get you on there and try that again."

He's talking to you now, you realize, beckoning you to mount the watercraft in the seat behind Joel. Kyle holds the jet ski steady as you cautiously wade through the shallow water, gripping Joel's shoulders for stability as you swing a leg over the seat and settle in behind him. 

The watercraft hums beneath you, sending shivers up your spine that only multiply when Kyle tells you to grab on to Joel's waistline. You scooch a little closer to his back, your legs splayed out on either side of his hips as you tentatively wrap your arms around him, a charge seeming to pass between the two of you when you do.

"Ready?" Joel asks you over his shoulder.

"Mhmm," you nod. As ready as you'll ever be.

You brace as Joel takes off, driving the jet ski in another circle around the bay, the sudden movement making your stomach do a backflip before you adjust to the sensation. You're once again taken by his handling of the thing, his body leaning into every curve and bump and wave, picking up speed as he takes the circle a little wider this time, letting both of you bask in the feeling of gliding over the open water. By the time he steers you back to Kyle, you're itching to know how it feels to take it even further, to jet freely out over the sea. 

You finally get the okay from Kyle to do just that and now you wrap your arms even more securely around Joel's middle, your chest pressed flush against his back as he revs the watercraft to life beneath you.

"Hold on tight," Joel reminds you, as if you aren't already sewn to his body. You squeeze yourself impossibly closer and then—

You're off. 

He starts slow, quickly gaining speed till you're flying over the surface of the water, leaving a white wake behind you. The sandy beach becomes a blur as you fly out into the open ocean, warm wind whipping your hair around your face wildly.

Your grip around his waist tightens when he turns a wide corner, spinning the jet ski around to face the shore. He repeats that action a few times, an unbridled rush of adrenaline coursing through you every time he tilts the watercraft left and right between bouts of dizzying head-on acceleration.

It's amazing. Beyond cool. If you were with anyone else, you'd be jealous you weren't the one driving. But, honestly, the only thing more beautiful than the feeling of jet skiing along the pristine, tropical sea is witnessing Joel competently steer the damn thing.

When he finally comes to a stop, you're surprised to hear him laughing delightedly, unabashed and joyful, his tanned face split into a dazzling smile. You can't help it—you join in too. Everything about the moment feels exhilarating. Free. You wonder if Joel feels the same. 

"How'm I doin'?" Joel calls back to you over the hum of the watercraft's engine.

"Awesome, I think," you laugh back. "Not gonna get sea-sick, are you?"

He chuckles, and so do you, because it just feels fucking good.

When your laughter subsides, Joel cuts the engine, leaving you bobbing on the surface of an uninhabited patch of sea. You're suddenly taken by how quiet it is out here, the bustling crowds on the beach more than a mile away now, nothing but the sounds of gentle waves crashing into the jet ski to soundtrack your silence. 

You turn your gaze away from the beach towards the ocean, sighing at the sight of the crystal clear water against the expansive sky. Without thinking, you lean your head against Joel's back, perfectly serene. 

"Y'alright?" Joel asks softly, peering over his shoulder at you. He doesn't tell you to move, so you don't. 

"Good," you answer truthfully, your voice unintentionally reverent, still mesmerized by the pristine vision before you and the comforting solidity of Joel beneath your cheek.

"What's up?" he presses, twisting further to get a better look at your face. 

You sigh. "It's just really pretty here."

You peek up at him to see him smirking down at you warmly.

"Yeah, it is," he agrees but you can't help but notice that he's still looking at you.  

You're not sure if it's been two seconds or two hours when Joel finally drives the jet ski back to the dock. You return your life jackets and retrieve your clothes but opt to remain clad in your swimsuits while you walk through the sand towards a quiet patch of beach lined with plant life and palm trees, far from the crowds. 

"That was fun," you muse, genuine, as you stroll aimlessly with Joel at your side. The sun beats down on your exposed skin while your wet feet collect sand between your toes. Once it feels like you're far from any possible intrusions (for some reason, that seems important), you seat yourself down on the sandy earth in the shade of a palm tree, leaning back into your hands with a contented sigh.

"I actually agree," Joel smiles, joining you with a quiet grunt, his age shining through as he takes his place on the ground beside you.

Fifty, your dad's friend, your brain reminds you.

Whatever, you don't care anymore. You don't think you ever really did. 

He sits with his knees up, leaning over them with his hands clasped together, gazing off into the ocean. 

You feel so peaceful with him, rejuvenated by your new experience and the fact you got to share it with him. You find it doesn't hurt at all when you admit,

"Chris would never have done that." You shake your head, staring upwards towards the cloudless sky, squinting against the sun's rays. You know you're not supposed to be thinking about him but this is different. This is about letting Joel know you.

For some reason, you want that.

"Chris…" Joel sounds unsure, perhaps cautious not to push you; he'd seen how you'd reacted to your mother's mentioning of him the other night. "Your–?"

"My ex," you fill in, only a trace of venom coating your words. "The guy I was supposed to be here with."

"'Stead of me, you mean?" You glance over at Joel to find he's smirking somewhat roguishly. It's infectious, that smile–you give him one back.

"Yeah," you nod. "I'm not complaining, though, sorry. I am glad you're here. Like I said, probably never would have done something like that with him."

"No?"

"No. Honestly, the longer I'm here, the more I'm starting to think he might have been a total piece of shit."

It's not quite what you mean to say. Because it's not so much the setting that's making you realize what an asshole Chris had been, so much as the person you've been sharing it with.

Joel nods contemplatively, and it's quiet for a moment. Eventually, his curiosity seems to get the better of him. 

"What'd he do?" he asks.

You sigh, long and mournful. 

"Or—you don't have to say," Joel offers, sensing your sadness. "F'you don't want to."

Somehow, it's the fact that he gives you the choice that makes you absolutely want to. 

"No, it's okay," you say, and it is, you think. You shrug. "He cheated. Not with a stranger, either."

"Who?" Joel's voice is flat, simmering with something sinister that you can't quite place. 

"My best friend," you reply, sounding much the same. 

"Shit."

He whispers it to the sand, his head shaking back and forth. 

"Yeah. So I lost two people in one go." Your tone is decidedly cutting, because it's easier that way. 

"Jesus," he breathes. "M'sorry, sweetheart. That's—that ain't right."

Your growing dejection is eased by a sudden wave of warmth, a familiar rapid pounding in your chest.

Sweetheart. He'd called you sweetheart.

Your gazes lock, his sympathetic browns flecking with life as they reflect back the glittering sea. It's strangely encouraging, so you go on. 

"But it was all this stuff before too, I guess," you continue, finally breaking the eye contact to stare at your fingers, scooping up handfuls of sand and pouring it back into the earth in cascading streams. "Like the jet ski thing—he would never have done that. He'd have made me feel shitty for wanting to. It's like, I don't think we ever had fun together."

"How long were you…together?"

"Three years."

"Why?" Now you hear it loud and clear, what had been just a sneaking undercurrent to his words a moment ago, now irrefutable: anger.

You face him again, brows furrowed. It's the most direct he's ever been, you think, and easily the most callous. He seems to catch himself right away. 

"Sorry—" he amends, his tone quickly softening. "Stupid question."

You sigh again, but it doesn't come out as dejected this time.

"No, I guess it's valid," you admit. You just hadn't been expecting it. "I don't know. My parents always liked him. My mom especially. And sometimes it was good. I guess I saw him as a stable option. I was twenty-five when we started dating…most of my cousins were already married at that age." 

"But you don't want that? Marriage, I mean?"

"Sure, I do," you shrug again. "In my own time."

"You deserve it," he says without delay, almost like he's been waiting to. You smile softly at him, eyebrows raised. 

"T-to go at your own pace, I mean," he backtracks. "And to be married, I guess, f'that's what you want." 

"Nice save," you tease him. But he just smirks, neither one of you bothered in the least. 

"So what's your situation?" you turn on him now.

"My situation?" 

"My dad said something about you and your partner…" 

"What’d your dad say?" Joel asks, small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Just that you'd…separated."

"Hah," he laughs. "Makes it sound like we were married or somethin'."

"You weren't?"

"No."

"Oh."

Your curiosity is threatening to eat you alive, but you try to take a page from Joel's book and bite your tongue. The rhythmic swell of crashing waves takes over your conversation for a long while, as you wait for him to go on if he wants to. 

"Maybe you know the story, but, Sarah's mom left just after she was born," he says at last, voice low and pensive. "Didn't give a reason–just left. We were young when we had her, weren't ready for it. She wasn't, anyway."

Shit. You don't know that story. You watch his face carefully, but his stoic expression reveals very little. Or maybe it's just been so long that it doesn't pain him to talk about anymore. His voice is level as he speaks anyway, plus, you imagine he's had to explain this part of his love life many times before considering–

"You raised Sarah on your own, right?"

"S'right," he nods. "Sorta looked after my brother too. Didn't really ever think about datin' or nothin'. Never really had the time."

"Hmm."

"Then Sarah went off to college, which kinda freed me up a bit. Wasn't really lookin' for love, or anythin’," he grins. "But I saw some women on and off, nothin' serious."

You nod slowly, offering him an understanding smile of your own.

"Then I met Tess," he says, matter-of-fact and affectionate all at once as his drawl wraps around her name. You're not prepared for the prickling tinge of jealousy it elicits. Your gaze falls from his face to stare at the sand again. Fuck. Get it together.

"This was a couple years ago now," Joel goes on, oblivious to your irrational reaction. "We got along right away. She was smart, way smarter'n me. And strong…steadfast, you know? Set in her ways, but not in a bad way. Just–sure of herself. I liked her. But I don't think it was ever enough for her. I guess I was sorta…scared to be happy. Not just with her, but with anyone. She was always tryna get me to let go, relax a little."

"You seem relaxed here," you note faintly.

Your eyes meet again–finally–and you find he's smiling, soft and a little sad.

"M'tryin'," he murmurs. 

It surprises you a bit, to learn that his easy-going disposition is something he's been actively striving for. It had seemed to come so naturally, or so you'd thought.

There's another pause as you hold his gaze for another minute too long, the moment finally snapping when you press him further. 

"So…what happened?"

Now Joel sighs, wringing his hands together between his knees. 

"The question of marriage did come up. We'd been seein' each other almost two years at that point and I never even–I just never even thought to ask if that was somethin' she wanted. She'd been married before, so I just thought...I don't know. 'Course, when she asked about it and I told her that, that I hadn't thought about it…she didn't take it too well. Asked what the hell we were even doin'. And I didn't have an answer, 'cause I didn't know."

He shrugs simply as a humourless laugh falls from his lips. 

"So that was pretty much where we ended it," he concludes. "We both figured there was no point goin' on after that. She moved back to Detroit and that was it."

You frown. He doesn't sound especially torn up about it but you ache to comfort him nonetheless. It feels like last night, when he'd griped about his age, the way it had inspired the urge to reach out and touch him. You'd fought that urge yesterday, but not today. 

Today, you place a hand on one of his broad shoulders and squeeze. 

"I'm really sorry, Joel."

He doesn't tense at your touch; rather, your eyes meet, his slightly crinkled at the edges from the tight smile pulling at his lips. It's all the encouragement you need to keep your hand there as he goes on. 

"S'alright. It was probably for the best. Amicable, all things considered. Nothin' like what you went through." He shakes his head, that same smoldering bitterness from before creeping back into his voice. "I mean, that's–that guy's a fuckin' idiot."

"I know," you agree with a sardonic smile. 

"I mean it," he says, new intensity coating his words as he reaches one of his big hands behind him to rest it over yours on his shoulder. Heat pools along your spine at the weight of his palm on your skin. "You're a–you're a beautiful girl. Sorry–woman, and–"

"Actually, can I be honest?" you stop him.

He smirks. "Ain't that what we're doin' here?"

He grips your hand a little tighter and you grin softly back at him.

"I honestly feel like–just a girl still. Especially after everything that happened. Like, sometimes it feels like I never grew up, you know? Like I got frozen at the age I met Chris. Now, here I am, almost thirty–stunted again. I thought things would start making sense by now, but they don't. I just feel…more lost than ever."

You don't know what spurs the sudden avalanche of truth, but it's too late to take it back now. Joel sighs and his fingers squeeze yours again, harder this time, firm and resolute. 

"Things never really start makin' sense," he tells you frankly, though his voice oozes compassion, his eyes boring into yours. "But you'll be okay. You deserve better'n a dumbass boy like that, anyway. Better off holdin’ out for someone who'll—who'll treat you right. Someone who can care for you...properly."

You swallow harshly, heartbeat stuttering violently, your eyes never breaking from his. You hear the double meaning in his words; had he intended it?

"Like who, Joel?"

His breath catches noticeably, eyes widening just the slightest bit and you swear you feel him leaning in closer, close enough that it would be so easy to remove the space between you and connect your lips with his— 

Only then you catch two figures approaching along the white sand. You rip your hand out from under his and Joel twists around to see what you're seeing: your parents sauntering hand-in-hand towards your spot in the shade.

Fuck. Panic quickly consumes you. Had they seen—? What could they have seen? You hadn't done anything. It's fine.

Fuck.

Thankfully, they seem relatively oblivious as you hastily jump to your feet, wiping sand off your practically-bare ass, greeting them with a wave an innocent smile.

"There you two are!" your dad is saying as he gets closer.

Joel takes longer to rise from the sand, his head hanging between his legs momentarily before he doggedly gets to feet with a laboured sound. 

"Hey! You guys have a nice time at the spa?" you ask, smoothly (you hope) steering the conversation towards them and their day. Joel is at your side then, though he keeps a safe distance away. 

"It was amazing," your mother sighs dreamily. You notice the piña colada she's loosely clutching in her free hand. Jesus, you could use one of those right about now. "What have you two been up to?"

"Would'ya believe this one got me on a jet ski?" Joel chimes in, nodding towards you and sounding shockingly collected despite the sudden interruption. 

"How 'bout that?" your dad remarks, smirking as he glances between the two of you. "Didn't think that's something you'd be into, kiddo."

God, you swear it feels like your parents don't know the Adult You at all sometimes.

"Well, I had a good driver," you shrug, smiling innocuously towards Joel, who averts his eyes to the sand with a shy grin of his own.

"They made you share? That's too bad," your dad gripes. Classic. If only he knew how truly grateful you'd been for the opportunity.

"Didn't mind it so much," Joel confesses. There goes your heart again.

"Um, I'm gonna go get ready for dinner," you announce awkwardly, desperate to be out of there, too jittery to keep up the charade any longer. "I'll see you guys there."

You give them each a cursory nod, throwing in one extra for Joel behind your parents' back as you take off.

You all but run from the scene, burning with energy, the buzz from this morning reawakening tenfold as you race back to your suite. You'd been so close, so close to something else, so close to something more. 

And so damn close to getting caught. 

Fuck it, you decide, as you change out of your swimsuit and into the tightest, skimpiest dress you'd packed.

You're in too deep now, so ridiculously attracted to Joel in every possible way. You'd seen it from day one, but today his heart had been on full display, just as yours had been for him. It makes you want him even more desperately.

That incessant voice from the day before–the one that had constantly sought to remind you that Joel is fifty and your dad's friend–has finally fallen silent, forced into submission by something far stronger, something you're done denying. 

-

"So I checked my Facebook messages today," your mom starts while you finish up dinner that night. Your father's already excused himself, mentioning something about a darts tournament going on in the bar. Joel'd stayed back when your father'd asked him to join, much preferring the opportunity to stay right where he is, beside you.

He's been unfocused since you'd left him on the beach, hard up since he'd first laid eyes on you in the hallway this morning, let alone in your new bikini. Just the thought of you wearing the swimsuit the rest of the week, only you and he privy to the fact that he'd chosen it for you...it's been driving him fucking crazy. You've been driving him fucking crazy. All day, he's been warring with the need to kiss you, touch you…all the while terrified of the potential consequences if he does. He'd almost caved right there on the beach, your lips and your body drawing in him like a moth to the flame.

And now at dinner, he's barely eaten anything, distracted, as he fights to keep his eyes from feasting on you in your tight, pretty dress, the thin fabric clinging enticingly to your sticky skin. It's getting impossibly hard to hold himself back from you. He imagines you smell like salt water and sunscreen and all he wants to do is tear you away from the table so he can finally fucking taste you if you'd let him—

"Oh?" you ask, sipping at your white wine. You sit up a little straighter, the shift pushing your chest out a little more prominently. Joel averts his gaze to stare at the drink in his hand, his dick twitching in his shorts. Fuck, he needs to get his shit together.

"Don't get upset, okay?" your mother continues.

That sobers him. His eyes are back on you in a heartbeat, carefully gauging your reaction, noticing the exact moment you tense with wariness.

"Okay," you mutter tersely.

"Chris sent me a very nice message," she goes on and now Joel tenses too, hot rage brewing under his skin just as it had on the beach when you'd confessed what the asshole had done. He watches your face, noting the way your eyes tighten and your jaw clenches haughtily. 

"Did he?" Your voice is level, but Joel can hear the burn beneath it. 

"He said he hoped we were having a nice time," she says and Joel has to bite his lip to stop himself from telling her to just shut up. He'd already seen it that first night, the way it hurts you to hear her talk about him, the fiery sadness that paints your features at just the mention of his name. How does your mother not see it?

You just shake your head disbelievingly, whether at Chris's sentiments or your mother's choice to tell you about it, Joel's not sure. 

"And he asked me to pass a message on to you," she continues when you say nothing. 

"I don't want to hear it," you argue firmly but Joel can hear the quiet waver in your voice. 

"Sweetie, please, he just wanted to say he was sorry for how everything happened," she harps and now there's no missing the emotion that flits across your face, the subtle wetness that sprouts in your eyes. Fuck. Joel can hardly stand it. "He said things didn't work out with him and Heather—"

"Don't," you say warningly. Heather. Your best friend? Joel can only assume. His ire burns even hotter than before. The fucking dumbass had cheated on you, dumped you without warning, and now he's apparently crawling back? Fuck that. 

"He feels terrible, sweetheart."

Good, Joel thinks. He should.

"Don't you think you could find it in yourself to forgive him? At least talk to him? He was such a nice boy."

Joel aches to jump to your defense somehow, but what could he do? Argue with your mother? How could he do that without revealing how much he knows? How much he already feels such a fierce need to protect you? As far as your mother is concerned, it's not his place to get involved. 

A single tear streams down your cheek and you wipe it away swiftly, putting on a brave face that's far from convincing. It's the final straw that shatters Joel's resolve.

With his eyes deliberately glued to the drink in front of him, he reaches out under the table to place a comforting hand on your knee. You rather pointedly keep your gaze fixed forward but he doesn't miss the way you stiffen just the tiniest bit at his touch. He panics briefly; maybe it's too much, maybe he's gone too far. But then your own hand comes down to rest on top of his, a silent assurance, emboldening him to apply the faintest hint of pressure as he squeezes your leg.

I'm here, he hopes to convey. It's okay. 

"Not gonna happen," you tell your mom at last. Joel thinks your tone sounds a bit stronger now, more absolute. 

Something about it fills him with pride.

"He asked if you would consider unblocking him so he can message you himself," she presses on, seemingly undeterred. "At least give him a chance."

"I'm not gonna do that," you bite back, your grip on Joel's hand tightening, resoluteness growing. "Shouldn't you be on my side, mom? You know what he did."

"Everybody makes mistakes," she insists with a shrug that's far too nonchalant. Joel chews harder on his lip, shaking his head minutely–too small for your mother to notice–his fingers pressing harder into your thigh. "And I am on your side. You two were so good together, I just want you to have that back."

"I don't want him back," you snap, finally throwing Joel's hand off your leg to rise from the table. "And you can go right ahead and tell him that."

Your eyes linger on Joel's for one fleeting second before you're turning on your heel and storming out of the dining area.

-

Joel'd wanted desperately to follow after you, to find you and tell you everything would be okay. More than that, he's aching to touch you again, instantly struck by the loss of your skin beneath his fingers. 

Nerves keep him stuck at the table, though, that same fear once again holding him back, telling him that to follow would be too much, that it would somehow give away the truth of whatever it is he's feeling for you. It's probably irrational; it's not like your mother has any way of knowing about the indisputable electricity that's been flowing between the two of you since this morning. He could just lie, say he was going to walk the beach or head to bed. But the whole situation just feels so precarious, like the two of you are teetering on the edge of something, a hairsbreadth away from diving headfirst into the deep end. 

Your mother apologizes to him profusely for exposing him to the uncomfortable exchange. He politely lets her know it's fine, though he'd rather tell her that her apology is misdirected, that she should be saying sorry to you instead. 

He unwillingly follows her to the bar where your dad's still engrossed in his darts tournament. Joel stays long enough for one drink, long enough to not raise any suspicions when he quietly excuses himself to make his way back to your adjoined rooms.

In the empty hotel hallway, he considers your door, considers his options. He doesn't have a plan, still isn't exactly sure what it is you need right now–certainly not sure what it is exactly he intends to offer you. Ultimately, he enters his own room with a resigned sigh, flicking on the light before coming to a grinding halt, cock coming alive in his shorts again when he notices something different.

The door that connects your rooms is open, an unmistakable sound echoing through the paper thin walls that separate your room from his.

-

Your skin feels like it's on fire.

All day it's been festering, white hot tension pulling at every nerve in your body, a powder keg about to explode. Ever since you'd first found him in the hallway this morning, Joel's been everywhere, the near-constant proximity and your near-kiss on the beach almost too much to bear after what you'd heard last night.

