#I realized how much this fits after the finale

[reclinepilled]

worn out abby anderson

cw; smut, comfort, soft dom!reader, power sub!abby, oral sex, pet names, masturbation, i think thas it :P

wc; 1.5k (surprising.)

a/n; hai guys omigosh i haven’t posted a work in sooo long, idk if this is that great but i missed writing honestly. writer’s block KICKED my ass 😔. anyways i’ve conquered and prospered so stay tuned for more uploads. don’t forget to smash that like button and sub! also i literally can’t see any asks/reqs for some reason so there’s that. reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

don’t stop talking about palestine!

the rain that patters on the windows surrounding you, and the soft glow coming from the ambient lights in the kitchen creates a perfectly calm atmosphere for you. it definitely amps up your productivity as you type away, completing the work your professor had oh so gracefully assigned on the weekend. you were so engulfed in perfectly forming your thesis for your psychology essay, you didn’t hear the click of the front door and your girlfriend’s heavy boots trudging in.

it actually took a terrifying thunderclap to snap you out of the trance your laptop screen had you in. your attention is stolen from the rustling coming from the hall, quickly realizing your girlfriend has made it home. you push yourself from the kitchen island and scurry to the hallway. slowly rounding the corner, you see your disheveled girlfriend. braid messed up, flyaways sticking to her forehead and neck due to the weather conditions outside. she looks up from her bag, that thuds on the floor, to you. abby has always had a pouty face, though right now, it was much poutier. you could visibly see how worn out she was, her harsh job actually taking a toll on her for once.

it saddens you to see her like this. your expression softens seeing how her hands were covered in grime and calluses. you slowly stroll over to her, pulling her in for a longing hug. she quickly returns the hug, letting out a sigh of relief that shamelessly went straight to your core.

she’s careful not to get the muck on her hands on her your oversized tee. she’s always careful with you, you loved that about her. it brought you so much comfort, and all you wanted to do right now was return the favor.

“tough day today, baby?” you pull her arms closer to you, implying you didn’t care about getting dirty at the moment. you just wanted to be as close as possible. “mhm,” she sighs again, slowly rocking you. she buries her damp face into your neck, unashamedly inhaling your scent. you turn your head to pepper her temple in kisses before you cradle your hands around her tired face, lifting her head. you give her a sweet smile while you move your hands to grab hers.

you lead her to the living room, letting her go to let her slump against the couch, so she’s finally able to rest her back. she sighs again, but so softly you could’ve missed it if you weren’t watching her intently. she manspreads as she leans her head back on the plush couch, closing her eyes. you hated seeing abby so weary. thankfully, it was a very rare sighting.

you wanted to make her feel better and wipe that fatigued look off of her face, and you decide to do it the best way you could currently.

you plop yourself onto her thick lap. like clockwork, she wraps her hands around your waist. she swore your waist was carefully crafted for her muscular arms, “they fit like a puzzle piece” she would frequently state. you close in the bit of distance between your two faces, giving her a soft kiss she had yearned for since she left that morning. your hand travels up abby’s face to softly rub her warm cheek. there was no fight for dominance in the kiss, just affection that abby desperately needed after working like a dog. you pull away from her soft, sullen lips to cover her neck in open-mouthed pecks. she leans her head back, sighing for the third time tonight—this sigh was cleary different.

she lifts her head and one of her hands travel to your ass, then up your shirt to cup one of your tits. you airily sigh then lean in for a kiss again, this one feeling a bit more heated. your tongues clash together as you both savor the warmth the kiss brings. abby can taste your sticky gloss, making her groan. she plays with your hardening nipple, catching your soft whimpers into her mouth. she can feel herself getting wetter by the second, you could too. she removes her hand and pulls away from the kiss, “take this off. please.”

“no,” you move off of her lap. “what— did i do something?” abby’s brows crease up. a bubble of silence passes between you two as you stifle a laugh. “no, love,” you lean over her form on the couch to caress her soft cheek, “how about you strip.. let me make you feel good?” abby’s curious look with those doe eyes drove you crazy.

her cheeks visibly heat up. she raises up to start eagerly pulling off her layers. when she’s left in nothing but her bralette and briefs, you softly push her back down to the couch. “lay down,” you start to pull your shirt off. abby hesitantly leans back on the couch, impatiently eyeing you.

you’re now left in only your panties when you move to straddle abby. you trail a finger from her ear, to her jaw, all the way down to her toned tummy. it flexes at the cold digit lightly grazing her. “you’re so gorgeous, you know that right?” she quickly nods, watching you attentively, anticipating your next move. “of course you do,” you slide down and position yourself between her legs. she bites her lip, a telltale sign shes getting needy.

you smooth a finger over her clothed cunt, groaning at the heat radiating from it. you pull the waistband of her briefs to watch the fabric bunch up around her pussy lips and the wetness that seeps through. you quietly moan at the lewd sight and the soft whimpers abby was letting loose. you start to peck at her needy cunt, making sure to leave little kitten licks to stimulate her further. she buries her hand in your hair and starts to squirm.

“angel, please,” she whispers, throwing her head back. “‘please’ what?” you smirk, tracing her bud with your thumb through her underwear. “f-fuck— stop teasing and just…” she trails off while bucking her hips into your touch.

“just?”

“just s-stop teasing and please eat my fucking p-pussy. shit—“

you give her an amused smile and reach for her briefs’ band. she lifts her hips up a bit so you can pull them off. her pussy twitches a bit at the sudden cold air hitting it. you spread her toned thighs apart only to melt a little at the view, “shit, you’re wet.” you slide your finger between her lips, collecting the slick that’s oozing out of her pink pussy. “all because of you,” she tilts her head, boring her eyes into your now flustered face. you rub at her swollen clit a bit, eliciting a strained moan from her. you slide a finger into her tight hole, slowly starting to pump in and out. your cunt throbs at the sound it makes, not to mention the sounds she’s making. you eagerly add another finger, picking up the pace. you inch yourself closer to her weeping cunt to latch onto it. you circle her swollen bud with your warm tongue, coaxing loud moans from her due to the stimulation. you work your way to her puffy lips and between, eager to taste her pending release. hearing her beautiful moans and grunts makes you wet yourself. “y-you eat me so— fuck. so fucking g-good!” you remove your fingers to replace it with your tongue, pumping the muscle in and out. abby tangles her hands into your hair again, tugging at it, while slightly arching her back up into your mouth.

you move your own hand down to your needy cunt. you felt like a loser being on the edge of cumming just from eating pussy, but you couldn’t help it. you hastily rub at your pussy as you move back to abby’s puffed clit. you start sucking on the bud while shaking your head intermittently. “holy s-shit, i’m gonna cum,” abby shrieks while trying to refrain herself from enclosing your head with her thighs. she doesn’t know you wouldn’t mind. you start whimpering loudly, adding vibrations to her clit. you slide two fingers into your hole while simultaneously sliding two into abby’s. her back arches off of the couch, “i-i’m cumming— fuck!” she yanks at your hair while smushing your head with her thick thighs. you moan loudly, giving her a few more kitten licks so she could ride out her orgasm. she pushes your head away and that’s when you cum on your own fingers, dropping your head onto her stomach, whimpering as your thighs convulse.

a few minutes of silence pass by. the only noise that reverberates around the living room is you two catching your breath. the smell of sex clings to the air as sweat dribbles down your temple.

abby heaves before speaking, “did you just fuck yourself while giving me head?” she reaches down and smooths your hair. you look up at her with a droopy smile. she lets out a snort at your confirmation, “nasty.” you slap her stomach softly. “do you feel better?”

“yeah, thanks princess.”

reclinepilled

please do not plagiarize any of my works or post them on other websites without given permission !

[billthedrake]

(This one is a riff from an idea a reader suggested.)

SIX COORS LATER

Sean Bennett woke up a little groggy. He probably had a couple too many beers last night.

The ex-QB told himself he should be a more responsible man. His wife had just borne their third kid six months ago, fer chrissake. But Sean's job had him on the road every week during the college ball season, put up in one soulless luxury hotel room after another. He'd had an amazing run as an NFL quarterback, with some ups and downs to be sure, and now how had an enviable gig being a sports commentator for college ball. Saturday night, after the broadcast, was his chance to let loose a little.

Only Sean realized he wasn't in a hotel room. The ex-athlete's eyes adjusted to the early morning dimness. He was definitely in a bedroom. Some modern condo or apartment, sparsely decorated. A dude's bedroom.

Just then the sportscaster hunk felt the warmth of another body scoot up next to him, placing a thickly muscled forearm over Sean's still-fit and manscaped upper body.

"Hmmmm," came the deep voice cracking in morning voice. The dude scooted up next to him as Sean tried to remembered any details about the guy but was coming up short. Even on the name. Jason? Justin? Jesse? Jackson? Fuck.

The man felt nice. Probably around Bennett's age. Late 30s with a cross-fit body. A work-hard, play-hard professional. BIG Michigan fan. A very thick uncut cock and a sexual stamina that could go multiple rounds. Funny how those details were coming back to the ex-jock so easily.