And then your fucking mother had to bring up Chris, pulling the rug out from under your perfect day with Joel. It had felt so easy to talk about Chris on the beach with Joel, safer somehow. But your mother's betrayal had torn open the wound and simmering electricity had turned to blinding rage as she'd relayed his unwelcome message.

The onslaught of emotion had threatened to consume you whole. That is, until Joel had placed his hand on your bare knee and fucking squeezed, sending goosebumps up your legs and heat down your spine, replacing any and all emotion with nothing but need, need, need.

Need to forget Chris, need to spite your mother, but more than anything, need for Joel.

As you'd stormed off from the table, that overwhelming cocktail of anger and arousal had followed you all the way back to your room. You'd hoped Joel would follow you, desperate to have his touch back or at the very least, his presence. 

You'd stared at the door between your rooms, remembering a thought you'd had earlier that day; how after last night, a door had been opened that couldn't be shut again. You'd decided to make it true in a literal sense, unlocking the adjoining door and leaving it open, just a crack.

An invitation. No subtly. Not anymore.

You'd paced and paced and waited and waited, but he hadn't come. The uneven pounding in your chest had refused to settle, the ache between your legs only growing with time, desperation taking hold and fogging your judgement.

Eventually, you'd resigned yourself to the fact that Joel wasn't coming and the need wasn't subsiding. You'd stripped out of your swimsuit and turned out the overhead lighting, deciding to take yet another page from Joel's book and just take care of yourself, fishing out the vibrator you'd handily packed from your suitcase.

Maybe it's stupid, maybe it's reckless, but you don't care. You leave the adjoining door open, just in case.

The toy is pressed against your clit, your mind already clouded with pleasure, when you see Joel's light turn on, a beam of fluorescence poking through the crack in the door. An audible whimper escapes you, his presence on the other side of the wall turning you on way more than you know it should.

You pull the toy off you when you hear his footsteps come to a stop, presumably having noticed you'd left the door ajar. Another involuntary whine catches in your throat and your pussy clenches around nothing as you wait with bated breath to see if Joel will accept your silent offer.

One step, two steps, three steps…with each slow, quiet thud he gets closer to the door till you swear you can hear his hand hovering over the doorknob above the dull buzz of your vibrator.

Eons of charged silence seem to pass before his low voice is suddenly echoing through the crack in the doorframe.

"Don't stop," he whispers. It's punctuated by the sound of a zipper coming undone.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He's right there, right on the other side of the door. He knows what you're doing and he doesn't want you to stop. A fresh wave of wetness gushes from your core, your head spinning at how intoxicatingly thrilling it feels.

You bring the toy back to your clit, gliding the end of it through your soaked folds, teasing your entrance and exhaling breathily. You've been so pent up all day, aching for relief. You finally find it the second you slip the toy inside your heat, a contented sigh slipping for your lips at the welcome stretch.

"Fuck," you swear you hear Joel breathe, cracked and ragged. Is he–? You strain your ears, listening for any telltale signs that he's touching himself too, but all you can make out is a quiet rustling and the sound of his shallow breathing.

But then you hear it–the same lascivious sound you'd heard last night. Joel fucking groans, deep and low, and any doubt melts away. Your mind is suddenly flooded with images of him with a fist around his cock, just on the other side of the wall. Unlike last night, you're certain he's thinking about you–how could he not be? The hushed sounds you're making as you fuck yourself with the toy are just for him and you know he knows it.

Your uneven breaths come faster when you circle your clit with your free hand, angling the toy inside you so it nudges against that spot that has pressure building in your core, heat rising as you involuntarily let out a breathy moan, stars dancing across your vision when Joel echoes it.

Then, just as you're about to fall over the edge, Joel's gravelly voice once again cuts through the hush.

"You gonna come?" he implores darkly. Oh god, fuck–

"Yes," you keen, louder now, inhibitions fading as your orgasm threatens to consume you, the steady circles of your fingers on your clit increasing in speed while the toy hums away inside you. 

"Yeah?" Joel grunts, his gruff voice coaxing you closer, compelling you to imagine how it would feel to have Joel inside you instead, how much fuller it would feel, how much better it would be. 

Another lewd moan, louder now, and you're so close now, the flame that's been burning dull in your core all day eager to burst into a forest fire. 

"Yes, Joel, fuck–"

"Go on, sweetheart," his voice commands you, breathless and hoarse. "Fuckin' come. Come with me."

Holy fuck.

It's that damn endearment that finally does it, his firm encouragement snapping the tension in your centre as you come, back arching off the soft bed, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. You hear Joel quietly cursing as the waves wash over you, the buzzing toy inside your cunt holding you on your high for what feels like an eternity. 

You're mildly conscious of a familiar broken sigh coming from Joel's side of the door, the same one you'd heard last night. Release.

Joel's come too.

"Holy shit," you breathe when it hits you what you've just done together.

And then it's painfully silent, the only sounds remaining that of the rushing waves outside and your shared ragged breathing.

When the last of the aftershocks pass, you pull the toy out of yourself to rest it on the nightstand. It's fucking drenched, which you could have predicted, but you can't bring yourself to do anything about it right now, can barely bring yourself to fucking move. 

It's like last night all over again, your body frozen in place–stunned, as you take several, short, steadying breaths. Only this time you're left wondering…now what? You eventually hear movement from his side of the door, but he doesn't come through it. Should you go? Your muscles refuse to let you get up off the mattress, still too scared to be the first one to cross that final (literal) threshold.

You turn on your side and stare out your window. You wait. And wait. And wait. But he doesn't come.

Eventually, you must fall asleep, because the next thing you know, you're dreaming you're wrapped in Joel's strong embrace under a flowing waterfall, your bodies intertwined below clear, warm water. The scruff of his beard against your cheek feels vividly material, so real you could cry. Your mouths connect in a deep, slow kiss before your thoughts are finally consumed by darkness. 

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[wendysimp]

Secrets Out Pt.1 (Wendy x Seulgi)

Wendy (Step Sister) is back X Seulgi X Male Reader

Tags: Shower Sex, Risky Sex Blowjob, Double Blowjob, Spitting, Deepthroat, Daddy Kink, Threesome, Riding, Face Sitting and much more!

This is a series which is continuing off from The Bog Reveal which is a 3 part Smut. Hope you guys enjoy.

(Y/n’s POV)

Ugh school… WHY?! I just want to be glued to my bed all day.

“Honey? Wake up, time for school.” Really mom?

Just kill me honestly. After finally getting up from my comfortable bed I should be sleeping in, I grabbed myself a change of clothes before heading out to have a shower. There’s only one problem… My Sister is in the shower already.

Last weekend. One of the craziest things ever happened. What is it you ask? Well to keep it short and sweet, I not only fucked my big sister Wendy, but I also got to fuck her hot friends too.

I could remember every single second of it. Even after that Wendy and I would mess around. Speaking of Wendy… I look around to make sure the coast is clear. Good! I’m gonna get in and surprise her.

(Wendy’s POV)

Nothing more like starting off the morning with a nice warm shower. I love the feeling of the water dripping down my body… and feeling Y/n’s cock inside me- okay wait what?! Fuck!

That dumbass really got me needing him more. Oh who am I kidding, I’ve always been needing him. I even sucked his dick under the table while having dinner with our mom there as well. Luckily she didn’t catch us.

I’m getting wet. I-I… need him. I slide my hands down to my pussy, rubbing it just like how he does it to me.

“Mmm Y/n I need you’re touch.” I moan softly to myself.

“I see you can’t stop thinking about me sis.” My eyes widened.

I turn around, see Y/n and before I could scream he covers my mouth and pins me against the shower glass. I look up into his eyes.

“Shhh mom will hear you.” He whispers. Even the way he talks is making me more wet.

He finally removed his hands and I cover my body.

“What are you doing here dumbass?!” I asked him and he rolls his eyes.

“Come on, you’re really coving up even though I’ve seen you naked before when we fuck?” This tease.

I slap his arms and continued to wash up as I tried to ignore him. I felt him hold me from behind, feeling his hands roam around my body. Fuck Y/n you’re killing me. I bite my lip hard trying not to give him a reaction he wanted out of me.

“Come on, don’t you need my touch sis?” H-his hands! His rubbing my pussy.

“S-shut up and let’s hurry and finish up before mom suspects something.” I tell him but he doesn’t listen. No surprise there since he barely listens to me.

“Shhh she won’t.” I felt his lips on my neck. It turned me on so much I even let out a little moan. He smirks against my skin.

“You like that don’t you?”

“S-shut up you perv.” I tell him as he keeps going.

I felt his cock press against my ass. This fucker! You know what? Two can play that game!

(3rd Person View)

Wendy turns and Kisses Y/n deeply while stroking his cock slowly making him harder and turned on. They pull away as they look into each others eyes

“Hurry up and fuck me!” Wendy whispers.

And with that, no hesitation from Y/n as he turns her around again, bends her over as she was against the shower glass once again. He lines himself up along her pussy and slides into her.

Y/n let’s put a grunt while Wendy let’s put a moan as she feels him deep inside her. Y/n grabs her hips and start to thrust deep and hard as their bodies slap against each others.

“You fucking like that Wendy? You like when bro fucks you so good?” He slams into her harder causing her to roll her eyes back.

“Y-yesifuckingloveit!” She moans uncontrollably.

Y/n gives Wendy a light spank on her ass, leaving a mark which she didn’t mind at all as she was filled with lust.

“F-fuck you’re so deep inside of me!” She moans and looks over her shoulder at her brother.

(Y/n’s POV)

A knock can be heard and we both look at each other.

“Don’t stop.” She whispered to me which I nodded and keep fucking her tight pussy.

“Wendy, are you okay in there?” Mom asks her.

“Y-yeah mom I’m fine just- f-fuck!” She moans leaving mom confused. I chuckled.

“Calm down mom will catch us.” I whispered and tease her more while fucking her faster and deeper. She turns and slaps my hand.

“S-shut up dumbass!” She whispered to me.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“Y-yes mom I’m okay. I-I feel s-so… s-so fucking good right now.”

“W-well okay. I’m off to work now, make sure your brother gets ready. I love you.” She says before leaving.

“Love you too!” She yells back.

Mom leaves and she pulls my cock out of her before turning to me and said…

“Take me to your bed and fuck me!”

(A little time skip)

We finish up and Wendy raises from between my legs, wiping her mouth.

“Thanks for giving me my breakfast baby boy.” She winks after swallowing my load I shot into her mouth.

She leaves my room, telling me to hurry up and get ready. What a great way to start the morning.

I put in my clothes get my bag and keys then wait for Wendy. She comes down a few minutes later and see her with a nice, beautiful dress which looked so sexy on her. The things I’d do to her right now with that dress on.

“You look beautiful Wendy.” I tell her causing her to blush and look away. I chuckled.

“T-Thanks dumbass. We also gotta pick up Seulgi on the way to school. She needs a ride.” She tells me which I didn’t mind at all.

We head over to Seulgi’s and she comes out with a nice blue dress that looked absolutely fucking great on her. Look at her curves!

She enters the car with a big smile and puts on her seat belt.

“Hi Y/n! Hey Wendy!” She greeted us warmly.

“Hey baby, you look really great today. Love that dress you got on.” I flirt. Wendy doesn’t seem to like it when I flirt with her friends.

Seulgi blushes and bites her lip.

“Okay not now! Let’s get to school before we arrive there late.” In a rush are we sis?

“Yes ma’am I’m on it.” I start to drive.

“You’re annoying you know that?” She rolled her eyes.

“So how was the sex on his bed this morning?” Seulgi asks with a teasing smirk which caused her to get a slap on the arm by Wendy.

“Y-you weren’t supposed to mention what I told you in front of him!” She scolds her.

“Oww okay okay!” Seulgi rubs her arm.

“Wendy relax. You okay Seulgi?” I asked her and she nodded.

“W-Wendy? Could I maybe have your brother again?” She asks.

“Eww what?! No!”

“Oh come on, you’ve got to have so many turns with him and plus, I’ve been missing the feeling of him inside me.” She looks over at me and I wink at her.

“I missed that feeling too.” I tell her.

“Okay first of all, I’m right here, and secondly, I’m not just gonna sit aside and watch you guys fuck! We got school to go too!” Wendy isn’t a fan of being late to school.

“Who said anything about watching when you can join us?”

“Yeah she’s right sis come on.” Why does Wendy have to be a party pooper?

“No! That’s final.” She looks out the window as silence fill the car.

(Meanwhile)

Slurping, choking, moaning and spitting. If you haven’t guessed it yet, Wendy changed her mind last second and here we are, in the backseat all together, naked as they share my cock.

“Mmm that’s it keep sucking just like that. You’re so good at this Seulgi.” I smile and praise her as she winked and bobbed her head all the way down my length.

My cock hits the back of her throat which felt like I was in a dream world. She chokes and pulls away to catch her breath then spits on my shaft. Meanwhile, Wendy was doing fucking amazing with my balls in her mouth. I could feel her tongue just run circles around each of them and felt the vibrations on my balls from her moans.

They both switch as Wendy takes me into her mouth and Seulgi taking my balls.

“Mmm you like that huh perv? You like the way your big sis sucks your big fat cock?” Wendy smirked as she continued to blow me.

“Shut up and just keep sucking.” I lean my head back in pleasure.

They keep going until they eventually pull away.

“Lay down daddy. I wanna show you how a good girl rides.” Seulgi really turns me on with the way she talks.

I listen and lay down as she straddles my lap and Wendy straddles my face with her pussy. Fuck what a time to be alive. Without wasting time. Seulgi slumps down on my cock, riding like there’s no tomorrow while Wendy sits her ass on my face. Moans fill out the car but Seulgi let’s out a scream.

“Ahhh fuck Y/n your cock is deep inside of me! I-it’s so big!” She yells in complete pleasure.

“S-Seulgi be q-quiet… p-people might hear- f-fuck right there! Fuck me with your tongue baby boy!” She let’s out a yell as well as she couldn’t help herself.

I grip Seulgi’s hips and squeeze onto Wendy’s ass. The car was shaking like crazy with the way they were both riding me. They both switch places as Wendy rides me as I get a taste Of Seulgi’s soaked pussy.

“F-fuck bro! Your dick is so good.”

“K-Kiss me Wendy.” They both pull each other into a heated make out, moaning into each other’s mouths.

Having Wendy and Seulgi is one of the best things in the world, but how could I forget Joy? Yeri? And Irene? Having all five is so much better but hey, I’m not complaining.

After a while of riding both my face and cock, I felt Seulgi release onto my face and Wendy onto my cock.

“Ahhh f-fuck yesss y/n!” The both moan before getting off of me.

They both look at me with a stare full of lust and smile.

“Daddy still needs to cum. How about we help your brother unload?” She looks at Wendy with a smirk.

“You read my mind. Don’t be afraid to let it all out baby boy.” She winks and they both get in between my legs just like before and lick up from the base to my tip slowly.

The both kiss my tip and stop as Wendy takes her phone out.

“Let’s make a video for our girls. You wouldn’t mind taking the video do you baby boy?” Wendy looks up at me.

“Not at all.” I say and smile as I take the phone and hit record.

They kiss my tip again.

“Hey girls. You’re missing out. Too bad you guys can’t be here.” They both tease the other girls and down my cock into their mouths.

They both take turns slurping my cock and occasionally spit on it before making out with my cock in the middle. I was going completely crazy. Watching them pass my cock around to each other like it was delicious food.

“Give us your cum baby boy.” Wendy strokes me.

“Give it all to us daddy. Give us your big yummy load. Shoot it down our throats.”

Their dirty talk is fucking amazing I can feel myself getting closer… and closer… and-.

“I-I’m gonna cum. Open up!” I tell them and they listen and do what I said.

They open their mouths and smile as they both wait patiently for my load. They both stroke me which took me into another dimension.

I watch as my load shoots out and down their throats but some hitting their beautiful faces. They smile and giggle as they start to play with my cum and share it. These girls are crazy. They make out before swallowing my cum and show the camera that there was none left but a mess still on their faces.

“See you guys soon.” They both blow a kiss and wink before I end the video. Wendy takes her phone and sends it to Joy, Irene and Yeri.

Seulgi cleans her face and lick the remaining cum off her fingers. Wendy does the same and looks up at me.

“You made a mess dumbass. Lucky you, I don’t mind cleaning it off.” She smirked.

They both get up and sit on each of my legs and lean in for a three way kiss. We made out for what felt like ages before we pull away to catch our breaths.

“Let’s get to class now.” Seulgi says and we nodded as we all get our clothes back on and head into the school.

We head to our classes which of course, we all received a detention. Was it worth it? Fuck yeah it was. I’m also glad we didn’t get caught. Word does go around pretty quick.

(Unknown POV)

What the fuck?! I just witnessed Y/n fucking Seulgi… and his step sister in his car?! I heard screams in the parking lot and decided to check it out, that’s when I saw the scene happen in front of my eyes.

I recorded most of it. I can’t wait to show the girls… though, looking through the video, Y/n’s dick is making me… wet. Fuck I wonder how he feels inside- okay enough! I got to get out of here and change my panties.

To be continued!

I’m so so sorry I took so long to put something out. Personal reasons that prevented me to do so. But I’m back and hope I can be consistent like how I was before. I hope you guys enjoyed and sorry if it was a little shorter than expected but I wanted to get rid of the cobwebs when it comes to writing. Again I hope you enjoyed and… this is only the beginning.😉

(If there’s any errors please let me know and I’ll fix it. Thank you!)

#kpop smut #kpopidol #red velvet x male reader smut #seulgi x male reader #seulgi smut #red velvet wendy #wendy smut #Wendy x male reader

[bellaxgiornata]

Seeking Forgiveness [Part Two]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3.7k

[Full summary and installment list for this series can be found here.]

Warnings/tags: 18+ contains angst, emotional hurt, delayed comfort, pregnant Reader

a/n: I am so happy to see how much love this series has already gotten! And now part two of this angsty series is finally here! The next installment is already written and will be in Matt's POV. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @mattmurdocksstarlight @just-going-through-the-motions @paracosmic-murdock @yeonalie @auroraslibrary @1988-fiend @will-delete-this-later-probably @two-unbeatable-beaters @danzer8705 @ragamuffin285 @callmebrooklynbabes @spookyboogyuniverse @peachy-aisha @stevenknightmarc @nerdytreeflower @fucktthisworld @remuslupinwifee 

Curled up on your couch, having made yourself as small as possible, you’d been half-watching the series that you had playing on Netflix. Mostly you’d had it on for the background noise, not wanting to feel quite as alone as you actually were. Eyes closed, you lay there huddled under your softest blanket drifting in and out of sleep. As much as you didn't want to admit it, you'd picked this blanket because it had been Matt’s favorite one at your place, soft even to his senses. The pair of you had curled up on your couch underneath it together countless times in the past.

Turning and burying your face into your pillow, you fought down yet another wave of nausea at the movement and attempted to muffle the whimper that slipped out of you at the thought of Matt. It had only been just over a day since your fight with him which had ultimately ended the relationship. He’d never even reached out to you once he’d eventually returned home Thursday night after dealing with whatever had been more important than staying and talking to you. He hadn’t made a single attempt to discuss the important thing you’d told him you'd needed to talk to him about, either, clearly not finding it important enough to give it his attention. And he obviously must not have cared about how hurt you’d been that night when he'd left–which had seemed very unlike the Matt you’d initially fallen in love with. 

He didn’t reach out to you all of Friday, either. Not that it had really come as a surprise to you. Though that hadn’t stopped you from staring at your phone on and off throughout the day, willing him to call and apologize and prove that his behavior lately wasn’t really him. But your phone never rang and that only further cemented your anger at Matt. So you never made an attempt to reach out to him in return. Instead, you’d spent most of your day at work crying or trying not to puke in a bathroom stall, barely able to focus on getting anything done. 

If Matt had wanted to talk to you, he’d have reached out and talked to you. Things were over between you both now, that was incredibly apparent. Despite how hurt you were about the way things had ended, and how much you'd been crying over Matt and the breakup along with your current situation, you were also absolutely pissed at Matt, too. Pissed that he had treated you the way he had recently–and pissed at yourself for sticking around long enough thinking that wasn’t Matt. Because it clearly was with how often he’d broken promises to you, even if he’d never been quite like that in the almost year and a half you’d both been together. He’d certainly changed on you, showing you his true self which was too wrapped up in playing savior trying to protect Hell’s Kitchen.

Now it was Saturday morning and you’d woken up feeling exceptionally hormonal and nauseous. You hadn’t even been able to finish the buttered toast you’d made this morning in the hopes of settling your stomach, the taste of it so strong that you found yourself gagging until you’d tossed it in the garbage and opened a window to alleviate the smell of it in your apartment. You’d read about the heightened sense of smell for pregnant women just last night when you’d been researching early pregnancy symptoms and wondering what to expect. Immediately your first reaction was to call Matt, wanting to tell him and make a joke about having super senses just like him. But the moment you’d pulled up his contact on your phone, you’d remembered you couldn’t call him.

You’d spent this morning trying your hardest not to think about him and then inevitably sobbing into your pillow when you failed. You had already flipped it around a handful of times now, but still you couldn’t seem to find a spot to rest your head that wasn’t already soaked from your tears. It didn’t help that you were hungry–almost ravenous–but simultaneously disgusted by the thought of any and all food. You were tired, too. A level of tired you’d never felt before, and you figured your past few nights of poor sleep weren’t the only thing to attribute that to.