Maybe it was that hard thick shaft pressing into Sean's hips and the way the fan's hand was pawing at Sean's hard body, even if in a groggy slowness.

"Hm... you probably should go soon, bro... my girlfriend gets back in town this morning."

Sean nodded, but didn't make a move to slip out of the guy's warm bed. Hell, those powerful arms felt SO good. Bennett enjoyed a man's touch from time to time, but he rarely stayed around for the morning, for the more sobered up experience of this. Just a second longer, he thought.

Thing was, Jackson or Justin or whoever wasn't letting go. His kisses traveled up Sean's neck, finding that sensitive trigger spot right behind Bennett's ear, the one that makes the ex-athlete wanna put out. Just like he'd found it so effortlessly last night.

"Yes," Sean hissed. It was only then that he was aware of his own cock, a shank of morning wood that jerked excitedly, now awake. And Jackson's hand was drifting down those washboard abs, over the trimmed light fur to finally touch that QB bone.

"You fuckin' horndog," the guy muttered with a clear lust. Then after he kissed that spot again, he added with a louder voice, "Turn over."

The two had fucked three times the previous night, twice in one go and once waking up at 3 in the morning. But they hadn't done this position. Without ceremony Jackson was crawling on top of Sean's prostrate body, kissing along the shoulder blades and then back at the neck. Sean could feel the guy's hard, hairier muscle on his back and that thick wedge of uncut dick press into his surprisingly wet ass cleft.

The top took a second to enjoy that mounting position before he reached down to guide his fat dong into place. "God, you're still wet with my cum," he said. His voice was clearer now, fully awake.

Sean blushed. He'd been a little drunk when he agreed to come back to Jackson's place, and he wished he was drunk now. At least his hole was loosened up, fully, for this thick tool. The first time Bennett had been shafted by a large cock was a mindblowing experience, but now he got excited by girth even more than length. And Jackson brought he girth.

It was now four solid inches inside him. The hunk was clearly excited, kissing Sean some more. "Bro... I used to jack off so much thinking about doing this to you," he said.

Then, all of a sudden, the top powered the rest of that fat prick into Sean's guts.

"FUCK!" Bennett exclaimed. Not in pain but definitely uncomfortable and surprised.

"You got this, bro," Jackson urged. Sean could tell from the edge in his voice he was eager just to start fucking, and that scared the ex-QB. "You took me like a pro last night."

"Give me a sec, OK?" Bennett pleaded.

"Yeah," came the reply. But a second later, Jackson was reaching over for something. The hand came back, right to Sean's face and it was the smell that made him recognize the poppers.

"Come on, bro," came the guy's voice. Urging Sean to sniff the fumes. "I need to pound one off real bad, and I don't got a lot of time."

One of these days Sean Bennett would learn self-respect. Today, he sniffed the amyl, one nostril then the other.

The heat hit his body just at the right time. Jackson liked to fuck hard and fast, using his whole muscled body. That thick tool was plunging in and out of Sean's guts and felt INTENSE. Only now it was intense in a good way, making the ex-jock's insides buzz.

"Fuck, that cunt is so squishy, man," Jackson hissed.

Indeed, they could both hear the sloshy slick sounds of each inward thrust and Sean could feel excess cum dripping down between his legs, and over his ball sac. Just that tickling trickle made Bennett rock hard against the guy's bedsheets. The bottom didn't know how much was the amount of cum Jackson had shot inside him last night and how much was the girth of the cock forcing the load out with each shove.

"Bro... you're milking it right out of me man... Gonna milk my load right out into that hot ass of yours.... oh SHIT!"

The heaving body went rigid on top of him, and Sean knew he was getting loaded up for the fourth time in 12 hours. He knew when the poppers wore off, he'd regret this. He'd gone cold turkey actually a few years back, and even when he started fooling with guys again, he told himself it would be more of an occasional thing.

And now he felt about 210 pounds of masculine dude rest the full body weight on his stretched out body. Jackson felt heavy, but Sean didn't want the guy to break body contact not yet. That fat dong was still jerking inside him, undoubtedly still shooting some dribbles deep up in him.

Finally the guy shifted on top of him but didn't push himself off. Instead, Jackson reached around to find Bennett's tool. Still rock hard and still leaking so much he didn't need lube.

"Aw fuck!" Sean gasped as he felt the hand stroke his prick. Combined with that very stuffed, very loaded feeling, the very touch of Jackson's hand was magic.

Sean heard a soft chuckle in his ear as the top leaned forward and jerked Sean with determined strokes. The dude had a great touch, for sure.

"Come on, bro," he urged. "You wanna..."