All you wanted to do today was sulk on your couch. You’d made an appointment for Tuesday with an obstetrician for your first visit and you’d already placed a grocery order last night–making sure you added prenatals and plenty of fresh fruit to your order. Now you just wanted to wallow in misery for a while and pray that the nausea didn’t last the entirety of the first trimester. You didn’t think you’d survive that on top of dealing with a broken heart.

But all your plans to be lonely and miserable fell right out the window the moment you heard a few knocks sound out from your apartment door behind you. Groaning, you buried your face further into the cold, damp pillow. Half of you hoped it wasn’t Matt, the other half of you wanted to smack him with one of his billy clubs.

“Who’s there?” you called out, words partially muffled by pillow.

“It’s Karen,” the familiar voice replied a little hesitantly. “I brought coffee and bagels.”

You groaned again, the few contents of your stomach swirling around uncomfortably at the thought of either of those things. And you loved coffee and bagels.

Reluctantly you pushed yourself up from the couch, pausing for a moment when you were hit with a surge of dizziness. You moaned pathetically, running a hand across your forehead as you waited it out. When the room finally stopped spinning, you fully rose to your feet before taking your time making your way over to your apartment door.

Opening it, you were greeted with the sight of Karen in casual clothes. Which meant she hadn't gone into the office this morning, though judging by the sad smile on her face as she quickly scanned you over, you knew that she'd heard about the breakup. Or at least suspected it. 

"Hey," she greeted you gently, holding up the cardboard coffee holder in one hand and the brown paper bag of bagels in the other. "I brought an offering of comfort."

"So you know?" you asked her.

Stepping to the side, you gestured her into your apartment. Karen didn't hesitate, heading straight towards your living room as you closed the door after her. Slowly you turned, trudging your way to your living room and trying your best not to look like you were going to be sick. 

“Suspected,” Karen said, glancing over her shoulder at you. “But now I feel like my suspicions have been confirmed.”

Settling down onto the couch beside Karen, you watched as she reached over towards your coffee table and pulled a coffee out of the holder. Turning towards you, she offered it to you with a warm smile. You reached out, about to accept the cup from her hand–desperate for caffeine–but when the strong aroma of caramel and espresso from the latte hit your nose, you nearly retched. Grimacing, you quickly waved a hand at the coffee, shaking your head and cringing away from it. Karen drew her hand back, sniffing the coffee with a furrow between her brows as she eyed the cup in her hand. 

"You usually get caramel lattes, right?" she asked, glancing up at you in confusion. 

"Yeah, I just–just don't feel like coffee right now," you lied.

"Okay," Karen replied slowly, setting the coffee back down on your coffee table. "So do you want to tell me what happened?” she asked, picking up her own coffee and focusing back on you. “Because Matt was…an absolute mess at the office yesterday. I mean, granted, he’s been coming in looking like shit for awhile now, but he seemed half alive yesterday. Wouldn't say why, either, but I had a feeling it involved you.” She paused, her blue eyes surveying you closely. “And judging by the fact that it looks like you've been crying, I'm guessing it does."

You sighed, gaze dropping down towards your lap. There was no point in hiding the breakup. Not from Karen. She was too perceptive and you knew one way or another she’d figure it out. Plus, it would feel good to not feel alone for just a bit.

“Yeah, we broke up,” you confessed. “Thursday night. And it was…awful.”

She gasped, the noise drawing your focus up towards her on the couch beside you. Her hand had frozen with her coffee cup just before her lips, her eyes wide in shock. A second later her cup was lowering back to her lap, her left hand darting out and grabbing yours.

“Are you serious?” she asked. “What the hell happened? I thought you two were doing so well together?”

Shrugging, you felt a lump forming in your throat. You tried to swallow it down, but stubbornly it refused to disappear. 

“We had been until a couple of months ago when things gradually began to go downhill,” you told her. “I knew about him going out as Daredevil. Obviously I had always known about that since we’d started dating. And it hadn’t been an issue because there’d always been compromise in the relationship. But over the past couple of months he’d slowly been going out more and more,” you explained, feeling the tears starting to burn at your eyes yet again this morning. “Until he was going out every single night. For a couple of weeks straight. And he kept repeatedly promising me he’d make time for me over and over, but then he kept forgetting or making excuses and going out as Daredevil instead. And it just–just got to be too much, you know?”

Karen nodded, squeezing your hand gently in hers. “So you ended things with him?” she asked. “Because he kept choosing Daredevil over you?”

You pulled a face at her question, quickly shaking your head. “What? No,” you answered. “I told him I needed to talk to him about something important and he decided that running around as Daredevil was more important than being there for me. And I practically begged him to stay in, Karen. And you know what he did?”

“Something very dumb and Matt-like?” she guessed.

“He got pissed at me like it was all my fault because I didn’t accept what he does as Daredevil!” you exclaimed, anger soon replacing your sadness. “Which is utter bullshit because I have always been supportive of him. Always there to help patch him up and clean the blood off of him at the end of his nights. Making sure he actually ate dinner and helping him remember upcoming appointments because he was always so distracted. Offering him comfort whenever he needed it after a difficult night. And I never once asked him to stop despite how much I worried about him.”

Your right hand curled into a fist in your lap, the memory of the way Matt had spoken to you the other night flooding back. Gritting your teeth together, your focus dropped down to your lap.

“I loved him–loved him even as Daredevil. But I needed him that night, Karen,” you ground out, a tear slipping down your cheek despite your rage. “And I told him that. And yet he still chose to walk out on me.”

Karen was silent beside you for a long moment, her hand tightening around yours. Raising your right hand up, you wiped away a few stray tears with the back of it. You sniffled, your body feeling a confusing mess of anger and sadness that had you wanting to scream and throw everything in your apartment but also curl up in your bed and sleep away your pain. 

“What did you need to talk to him about?” Karen asked softly.

Your hand froze mid-swipe of a tear on your cheek as her question broke the silence. Slowly your eyes slid up, landing on Karen’s knowing blue ones. It was like she already could see right through you to the answer. Yet again you realized there was no point trying to hide something from her, especially because you knew you could confide the truth in her.

“I’m pregnant,” you whispered.

Karen inhaled a sharp breath at your confession, nodding her head slowly in response. Once again you tried to swallow that lump in your throat which now seemed almost permanently stuck there in the silence that followed. 

“So he doesn’t know?” she eventually asked.

You shook your head. “No,” you answered. “I found out Thursday morning. Told him earlier in the day that I really needed to talk to him. But he wouldn’t stay and talk that night. He was rude and mean and then he just left. Never tried to reach out to me afterwards. So we’re just…done. And now I’m trying to figure out how the hell I’m going to raise a child alone in the city.”

Her brows shot up in surprise onto her forehead. “Alone? Why would you be raising it alone? Are you not going to tell Matt he has a child?” she questioned.

Expression shifting quickly, you shot Karen a flat look. “Come on, Karen,” you said. “Of course I’ll tell him. But let’s be real here. Matt isn’t going to want to be a father. The man barely takes care of himself. He can’t even commit to a relationship without messing up his priorities. You think he’d want the responsibilities of having a child? Because I sure as shit don’t. Not after seeing him the other night.”

“Okay, yes,” she agreed, nodding again as she reached over to set her undrank coffee onto your coffee table. “He’s definitely got his flaws. But we’re talking about Matt here. He’s got a big heart underneath all that stubborn, self-flagellating bullshit. He would never turn his back on you–” she abruptly raised a hand to cut you off the moment you’d opened your mouth to counter her comment, “ –or at the very least, his own child.”

You shook your head, running hand across your forehead. Karen meant well, you knew that, but she was wrong. She hadn’t seen him going out every single night, fixated on that stupid Russian mafia like you had for weeks now. She hadn’t seen him that night when he’d talked to you the way he had. A couple of weeks ago, you’d never have believed that was Matt, either.

“I don’t think he’d not have a relationship with his own child,” you told her slowly, “but Matthew Murdock would never want to be a father. There is nothing more important to him than this goddamn city that he thinks he has to protect. So yes,” you stated, “I’m clearly doing this on my own, Karen.”

A slow, sad smile spread over her lips at your words. Shifting uncomfortably on the couch under her stare, your gaze darted over to the unopened bag of bagels on your coffee table. Your stomach gave a hungry lurch at the smell of the cream cheese. Reaching out, you grabbed the bag and immediately began to open it.

“This is the first thing that has smelled good in days ,” you told her.

She laughed lightly, picking her coffee back up and taking a drink. You immediately pulled out one of the packages, ripping it open before tearing a large bite out of the bagel. Somehow it tasted exponentially better than you remembered bagels ever tasting before.

“Have them both,” Karen urged. “I take it you’ve been experiencing pregnancy symptoms already then?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed out, chewing a bite of bagel before swiftly swallowing it down. “I feel like I’m always nauseous and tired. And I’ve been getting headaches nonstop. I’m hungry but almost everything I normally eat sounds and smells absolutely disgusting lately. I couldn’t even stomach buttered toast this morning–I had to open a window just to get the smell out of the apartment.”

Karen winced beside you. “That sounds awful.”

“Yeah, it is,” you replied. “And I researched other symptoms common in pregnancy, and you know what? They don’t sound much better, either.”

Karen’s fingers drummed lightly on her coffee cup as she chewed her lip, eyeing you. You continued to devour the bagel in your hands, your eyes narrowing as you watched her. Eventually one of your brows raised at her in a silent question.

“I don’t know if this is a stupid question,” Karen began cautiously, “but are you…excited at all? About being pregnant? I mean, I know this clearly wasn’t planned and it's all new to you still if you only found out on Thursday but…you’re having a baby. Have you–have you processed that yet?”

Lowering the bagel down to your lap, you let Karen’s question settle in your mind. You really hadn’t given that too much thought in the few days since you’d found out you were pregnant. Admittedly you’d been too focused on initially trying to tell Matt the news. But then when that didn’t go as planned, you’d been trying to deal with the pain of a broken heart while trying to set up an appointment for an obstetrician and also trying to read up on information about early pregnancy. You really hadn’t thought too much about your feelings.

You knew for a fact you wanted this baby, though. There wasn’t a doubt in your mind about that. Not that you had issues with the alternative, but you’d known the moment you’d seen those two pink lines on that pregnancy test that you were keeping it. No matter what that meant.

“I haven’t really thought about it, no,” you admitted quietly. “But I do know I want this.” 

Nervously chewing your lip, you wondered how Karen would feel about a big reason that you were so certain. Would you sound ridiculous considering how things had ended with you and Matt? Was it ridiculous? You weren’t entirely sure of the answer yourself.

“I don’t really know how to explain it but…as angry as I am at Matt and as much as I’m trying to move on from him,” you slowly admitted aloud, “I know there’s–there’s always going to be feelings there for him. That some part of me will always love him. And this baby–” you continued, your left hand unconsciously landing affectionately over your abdomen as your eyes began to water, “–it's a part of him. A part of us . Back when things were good between us. And even though this pregnancy wasn’t planned and it’s not what I would’ve initially chosen to have happen right now, I can’t help but love this child already.” Lips trembling, your gaze dropped down towards your abdomen, your hand continuing to gently rub across the top of it. “I can’t help but already love the fact that it’s both Matt and I in there. Even if I want to scream and slap the shit out of him right now for how much he hurt me.”

A few more tears slipped out of your eyes and you sniffled, turning your head and wiping the dampness on your cheeks onto the sleeve of your shirt. You felt Karen’s hand gently grasping yours again, the one you had resting over your belly. Glancing back towards her, you saw her send you a watery smile herself, her eyes glistening with tears.

“Whatever happens,” she whispered, “you know you’re not alone going through all of this. I’m always here for you. And whenever you tell Fog and Marci, I know they both will be, too. I know I can’t speak for Matt, but know that you’ve always got us.”

Your heart twisted in your chest at her promise. The pain of Matt not being in the picture was a sharp contrast to the love you felt right now from your friends about this situation. A smile gradually spread across your face, tears still trailing their way warm and wet down your cheeks. Though this time not entirely from sadness, but also from gratitude that your time with Matt had at least brought you such wonderful friends. 

“Thank you, Kare,”  you croaked out, reaching across the couch and quickly wrapping her in a hug. “You don’t know how much that means to me to hear. This is…definitely scary trying to navigate alone right now.”

“Well I’ll always be here for you,” she promised again, hugging you tightly back. “ Especially when you need someone to go baby shopping with you or to help put together a baby registry for that shower you know Marci and I are going to throw you. And I’d love to help you pick out little outfits for a girl or a boy anytime.”

You laughed, touched by her enthusiasm as the tears fell a little harder. You eventually pulled away from Karen, wiping a hand across your eyes as you tried to will them to finally stop falling. You’d already spent too much time crying this morning as it was.

“I think it’s a bit longer before I know the gender,” you told her, the faint smile still on your face. “But maybe an impromptu baby shopping trip is in the cards soon. Once I get a little farther along.”

“How far are you?” she asked curiously.

Her blue eyes dropped down towards your stomach, though you knew there wasn’t a baby bump visible yet.

“Nearing six weeks,” you answered, your smile growing a little wider. “At eight weeks I’ll have the first ultrasound, which I’m honestly a little excited for because I think it’ll make this all feel even more real.” Your eyes dropped back down to your abdomen, the smile still lingering on your lips. “And that’s when I’ll get to see them for the first time. Hear their heartbeat.”

At the mention of your baby’s heartbeat, a sharp pang hit you straight in the chest. Your smile faltered instantly as a thought struck you in that very moment. 

Matt wouldn’t need one of those machines to hear their heartbeat.

Your jaw clenched tight, your hand gripping firmly around the partially finished bagel you were still holding. More thoughts suddenly began to race through your mind as you sat there on your couch, briefly forgetting Karen was even there.

How would Matt feel when he heard his own child’s heartbeat for the first time? Would it affect him at all? Enough to ever make something else more important to him than just Hell’s Kitchen?

Because after the other night, you didn’t think anything could do that.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock angst #matt murdock #daredevil

[nocasdatsgay]

So Where Do I Start?

Pairing: Eris x F-Reader | Rating: E 🌶️| Eris POV

Word count: 2256 | one-shot | Read on Ao3

Summary: You aren’t fully comfortable with your post baby body and Eris is not having it.

CW: an off screen baby, post baby body, insecurities, sex

A/N: I’ve never had a baby but I do have body issues 😂 there is also a part where Eris thinks about how much he basically missed the intimacy- don’t misconstrue it as him needing sex. I worried when I wrote that. If enough ppl like it I’ll post it on ao3 🫣 I put it on ao3

No tag list for this one cause I don’t want to subject ppl to baby content if they don’t want it 🫣

Eris had been flirting with you all day. You’d asked around lunch what had gotten into him and honestly he didn’t have an answer. Maybe it was the fact you’d both gotten decent sleep, your babe finally being at a point where they could sleep through the night. Maybe it was the fact things had slowed down for him, having finally caught up with paperwork and meetings now that he’d returned to focusing on high lord duties after the weeks spent helping with the baby.

Or maybe he just loved you. Which was nothing new.

Of course when you both got into bed, he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Soft kisses deepened and he pushed up your nightshirt, determined to pull it off but you shoved at his hand. He pulled away immediately, looking down at you with furrowed brows.

“Do you want me to stop?” He whispered. Gods, it felt like it might kill him but he’d do it.

“No.” You didn’t look him in the eyes. “I just, I don’t want,” your voice trailed.

“That’s not exactly reassuring.”

Your gaze met his. You frowned at him. He frowned back. He tried to think of what was bothering you. It had been a few months. Recovery from birth was one of the longer healing processes even in high fae. It was highly possible you weren’t ready despite Edith stating you’d healed up perfectly a month ago. Just because you were cleared didn’t mean you were ready.

“I can wait,” he added. “I am more than happy just keep kissing you.”

“No.” Your eyes widened. “No, I want you. I do. I just. Maybe just leave my shirt on?”

He frowned again. “My love, we talked about this.”

And you both had. He noticed immediately when you started staring too long in the mirror and when you changed up your style of clothing. It took him weeks to convince you to bath with him again, to let him see you fully nude in a neutral setting.

“I know, but this is different.”

“How is it different?” He chuckled and you pouted at him. He sent his love through the bond hoping you’d forgive him for laughing.

“What if- I just don’t think I can handle it if, you know.” You bit your lip and looked away.

“If what?”

“If you- gods Eris you’re such an ass, don’t make me say it.” He grinned at you and it only flustered you more. “What if I kill your mood?”

He blinked, his own eyebrows raised up. “As if you haven’t smacked me several times already in the past month because I have gotten handsy in the bath.”

“That was different,” you protested. “You were just playing.”

He let his voice drop low and put his hand back on your shirt when he replied. “I never play with how much I want you.” He could smell your arousal spike back up. He made sure to lower hand and trace his fingers on your thigh. “Let me show you. If you still don’t believe me then we’ll stop and I’ll go to sleep in the study. Do we have a deal, my fire?”

“Gods you don’t play fair,” you said breathlessly.

“Whatever do you mean?”

He’d already distracted you enough to get his hand farther up your thigh, the shirt inching up with it. He reached your hip, his fingers running over your infernal underwear.

“Can I?” He asked, hooking a finger on the band.

“I don’t know. Can you?” You smarted back.

He looked you straight in the eyes when he replied, “I can and I will.” Then he set your underwear on fire, ensuring it only burned the fabric away and not your skin.

“Eris!” You yelled and pushed up the bed in shock.

“Hush, you’ll wake the baby, love,” he chuckled and used his magic to clear away the ash.

“You set my underwear on fire.” You hissed.

“I did. And I’m about to set that shirt aflame as well if you don’t let me take it off you.” He grinned.

“Fine. But if you can’t get it up, I am cutting your cock off and stuffing it down your throat. Then I’m murdering you.” You hissed and tugged up the nightshirt to pull it over your head.

“I love it when you're feisty.” He purred, his eyes immediately wandering down your body as you tossed the shirt off to the floor. “Where would you like me to start?”

“Start?”

You tried to cover yourself but he was not having it. He crawled over you, grabbing and pinning your arms by your head. He watched in real time your pupils dilate, your eyes going near black.

“I said I would show you how much I want you,” he leaned in and brushed his nose against your own. “So where do I start?”

For once he’d rendered you speechless. Good. He didn’t need you arguing with him when your opinions were clearly wrong. Especially when he let you go and sat up to look you over again. The mother truly blessed him by putting you in his path. He made sure to push that down the bond and smirked at your cheeks darkening.

“I know these are the babe’s favorites.” He whispered. He traced a finger around your breast. “It’s wrong of me to say this but I do enjoy it when you pull my hands up your top.”

“Eris,” you hissed.

“It’s true.” He grinned. “You get my warm hands pressed against your sore breasts and I get to hold you.” You blinked at that confession. “My mate, did you think I had nefarious reasons?”

“I thought you just liked to touch my breasts.”

He shrugged, “what is that phrase my brothers keep spewing when they cheat at cards? A win is in fact still a win?”

You rolled your eyes. He continued moving his finger down your sternum and traced around your stomach. You frowned.

“Despite how you feel, I do love how soft you are now.” His fingers moved around to your side and traced your hip. “And how wide your hips are now.”

“I don’t. I had to buy a whole new wardrobe. That was expensive.”

You then yelped and jolted as he moved over you, putting one leg between your thighs to wedge him apart.

“As if I care about the cost. These hips carried our baby.”

He leaned in and kissed the valley between your breasts. His left hand cupped your right breast when he kissed down your chest again. He could feel you relax under him and grinned against your stomach. He maneuvered himself so he could switch and cup your other one against his heated palm.

“I swear that’s all you're good for,” you teased, placing your hand on top of his. “Male hot stone.”

He slid down further and nipped his teeth at the skin above your belly button and he felt you tense again. He knew you hated how soft your stomach was and how the skin there was still recovering from being stretched to accommodate your child. He’d spend the rest of his life convincing you it was a blessing if he had to. Because it was.

“This beautiful belly of yours,” he kissed your stomach, “made our perfect babe. That was all you, my fire.”

“I know.” You didn’t sound convinced.

Eris knew it would take time. Even if he was impatient, he wouldn’t argue with you. He learned a long time ago that only made you stand firm in your thoughts. Instead he pressed more open mouth kisses along your stomach, pulling his hands away to loop his arms under your thighs. He didn’t miss the way you gasped or how your scent sweetened. He definitely didn’t miss the humming want you were pushing in through the bond. He rolled his hips into the bed like a fuckin youth just to relieve his own tension.

He wasted no more time, eager to get his mouth between your legs. He pulled your legs apart and peppered kisses on the inside of your thighs. You were still tense; something he had not encountered since the first time you were together. Despite your apprehension, you were still wet for him. He tried not to be smug as he put his mouth on you and your body relaxed in his hold.

He moaned as he licked up your center, your taste and smell overwhelming him in the best way. It was almost muscle memory, his tongue moving against your already swollen nub in a way that had you grabbing him by his hair. And by the cauldron, did he miss your hands in his hair.

Eris had planned to take his time. Take you apart slowly and remind you how much he loved you. Your body had other plans. You rolled your hips against his face, and he sucked and licked harder. He didn’t even get his fingers in you before you moaned and arched on the bed.

“Fuck,” you muttered as you came, panting and yanking his hair as he worked you through it. You had enough when you pulled him up.

He laughed. “That’s a record.”

“Is it?” You were still gasping.

“You really know how to stroke a male’s ego.” He sat up and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Maybe we should take breaks more often.”

“Insufferable.” You muttered.

“I’m about to be even more insufferable,” he said with a sly tone.

He made certain you were looking when he rolled his pants down, his length springing free and curving up on his stomach.

“Still doubt me?” He smirked and stroked himself.

You groaned. “Fine, I believe you.” Despite your tone you gave him a loving look. “Now hush and come fuck me.”

Eris kicked off his pants and crawled over you. There were no words exchanged as your legs fell open and he seemed to settle in place with ease. You gasped when he reached in between you both to guide himself into your slick heat. He groaned almost too loud when he bottomed out into you and stilled.

By The Mother he missed this. Being so close to you; being physically connected to you. The bond between you both tight, filled with love and passion. He laid there for a moment to savor it. He kissed you deeply and used his hand to bring your leg up farther on his waist.

He pulled away and leaned his forehead to yours. “I swear I’d put another baby in you right now if Edith wouldn’t kill me.”

“I think I would kill you.” Your tone was amused rather than annoyed, thankfully.

“And what sweet death it would be,” he muttered.

He kissed you again and propped himself up on one of his arms. The shift alone felt like lightning shooting up his spine. He realized at that moment he shouldn’t have laughed at you for coming apart so quickly. Eris groaned and cursed when he rocked his hips.

“Know how to stroke a female’s ego.” Your laughter faded into a moan; Eris thrusted into you a little harder.

You were both mostly silent after that. Eris’s mouth was preoccupied with kissing every inch of your face and chest he could reach. You were biting your lip when he wasn’t kissing you so you wouldn’t get vocal and wake the baby. He could feel you plateau through the bond, both of you just enjoying the feeling of being together in this way again.

He finally moved up and put your leg up over his shoulder to let him dive into you harder. You sighed and he felt your pleasure spike through the bond. He tried to not be smug about it. He reached his hand between you and rubbed his thumb gently in time with his thrusts. He grinned at how you mewled.

“Can you come for me again, love?” You nodded. He was close himself, his breathing haggard. “Will you do that for me? Come with me.”

It took a few moments before you arched off the bed again and flooded the bond with your pleasure. He groaned coming right behind you, but not stopping until you stopped pulsing around him. He dropped your leg and damn near collapsed on top of you.

Eris pushed himself off you with a groan, still catching his breath. “I think I need to start training again.”

“Overwork yourself?” You giggled “I think that’s just your age showing.”

Eris bit back a retort. After a moment he reluctantly moved off the bed and muttered he would get you a towel. Sleepiness was creeping into his bones while he cleaned himself off and wet a hand towel for you. He grabbed his pants off the floor where he tossed them and before he returned to bed, he peered into the nursery. Your babe was still fast asleep.

It seemed you were also sleepy when he crept up to the bed and saw your eyes closed. He made sure to heat the towel with his hand before maneuvering it between your legs and cleaning up the mess he made. You inhaled sharply but only blinked at him. He incinerated it once he was done.

“You’re so dramatic,” you grumbled at him.

“But you love me,” he said and leaned in and kissed you again before crawling into bed.

“That I do,” you muttered and scooted over to him so you could cuddle until you both fell asleep.

#gods I’m nervous about this one folks #no one asked for it but here you go #daddy!eris #post baby!f-reader #acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris acotar

[notjustjavierpena]

The Making of Ellie - Part II

A/N: They won’t leave me alone now. God help DILF!Joel. A follow-up to Baby-Making.

Summary: You're an expert in being difficult during your first pregnancy. Few things help.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader/You (No y/n)

Tags: +18 Smut (MDNI!), Joel's POV, a bit of arguing, softdom!Joel is a simp and a bit of a brat tamer, pregnancy sex, rough sex, creampie, dirty talk, daddy kink if you squint.

Word count: 2.3k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49183051/chapters/124097539

Tempers

It turns out that pregnant you is a handful. Joel has been through it with Sarah’s mother, but he doesn’t quite remember that she was as difficult as you are turning out to be in your second trimester. You throw hissy fits, gag at the smell of his cologne, complain about him breathing too loud, make him go on snack patrols at two in the morning, cry at the sight of baby animals, yell at him until you cry for getting the wrong kind of Oreos, make him hold your hair as you throw up said Oreos.

Sarah sends him several grimaces behind your back, practically fleeing the house every time she has the opportunity to seek shelter at her boyfriend’s home to avoid the ticking bomb that you are. Joel is left with you alone, and he hates to admit it, but he absolutely loves it. 

For you, he’ll take the extra trip to the store even if you claim that he is the biggest asshole to have walked the earth. He’ll draw you baths, make dinner how you like it, kiss the top of your head as you puke, and buy you plastic flowers if the smell of real ones makes you nauseous. All this even if it has him confused, even if it bruises him a little. Your mood swings like the sixties and, luckily for you, he absolutely loves the sixties. 

“Sweetheart—“

“Don’t you fucking sweetheart me,” you seethe whilst emptying the dishwasher with a good amount of difficulty due to your growing baby bump. Joel has offered to do it several times now, and the problem, why he is getting yelled at, seems to be that you are too stubborn to admit how much strain it is on your body to bend down after the plates. 

Joel stands in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and leaning against the frame with his shoulder. He observes the way you have a hand on your belly as you crouch down. He weighs his words, “’m just saying that—“

“I can do it,” you say but it seems mostly to be directed at yourself. Joel doesn’t show but he finds your pouty face and attitude attractive. It’s cute and sexy at the same time when your non-threatening frame yells at him, but he also likes sleeping in his own bed so he won’t tell you.

You try a different position, go after the cutlery instead of the plates. One of the forks falls to the very bottom of the dishwasher, lying between the plate racks, and you let out a frustrated growl. 

Joel cannot help the laugh that comes out of his mouth. 

“Don’t laugh at me!” Your voice breaks, tears coming out of nowhere, “Stop being mean.”

“I’m not. I’m just tryna let ya know I’m right here if ya need me to do it,” he continues, trying to hide the amusement on his face. 

You suck in a frustrated breath, then a deeper one to calm whatever emotional reaction is bubbling up inside your chest, and try one more time. You bend your knees, bump pressing into your thighs and the position puts a strain on your back. Quickly, you put a hand against the lower part of your spine, “Ow.”

Yes, he loves your stubborn attitude, your difficulty, your horrible temper tantrums. Right until now.

Joel straightens immediately at the sound of your painful discomfort. He is on you in mere seconds, not amused anymore, and with a frown on his face when he grabs your shoulders, “Right, that’s it. No more of that.”

“I can—“ 

He is the one to interrupt now, “Absolutely not.”

He guides you towards one of the chairs in the kitchen, sporting an expression of controlled anger. He knows that you value your independence, but seeing you hurt yourself, and therefore his child, in an attempt to maintain it simply won’t fly with him. 

“Sit,” his voice is stern.

Your lips are parted slightly at his command. You look doe-eyed, flushed red, and slightly shaken as you fall down into the dining chair. Joel leaves you there, not ready to have an argument with you about it, and goes to empty the stupid fucking dishwasher.

“Joel,” you squeak. 

“Not now,” he warns, “You’re fuckin’ infuriating.”

“Joel,” you try again, this time a little louder. 

“What?” He whips around, a plate in his hand that his fingers clutch harder at the sight of you; you are pressing your thighs together, breathing through your still-open mouth. You look flustered. Horny.

“Fuck me,” you plead shamelessly. You don’t try to get up. Joel feels pleased with that.

“Jesus, baby,” he tuts in disbelief.

“Please, please, please,” you continue and the tears in your eyes have only increased, holding onto the edges of your seat until your nails dig into the wood and he is sure the paint will come off the furniture.

Joel sets down the few plates in his hands on the kitchen counter. He crosses the room to stand in front of you, breath hitching in his throat as you look up at him through your lashes. Fuck, you are pretty.

“That what my baby needs?” He asks, tilting your head backward by putting a finger under your chin. He then gently cups your face, wipes a tear away with his thumb, and leans down to kiss your lips, “No hissy fits if I fuck ya? No need to run to the grocery store for cookie dough ice cream?”

“Can’t promise that, but not today at least,” you say softly, pushing out your bottom lip to make your irresistible angel face. Joel gives in so easily to you these days, knows that he’d probably do whatever unreasonable demand you asked of him today anyway — and every single day after. 

“You’re unbelievable, momma,” he chuckles, his frustrated anger having completely disappeared from his mind at how cute you are, “C’mere.”

He helps you to stand, “How you wanna do this?” 

You turn your back to him and lean down over the dining table, bump hanging out over the edge and your sensitive tits pressing into the surface. Every single drop of blood in his body rushes to his cock so fast that he feels dizzy, and whilst he is regaining his composure, you are already getting out of your comfortable bottoms and your panties. 

“Fuck, baby,” his stomach swirls at the sight of you. The top you have been wearing is crawling up over your belly as it is no longer held in place by your pants, the dimples on your back showing to him and he wants to press his thumbs into them as he has you right there.

You whine impatiently as you hear the sound of his zipper being pulled down, and it causes you to look back over your shoulder with a frown. He knows what is coming, “Get on with it then.”

“Christ, can’t even fuck you without you bein’ a pain in the ass,” he rolls his eyes and lets out a tch-sound, wants to smack your ass to shut you up. When did you become such a brat that is totally at the mercy of your hormones? He fucks you all the time. This is new. 

“Actually,” you begin and Joel sighs extra loudly at the word for dramatic effect, “There’s no fucking happening.”

“Yet,” he gives in to his urges and lets his palm connect with your ass, relishing in the lewd sound of skin being slapped. It makes you yelp, flesh jiggling as the blow vibrates through your extra pounds, “Think there’s a term called delayed gratification.”

“Just put it in, please, Joel,” you settle for begging instead. He’ll allow it. 

He doesn’t bother stepping out of his jeans, simply shoves his pants and boxers down to his knees. He grabs the swell of your hips, steps closer to the back of your thighs whilst simultaneously pulling you closer too, “Just lemme take care of my pregnant girl. Ain’t gotta be a battle all the time.”

He removes one hand from your hips to stroke himself a few times before teasing your slit, cockhead just dipping shallowly into you. He doesn’t push fully into you just yet despite his body screaming for your wet heat. It earns him a little noise, your head hanging between your shoulders and your legs shaking a little. 

“Do you understand?” He asks, sliding his dick between your damp folds and between your thighs to catch on your clit. You are obscenely wet, coating him in your natural slick as he presses between your legs. You start to rock your hips to feel any kind of friction against your cunt. He holds his cock steady for you to use, “Do you, baby?”

“Yes,” you whine with sensitivity, hips pressing back into him. He has noticed how quickly you come lately, but he isn’t going to give you that satisfaction right now unless he is balls deep inside of you, “Yes, I understand. Please.”

Joel is satisfied with that. He pulls back a little, and with his fist wrapped around his cock, he presses against your opening.

“You don’t have to do a thing, y’know. Just gotta grow my baby, and lemme do all the stupid shit ‘round the house,” he enters you in one go, pushing all the way to the back of your soft and pregnant cunt. You engulf him so easily with how soaked and warm you are, accepting his girth without hesitation. 

He lets go of the base of his cock when he is sheathed inside you and lets his hand come up around your waist to rub your swollen belly. He is gentle when he does that, resting a large palm under the roundness of it to keep the strain at a minimum. 

“That’s what I’m good for?” You egg him on, wanting a reaction; in this case getting fucked stupid, “Just lounging around and getting stuffed with cock?”

“Yeah, whenever you please, I might add,” he groans with you at the first snaps of his hips. He settles a rhythm. Fucks you hard, rushed, and desperately right there against the breakfast table until the vase of flowers on it nearly tumbles to the floor with how much the furniture shakes.

Nobody can blame him, he thinks as he pounds you until you are a crying mess. If anyone had had your delicious cunt for months with a stupid piece of rubber between you, they sure would lose control themselves when they had the chance to fuck you without it. The fact that he gets to as often as he does makes him the luckiest man alive.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you pant weakly, turning your head to rest your cheek against the surface. The hand on your hip slides up to rub between your shoulder blades, soothing you when he notices tears running down your nose.

“Shhh, I got ya, momma,” he reassures. He presses his other hand against your bump to angle your hips slightly and finally gets the opening to glide over your g-spot repeatedly. It makes you shout, eyes screwing shut whilst the sound of your crying reverberates through the tiny kitchen.

He knows your body so well, can sense that you are close after he’s started to reach so deep inside of you. Your moans grow louder, the pitch of them climbing higher with each of his thrusts and it’s downright filthy. He wants your voice to crack, and it so often does with how puffy and hot your cunt always is these days. You come so hard for him.

“Joel— I’m gonna come,” your breathing is so rapid, walls fluttering around his dick and tugging him closer to his own inevitable demise. There’s a moment where your stuttering whimpers come to a halt, breath caught in your throat for less than a second before you exhale sharply. 

The sensation of your cunt spasming around him pulls him in and nearly makes him unable to keep going. Your voice does indeed break, sweat breaks at the small of your back and you sob loudly as your pussy grips him hard enough to send him right to the edge.

“Come in me,” you mewl, can probably feel his cock pulse and grow inside of you. Your voice is weak, legs barely able to hold yourself up after your climax, “Please, Daddy.” 

The nickname has a direct line to his cock. He comes in the next moment, a loud moan slipping from his mouth at the first white rope that shoots out and coats you from the inside. He fucks into you through his orgasm, wet sounds becoming more obscene as his release mixes with your slick. 

Joel holds you steady as he pulls out of you, guiding you to sit down on the chair once more despite being naked on your lower half. He’ll clean up after you, leave the kitchen without evidence of your sinful actions. 

“Okay?” He asks after hurriedly tugging on his clothes again to tend to you. He rubs a hand over your belly, “Didn’t go too hard?”

“Stop fussing,” you say with the most blissed-out smile on your face. He appreciates that there is at least one way of dealing with your horrible temper, “I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Wait here,” he orders but you don’t show signs of getting up from your seat anytime soon.

He leaves to get a flannel from the bathroom, soaks it in lukewarm water to not make it feel uncomfortable against your spent pussy. Though before approaching you again, he digs a hand into the back of the kitchen cabinet to fish out a little reward. 

“Oooh, gimme,” you perk up, making grabby hands as he holds out a Double Creme packet of Oreos. You tear the wrappings off, stuffing one into your mouth, and do a happy dance as he cleans you up.

“Was all you needed, huh?” He chuckles, knelt on the floor in front of you.

“Dick or Oreos?” You tease, chewing obnoxiously loud to irritate him. 

“Charmin’,” he shakes his head, “Are ya happy?”

“Happy wife, happy life,” you argue before stuffing another cookie into your mouth.

.

.

.

@elissaaa @queerponcho @casa-boiardi @gracieispunk @hiddenbabynyc @hopelessromantic727 @livingdeadmaria @its-nebuleuse @milly-louise @cool-iguana @pawnshopbluess222 @joeldjarin @queenbrownie18 @scarletsloveletter @ladyburberry @swiftsgirlfriend @walkintotheriveranddisappear @sunnywithachanceofjavi @strang3lov3 @hellishjoel @toxicanonymity

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[ponderingmoonlight]

Gojo's little sister seducing Choso at Shibuya Part ll

Part l can be found here

Pairing: Choso x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,5k

Synopsis: After getting back on track of saving her big brother, (y/n) catches Mahito's attention. Choso has to decide if he continues searching for Yuji or rushed to her aid before she gets killed.

Warnings: injury, near death, lil spice in the end, I hope you're sat, not proofread

Tags: @96jnie @shebibtedmypepnis @chososwhoresblog @sanicsmut @curlynoodle937565 @ifuckfictionalmen @nyahctrl @khaleesihavilliard @xuanzangg

You lift yourself off the ground and straighten your uniform. Back to reality, focus your mind on what’s in front of you. It’s your mission to free your big brother, to protect the others.

What about Yuji, though? Choso made it very clear that he’ll hunt him down. Choso with that striking violet eyes, Choso with that perfect lips that kissed you without compassion only minutes ago. Lord have mercy, how is it even possible for a man to be that attractive? And the way his strong biceps felt under your longing hands…

Stop. You shake your head, desperately trying to tame down your pounding heart. This is not the right time to think about things like that. Is Yuji strong enough to face him? Wherever he is, Megumi should be right by his side. The two of them could potentially make it.

Potentially.

Satoru isn’t far away, you’re almost there. Is it really wise to turn around and look after them? If you free Satoru first, he’ll figure everything out eventually. Satoru is your priority, the strongest of them all. And maybe Choso will have some mercy. After all, you showed him very clearly that not all humans are a threat.

Your feet carry you into the direction of the train station on their own. God, how much you hope to see that man again, that man who swept you off your feet like none other. You melted like butter in his rough hands, glimmering violet eyes burning themselves into your mind.

“When I’m done here, I’ll go find you, Choso Kamo.”

-Choso’s POV-

“Oi Choso, can you hear me?”

He signs, rolling his eyes in instinct. What the hell does that jerk want from him now? He should have never agreed on these stupid communicators.

“Unfortunately.”

“Huh, why are you so mean? Did I do anything wrong? Are you-“

“What is it?”, he grumbles.

Mahito gets on his nerves since they’ve first met. Choso only agreed on working with them because he needs to revenge his brothers. He’d rather talk to you, though. God, how is he supposed to think about anything else but your vibrant smile and the way your heels are clicking so elegantly? You are the most breathtaking woman he ever laid his eyes on for 150 years, the only one that really caught his attention. And the way you whimpered against his lips, completely soaked in water and face lit up in neon purple. The thought alone makes his mind wander…

“Did you know Gojo has a little sister? Crazy, isn’t it!? Well, found her alone in a hallway not far away from the seal. You’ve got some time to kill her?”

Choso’s heart drops immediately, eyes widen at Mahito’s words. Fuck, he found you. Why him? Why did you decide to move on, right into their open arms? Of course, you came here to safe your brother, it’s only logical that you follow their traces. But still…

He can’t let them harm you.

“Hands off, I’ll go get her”, Choso hisses.

“Hmm, let’s have a race, shall we? Whoever gets to her and kills her first wins, what fun!”

No. no, no, no. Even though you showed your skills more than clearly when fighting against him, Mahito is a powerful opponent, maybe too strong for even you. If he finds you…

There is a high chance that he’ll kill you.

“No, wait!”, Choso shouts into the device.

No reaction.

“Fuck!”

With a loud bang he crashes the communicator into a nearby wall. He doesn’t have time for something like this right now. Fuck, he waited for this moment of revenge for way too long.

But you.

Your striking blue orbs linger through his mind, the way you smiled at him so cocky.

“Let’s be…friends.”

His hands clench into fists, mind fighting against his heart. He knows it’s wrong to run after you, to even care about you the slightest. But he can’t help himself.

His feet carry you back into the opposite direction, back to you.

-(y/n)’s POV-

“And who the hell are you, shitface?”, you question, gazing at the man in front of you while tilting your head to the side in a playful way.

He isn’t nearly as handsome as Choso, that’s for sure. But he’s definitely on the same side as him. Is he human? He sure looks like it. But something about him is off.

“Why so rude? This is our first meeting after all”, he remarks and makes a pout.

“Oh I’m so sorry, did it hurt your feelings that I called you shitface? I thought you already knew”, you purr.

“You should look in the mirror. After all you’re almost a replica of Satoru Gojo.”

“Caught me there”, you give in.

“And I’ll beat your ass just like my brother did.”

You yank forward, ready to hit him full force with your bare fist. He doesn’t seem like a strong opponent, definitely not tougher that Choso. But why is he here, then?

Faster than you’re able to react he slams you into a nearby wall, making your vision go dark for a moment. You cough on your own blood, too stunned to speak. That man is a cursed spirit, that’s for sure. And a damn strong one.

Your limbs are already burning like hell when you stand back up, wiping away a trail of blood that escapes your mouth with an elegant smile.

“Not nice to beat a lady this rudely”, you comment dryly.

In the dark, your mind races. Who is this? What is his weakness? What are you supposed to do? If that’s a special grade curse, your chances are pretty ugly. To be exact, none other than Satoru himself would be able to defeat him. Well, at least that explained how they were even able to seal your big brother.

“Well, you’re human. I don’t make any exceptions there”, he remarks.

He lunges himself at you, arms deformed into sharp blades. Over and over, you hide your limbs from his merciless attacks while your mind searches for a way out of your misery. It seems like your cursed energy just bounces off him with ease, despite the power you lunge at him, he parries every slash so effortlessly that you don’t know what to do.

Slowly but surely, your attacks start to get weaker, mind more and more distracted. You can’t keep up with him, it is impossible to escape the bows of his bare hands, slicing your delicate skin open with ease over and over, breaking your bones like sticks.

Suddenly, he grabs your throat and pushes your body against a wall, feet hanging in the air. Fuck, it feels as if he’s crushing your windpipe with the sheer force of his fingers, watery eyeballs feelings as if they’ll plop out any minute. Is this really how you’ll die?

Oh, how much you wish to see them again one last time. You never got the chance to say goodbye to your brother. And even though you were never as gifted and talented as him, he always strongly believed in your abilities. How would he take it, hearing you got killed by a random curse on a random Halloween night in a dark hallway while trying to save his ass?