"Yeah," Sean replied. He wanted to. He wanted to let this hot stud play him like a violin. It was the opposite of sex with his wife, when he did all the work. Now, the QB was the penetrated one, passively worked over by a man who knew what he was doing.

The pissslit stung just a second once the cum barreled out, it was that kind of orgasm.

"Nice!" Jackson hissed and kissed Sean's neck once more. "Let it out, buddy."

Sean did. Maybe because he hadn't shot load for load with Jackson's orgasms, and he was behind in the count. Maybe because he loved his mounted position more than he wanted to admit.

He'd barely had time to come down from the high of his cum when that hand withdrew and that thick dong finally retreated from his clenched asshole, but not before dragging some of that fresh deposit with it.

Sean felt a pat to his rump and felt the bed shift as Jackson slid off the bed. His host walked over and undid the bedroom curtains, letting in the dawn light.

Slowly Bennett turned on his side to get a good look. He was embarrassed to realize he could barely remember what Jackson looked like. But he was getting a good look now. About 6-foot-even, handsome more than cute, thinning brown hair, blue eyes. Back in the day, Bennett liked the thrill of fucking around with big-league athletes and coaches, then he went through a phase of being into regular guys... fans, married men, guy next door types. Jackson was in a different league, with an incredible body yet still carried himself like a regular dude.

"God, you're hot," Sean said before his mind could censor what his libido was thinking.

That made Jackson paused and turn toward the NFL star. He let out a little laugh and smiled, "Man, you're a trip," he said.

From the new angle, Sean could see that hard muscle beneath the brown body fur, rounded and ripped, and just how thick and heavy that dong was, even soft, swaying beneath a large nutsac. If this dude wanted to go for round five...

"Your girlfriend is probably on her way," Sean said instead, injecting reality as he sat up in bed. He knew he had a great body, but could see in the way Jackson's eyes swept over his form that the top was definitely starstruck himself.

"Yeah," he said with a little sadness. "Her flight lands around 7."

Sean nodded. He wasn't gonna make trouble for this dude. He slid out of bed and felt proud as Jackson just watched, staring like a wolf circling the hen house.

As Sean got dressed, his host slipped on some gym shorts and walked out to the kitchen to make some coffee.

The ex-QB knew this was gonna be one hell of a walk of shame. Still suited up from the night before. His cohost and work buddy Curt Collins ould probably razz him for going home with one of those dudes from their bar outing.

But even as the regrets were sinking in, the sex had been worth it. Sean made sure he looked presentable and that he had everything. Then he walked to find Jackson shirtless and hunky as hell, drinking his coffee and scrolling through his phone.

The guy looked up with that look again. The look of a man who'd had his bucket list fantasy satisfied in the biggest way.

"She's in an uber now," he said. "You good, man?" he asked. Maybe worried Sean was freaking out some.

"Yeah," Bennett replied. "I'm good."

It was Jackson who seemed shy now. "Well..." he started. Then he picked up a folded scrap of paper and handed it to Sean. "In case you're back in town," he added. "It's my Google number, just be discreet."

"I usually don't," Sean said, taking the paper nonetheless.

"I get it," Jackson said. "Shoot your shot, right?"

That made Sean laugh. This guy was just a normal dude. He stuffed the paper into his suit pocket.

"A final kiss at least?" Jackson asked.

Sean smiled and stepped up. The dude was a few inches shorter but their heights matched well. Their kiss was soft and surprisingly sensual.

"I taste like stale beer," Sean apologized.

"Yeah you do," Jackson said with a smile. "It's cool though. You're a good kisser. We didn't do enough last night."

They kissed again.

"Fuck!" Jackson finally hissed. Sean knew why.

"All right," the athlete said. "Take care."

Sean was in the Uber back to his hotel before he pulled out the folded paper. The handwriting was simple and masculine, more neat than a scrawl. "Matt," it read. The phone number.

So that was his name, Sean thought.

He didn't know the next time he'd be in this city. Probably once next season, though maybe his travels would bring him here again. Maybe Matt would want to come to Ft. Lauderdale, or even Miami.

Doofus, he thought to himself. What the fuck was wrong with him? Sean took another look at that piece of paper then picked up his phone.

"Hey, great to meet you. SB." was all his message said. He typed it, looked it over, and hit Send.

No reply immediately. Matt was probably showering up, or washing the sheets. Maybe the girlfriend was already home.

Instead a text came in. Collins. "Tell me you had as much fun as I did last night." Sean couldn't remember who his buddy and colleague had chatted up. Maybe one of Matt's buddies. Hell, THAT could have been Jackson. Or Jason. Whatever.