And what about Choso? You only met him one time, but his words sounded like a secret promise, a promise to see each other again. You just wished you had more time. Fuck, why did he defeat you this easily? Your whole body screams out in agony, sliced open multiple times by his cruel blades.

“Funny, now you suddenly don’t have such a big mouth anymore”, he throws at you, maniac grin plastered on his face.

“But don’t worry, at least you’ll be reunited with your big brother then. A nice little family meeting, right?”

Focus, don’t give up so easily. Your hands fight against his, trying to push him away, to scratch him, to kick him. But your vision starts to get blurry, ears ringing. You need, you can-

You feel yourself fainting away into sweet darkness.

Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe Choso is better off without you, going his own way.

Choso’s eyes widen in pure horror when his dark premonitions come true. Without thinking twice, he slices Mahito’s hands off, your numb body falling to the ground roughly.

“That’s cheating!”, Mahito cries out in frustration.

You gasp for air like a fish on land, lungs slowly but surely filling themselves with life again. Fuck, this was really close. What happened? Why did he let go of you?

“Get your disgusting hands off her.”

Your heart stops. Choso.

He walks towards you, eyes scanning your figure. You are severely injured, but still conscious. He needs to get you out of here as soon as possible. If Mahito hits you one more time…

No, he can’t think this through. Despite the countless lives he took, all the lives that vanished in front of his eyes, the thought of losing you seems unbearable.

Why does he feel this way? What has gotten into him to start a fight over a human woman he knows for maybe an hour? This is reckless, this is dumb-

This is all he’s able to think about at the moment.

With a swift motion he lifts you up in his arms, your weak head resting against his broad chest.

“Choso?”, you breathe out, lids desperately fighting against the urge to close.

“What you up to? Do you like her? I mean, for a human, he has a pretty nice face and really mesmerizing hair and eyes but…she’s the enemy, Choso. I’m sure Geto doesn’t like hearing about this.”

“I don’t give a damn about all of you. I need her to fulfill my own mission, so stay out of it”, Choso hisses through gritted teeth, walking past Mahito confidently.

“I really don’t have a good feeling about this!”, Mahito shouts behind both of you, but Choso is already on his way back into the lonely hallways of the train station.

“What are you doing here?”, you mumble.

Fuck, everything hurts. You are pretty sure that that fucker broke a few of your ribs, let alone the countless wounds he inflicted on you. Damn, you almost died. If Choso didn’t show up…

“I came here to save you”, he explains briefly, eyes focused in front of him.

“I don’t need a prince in shining armor”, you mutter along with a weak attempt to free yourself out of his grip.

“Pathetic”, Choso notes.

He lets you down gently, his hands lifting up your skirt just enough to inspect your wound along with making your lower body screaming in excitement.

“Don’t be shy, you’re totally allowed to touch me handsome.”

“Would you just stop saying such things?”

Again, that cute little blush creeping up his cheeks. Oh, how much you longed to see him again. Even though you didn’t plan on meeting him so soon. God, the pain throbbing through your whole body seems to eat you up alive.

“Y’know, I have nothing against repeating that one part of our last encounter…”

“You mean me throwing you against the wall?”, he grumbles.

“You can throw me into bed anytime.”

“Damnit (y/n).”

He stops in his tracks, hands grabbing your shoulders while his eyes seem to pierce through you.

“I’m really trying to focus but you’re making it hard for me when you’re saying such things. You are injured and need to be taken care of”, he clarifies.

“I’d love you to take care of me.”

You grin like an idiot, making Choso almost lose what’s left of his self-control. How is it possible to look so damn fine and have a cheeky mouth after being severely injured? Don’t you understand that Mahito would have killed you right on the spot if it wasn’t for him?

“Can’t you be serious for once?”

“Thank you for saving me”, you suddenly blurt out.

His eyes soften.

“I just don’t understand why. I know you were on your way to kill Yuji. What made you stop? Why were you even there?”

“Mahito told me about your presence. I couldn’t let him hurt you.”

His very own words sound so dumb in his ears that it hurts. Damn, he knows you for a few hours, you are one of his enemies. Why is he kneeling in front of you, why did he even save you in the first place? It shouldn’t bother him, you shouldn’t mean a single thing to him. But the way you look up through your wet lashes with doe eyes, mouth slightly parted…

He can’t help but give in. Gently, he presses his lips against yours, careful to not hurt you. Fuck the rules, fuck the others, fuck the mission. His intuition tells him to pull you closer, let his hands roam through your hair, kiss you with so much passion that he can’t catch his breath.

Are you dreaming? The way his soft lips feel against yours sure make you feel this way. Instinctively, you wrap your aching arms around his neck, pulling him even closer, feeling him even better. Oh god, how much you needed this. Your heart screams at you like never before, butterflies invading your stomach. This feels just right. Yes, that is all you ever wanted.

“Choso”, you whimper into the kiss.

Hearing his name out of your sweet mouth simply drives him insane. He has to have you. No, he fucking needs you. Something about you tells him that you are special, that there is no way he’ll let you go again. Maybe it is time to switch sides. Maybe he should listen to your side of this story. Maybe, just maybe.

“You’ll be the death of me”, he mumbles against your parted lips, fingertips caressing your cheek.

“Let’s die together, then”, you reply, pulling him in roughly for another passionate kiss.

-Bonus-

“Tell me this is a joke, (y/n)”, Satoru mutters, staring wide-eyed at Choso’s and your intertwined hand.

“Well, a lot happened while you were resting your ass”, you remark, eyes fluttering by a glimpse at the breathtaking gorgeous man next to you.

“Don’t worry sensei, he’s my big brother!”, Yuji reassures, making you nod proudly.

All your big brother is able to do is stare at you with his mouth hanging open.

“How often did I told you to stay single?”, he questions.

“How often did I tell you that I don’t care?”

“He’s a bad guy, he murderer countless people, (y/n)! Use your brain just once!”

“I always told you I’m into bad guys. Come to terms with it.”

Choso wraps his arm around you, pressing your body against his firm abs.

“Let’s go somewhere more…exciting”, you mutter, eyes darken.

“Oh god, I wish I never saw that. Please kill me right on the spot”, Satoru cries out in disgust.

“Nothing easier than that…”, Choso comments dryly.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #gojo saturo #gojo jjk #jujustu kaisen #satoru gojo #choso jjk #choso kamo #choso #jjk choso #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen choso #kamo choso #chousou #choso my beloved #choso fluff #choso smut #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso x female reader #jjk fluff #jjk shibuya arc #jjk season 2

[natasharomanoffismywife]

I'm Not Like Everybody Else (Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

Back to masterlist

Tag List: @mxxnmocha​ @madamevirgo @fl0ating @natasha-danvers @lesbian-x-blackwidow @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @summergeezburr @natashasfirefly @sighsam @nowthisisliving27 @captain-josslett @hcartbyheart​ @stop-drop-and-drumroll​ @tribblemakingalicorn @aaron-despair​ @becka107​ @peggycarter-steverogers​ @rooskaya-yelena​ @cpt-bolter​ @natashadeservedmore @indiavance555 @thewidowsghost @waltermis

Word Count:825

Natasha Romanoff POV

“I’m bored Tasha… spar with me?”

“No”

“Watch a movie with me?”

“No”

“But I’m boreddd Natasha… you need to entertain me!”

“Go annoy your girlfriend Yelena, I am not moving from this spot for the rest of today. It’s my only rest day I’ve had in the last 2 weeks so please just let me do nothing in peace.” I say to my frustrated sister, having just come back from back-to-back missions I am addiment on not moving for the duration of my day off today.

“ugh Kate Bishop is busy with old man Barton today and I really can’t be bothered to be nice to him at the moment, I have to much energy for that.” Yelena groans as she slumps down onto the sofa next to me, I can’t help smirking at the little nickname she has for Clint something that I will have to repeat back to him at some point.

I go to answer Yelena but the noise of the common room door opening and an unfamiliar female voice grabs my attention, both myself and Lena turn to face the newcomer who is walking beside a smiling Steve and once my eyes meet her e/c ones I instantly am blown away by her natural beauty.

“Hey Nat, Yelena, please meet our new team member Y/N L/N. She’s come highly recommended by Hill and Fury so please make her feel welcome” Steve informs us with a smile on his face, I hear Yelena introduce herself with a nice welcome but I am not paying attention to what she is saying instead I am taken back by the blinding smile that adorns our newcomers face.

“Hey L/N nice to meet you, looks like Thor has competition for being the best-looking Avenger” I finish my sentence with a cheeky wink, my smirk falls slightly when I notice that Y/n was not blushing like most women would and judging by the little chuckle coming from the annoying blonde next to me it seems Yelena has noticed that as well.

I watch as Y/n gives me a polite smile before being ushered out of the room by a talkative Steve, I follow the girl with my eyes and once she is out of my eye line, I turn to Yelena who seems to be dying of laughter.

“Oh my god! She didn’t even say anything! Wow Nat you seem to have lost your touch” I roll my eyes at the tease before punching my sister hard in the arm, grinning victoriously I turn and walk out of the room leaving my pouting sister all alone.

That first meeting was about 3 months ago and it’s safe to say my attempts at flirting with Y/n has not gone down well, I have been using my trademark Romanoff charm and all I get is a smile and a nod not someone who giggles and fawns over me like everyone else does and I have had enough!

I stomp to Y/n’s bedroom and after knocking on the door I am greeted with a warm smile, something that instantly makes me melt into a puddle. I gaze into her e/c eyes fully aware that I am sporting a dreamy smile but I couldn’t care less, I am happy to be in the presence of this goddess.

“Are you alright Natasha? You’ve not moved since I’ve opened the door?” A look of concern etched onto Y/n’s face as she softly speaks to me, I am snapped back into reality at her voice and not thinking I just go for it.

“Why don’t you respond to my flirting? I am trying my hardest to get you like me but you aren’t giving me anything! I am giving you the Black Widow treatment most people would kill for that!” I vomit out, I cringe to myself as I am speaking but I just can’t stop myself.

“I’m not like everyone else I don’t respond to flirting; I much prefer to spend time with a person and get to know them. I don’t want the Black Widow; I want to know the real Natasha Romanoff.” Y/n softly says making me nod along with her words, how dumb am I? why didn’t I think about this.

“I’m sorry Y/n I’ve spent my whole life around people who just want the Black Widow that I didn’t think some people would want to know Natasha instead. Can we start over? Hi my name is Natasha Romanoff” I say with a soft smile, I put my hand out in front of me and I squeal internally when I feel the soft hand of Y/n slip inside it.

“Nice to meet you Natasha, my name is Y/n L/n pleasure to make your acquaintance.”  Y/n softly tells me with a big smile on her face.

“Would you do me the honour of coming out to dinner with me tonight?”

“I couldn’t think of anything better Romanoff”

#i'm not like everybody else #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #scarlett johansson x reader #avengers fanfiction #natasha romanoff

[dabislittlemouse]

tainted angel 🪽 MASTERLIST

ෆ pairing: Dabi x Hawks’ little sister

ෆ Synopsis: While stalking Hawks and trying to find out more information about him, Dabi comes across his little sister, a sweet angelic thing that welcomes him inside her house with a bright smile on her face. Dabi can’t help but get obsessed over her, the sudden urge to make her his takes over him entirely, maybe to have Hawks under his control while he enjoys his little sister, or maybe he really does like her. Nevertheless, she does not know the danger she just involved herself in, nor does she know that her brother’s handsome “friend” is in fact a dangerous villain who has sick twisted intentions.

ෆ cw‼️: smut, yandere themes, corruption kink, dubcon/noncon, mixed feelings, Dabi being a flirt and a pervert, stalking,

ෆ A/N please read before going further: This multichapter fic is written in Dabi’s POV mostly, it’s written in first person. You will come across Dabi’s thoughts and feelings, how he perceives things. He calls Keigo’s sister “angel” instead of the famous Y/N label, so I’ll be calling her angel too. Sometimes I include angel’s POV too (which you can totally insert yourself and imagine being her. As I write this fic I also imagine myself being the sister as well). Due to her being Keigo’s sister she might have specific descriptions such as hair color, eye color, skin, wings etc.

CHAPTER 1

During a boring rainy day of wandering around, Dabi gets a call from the men he hired to get more information on Hawks. They had found his old house, where supposedly his mother lived. Dabi decides to pay her a little visit, not knowing the surprise that was waiting for him: the little angel Hawks used to keep hidden from the public.

CHAPTER 2

Hawks threatens Dabi to not get close to his family, specifically his sister. But Dabi definitely has other plans the moment he got her number, deciding to call her late at night.

CHAPTER 3

Angel continues to secretly interact with Dabi despite Hawks warning her not to. She is entirely captivated by his charm and mysteriousness. Dabi decides to pay her a little visit and leave a small gift.

CHAPTER 4

She finally agrees to meet Dabi behind an alleyway, late at night. They both head to an empty park, where Dabi decides to make a move and savour her. From that moment things get heated up.

CHAPTER 5

Hawks is worried that his sister was out so late at night. He starts doubting her words, wondering if she is even telling the truth. He is not pleased with what he sees once she comes back.

CHAPTER 6

As Dabi refuses to elaborate on who he is and what bad things he has done, angel starts getting more paranoid. Especially knowing that he might’ve possibly entered her house at night or stalked her. As much as she enjoyed his company, she doesn’t feel safe, so she decides to listen to her brother’s warnings and stop talking to Dabi. Though Dabi is anything but pleased with her decision.

CHAPTER 7

She has been keeping watch for a few nights by now, anxiously waiting just in case Dabi decided to appear again, living in constant fear. Strange dreams appear in her sleep, of him being so close to her, touching her body in ways she begs for more. But is this really just a dream?

CHAPTER 8

“You like the danger don’t cha?” Dabi smirks. “You like some thrill in your boring peaceful life, something troublesome that has your blood boiling and adrenaline rushing.. isn’t that right doll? You like to play with fire, mess with the unknown, scared that you’ll burn and yet needing more. Confusing isn’t it?”

CHAPTER 9

Time for a real date. Giving Dabi another chance, she again lets herself swim in dangerous waters, though this time she won’t come back unscathed

CHAPTER 10

Giving in to the temptation and burning desire that could no longer be contained, she finally lets her body and soul into Dabi’s hands.

.

.

Divider credits @cafekitsune

🏷️current tags on this fic: @mostlyheinous @dabihawksluva @scariusaquarius @syrenkitsune @touyalove @awalkingshame @dabislittlebeaniebaby @madsttx @cr-33-d , if you want to be added in the taglist and get notified when a new chapter drops, let me know!

#B.writes #dabi #touya todoroki #mha dabi #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dabi x reader #mha #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #yandere dabi #dabi smut #yandere #yandere fanfiction #x reader #hawks #keigo takami #tw: yandere #dark fanfiction

[atlabeth]

weight of the world

series masterlist

pairing: luke castellan x daughter of poseidon!reader

summary: percy returns to camp after a successful quest. luke battles his guilt.

a/n: a lot of you guys seemed to like the percy pov and the pure angst of luke doing all this stuff to his first love's brother percy jackson instead of just percy jackson and first and foremost i would like to say you're all crazy but i also agree. so here you go. title from the jon bellion song

wc: 5.6k

warning(s): reader is dead (i feel like i have to tag this every time lmao). angst made angstier with fluffy flashbacks. tlt betrayal scene (pit scorpion edition). everyone is so sad

When Percy returned to camp with Annabeth and Grover, they were hailed as heroes. 

It might not have felt like it on the road, isolated with just the three of them, but they’d prevented a third World War. They certainly stopped camp from getting destroyed, if what Luke told them was true about the cabins taking sides. 

Burning their burial shrouds felt even better, especially with the Ares cabin’s expert craftsmanship. Apparently it was a tradition because demigods died so frequently on quests—Percy took pride in breaking that unsettling standard. 

It turned out all he needed to come into his own was to go on a quest everyone thought would kill him and not die. 

He excelled during his sword fighting lessons—going against a god would do that for you—he’d gotten much better at using his powers—going against a god would also do that for you—and his team always dominated on the lake during races, though that might’ve just been him cheating. 

He’d even started getting used to the Poseidon cabin in all its emptiness. It still felt too lonely, but he was working on it. The first thing he did when he got back to the cabin was pin your photo on the wall—Cabin Three belonged to you as much as it did to him.

And of course, everyone wanted to hear about how Percy saved the world. He’d told the story of his quest about a hundred times since he got back, sometimes with Annabeth piping in to set the record straight, sometimes with Grover dramatically setting the scene, always with a million different questions in between about how everything went down. 

Tonight was no different in the amphitheater—a group of Athena kids wanted to hear about his fight against Ares again—but he managed to get out of giving them the excruciating play-by-play courtesy of campfire songs. Percy didn’t really mind, though—any night with a large, golden fire was a good night in his books. 

Which was kind of how he ended up giving Luke the play-by-play of his quest. Maybe it was bragging, but he hadn’t seen who he considered his first friend at camp in a while. And yeah, sue him, but he wanted to impress Luke. He was cool and nice and good at everything, and Percy wanted to prove he’d made him proud. 

“—And I thought I didn’t stand a chance, but she taunted me and told me to jump into the water if I was really Poseidon’s kid. So I did, and it worked, and somehow I lived.” Percy shook his head with a slight laugh. “It ended up all over the news. I was a nationally wanted criminal for a couple days. We also blew a bus up, and rode with a zebra and a lion to Vegas, and went to the Underworld— gods, we did so much. It was crazy, honestly.” 

Luke chuckled. “I’m sure.” 

Percy glanced over at him, his brows creasing when he saw his distant gaze. He didn’t think Luke heard a single word. “You good, man?” 

He blinked and focused back on Percy, and though he smiled it was strained. “Yeah. Sorry—spaced out for a second. You were talking about your quest?” 

Percy nodded slowly. “Yeah. The whole criminal thing.” 

His smile turned a little more genuine. “You made front page news, too. I think you became the idol of a lotta kids here.”

“Oh, god,” he said with a frown. “You guys get news here?” 

“Couple New York papers,” he nodded. “You’re camp-famous.” 

Percy huffed a laugh and shook his head. “It feels crazy. I just got here a month ago, and everything’s already changed so much.” He looked over at Luke. “What did you do after you got home from your quest?” 

“...It takes some getting used to,” he admitted with a shrug. “I mean, getting to camp after so many years on the road was rough—coming back to camp after getting this—” he tapped his scar— “didn’t help.” 

“How did you get that?” he asked. 

“You’re always trying to get the saddest stories out of me,” Luke said wryly. “You know you can read books, right?” 

“I can’t, actually,” Percy said. "Not well."

Luke laughed and shook his head, his gaze falling back to the fire. Percy took it as him moving on. 

“I— I know I’m kind of proving your point, but… I wanted to ask you if I could have a couple more pictures” Percy cleared his throat, brushing a few dark strands of hair out of his face. “Of my sister, I mean. Obviously, you have way more of a right to them than I do, but— but Cabin Three’s a little bare. I thought adding a couple current things to the old stuff she put up would be nice.” 

His throat bobbed, and it took him a second, but he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah— sure.”

“Tomorrow after breakfast?” he asked. “I’ve got some free time before I have to go down to the forge.”

Luke nodded again. “Sure. You still have that picture I gave you?”

“Of course,” he said. “I already put it up on the wall. Do you want it back?”

His smile was bittersweet as he shook his head. “Nah. Like I said, you deserve to have a piece of her with you. And I’m sure she’d say the same.”

“I asked my dad about her, y’know,” Percy said. Luke’s eyes widened a bit as he looked back at him. “I went to Olympus on my own to return Zeus’s bolt, and the two of them were there. My dad and I got some alone time, and…” he shrugged. “I already annoyed two gods that day. Figured a third wouldn’t be that crazy.”

“What did he say?” 

“That it was one of his greatest regrets,” Percy said. “And he’d never forgive himself for letting her die, and for what it did to her mom.” He glanced at Luke. “And to you.”

Luke’s chest stilled, his gaze going out of focus for a moment as a muscle worked in his jaw. He hid it well, but Percy knew. He’d spent enough time at home with his mom and step-dad, overheard enough one-sided arguments. 

“You’re braver than me,” he finally said, and he stood up. “I’m gonna turn in—it’s been a long day.”

“I’m sorry, Luke,” he said. “And Poseidon is too, for whatever it’s worth.” 

Luke didn’t look back at him as he started towards the path. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Percy.” 

-

“Are you sure you’re allowed to put lights up?” Luke asked. 

“Okay, Chiron,” you said cloyingly. “I didn’t know you were such a stickler for the rules.” 

“I’m just worried about fire safety!” he exclaimed. “The Hephaestus kids nearly burn down their cabin at least five times a week.” 

“They’re working with actual fire. These are just Christmas lights.” You glanced down at him and he handed you the next strand. “Besides, this is the safest cabin for possible fire hazards. And they look pretty—that’s all that matters.” 

Luke chuckled as you hung them up, and he took a step back as you jumped off the chair and moved it to the other side of the room. You usually hung fairy lights, but with the holidays just around the corner, you wanted to make the place more festive. You asked Luke if he wanted to hang out with you while you decorated, and he obviously accepted. He took all the time he could get with you. 

“It’s so quiet in here,” Luke said as you got back up, taking the next strand with you. “I’m not used to an empty cabin.” 

“That’s what happens when you’re not supposed to be alive,” you mused. 

“You of all people can’t say that.” He huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Do you ever get lonely in here?” 

“‘Course not,” you said. “I’ve always got you following me around.” 

“Can you blame me?” he asked. “Your company’s the best.” 

You grinned and looked back down at him, and Luke gave you the next string of lights. “Or maybe you’re just a little crazy. You’ve gotta be to spend three years on the road with me.” 

“Being around you is what’s kept me sane,” he corrected. “Especially in the Hermes cabin of chaos.” 

You got up on your toes and lifted a leg up so you could lean to reach the last hook. “Oh, come on. Your siblings are so fun to be around!” 

“Maybe in small doses,” he said wryly. “And be careful, gods—” 

You looked down at him, your grin only growing. “Are you saying you’re worried about me?” 

“Always,” he said, still watching you, “but the last thing you need is to break your leg.” 

“It’s a five foot fall, Luke,” you said, amused as you got back on even footing. You hopped back down and tilted your head. “I’ve survived much higher falls.” 

Luke frowned. “You don’t get to joke about that.” 

“I thought you were dead too,” you defended. “That means it’s fair game.” 

His chest twisted. He’d played that day over in his head thousands of times since he first lost you, wondering if he could have done something different or if he should have searched more—he stayed in those woods for a week and a half searching for you before another monster attack forced him out of the area. It was the whole reason he came up with a designated meeting area with Thalia and Annabeth if they got separated—he never wanted to lose someone again the way he lost you. 

He shook his head with a sigh. “Sometimes I still can’t believe it, y’know? 

“Thank my dad,” you said. “I would have died if I didn’t fall into water. And he’s the reason I got to camp.” 

He’s also the reason you ended up on the streets in the first place, Luke wanted to say, but he held his tongue. You’d never shared his disdain for the gods, and he didn’t want to spoil your mood with his bitterness. 

So he doesn’t. He tilted his head and focused back on you. “Do I ever tell you how thankful I am that you're still alive?”

You smiled as you pushed the chair in front of your desk. “I could always stand to hear it more.” 

“Well, I’m thankful that you’re alive,” Luke said. He could have stared at your smile forever. “Mourning you was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” 

“With any luck, you won’t have to do it again,” you joked. “I get it, though. Sometimes it feels like a dream. I thought I was hallucinating when you came over that hill.”  

The best and the worst day of his life—he found you again and lost Thalia in the same five-minute span. It wasn’t fair—Luke had told Thalia so many stories about you, and she was the one that brought him back from the edge your supposed death sent him to. On his worst days, Luke blamed himself for both. 

“Luke,” you said, jarring him out of his thoughts. “What do you think of the lights? Tacky, or festive, or both?” 

He blinked, then took a step back with you so you could get the full view. He nodded. “Festive, definitely. Where’d you even get them?” 

“The Big House attic,” you said. “It’s not just full of Oracles and spoils of war.” 

He chuckled. “And how did you convince Chiron to give you those?” 

You shrugged. “You know I’m persuasive.” 

Luke shook his head. “I’m jealous. No one else really gets to decorate their place like this.” 

“No siblings means full creative control,” you mused. “And Big Three dad means a big cabin all for me.” 

“And yet you still get a twin bed,” he said with a smile. “We’re all equal, really.” 

“Like you wouldn’t prefer a full.” You fluffed your pillow then set it back down. “You spend as much time in here as I do.” 

“Can you blame me?” Luke shrugged. “There’s no privacy there. We can get away with basically anything in here.” 

“And because you love me,” you said cloyingly as you rustled your hair with his hand. 

“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “I really do.” 

Your smile widened and you gestured at your box of decorations. “Wanna prove it, loverboy? Help me get the rest of this up before sword lessons.”

“Y’know, I’m leading them today,” Luke said, picking up a stack of snowflake cutouts. He was pretty sure you just took all the rejects after you were in charge of the crafts for a week. “Technically, that means we’ve got as long as we want.” 

“Oh, Luke Castellan,” you said airily, pressing a hand to your chest. “You know the way to my heart.” 

-

“Oh,” Percy said. “Wow.” 

“Yeah. And this is only one of them.” Luke set a cardboard box full of things on an empty bed and sighed. “She made this place her own while she was here.”

Percy took out a stack of baseball cards on top—Red Sox, of course, the only bad thing about you—and shuffled through them. “Everything’s a little dusty.” 

“No one really wanted to come in here after she died,” Luke said. He had a tangled mess of Christmas lights in his hands. “All this stuff stayed up for a year or two before I took it all down.” He huffed a mirthless laugh. “You’re probably the only one apart from me to be in here since she left.” 

Percy set the cards down. “Do you mind if I put some of it back up?” 

Luke glanced at him. “Why do you always ask me? This is your place.” 

“It’s not just my place,” he said. “I… I want to make sure I’m honoring her well. And I don’t wanna make it harder for you. Especially if you took it down for a reason.” 

Luke was silent for a moment as he stared at the lights. He brushed off some dust with his thumb. 

Percy felt bad for pushing the matter every time he was around Luke, but there was a tug inside of him—an innate need to know more about her, a desperation to honor her life despite never meeting her. 

“I appreciate it,” he finally said. “But go for it, man. You don’t have to get my permission.” 

Percy nodded, and he took a poster out, wedged in the side of the box. A Blondie poster, based off the huge block letters above a blonde singer stylized in pop art. It had a torn corner, and bits of tape had been folded over some parts of the edges. 

Luke chuckled. “She was a huge Blondie fan. She brought her Walkman when she ran away—I lost count of how many times we listened to Parallel Lines. Definitely put that one back up.” 

Percy nodded and set it on his bed. He looked at the lights in Luke’s hand. “Why’d she have those?” 

“She loved to light the cabin up,” he explained. “Said it made it feel more homey, and she liked to change it with the seasons. And when she enlisted the Aphrodite kids, it was like a— a HomeGoods warzone.” Luke shook his head with the most genuine smile he’d seen all day. “She really was something special.”  

Again, Percy’s heart clenched. It wasn’t fair he only got to learn about you through stories, only through the past tense. If he could get his mom back, why the hell couldn’t he get you back? Why couldn’t his dad have stepped in? 

What good was regret when you have all the power in the world to stop it? What good was being a god if you couldn’t save your family when it mattered most? 

“Y’know, I decorated this place a million times with her,” he said, and Percy was thankful for the interruption with his thoughts. “She wanted it to be a welcoming cabin, open to the whole camp if they ever got homesick.” 

“So the opposite of what it used to be,” Percy said wryly. 

“Yeah,” Luke nodded. “You two are the first Poseidon kids in a long time because of the oath—it was just here for respect. She didn’t just make it into her home, she made it into a home for anyone that needed some extra warmth.” 

Percy looked around, trying to imagine you and a younger, unscarred Luke putting all this stuff on the walls, him helping you hang Christmas lights. You sitting on a bed, maybe what he’d chosen as his bed, talking a younger camper through their fears or their homesickness. You forcing the innate coldness of Cabin Three out and replacing it with warmth of your own. 

“Did you bring any pictures?” he asked. 

Luke nodded again and took a few out of his pockets, offering them to Percy. He took the one sticking out the most and smiled a bit. 

“Very Poseidon of her,” he commented. 

“She loved the beach,” Luke said, smiling wistfully. “No matter what state we were in, she would always try to find one. We could’ve walked twenty miles that day, and the moment she stepped into the water she would be good as new. I should’ve known who her dad was a lot sooner.”

Percy’s hand lingered on the picture he’d just put up. You stood on a sandy shore with your arms spread and head tilted back, and you looked wholly in your element. 

He wondered what you would think of Montauk. 

“This was one of those times?” he asked. 

Luke nodded. “North Carolina. A year and a half in, I think. We missed the East Coast after being in the Midwest for so long, and naturally, she found a beach immediately.” His eyes softened. “She was always so happy around the water, even after she knew what it meant.”

Percy frowned. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “Finding out the thing you’ve always loved is the domain of the father who abandoned you is a little rough.” 

Luke always spoke with more nerve towards the gods than any other camper he knew. Funny, considering he was one of the first ones to tell him that names had power.

And he’d been acting weird since Percy got back from the quest. He thought maybe he was jealous, but Luke didn’t really seem like the jealous type—especially when he was already so cool. 

Then again, they did just come back from the brink of a possible world war. Percy should’ve been surprised more people weren’t acting weird. 

His attention drifted to the clock on the wall in the midst of his thoughts—Chiron’s last ditch effort in a camp full of time-blind kids—and his eyes widened. 

Percy muttered under his breath—Annabeth had taught him some Ancient Greek curse words on the road, and he was sure his mom would love them—and looked up at Luke. “Sorry, man. I’ve gotta go. Time really got away from me.” 

“I get it,” he nodded. “Have you gotten any better?” 

He glanced away bashfully. “Not really. But Beckendorf has the patience of a saint. Maybe someday I’ll make an actually functional sword.” 

Luke chuckled, though it was wistful. “Good luck. You mind if I stay here for a bit? I can put up some of her things.” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, “of course. Stay as long as you want.” 

Percy stopped once he got out of the door. Luke’s gaze was glued to a picture of you on the wall, his expression softer than he’d ever seen before at odds with something indistinguishable in his eyes. Again, Percy felt that all-encompassing dread, and he swallowed the lump in his throat. 

He left before it could consume him, but the haunted look in Luke’s eyes didn’t leave his head for the rest of the day. 

-

You took in a deep breath of salty air. The sea breeze blew over you as waves gently rolled into shore, and you smiled. You never felt more like yourself than when you were at the beach, and when you and Luke were constantly on the run fighting for your lives, sometimes you desperately needed to feel like yourself. 

You exhaled long and slow. It had been a particularly rough week—Luke did his best patching up your shoulder, but it would definitely scar—and this was just what you needed to wind down before you started moving again. 

You and your mom went to Cape Cod a lot when you were growing up, and though this wasn’t anywhere close to the same, it made for an alright stand-in.

The click of a polaroid camera interrupted your peace, and you opened your eyes and turned your head to see the culprit. 

“And you made fun of me for constantly taking pictures,” you said wryly. 

Luke smiled. “I made fun of you for taking up valuable space in your bag to bring your camera with you. I can’t not take pictures of you—especially when you’re so photogenic.” 

“Flatterer.” 

“Not if it’s true,” he remarked. He held out the camera to you. “Wanna get any pictures of the sea? You’ve got a better eye than me.” 

“Well, the sea’s a better subject than me,” you said. “Hold onto it.” 

He chuckled and took it back, drying out the newly printed picture. “How’re you feeling, by the way? I know it’s been a hard few days.”  

“Never better,” you said. “I needed a break from the road.”

“I get why you wanted to stop here,” he said. “It’s… calming.”

“Isn’t it?” You spread your arms out, breathing in deep once more. “I always feel better out here. More free.”

Another camera click, and your smile grew. “How do you feel?” 

“Better too, surprisingly. But that might just be because we’re walking instead of running.” You heard his footsteps and he came up next to you. You took the picture he offered and chuckled. You had your head back and your arms spread, soaking up every bit of sun and sea air you could. 

“I look like a stock photo.” 

“Does that mean I can get a job as a photographer?” he asked. “We could use some extra cash.” 

“Half of the pictures are either random parts of nature or me,” you said. “Who’d buy those?” 

“Me,” Luke said. “But I don’t think that would help with our money problems.” 

“All this flattery won’t get you anywhere,” you said. 

“It got me here,” he said. “I think it’s worked out pretty well.” 

You smiled as you looped arms with Luke, and after you gestured with your head, you started walking down the sand together. Whereas you always felt like you were blurting out the first thing that came to mind when you were around him, Luke always knew exactly what to say to make you feel better. “Do you like it here?” 

Luke nodded. “It’s nice. I get why you like the water so much.” 

“At least one beach a week going forward now that we’re on the coast again, then,” you said. “Deal?” 

“Deal,” he agreed. 

“Good,” you said with a smile. “I’ve been wanting to go back to Virginia Beach. Last time, those giant ant things ruined it for us.” 

“Gods,” Luke grumbled, and you felt him shiver. “Don’t remind me of those things. I’ll never forget what their poison smelled like—and I’ll never forgive them for ruining my favorite shirt.” 

“Don’t worry,” you said. “I’ll get you a Red Sox one someday, and it’ll become your new favorite shirt.” 

Luke shook his head. “Your Boston baseball propaganda isn’t gonna work. I was raised as a Yankee.” 

“And I’m here to undo that awful brainwashing,” you said sagely. “Next time we go through Massachusetts, I’ll have to get you one. And we can stop by Cape Cod—I think being close to the water is good for my health.” 

“And I like seeing you happy,” he mused. “So I guess it works out for both of us.” 

You laughed. “We’ll have to stop at a music store before the day ends, too. I’ve nearly worn out my Cyndi Lauper tape, and I need to get some new ones. You should pick out an album you like too.h” 

“‘Course,” he said. “I think we’ve got some extra cash saved up. And if we have to—” 

“We shouldn’t steal anything yet,” you interrupted. “I don’t wanna get the cops on our backs so soon.” 

“You say that like I would get caught,” Luke remarked. “It’s literally in my genes. I’m making my father proud, and I’m helping you. I see no reason not to do it.” 

“Cool it,” you said. “We’re not becoming Bonnie and Clyde at the ripe old age of eleven.” 

“Fine.” You couldn’t see it, but you could sense his smile. “I’ll hold off. For now.” 

That got another laugh out of you as you leaned your head against his shoulder. It felt like you’d been on the run for a week straight—this was the best break you could have asked for. Maybe the sea was good for your health, you thought. Or maybe it was just Luke. 

Either worked for you. 

-

Percy could hardly breathe as he stared down at the scorpion, slowly inching its way up his pants leg. It wasn’t every day one of your friends betrayed and tried to kill you in the woods, but this seemed like the year he started checking things off his bucket list. 

“So this was your plan all along,” he said, attention split between the pit scorpion and the traitor. “Gain my trust, send me to Tartarus, start a war for Kronos.” 

The air got colder, and Luke tilted his head. “You should be careful with names.”

“And you should do the job yourself,” he challenged. “You want to kill me? Fight me like a man.” 

“I’m not Ares,” he said tartly. “You can’t bait me.” 

“So you’re a coward too?” Red hot anger rose within him, and the words left him before he could really think about them. “Did you also lie about my sister? Got a hobby of killing Poseidon kids?”

“Zeus got her killed, Percy!” Luke yelled. There was something wild in his eyes as he gestured with his sword. “I loved her more than anything—I held her as she died, and your dad let it happen. If it weren’t for the gods, both her and Thalia would be alive!” 

Maybe it was a good thing Percy didn’t know that until now. If he knew the king of gods was responsible for his sister’s death, he would’ve gotten himself burnt to a crisp on Olympus. 

“This isn’t what my sister would have wanted,” he said. “She—”

“Don’t you dare talk about her!” His voice continued to rise. “You don’t know her— you don’t know what she would have wanted!” 

“She couldn’t have wanted this!” he exclaimed. Percy’s breath caught momentarily as the scorpion inched closer and he forced his muscles to remain as still as possible as his gaze flicked back over to Luke. “This isn’t the way to fix things, Luke. I promise.” 

He shook his head, and he could have been a son of Ares the way fire seemed to blaze in his eyes. “She died because of Zeus, Percy. She was so close to sixteen, and that meant she was a threat to his power. He sent monsters to kill her, and your dad could have saved her, but he didn’t do a damn thing about it. And y’know,” Luke huffed a laugh, cold and mirthless, “the same thing’s gonna happen to you.” 

His blood had turned to ice. “He knows the pain of losing a daughter. Why would he—” 

“Because they don’t care, Percy!” he yelled, his sword cutting through the air again. “All they care about is keeping their power and their position. Your dad would rather send you on a death quest than stop stroking his ego for one measly second. Hades sent monsters to kill Thalia, and Zeus sent monsters to kill your sister—they can’t punish each other, so they punish us, and the cycle will never stop until we make it stop.”

“And you think that this is the way to do it?” he asked desperately. “By betraying camp and all your friends? We’re in the same position as you are!” 

“And anyone that’s smart will join our cause,” Luke said. “Do you really think I’m the only one that’s upset with the gods? I’ve been here for five years—I’ve seen kids leave for the school year and never come back. I’ve seen kids die without ever being claimed. My own dad turned me away at every opportunity. Our numbers are bigger than you know, Percy.” 

“You say I don’t know my sister,” Percy said, “but I know her enough to know she wouldn’t want this. Not in her name. Not against our father.” 

“You don’t know her at all,” Luke said, voice trembling. “If she knew that Zeus killed her for nothing but paranoia over a bullshit prophecy, she would be fighting against the gods right beside me.” 

“I lost her once,” he continued, shaky but full of anger, “and then I got her back, just to lose her all over again. The gods will never know that kind of pain—if they did, they wouldn’t have let it happen in the first place.” 

The scorpion was at his knee now. Percy was running out of time, and his mind was working in overdrive on how to get more, but he found himself rendered speechless. What could he say to a boy who’d lost everything? 

Luke was the lightning thief, he’d fully intended to kill Percy with those shoes, he meant to turn the gods against each other and raise Kronos, and now he was really trying to kill him.  

And yet, he couldn’t help but feel sympathy.

Percy thought he’d lost his mother, but now she was back. He’d met his father in person. He had a sister he’d never meet, that he would never be able to fully grieve. Luke loved her and grew up with her and grieved her twice.

Percy didn’t care—anyone who his sister loved couldn’t be a bad person. Not fully.  

“Please, Luke,” he said, voice low. “I don’t know how to solve it, but this isn’t the way. You think the gods are using you? Kronos is doing the exact same thing.” 

“You’re twelve, Percy, and you’re already the chosen one,” Luke said. “Hades and Ares would have both killed you if they got their way, and it was your job to stop a war between the gods because they couldn’t see beyond their egos. How is that fair to you?”  

“There was no other choice,” Percy insisted. “If either of them backed down, they would look weak. We’re the only ones that can do quests like this.” 

“Exactly,” he said. “They start petty fights that they can’t finish and it gets taken out on us. We have to be their heroes, and we have to praise them as we die.”

Percy remembered their bus exploding. Medusa, an innocent woman favored by Poseidon and punished by Athena for it. The endless souls in the Asphodel Fields, and even more waiting in line for their chance to be judged. Luke’s quest given to him by his father permanently scarring him, Thalia Grace sacrificing herself for her friends, his sister never getting the chance to see sixteen—Percy himself being used as a pawn to enact Kronos’s plan. 

“You don’t have to be a hero,” Luke continued, almost begging at this point. “You can join our cause—you can prove you’re so much more than the prophecies want you to be. Say the word and I’ll call it off.”

Percy wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of godly respect. He tricked Hades, insulted Zeus, and actually fought Ares. But his dad loved him—or loved his mom, at least. Annabeth’s determination and Grover’s steadfastness and all the friends he’d made at camp—all innocent children like himself. He couldn’t turn his back on that. 

Percy clenched his jaw. “I will never serve Kronos.”

Pain flashed in Luke’s dark eyes, but he shut it down just as soon. “So be it.”

He slashed his sword through the air and a ripple of darkness appeared, the void bleeding into the forest. 

“I really am sorry it came to this, Percy,” Luke said quietly. “But it’ll be quick. And that’s a bigger mercy than Zeus gave your sister.”

Luke disappeared into the darkness and it vanished soon after. Percy didn’t have time to think about his words—the scorpion had reached his thigh. Sixty seconds, Luke had said, then it was over. 

Percy had about five seconds to think of a plan before it lunged at him. He batted it away with one hand and uncapped his sword with the other, cutting the scorpion in half before it could reach the ground. 

He thought he did it. Then he looked at his hand, a red welt already sweltering on his palm, oozing sticky yellow liquid. 

Percy stumbled to the creek and submerged his hand, but nothing happened. He muttered a delusional prayer to his dad, then to his mother, then to you as he stumbled his way towards camp. Nymphs emerged from their trees, and he croaked a plea for help. 

As Percy collapsed, barely caught by nymphs on either side, he swore that he saw you. Did that mean he was dying? You had kind eyes like his mother, an aura of warmth unlike the feverish heat in his body, and it made the idea of it a lot less scary. 

He wondered if he’d meet you in Elysium. 

Percy reached a leaden arm out to you, mumbling your name despite his cottonmouth, and then his vision went black. 

#the difference between luke w hurricane and luke post hurricane hurts me and im the one in charge of this whole operation #makes me feel a little crazy tbh #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan fic #luke castellan angst #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #pjo x reader #x reader #daughter of poseidon #child of poseidon #sadie writes

[swiftispunk]

your summer dream | joel miller x f!reader

day three bonus*–the other side of the door

series masterlist | main masterlist | series playlist | ao3

*follow @swiftispunkupdates for notifications on new chapters

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader rating: 18+ minors dni word count: 1.3k series summary: fresh on the heels of the worst breakup of your life, you find an unexpected kindred spirit (and maybe a little more) in family friend joel miller, who's agreed to tag along for seven days to a tropical resort with you and your parents. series warnings etc: [NO OUTBREAK] we'll call him dad's buddy!joel, fairly soft!joel, age difference (28/50), alcohol, food, sexual tension, smut like whoa smut (will specify with each chapter), fluff, anxiety, mentions of infidelity, mentions of divorce, jet skis????, secret relationship. chapter summary: what was joel thinking during That Scene? chapter warnings: smut, mutual masturbation, sexually explicit thoughts, dirty talk, use of a sex toy, guilt and insecurity on account of it’s joel POV. no use of y/n.