"Probably more," he typed back with a grin. "What happens in Austin stays in Austin, right?"

"Right-O," Curt typed. "They grow 'em big down here in Texas dont they buddy?"

Sean smiled. His hole ached to think of Matt's huge dong. "They sure do man."

He'd find a way, any excuse, to come back before next year. Somehow.

He slid his phone in his pocket and shut his eyes just to rest them. He'd need a major nap on the plane ride for sure.

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Eight: We'll Dance in the Street like Nobody's Watching

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 3.8k

Chapter Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, unprotected p in v, flirting, dads being dads. Two idiots falling in love and finally fucking admitting it. Joel is his own warning. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used only by her dad and Joel uses various terms of endearment (darlin', sweetheart, etc.).

This chapter includes the scene that sparked the entire story idea. I've been patiently waiting for it to see the light of day. hope you enjoy!

Thank you so much to everyone who reads this self-indulgent story and extra thanks to those who comment and/or reblog - you all make me feel like a rock star!

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Seven | Main Masterlist

“So, how was it?” Grilling you for the past twenty minutes, Emily was relentless in her pursuit to find out just how good Joel was in bed, after congratulating you on the new job, of course. “Come on! I need to know!”

“Alright, alright! I had no idea you were such a needy bitch. Is your hubby not dicking you down enough or what?” you laughed before regaling her with tales of Joel’s prowess.

“I fuckin’ knew he’d be big and know how to use it! He just gives off that BDE, ya know what I mean? Just how big are we talkin’, anyway?”

Rolling your eyes, you laughed again. “Well, I didn’t fucking measure it, but it’s a definite handful. Besides, you’ve never even met him, Em! How could you possibly get that vibe?”

“I’ve seen photos and heard stories, that’s more than enough to pick up on that sorta thing,” Emily replied with the confidence of someone who damn well knows what she’s talking about. “I need to know more. Gimme all the details!”

“Yeah, yeah. Speaking of BDE, I gotta finish getting ready. Joel said he had something special planned for tonight to celebrate me getting the teaching job.”

“I bet he does. You’re gonna get another deep dicking from that huge—”

“Bye Em!” you cut her off and hit end call before she could carry on anymore.

Tossing the phone on your bed, you finished putting a light layer of makeup on, putting in a little more effort to look good tonight. Ten minutes later, dressed in a pair of dark, fitted jeans and a dark blue, long-sleeve, vee neck shirt that showed just a touch of cleavage, you wandered out to the living room.

“Alright Dad, I’m off. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” Leaning over the back of his recliner, you press a kiss to his balding head.

“Have fun on your date and be careful, Spud. Call me if you need a ride home or anything,” he replied, patting your hand. You turned to leave, grabbing a light jacket from the hook by the door just in case, when your dad’s voice carried from the living room. “It’s funny, Joel told me he has a date tonight, too.”

Freezing for a moment, you squeak, “Oh, yeah?”

“Uh huh. Quite a coincidence me thinks.” He paused again, but you were at a loss for words and grateful that he couldn’t see your expression. “Enjoy your night, kiddo.”

Knowing a dismissal when you heard one, you take off through the door. Your mind raced on the short drive to Joel’s. He knows. Your dad so knows. You start to panic for a moment wondering if he’s upset before the realization hits that he didn’t seem remotely mad about it. More like he got a kick out of the idea and enjoyed teasing you. You and Joel had to fess up very soon, but that was a tomorrow problem. Tonight was meant to be all about you and Joel.

Walking through the front door, you expected to find Joel in the living room or kitchen, but the downstairs was empty. Lugging your overnight bag up the stairs, you thought maybe he’d be in his room or the bathroom still getting ready, but again, no sign of him. Where the hell was he?

Making your way down the stairs, you peeked out the window to make sure you didn’t imagine his truck in the driveway when you parked – it was there, right next to your car. He had to be around here somewhere. The sound of soft music hit your ears suddenly. Following the sound, you slipped out the back door and gasped.

A soft glow spread across the yard from lights strung from tree to tree, a plaid tablecloth covered the patio table on which sat a vase of brightly colored tulips, an open bottle of pinot noir, two stemless wine glasses, and two covered plates. Just beyond the patio, a hammock hung between two large live oaks with another set of string lights dangling above it. As your eyes took it all in, Joel stood off to the side watching you with a warm smile.

“Joel,” you whispered, afraid to disturb the dream-like quality of the moment, his name a drawn-out breath in the air when you finally turned to him. His dark eyes glinted from the string lights as he stepped forward out of the shadows, one hand stretched out towards you. There was no hesitation in reaching for him and you clung to each other for a few minutes before he stepped back to pull out a chair for you.