A/N: so i had a very clear image in my mind of joel during this scene, but it recently came to my attention that perhaps not everyone was seeing what i was seeing. so here i am to remedy this.

-

In the empty hotel hallway, he considers your door, considers his options. He doesn't have a plan, still isn't exactly sure what it is you need right now–certainly not sure what it is exactly he intends to offer you. Ultimately, he enters his own room with a resigned sigh, flicking on the light before coming to a grinding halt, his cock coming alive in his shorts all over again when he notices something different.

The door that connects your rooms is open, an unmistakable sound echoing through the paper thin walls that separate your room from his. 

He freezes in place, staring blankly at the crack in the door.

You had to have left it open on purpose. Right?

Inexplicably, he makes himself as silent as possible, listening with rapturous focus to be sure he's not wrong about what he's hearing. He really fucking shouldn't, he knows that. He should close the door and go to bed and pretend it's not becoming painfully obvious what you're doing.

He takes a cautious step forward, but he's stopped in his tracks yet again when he hears you fucking whimper, a needy, broken sound that has his pulse suddenly pounding in his ears and his dick throbbing in his shorts. Do you know he can hear you? Do you…want that?

Close the door and walk away. 

But all the blood in his body has rushed from his head to his cock, making rational thought impossible.

Fuck it then.

He creeps towards the door. One step. Two steps. Three steps. His hand hovers above the door knob and goddamnit, he could so easily do it, could so easily come through and see you; you clearly want him to. He wants to.

But...he can't–he can't fucking do it. Not with you. Not yet. So instead, he holds his breath and listens.

There's a dull humming, a faint little buzz he's well-acquainted with; he's been with enough women at his age to know the sound of a vibrator. And even if he hadn't, your shallow breaths, hitching slightly on every inhale would be indicator enough. Beyond that, though, you've gone perfectly quiet. 

Waiting. For him?

It becomes clear to him in that moment that you probably fucking heard him getting off last night, and the thought doesn't embarrass him nearly as much as he thinks it should. Besides, it obviously hadn't been enough to scare you off; you'd spent all day with him. Leaned into his back above the crystalline sea. Nearly kissed him on the sand. Let him touch you under the table. Held his hand where it had rested on your thigh. You'd left the damn door open.

He's not sure he really believes it, but the very worst part of him is clawing at his judgement, making it harder and harder to deny that maybe you want this. Maybe you want him.

His cock prods uncomfortably against the inside of shorts now, begging for contact, for something, anything. Even so, his body refuses to let him cross that line, stuck still where he stands, feet cemented to the patterned carpeting.

You want this. Show me you want this.

His mind makes the decision before he has the chance to think it through and then the words are spilling from his lips like a waterfall.

"Don't stop," he whispers, and he wonders if you hear his voice shake. He notes your quiet gasp, and when you don't tell him to fuck off, he slowly unzips his shorts, exhaling raggedly as he clumsily pulls the waistband down his legs, taking his boxers with them.

His cock springs free, hard and leaking already.

You want this. 

The hum of the vibrator lowers in pitch and he can only assume you've pressed it back against yourself. Over your clit? Inside your cunt? Fuck. His mind races with the possibilities. It's almost hotter that he can't see, that this part of you is still like a mystery to him.

He braces a hand against the wall, listening so fucking close for anything you might offer him and you don't disappoint, of course you don't. You let out a contented little sigh of pleasure and before his brain can even conjure up an image of whatever had made you sound like that, his fist is clamping down around his cock. 

He curses under his breath, so low he doubts you'd hear it. He strokes himself quickly, too afraid you'll slam the door in his face and the moment will end before it's even started.

But, no. You want this. He can tell you're already getting close by the way your breaths have started to come faster, the way you're humming out tiny sounds of ecstasy as the buzz of the toy ebbs and flows.

Maybe you're fucking yourself with it. Maybe you want so badly for him to fuck you instead.

You moan softly and his fingernails dig into the wallpaper as a warmth spreads through his nerves, the pace of his strokes increasing almost unconsciously.

Whatever you're doing, it's making you feel good. And god, he wants you to feel so fucking good.

"You gonna come?" he finds himself demanding, feeling his own release building deep in his core with the steady pumps of fist. He thinks he could come too, he just has to hear you. 

You don't deny him.

"Yes."

You grant him another moan, louder this time, drawn-out and wanton. He throws his head back behind him and bites his lip, desperately trying to stave off his impending climax, needing you to get there first.

"Yeah?" he urges.

"Yes, Joel, fuck–" you keen and tension pulls tight in his guts.

Oh, shit.

"Go on, sweetheart," he begs and even he can hear how wrecked he sounds. "Fuckin' come. Come with me."

Together. You want this.

Your breathing comes to an abrupt pause, some squeaked, cracked noise getting caught in your throat while sheets rustle beneath you and he knows–that's it. 

He can practically see you arching off the bed, can just imagine your mouth falling open as sweet release washes over you.

So fucking perfect.

His own orgasm consumes him a second later, heat erupting over his skin as he paints his knuckles with spend for the second night in a row. The hand he has on the wall keeps him upright as his thighs quiver with the force of it and he sighs when it ends because he doesn't want it to end. He wants more.

But would you give him more?

His hand is sticky around this length and your breath is still coming in these short, shallow gasps but beyond that it's suddenly deathly, deafeningly silent. 

What the fuck had he just done?

What the fuck does he do now? 

He strains his ears for signs of life from the other side of the door but from what he can surmise, you haven't moved an inch, maybe just as stunned as he is. He's also slowly starting to come back to himself, realizing how ridiculous he looks standing half dressed with a hand against the wall, lips ghosting just a hairsbreadth away from the crack in the door, ropes of come drying on his fist. 

Christ. 

He sighs again, guilt creeping in just like it had the night before but for an entirely different reason this time. Now, as he runs his hands under tepid water and stuffs his softening cock back into his boxers, he's kicking himself for being too fucking cowardly to cross through the door and touch you properly. You'd all but laid out the red carpet for him to do just that and instead he'd…

It's not too late, he thinks as he emerges from the bathroom and sees that door, still open, still calling. You want this. 

But the better part of him is scratching its way back to the surface, fog of pleasure giving way to crippling doubt.

If you'd wanted him to come, wouldn't you have said?

As he crumples down onto his sheets still fully clothed, squeezing his eyes shut and willing sleep to take him, he makes the reluctant decision that this will have to be enough for now.

He'll make things right tomorrow. He'll make things real tomorrow.

If you want that.

#joel miller x reader #vacation!joel #your summer dream #joel miller smut #joel miller x you #dbf!joel #dbf!joel miller x reader #and obviously i gave it a taylor title............................. #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fanfiction

[http-tokki]

don't go insane

~ choso kamo x fem!reader (tattoo artist choso au) ~tags/cw: mature content, lil smut, explicit language, talking about the pains of being a woman (iud, pap smear etc), aged up yuji. ~ mixed/third pov ~ wc: 2.5k ~ part of need to know fic: chptr one

~a/n: very small chapter because believe it or not, this took so much mental effort to get out, I could not figure out how to progress it past the initial meeting but the next part is coming soon, this is a lil taster

Saturo was no help. A constant barrage of jokes flooded your phone screen in every form possible, with an encouraging text from Suguru slipping into the stacking text notifications, the former however was no help. The little goblin made of nightmares named Anxiety settled into the walls of your stomach, poking at the fleshy, spongey insides and giggling each time you clenched your fist. The repetitive motion usually calmed the nervousness, a habit developed in early childhood that had so far in life been a great distraction from the impending doom that seemed to encompass you each time you stepped a foot outside your front door, but today it was no help at all. Afraid of looking silly in front of two rather attractive men you find yourself abandoning the action in favour of a more discrete tactic, one you had vowed to give up in response to the scar tissue that had built along the inside of your bottom lip.

Getting out of the house these days was a little tougher and required more effort and energy to step out into the world and socialise, and that was okay; at least, that’s what your therapist tells you each time you fork over two hundred and thirty dollars for a sixty-minute session. It is all right to be a little uneasy when going out into the world because everyone else is just as unconfident in their footing, and you can only control your actions; the decisions made by others are uncontrollable and unplanned, and that’s okay. It’s all okay, it’s all fine. Fine.  You feel your lips pull down into a frown.

“Hey, you all right?” a voice asks from your left.

You turn to face the voice and are greeted by the smiling boy who had greeted you.

“Yeah, I’m okay, thanks,” a sigh whooshes from your body. “Just a little nervous about being alone is all.” You feel your mouth mirror the smile he gives you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Yuji!” the boy beams and leans further over the counter. “And don’t worry, Choso is very chill; he’ll even let you pick the music if you ask!”

You genuinely smile at his childlike demeanour, and your stomach knots loosen a tad. Yuji is warm, his energy comforting and familiar as if you had met him once before, and come to think of it, he did look rather familiar to someone you had met when you were younger.

“Have we met be-“

“Did you want to – ohh, sorry. You first,” Yuji stumbles over his words, pausing and gesturing you to finish your thought.

“I was just going to ask if we’ve met before, You’re familiar.”

Yuji beams at your question but shakes his head, pink hair falling over his forehead. “I don’t think so, I would have remembered such a pretty face.”

Warmth blooms in your cheeks at the blatant flirting, and you’re flattered and maybe a little too old for him.

“Can you stop flirting with my client?” Choso walks into the foyer, holding stencils, ID, and consent forms in one hand, and a pair of grey slippers in the other. The shoes looked a little too small for someone of his size but they could just be normal size and look tiny in his gigantic hand.

Locking eyes with your artist, you finally get a good look at him and he is unnervingly beautiful in a way that you never thought anyone could be. Deep shadows cradle tired mulberry-hued eyes that are framed with thick lashes that fill you with no end of envy, and his face is exhausted and gaunt, yet the fullness of his cheeks and lips suggest that he is healthy and not malnourished in any way apart from sleep maybe. A raised but old scar ran over his nose, tinted a slightly darker shade than his porcelain complexion, but it was the imperfection, the rip in what is undeniably a beautiful artwork of a human, that made him all the more gorgeous and the hair, oh god, his hair. Raven-coloured locks fell to just above his shoulders in messy layers and pushed back from his face with a zig-zag headband that had your chest heating in both envy and desire. 

More heat spreads across your face, tinting your ears in a soft blush at the heavy emphasis on possessive adjectives, and you know he doesn’t mean it that way, but you can’t help your heart's racing.

 Yuji frowns, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout.

“She could be my client,” he turns back to you, eyes wide in asking “and Cho can supervise, I need the training.”

You frown, dramatic apology written across your features as you look towards Choso. In any other instance, you would be willing to sit for an apprentice but you had been wanting something done by Kamo for months now and as much as you didn’t want to disappoint Yuji, you wanted Choso’s work more.

“Not today, bro. I’m sorry.,” Choso beats you to the punch, slashing through his apprentice’s hopes to tattoo and score a date with one clean strike. “Ask Yuki when she comes in; she’ll let you.”

Yuji’s pout deepens, and you can’t deny he is cute, but maybe next time, when you need a little filler or you have some cash to spare. You share a frown with the pink-haired boy and turn to Choso, careful to avoid eye contact as he holds out your identification card and the pair of slippers.

“These are for you if you want to change out of the boots.” His eyes flick down to the heavy Doc Martens that adorn your feet. “You can go into the room, I’ve just gotta grab a few things from the storeroom.”

Oh, that’s why they were so small. You accept the shoes and card with a shy smile, thanking him quietly for the unnecessary kindness with the borrowed slippers and follow him down the small hallway. You want to say something, a small joke to fill the silence, but nothing comes to mind, your brain suddenly devoid of any thoughts other than how much you wanted him to pin you against a wall. Fire twists in your gut at that image. Strong tattooed hands pinning yours above your head as his mouth trails down your neck, nipping at the delicate skin of your throat, then collarbones, then chest. How easily he could rip the front of your dress open, hands groping and mouth biting.

“I’m just gonna duck out to grab some more ink cups but make yourself comfy. You can sit wherever until we put the stencil on.” Choso stops in the doorway of his space, gesturing into the room with an open palm. “Bathroom is down the hall” he jabs behind him with his thumb.

With a shaky breath in, you nod and step into the room, carefully avoiding any contact you might have with him in fear of possibly melting into nothing but a puddle of blood and bones. He gives you a tight smile before disappearing down the hall. How were you meant to have him tattoo you if you could barely hold it together when there was space between you both? Your skin is burning, tingling with whatever it was he made you feel and there was an ache so deep in your chest it hurt, but all those things could be anxiety, could be caused by the fact you were out of your element and not by the fact you were about to be tattooed by the most gorgeous human you had ever seen. Or maybe it was your body telling you that you needed to get dicked down by Choso Kamo. But anxiety and horny go hand in hand, right?

--

“Can you relax for me?” Choso’s request is soft and accompanied by small taps along your spine as he readies your skin for the stencil.

A shaky breath leaves your lungs as you whisper a sorry and roll your shoulders forward in an attempt to shed the stiffness that had taken over your entire body the instance Choso’s fingers brushed across your skin. 

Your poor body has not known relaxation since stepping into the small studio. Between the constant heat coursing through your veins, your heart racing to the point of panic and your stomach twisting so uncomfortably good, you couldn’t focus on anything apart from the man before you, well behind you. Initially, you had wanted the tattoo running along your forearm, having just enough space for the small dagger and wings but after Choso had suggested moving the piece to run down your spine, your mind had been changed. It was perfect! You had been wanting to get something along your vertebrae for months now but hadn’t found anything you loved enough to commit, until now.

 What you hadn’t accounted for was how it would be tattooed. You had very well thought you would be lying face down on the bed, Choso hovering over you as he inked your skin but that would have surely been murder on his back and judging by the looks of him, he was not ready to make that sacrifice, so now you sit comfortably on a small cushioned stool, hunched over the bed to allow Choso access to your bare back.

 Oh my god, you weren’t going to make it through the appointment.

--

Warm hands are laid flat against your shoulder blades and you flinch, unaware you were going to feel the full weight of his hands on you.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean-“Choso rushes to apologise, removing his hands as if having them on you was a great offence.

“It’s okay. You just scared me, I didn’t know you were going to touch me.”

“Oh, uhh is it- am I going to “he struggles with the sentence, unsure as to how to word his question without sounding like a misogynistic asshole. “Are you going to be okay with me touching you? For the tattoo!” Choso all but shouts the end of his question, the clarification sending heat to both your cheeks.

“You can touch me, it’s okay.” You nod, perhaps a little too feverishly than you wanted to but you needed to ease his worries that you might be that kind of client. 

The kind of client that flinches at every pass of the gun and begs for breaks every ten minutes. You know first-hand how embarrassing it is to watch someone cry and whine because of a tattoo as if the pain was unbearable and unavoidable. You had suffered through years of period pains, laser hair removal, IUD insertions, pap smears, getting smacked in the boob right before your period, eyebrow threading and so much more and even then, you refused to make a sound. Almost passing out on the gynaecologist’s table when she rammed the measuring rod right up into the top of your uterus, and even then the only sound that came out of you was a small ouch. You refuse to be seen as someone who would flinch at a tattoo. 

Choso smiles back, restrained and small and you worry that maybe your over-enthusiastic consent may have contributed to that less genuine more annoyed retail worker smile and you find yourself starting to spiral into thoughts of needing to apologise and make up for the weird tension that now filled the room but that would be three steps backwards according to your therapist.

‘It is not your responsibility to figure out other people’s emotions before they have them and even then, it is not your responsibility to fix or change it’  

Each week you are reminded of that in that small corner office and you’ve heard those words so many times, you might as well get it tattooed on your arm to remind you of that fact.

So instead of opening your mouth and spewing word vomit everywhere, you smile back and take in a deep breath, nodding at your artist to continue prepping your skin for the stencil.

--

Choso sits behind you, gently laying the paper atop your skin, lining up the tip of the dagger with vertebrae, and he has to concentrate extra hard to stop his hands from shaking because he cannot place this stencil on you for the fourth fucking time. It had taken him three attempts already and not because of the size of the drawing or the curve of your spine, but the fact his mind wandered away each time his skin touched yours. Wandered to a place where no client should ever be found, a place reserved only for fictional characters and the occasional crush but here you were, front and centre in Choso’s mind. Bent over the tattoo table, dress pushed up just far enough for him to watch his cock sliding in and out of you, slick and precum dripping down your thighs and pooling on the sanitized floor below. Your hands grip the edge of the foam mattress, the other held behind your back fingers entwined with his as you whined and moaned, crying out Choso’s name as you barely held it together before coming all over his cock with a whimper.

The image has Choso’s cock hardening in his sweats and he curses the fact he decided to change into comfy clothes instead of the jeans he wore this morning. His attention needs to shift away from the thought of you and to the present reality of you. Looking up, he catches you already staring at him and for a split second, he freaks out and looks down at his crotch. Had he said something out loud? Or accidentally made it super obvious he was insanely horny for you?  The anxiety seems to do the job as he feels his dick softening, heart racing for another reason entirely.

“Do you need me to move or help you out with anything?” you timidly ask, brows furrowing in worry at the fact he had not been able to line the stencil up yet. Would he be okay to tattoo you? His hand did seem to shake a lot.

Choso shakes his head, puts down the stencil and reaches for the roll of paper towels on his station. “I think I've just had too much caffeine and it’s giving me a bit of a headache.” His gloved fingers pinch the bridge of his nose. “My hands don’t shake this much, I promise. This has never happened before.”

Yeah, he’s never had a client so insanely hot he has been unable to do this job. Choso was not going to make it through his appointment alive.

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[belovedmusings]

Take me down slow, control, and abuse me.

Choso Kamo x You x Suguru Geto

Explicit Themes 18+ (🚫Minors DNI🚫)

Part eight of the 'Two + One' story. Click for story masterlist.

Guitarist! Choso Kamo is your boyfriend, and he just woke you up in the middle of the night after he heard you having a certain dream about his bandmate, Suguru. This is the subsequent conversation.

Relevant tags: sexual tension, thoughts of infidelity, characters with questionable morals, Choso is sweet and loyal, slow burn, no "y/n" for immersion, 2nd POV, reader has no defining characteristics, explicit smut, cowgirl, riding, nipple play (fem receiving), oral sex (male receiving), soft and tender sex, love bites, creampie

Recommended songs to listen to while reading: Use Me (PLAZA), I Wanna Be Yours (Arctic Monkeys), fue mejor (Kali Uchis, SZA)

A/N: Enjoy ;)

Read on Ao3 if you prefer!

Or read below cut:

His eyes are locked on yours. There’s no vindication—just confusion. You can’t lie to him. It hurts too much to even think about telling this precious man you love an untruth. 

“Choso,” You begin, slicing through the tension-thick air. There’s a lump already forming in your throat, and you brace yourself to lose the man you love. “I…I need to be honest with you.”

Worry instantly etches into his features. “…all right.”

“When I said I just thought he was good-looking, that…that wasn’t the entire truth. I…ever since we met him, I-I’ve been attracted to him but I-I…I love you so much, the guilt is eating me alive.”

It all comes out in a rush, the truth of your feelings, and it takes him a moment to catch up with you to process your words.

He digests the initial part first. “Ever…since we met him? You mean, at my audition?”

You nod shamefully. It’s begun–and you decide now is the best time to just get it all out. There’s no way he’s going to accept everything you’ve done, because you know you wouldn’t, but you just can’t keep hiding things from him. This is the man you love, and what is love without honesty?

After you start, it just pours out of you.

Everything that has happened. Initiating sex in the car after you left his house because he’d turned you on, listening to his voice on repeat through the band’s songs, the fantasizing, the stolen moments that happened in Suguru’s kitchen, then backstage at their concert, then three times again that same night, once at the bar, then in the car, then in your living room after Choso had been carried to bed, then two months later when you brought him back to talk after running into him at the grocery store. All of the forbidden touches, the heated words, the almost-kisses–you spill it all. He deserves to know. He’s too good of a person to be with someone as horrible as you.

By the time you finish, the two of you had sat up in bed, a bedside lamp on to illuminate the room. Sleep is lost on you both now. 

For a while, he just sits there in silence, eyes trained on the foot of the bed. It feels stuffy yet cold, and you wonder if you’ve stopped breathing at some point, waiting for his response. You’re not even sure what you expect. How can anyone possibly react to something like what you just told him?

Your heart drops through you at the first sight of a tear sliding down his cheek. He hasn’t said anything, but it’s clear that he’s hurting. 

What have you done? You were given the most precious boyfriend in the world and you’ve screwed it up by being selfish and undisciplined? 

He parts his lips, searching for the words. They only come after another beat of silence. 

“...all of that…” He begins in a gravelly voice, one you know he uses when he’s holding back his emotions, “and…all I can think about is…I’m in the way of you and him, aren’t I?”

You had no idea what you expected, but that reaction is ten-thousand times worse than anything you could’ve conjured up in your head. 

“No,” Your own voice shakes, you’re hurt because you hurt Choso, “You’re not…you’re not in the way, you’re my boyfriend. I love you.”

“But you want him,” He replies, voice strained. His eyes are still averted from you. “And he wants you. Not just a little, either.”