“Thank you,” you whispered, settling into the seat. When Joel took his place across the table from you, you added, “This is so lovely, Joel.”

A bashful smile graced his lips as he removed the covers from the plates and filled the wine glasses. Your gaze soaked in every little movement he made, in awe of the gorgeous man before you and all he’d done to make this evening special. Holding his glass up, he toasted to you. “Here’s to your new job and the start of a very rewarding career. Congrats darlin’.”

Clinking your glass against his lightly, you beamed at him. He looked so handsome, thick curls pushed back away from his face, tanned skin glowing in the soft lighting. “Thank you, Joel.” Already buzzing from the way he made you feel, you sipped lightly at the wine before digging into the meal before you.

Bursts of flavor hit your palette at the first bite, the chicken cooked to perfection and the sun-dried tomatoes adding just the right tang to the red pesto coating the rigatoni. A soft moan escaped before you caught it, cheeks heating up with the way Joel looked at you with hooded eyes.

“I reckon you like it?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his gravelly voice.

“This may be the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted, Joel. Did you make this?” You took another bite, savoring the flavors that exploded in your mouth.

“Mmhmm. It’s my mama’s recipe, she made it a lot when we were younger, and it’s always been my favorite. I’m glad you like it.” He watched you enjoy another forkful, obviously proud.

“I don’t just like it, Joel. This is fuckin’ delicious. I didn’t know you could cook like this!”

His cheeks turned pink as he cleared his throat. “I can’t, usually. I practiced a lot with this one.” That melted your heart further.

You ate your fill, making small conversation between bites, until your wine glass was empty, and your belly satisfied. Joel poured you another glass, which you sipped leisurely as he cleared the table and placed the dirty dishes in the dishwasher for later. He wouldn’t let you lift a finger.

“Dance with me?” he said upon his return outside, voice deep and gravelly as he plucked the glass from your hand and placed it on the table.

“I’d love to,” you replied softly, lips tilted upwards in a sweet smile. Holding his left hand out, Joel helped you to your feet and let you off the patio.

A new song began, volume a little louder now, and you stepped closer to him. A warm buzz spread through your veins when Joel pulled you against his broad chest, one arm wrapping around your waist and the other bent to hold your hand over his heart. You could feel the thump of his heartbeat beneath the green flannel he wore as he swayed you slowly around the grassy yard, careful to not stray too close to the pool.

Nothing ever felt as right as being there in Joel’s arms, dancing in the yard like the world beyond the fence didn’t exist. Your feelings for this man were overwhelming, growing deeper each and every day – hell, each and every second was more like it – and that four-letter word bubbled in your throat. You swallowed it down, settling your head against Joel’s shoulder, eyes closed and focused on the moment.

Joel’s chin tilted downward, nudging against the side of your face, his lips near your ear, and his breath sent delightful chills down your spine when he began to sing softly.

“Fall into me and I’ll catch you, darlin’. We’ll dance in the street like nobody’s watching. It’s just you and me and the song on repeat in my head, playing over and over…”

My god, how could you not fall in love with this incredible man?

The intimacy of it all brought tears to your eyes as your fingers threaded through the hair at the back of his head. Stomach alight with the flutter of too many butterflies, the urge to speak from your heart became too much, you could hold back no longer.

“I love you, Joel.”

You loved him.

What did he ever do to deserve something like that?

Heart clenching deep in his chest, Joel guided you to the hammock, music still carrying softly through the air. With amazing finesse, he settled you both on the hanging fabric, bodies snuggled together until you nearly became one.

He ached to say the words back to you, but they kept getting stuck in his throat. Instead, he settled for showing you how he felt, just like he did with dancing and singing in your ear – he could have written that song for how relatable it was to the feelings you brought out in him. Dark eyes stared into yours as his hands moved over your body, pulling you impossibly closer.

I love you, his lips said as they pressed heatedly against yours.

I love you, his tongue said as it licked softly into your mouth to tangle delicously with yours.

I love you, his hands said as they touched you with utter reverence.

I love you, his body said as he pressed it tightly against yours, trying in vain to crawl beneath your skin.

Joel kissed you with singular focus until you were both breathless and overwrought with need.

“Take me to bed, Joel,” you whispered when he finally tore his lips from yours. “I need to feel every bit of you.”

Your angelic voice music to his ears, he scrambled from the hammock, scooping you up in his muscled arms to carry you inside and up to his bedroom. His mind occupied by one thing and one thing only – making love to you until you knew every part of him and he knew every part of you – the string lights and last bit of wine were left forgotten in the yard.