What argument can you make? You just have to speak from the heart. “Choso, I swear to god, I love you and Suguru hasn’t affected the way I feel about you in the slightest.”

“But I’m not your only option,” He says, monotony terribly forced as more tears stream down his cheeks. “And your other option is Suguru. The guy who is everything I am and more.”

You wonder if the crack you just felt in your heart was audible. “What?”

“He can give you the things I can…and the things I can’t.”

You need to fix this now.

“You’re the man I love,” You say, “Choso, what we have is so special, and–”

“I want what’s best for you,” Choso interrupts you, finally meeting your eyes. They’re glassy and weighted. “I just want you to be happy. He can make you happy.”

“No,” You instantly say, “No, loving you is what makes me happy. Being with you makes me happy. I don’t want to leave you, Choso. I don’t.”

“If you’re happy with me, then why…why do you want Suguru that badly?”

The full truth. What has exactly cemented itself within your soul–you need to bear it to him now. 

“Choso,” You begin, taking his hands and locked eyes with him. “I need you to believe me when I say that I have never ever second-guessed my feelings for you. I know that I am in love with you, and every single moment with you is a blessing that I will forever be grateful for. It’s just that…since I met Suguru, I’ve begun imagining what it would be like with him. Also, not instead. I want you in my life, I want you loving me, I want you to be my boyfriend now and forever, and more if that’s what comes with our future. But I…honestly, I want Suguru there too.”

Choso looks perplexed for a moment, eyes flitting between yours as he once again absorbs all of your words. “...you want him…too?”

Your next nod is earnest yet careful. “Yes. I know it’s ridiculous, selfish, and impossible, but I love and cherish you so much…and I want Suguru. I could never be without you, Chos’, and I sure as hell could never ever replace you with him. I don’t even know if Suguru and I are actually compatible and would go anywhere. Please, believe me.”

He draws in a slow breath, eyes never leaving yours. 

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that you have to deal with this, and with me,” You add, “And I understand if you want me gone, I know even thinking that is horrible, and I am the worst person on Earth for hurting you.”

“I don’t want you gone,” He immediately says, surprising you thoroughly. 

“What? But I’m…I’m pretty sure all of this qualifies me as some sort of heartless…whore.”

He furrows his eyebrows, shaking his head vehemently. “You are not a whore. Do you go out every time I’m gone and sleep with random men you meet? Do you message more online? Do you send them pictures?”

“N-no, of course not.”

“You’re not a whore,” He says again, sighing heavily. “It’s…this is Suguru we’re talking about. Just Suguru. And this has gone on since we met him, for what…the better half of a year now? More than that? You haven’t even kissed him, let alone slept with him. You just…you just have a lot of affection to give.”

You look down at your lap. “It’s probably just physical, anyway…”

“You said you told him you wanted more, though, after he said that’s what he wants,” Choso points out. “Don’t sugarcoat it for me.”

“No, I-I mean, I’ve barely been around him. Who’s to say it isn’t just lust?” You feel like you’re backtracking, but also like maybe you’re telling the truth. You don’t know anymore. “Maybe I was just caught up in it all when he said it. We could end up not liking each other at all if we really got to know each other…”

After you trail off, no words fill the space between you two for another few moments. 

“So,” he exhales, “You want him…too. In what sense?”

“Well,” You begin unsurely. “I…don’t know.”

“Do you think if you slept with him, your curiosity would go away?”

There’s a seriousness that hangs in the air, one that you can’t help but feel is unwelcome.

“What?”

“I just…don’t see another solution to this. Because I love the band, and Suguru made it clear he wants me to stay. That means that at some point, you two are going to have to be around each other. If you…end up alone, it could mean you two just give in, and none of us want that. Suguru doesn’t want to go behind my back, you don’t want to cheat on me, and I don’t want either of you to betray me.”

“But I still don’t see how the correct solution is for me to sleep with him,” You reply rather bluntly, bewildered.

“Because then I’d know about it,” Choso explains. “I mean, listen…I don’t like the idea of the woman I love sleeping with another man, but this isn’t just some guy, it’s Suguru. I know he’s a good man. I know he respects me. So if I…allowed you to…see what he’s all about, then no one would be lying to anyone. There would be no problem.”

Your eyes narrow. Is your boyfriend seriously suggesting you sleep with Suguru?

“But…what about your feelings? I’d still be…getting intimate with another man. Wouldn’t that bother you?” You question him, running a hand through your hair. 

“It’s not bothering me as much as it should,” He admits, “Because…all this time, all those moments, and neither of you said ‘forget about him’ and did it behind my back. Yes, you two have gotten close, but you’ve stopped yourselves. So…I know you both care about me. It sounds so strange coming from me, but…I’d let you do it, love.”

All you can do is draw in a deep breath. What is he even saying? 

He’s seriously giving you the go-ahead? To sleep with Suguru?

“All I ask is…for you to agree to a few things,” Choso adds, “You’d use protection…and…don’t kiss him.”

Don’t kiss him.

A flash of Suguru’s lip rings comes to mind like the shutter of a camera, and you steel yourself. No kissing him. Something you’d fantasized about for the longest time…barred. 

But he’s letting you sleep with Suguru. 

So what if you can’t kiss him?

“Okay,” You nod, then you hear yourself, and you shake your head, “W-wait, no, Choso, I can’t do this to you. You can’t be okay with this!”

“But I am,” He insists, reaching up and touching your face. There is only a gentleness in his eyes, no hint of anger or animosity towards you in them. “I love you, and I want to give you the world. If I can give you this by simply allowing you, I will.”

“But it’s sex,” You argue, “For crying out loud, Choso, how can you be okay with this? I’d never be okay if you wanted to sleep with another woman!”

“That’s okay,” He assures you, “It is sex, and to the two of us it means something different. For me, it’s exclusive. For you, it's an expression. I don’t like sleeping with anyone I’m not in love with, but for you, it’s more about who you find attractive. I trust you. I know you’ll never leave me, you’ve made that clear. If, throughout this entire thing, you’ve fantasized about Suguru yet never resented me or started finding faults in me, wishing I was him…I know you love me.”

“I do,” is what you reply with immediately. “I love you so much, Chos’.”

“See? I trust you,” He repeats. “If you wanted to cheat you’d have done so by now.”

For a while, you just remain silent.

Is he really giving you a pass? To have sex with Suguru? Just like that?

“Will you look at me differently? And him?” You ask, searching his eyes with yours.

“You’re always going to be the woman I love,” Choso shakes his head. “And he’s always going to be Suguru.”

“What about when we’re all together? When you’re in the same room as me and him? Will you be able to take it?”

Choso consider your words for a moment before nodding. “Yes. I will. Things will probably be less tense now that it’s out in the open, don’t you think?”

“…well, possibly, yes.”

There is about a full minute of absolutely no sound in the room. You don’t know what to say. You weren’t expecting a full fight, because you know that’s not what Choso is about, but you sure as hell weren’t expecting this either. How are you supposed to react?

Choso has given you his permission to sleep with Suguru. You can actually do what you’ve been wanting to do–well, mostly–and more than anything, right now you’re just feeling…weird. 

“Chos’, I…I don’t know what to say…”

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to. We’ve talked it over and said everything we need to say.”

Well, he’s right. You’ve asked about his feelings, about his reaction, he knows the dirty details of your thoughts…and this is the end result. The boyfriend you have been in love with since before this entire mess has started still loves you even after everything you’ve considered doing, and everything you’ve done, and what’s more is that he is green-lighting even more that you never thought he’d be okay with.

Your eyes happen upon him, and you really take him in. The way his layered hair falls in messy strands around his face, the soft droop of his chocolate eyes, smeared with his trademark purple eyeliner. You follow the shape of his jaw, the curve of his Adam’s apple down to his neck, further to the collar of his shirt, where you remember he has that tattoo of your name on his heart. More than ever now, you understand that he’d gotten that done with utmost sincerity. So much emotion sweeps over you in a tidal wave–you love your boyfriend so much, and you’re sorry he’s even in this position, whether he’s okay with it or not. 

There isn’t much time between after you’ve had that thought and when you climb into his lap, kissing him in a way that you hope conveys everything you’re feeling for him at the moment. 

Choso responds eagerly, and soon layers come off, the black ink of your name etched into his breast on full display. It’s a lot of touching and grinding–you try to knead your affection into him with your hands and the way you move your hips on his, feeling him getting hard beneath you, your lips reaching any expanse of skin of his that they can reach. 

You kiss down his frame, paying special attention to the delicate part of his neck where it meets his shoulder and leaving a mark there. It’s easy to elicit noises from him, soft and breathy in nature, and you keep going, leaving a path of claims as you devour his body slowly.

Soon, you wind up between his legs, face beside his stiff length, but before you pay it any mind, you give attention to his thighs, a place you know is particularly sensitive. That’s when the sounds leaving his lips become more pronounced, abdomen rising and falling with each new mark you bite into the flesh there.

By the time you take him into your mouth, his cock is maroon-hard and weeping, the bitterness mixing with the flavor of his musk. The both of you moan at the same time, and his hands thread into your hair, gently holding it back as you suck, rising and sinking down on him over and over in the way you know drives him mad. His noises string together, strained groans and soft whimpers mixing to create a beautiful enough symphony that even that itself is music he creates. His thumbs caress your cheeks and you feel his eyes admiring you as you suck him off, a rosy blush spreading over your face.

When he’s good and soaked, and when he’s near his peak, twitching on your tongue with the threat of release, you pull off, looking up at him.

His eyebrows are drawn up, hair messily splayed across his pillow from his writhing, a crimson over the bridge of his nose. He’s panting, chest rising and falling rigidly, deep exhales painting the air.

“You’re so beautiful,” You tell him breathlessly, climbing back up his now mark-ridden body, straddling his hips with your legs. You take him into your hand and guide him towards your heat, allowing it inside as you seat yourself down.

“Oh, fuck,” He grunts, hands finding your waist instinctively. You can feel him throbbing inside of you, having been edged already, and you know it won’t take him long to reach his peak. 

He knows this, and so when you start rolling your hips, keeping him fully inside, he begins roaming his palms over your skin, doing his best to bring you to the edge as well. The two of you move in a way that can only be disguised as a sensual, intimate dance. His hands find your breasts, teasing your nipples with the pads of his thumbs, then running a palm down your front until he finds your clit. He starts rubbing it to the tempo of your movements, and little gasps leave your mouth, spurring on more impassioned grinds from you.

You look down at him, staring up at you with reverent, lidded eyes, and you know that no matter what you do with Suguru, it can never replace what you have with Choso. 

“I love you,” You murmur, leaning down and initiating a hungry kiss. 

He returns it with fervor, speaking into your wet cavern with a reciprocal, “I love you,” before chasing it down with his tongue. He starts meeting your movements with his own, intensity increasing until soon he’s moaning down your throat and cumming deep inside, your own orgasm rippling through you at the same time.

He holds you close and you don’t stop showering him with your love, intent on making sure he knows how much he means to you.

What comes next can wait until tomorrow.

__

a/n: you get to have your cake and eat it too in this universe, mmm hmm, mm hmm. now...what will happen next?

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[rwrbficrecs]

We’ll Invite Something In by @smc-27 (book-verse)

@dot524: This is a fandom favorite and for good reason. In this canon divergence AU, Alex is President, Henry is out, and they never got together in their 20s. Instead, they encounter each other in their late 30s and a very different type of relationship ensues. They still hide it at first, but there’s a lot of living that they both have done and need to work through. I really enjoyed the character dynamics here and how the premise changed both Alex and Henry, making them bolder and more mature. Definitely read this one!

Eyes Blue, Like the Atlantic by bleedingballroomfloor (book-verse)

@dot524: A Titanic AU! Adapted by an excellent writer, this one has suspense, action, romance, and intrigue. There is a MCD (Main Character Death) in here and some other tags to be aware of, but also vibrant scenes with dancing, chasing, art, and formal wear. I really enjoyed it!

Clean Slate by @smc-27 (book-verse)

@heysweetheart-writes: This was just so excellent. I devoured it in no time, couldn't put it down. I love the way Alex just slips into Henry's life like a silk glove even though Henry has his hesitations. There's abslutely no angst at all other than "you're too young for me" "no, next question" I love it. I love Henry finally feeling young for the first time. I think that is something that Henry generally feels after meeting Alex, like he's never been able to, no matter at what point in life he is. ANYWAY I'm talking about Henry way too much again for a rec. Read this.

Most People Exist by @sprigsofviolets (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Henry, 30, is a nurse on a cancer ward. From the very first moment he feels an intense connection and attraction to his newest patient, the one who has a brain tumor and is named Alexander Claremont-Diaz. - The tags say it all: "Falling in love, Slow Burn, Angst with a happy ending, Hurt/Comfort". After reading this story I am a whole new person. I laughed and cried, had butterflies in my stomach, I felt it all. Hands down one of the best fics I've ever read!

after hours by @dumbpeachjuice (book-verse)

@na-dineee: How much can happen in a few hours? stutteringpeach: Hold my beer. 😅🤝 Reading this was truly a roller coaster ride, my stomach was doing somersaults non-stop: On his last evening in New York, poet Henry meets bartender Alex and the two spend the night together - in true "Before Sunrise" style. To sum it all up: enchanting, sweet, phenomenal, iconic!

No. 1 (Royal Red and Blue) Oil on Canvas by @captainjunglegym (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: This fic is so twisted and surprising in the best way! The summary did not prepare me for all the action that comes after the initial relationship drama and I'd really like to fawn over it some more but I don't want to spoil the fun of figuring out what really is going on and what are characters' motivations. Just give it a try.

Meet the Parents (series) by @14carrotghoul (book-verse)

@dot524: I really enjoyed these thoughtful character studies of Ellen and Oscar. The two short stories are a series of canon vignettes from Oscar and Ellen’s POV. These glimpses of the Claremont-Diaz parents add heart and depth to the RWRB canon, giving insight about how Ellen and Oscar think about parenthood, power, family, and each other.

Leave The World Better Than You Found It: A BONES AU by @treluna4 (book/movie-verse)

@myheartalivewrites: I really enjoyed this FirstPrince meets procedural TV show fic! With Alex as Booth and Henry as Brennan, they learn to work together, solve crimes--and fall in love, of course. Plus take down a very satisfying book villain.

No Laughing Matter by @inexplicablymine (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This fic is absolutely hysterical- a must read if you need something to cheer you up! It's also very relatable for anyone who, like me, has said things they've regretted in all the best ways!

in summer air by @acdsbff (book-verse)

@na-dineee: I need a vacation and vitamin D - maybe that's why this series (both POVs are covered 🥰) captivated me so much?! It is set on a Greek island, where Alex, just cheated on by his boyfriend, meets hotel owner Henry. What follows is a whirlwind speedrun romance against a beautiful backdrop. Really therapeutic for the heart on dreary days!!

here is a map (with your name as a capital) by @alasse9 (book-verse)

@dot524: What an incredible surprise to have this entire 50k story drop at once. In this canon divergent story, Alex and Henry start getting to know each other in Rio, when Alex helps him recover from a panic attack. Their friendship, and later their relationship, is a delightful slow burn with funny moments, heartbreak, and steady support of each other. I thoroughly enjoyed this start to finish — the characterization of both Alex and Henry is on point and I really enjoyed how the writer changed some of the scenes from the book while keeping key callbacks. A delight.

Claremont 2008 by @happiness-of-the-pursuit (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This friends to lovers AU is done so well! Having Henry and Alex meet as kids means we get years of their friendship before they even start dating, and it gives every aspect of their relationship so much depth through this entire fic. It also gives some events only referenced in the novel a completely different perspective, which makes them even better!

keep me in the moment (don't it feel so real?) by @anincompletelist (book-verse)

@heysweetheart-writes: I absolutely love everything that comes out of Sarah's magic little fingers and this was no exception. Alex and Henry are best friends and pinning over eache other unknowingly and an accidental lil discovery turns their relationship upside-down (for the better) absolutely recommended. I honestly loved it so much.

you know i can't be found with you by @dumbpeachjuice (book-verse)

@heysweetheart-writes: This was SO much fun. Alex was RELENTLESS and I absolutely love an older Henry. It was also very fucking funny. 10/10

the great duck fiasco by @alexclaremont-diaz (book-verse)

@suseagull04: A spy AU, dating apps, and Alex's Texas roots combine in the funniest way possible- definitely read this if you want a good laugh!

#monthly faves #rwrb fic recs #firstprince #firstprince fic recs

[exrellian]

Replaced MC AU

Authors Note: the amount of support I’m getting is insane and I am so thankful! I didn’t expect my first series to blow up like this! Comment if you would like to be added to the tag list (which is something I never expected to have) and of course, enjoy part four!!

TW: none really except MC and ??? Shit talking the brothers and royals

Part 1-Part 2-Part 3-Part 4(you are here)

Someone who feels the same way

??? POV

“Chef! There is someone sleeping in the alleyway next to the restaurant!” A demon said, “if you let homeless people just sleep outside people are going to stop eating here. This is a prestigious restaurant, not a homeless shelter.” The noble demon scoffed at the other

“I will go take care of it.” The chef sighed, grabbing his coat and umbrella from his office before exiting the restaurant and checking the alley beside it. Sure enough, there lays a boy, looking to be physically around the same age as the chef, and he looks like shit

“How long do you plan on sitting in the alley? Humans get sick easily.” The demon spoke, moving his umbrella to cover the soaked boy

“You gonna eat me?” the human asked, not even moving his head up to look at the demon

“Eat you? Ew.”

“Don’t mess with me, I know how demons are.” The chef shook his head, leaning against the wall across from MC

“If I was going to eat you I would have done so already. Aren’t you the precious little exchange student? Weird to see you without one of your guard dogs.” He scoffs as he mentions the seven lords

“Please don’t bring me back there. Who knows what they will do if they found out I was causing a noble demon trouble” MC sputtered, still not making eye contact with the mystery demon

“Ew.”

“Ew?”

“Those lords are as incompetent as the young prince who rules them.” The demon replied with a roll of his eyes “I’m Lawrence by the way. Why don’t you come into the restaurant and get cleaned up, the back room should have some spare clothes since yours are… gross”

“Are you sure your boss would be okay with that?”

“My boss? No, he won’t mind” Lawrence tosses his jacket at MC, still covering both of them with the umbrella

“If you’re sheltering me with an umbrella why do I need a jacket?”

“Put the hood up, hide your face and, since I wear this jacket often it should mask your scent as a human. A lot of noble demons are dining here, if you don’t want the lords knowing you’re here you best hide.” Lawrence explains, helping MC up off the ground

“Why are you helping me? You could have killed me at least five different times now”

“Because you looked pathetic. And I can’t have homeless people outside the restaurant, it will make it look… poor”

Small time skip

MCs POV, first person

I finished getting changed after successfully sneaking in… but now what? Sure I’m all cleaned up but was it all just to go out onto the streets again? Sure I could go to Purgatory Hall but who knows if they have been manipulated by Amelia too. I need to get a job and find a place to stay, even if I just hotel jump until the end of my time here…

“The uniform looks good on you.” A voice spoke from the door behind me “ready to get working?”

“What? Your… offering me a job here? But how will I go unnoticed!? And I’m a human, so won’t the demons be inclined to avoid this place with me working here!?” I ask, shocked at the sudden declaration that he was giving me a job

“An illusion spell, I put it in the uniform before you get changed. To me and any other demon you look and smell like a demon. No one will recognize you like this.” Lawrence explained, it’s as if he was prepared for this

“Oh… well I guess that makes sense, but why offer me a job? This just doesn’t seem right, you are a demon correct? Why help a useless human this much?” I asked, not fully trusting in this random demons intentions

“You ask so many questions, it’s annoying. I just felt like it, that’s all. This is my restaurant so I can give anyone I please a job.”

“Your restaurant!? You own this place!? The lords came to eat here many times, saying this was the fanciest restaurant in the Devildom!”

“If I could ban them from coming here I would. I had to work overtime any night you all came. That gluttony demon is a real problem for any restaurant he comes to. And don’t get me started on that prideful fuck, he can rot for all I care, he had the gall to tell me I was being too conservative with the serving sizes, at my own damn restaurant” Lawrence rants on and on, it was almost comforting to find someone who hates them as much as I do now “the only tolerable one is the young lords butler, at least he seems to have a shred of respect, unlike the other eight. Not even the prince can respect other people enough to not shout everything he says like he is the most important being in the three worlds”

“You seem to really hate them, don’t you?” I chuckle a bit at his tangent, not expecting someone who looks and acts like he does to go on such a heated rant

“Hate is such a… gentle word. I loathe them, they think they are the best demons ever because one of them was born into power and the other seven used to be angels. Well that doesn’t mean shit in the long run, and they will learn that sooner or later when their little exchange program backfires and the Celestial Realm fucks over both the Devildom and the human realm by extension. If there is one thing I loathe more than the nobles here in the Devildom, it’s the celestial realm” he sighs “we have gotten off topic, do you want the job or not? I live in a two bedroom apartment above the restaurant that you may stay in until you have made enough money to get your own place out until the exchange year comes to an end. Truthfully it would be foolish of you to refuse” he was right, it would be incredibly stupid to turn down this offer.

Tag list; @t-misaki @melpomenelurks @gallantys @skei2p @terodactu @atomsminecraft @cutest-tenshi

#obey me #obey me angst #replaced mc #obey me replaced au #obey me oc #obey me mc #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me simeon #obey me solomon #obey me luke