Loving the way you clung to him, Joel swept through the house and up the stairs with an urgency he’d not felt before.

His lips moved to brush down your neck, nipping at the tender skin as he went. Once in his room, he closed the door even though you were the only two there. Joel kissed each new patch of skin bared as he removed your clothes until you were completely naked. Easing you back onto his unmade bed, a low growl rumbled from deep in his chest when your fingers slid along his scalp and tugged on his hair. Fucking lord did he love how you touched him.

“Fuck, I need to taste you, pretty girl.”

He’d never seen anyone or anything more beautiful in his life as your naked body writhed on his bed, eager and yearning for his touch, and Joel knelt to worship at the altar of you.

Starting at your delicate feet, Joel’s fingertips traced every inch of you until he reached the apex of your thighs. Leaning forward, he let the scruff of his facial hair tickle along the flesh of your inner thighs, pressing open-mouth kisses along the soft skin as he went. Grinning as you trembled, he met your wide gaze as he leant forward, tongue exploring your folds.

The first taste of you set his soul on fire. Sweet like honey yet more addicting and thrice as satisfying, Joel licked at your clit, tongue occasionally dipping down into you, slurping greedily at the very essence of you.

He couldn’t have thought of a more delicious dessert.

His movements elicited sensuous moans that shot straight to his cock, his jeans quickly becoming too tight and uncomfortable. Seeking a little relief, his hips began grinding against the mattress as he brought you closer and closer to the edge, fingers soon assisting his tongue in driving you mad. Just when he thought he might blow his load in his jeans, again, you came, crying his name out, the syllables drawing out in a beautiful, lyrical drawl. Working you through it, Joel drank down every bit of your release like a thirsty man in the desert.

“Fuck, darlin’. You taste fuckin’ delicious. I could live here, between your legs, for the rest of my life, surviving on just you.” Joel stood as he spoke, gazing down at your blissed out form on his bed as he tore off his clothes, one large hand palming his cock before he practically dove into bed with you.

“You’re too good at that, Joel Miller,” you said, the words falling lazily from your lips as you recovered from the singularly intense orgasm. Swooping down, Joel kissed you passionately, offering you a taste of yourself lingering on his tongue.

Letting his body continue to do the communicating for him, Joel shifted his hips, grinding gently against you while his mouth devoured yours. Groaning as your nails scratched down his back, he reached a hand down to guide his cock toward its home in your pussy. Dark eyes opened wide, Joel watched your face as he entered you, delighting in the scrunch of your nose and the way your eyes squeezed shut before popping open again at the sensation of him splitting you open.

With long, slow, oh so deep, strokes, Joel made love to you, telegraphing the depth of his feelings in the only way he knew how, until you were writhing in pleasure beneath him. Afterwards, he cleaned the mess between your thighs and held you close until you fell asleep with your head resting on his chest. Only then, did he finally whisper the words he longed to say all night. “I love you, too.”

Joel stayed awake for a while, listening to your gentle snores and the soft sighs you made in your sleep. He loved that you let your guard down with him, that he was the man who got to hold you while you slept. In the darkness of night, Joel made himself a promise that he would not fuck this up before falling into a deep sleep of his own.

His dreams were particularly vivid, the sensation of your mouth around his cock so strong he’d swear it was real. He’d never experienced your mouth around him like that before, though, so it couldn’t be real. Joel let his dream-self enjoy every moment, your lips around his shaft and tongue teasing the throbbing vein along the underside of his cock a divinity he’d never known before. At one point you took him so deep that a loud, guttural moan escaped his lips, hands clenching in your hair.

Eyes popping open, the moan carried on, rumbling from deep within Joel’s chest as he glanced down to find you feasting on his hardened length. It wasn’t a dream after all.

“Fuuuccckkk,” his voice, still rough with sleep, drew out the word as he watched you go down on him. Your mouth a form of heaven he suffered too long without, the cheeky, mischievous look in your eye making the pleasure more intense. You clearly enjoyed the act nearly as much as he did.

It didn’t take long before your wanton rhythm and sinful mouth had him coming down your throat, your name a prayer recited over and over in that gravelly voice. “Jesus fucking Christ, darlin’. Where’d you learn to suck cock like that, hmm? Your mouth is like God damn heaven.”

Joel’s chest heaved as you gulped down every drop of his spend, tongue darting out to lick the last bit from the little slit on his cockhead before sliding over your lips. You visibly swallowed, savoring the taste of him; his eyes glued to your mouth the whole time. His hand came up, caressing your face with the love he couldn’t yet voice shining brightly in his eyes, and his thumb traced along your plump bottom lip.

“My little gummy worm,” he murmured, delirious from coming so hard. “Felt so good wrapped around my fat cock.”

Crawling up his body, you settled your weight atop him and pressed your lips to his, letting him taste a hint of himself on your tongue as licked into his mouth, returning the favor from the night before. The kiss was languid and sloppy, perfect for a lazy morning waking up together.

“You tasted good, all salty and musky,” you said once you broke away, voice raspy from having his dick halfway down your throat.

“You can wake me up like that any time you’d like, darlin’.”

The two of you cuddled for a while, neither of you too eager to start the day knowing you didn’t have anything pressing to do. Those unspoken words bubbled in Joel’s chest the whole time, begging to come to the surface, to be spoken aloud and given credence. Still, he hesitated without quite knowing why. Finally rolling out of bed around 10, you jumped into the shower while Joel threw on some clothes and ran out to grab some breakfast.

He just pulled back into his driveway, a bag with a few bagel breakfast sandwiches in one hand – he got an extra in case you wanted pork roll instead of bacon – a coffee and orange juice clutched in the other, when JB’s truck pulled up in front of his house.

Settled on the couch after your refreshing shower, legs tucked under you while scrolling through your phone, you heard Joel’s truck pull up. Waiting for him to come in with breakfast for you both, you were caught off guard by the deep voices rumbling in the front yard. You sat up, peeking through the blinds to find your dad out front, hands on his hips as he spoke to Joel.

Oh shit.

You couldn’t discern their facial expressions from that angle and moved to the front door, quietly easing the heavy wood open to peek out and eavesdrop. They had to be talking about you, right? There was no hiding or pretending you weren’t here, especially with your car parked in the driveway right next to Joel’s. After your dad’s comments last night, you wondered if he planned this ambush then.

“I knew she’d be here,” you heard your dad say, but you couldn’t read his body language clearly. His hands were on his hips still, but there was a smile on his face. “You sweet on my baby girl, Joel?”

You couldn’t hear Joel’s response, his gravelly voice pitched too low for your ears to catch across the distance, but you could see him smile hesitantly even as his broad shoulders hunched slightly. Whatever it was caused your dad to chuckle and punch Joel playfully.

“I knew it!” your dad exclaimed, the sudden loudness startling you. “I knew you two would hit it off, I just wasn’t sure how long it’d take.”

You caught Joel’s response this time, his surprised voice pitching upwards. “You’re not upset?”

Walking toward the house without invitation, your dad paused. “Why the hell would I be upset? You’re a good man, Joel, and I know you’ll treat her well. And she’ll be good for you, too, I have no doubt. Now, you got enough in that there bag for breakfast for three?”

Your shoulders sagged with relief as you eased the door open. “I thought I heard voices! Hi Dad,” you greeted. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey Spud. I could ask you the same thing, but I knew I’d find you here.” Pulling you in for a hug, he ushered you inside. “I got tired of waiting for you two to come clean and thought I’d put you both on the spot.”

Eyebrows shooting up, you glanced at Joel before meeting your dad’s gaze again. “How did you know?”

Giving you a shrug, he said, “You two weren’t exactly subtle and a father always knows.” Nudging your shoulder, JB turned to Joel. “You’ll find that out soon enough, my friend. I can’t wait for the trouble that Sarah will give you.”

The three of you sat at the small dining table, digging into the breakfast sandwiches, your dad insisting you tell him how long you and Joel had been seeing each other and how it all started. Relieved to finally have the truth out there, you told him the story and JB chuckled.

“That about tracks. That’s right around when I started to notice something different between the two of you. And it sure explains why you hardly gave Annica the time of day on your date.” JB gave Joel grief about that failed date for weeks knowing that there was something – or someone – else drawing the man’s attention. JB had the feeling back then that it was you, his baby girl, his grown-up Spud, who captured the single father’s attention.

“You sure you’re okay with this, Dad? I mean…” your words fell off, not really knowing what to say. You’d be heartbroken if your dad wasn’t okay with a relationship between you and Joel, especially now that you verbally admitted to being in love with him.

“Are you kidding? I’m happy as a pig in shit that the two people I care about most like each other.” Your dad was all smiles, beady eyes sparkling with mischief. “In fact, I was planning on setting the two of you up if you didn’t figure things out for yourselves first. Tommy was in on the plan, too, and was the one who suggested we give it a little time. Little shit never told me it became official, though.”

Sitting back in your seat, you giggled with relief. All that time spent fretting over what your dad might think, feeling guilty for dating his best friend and hiding it from him for so long. It was all for naught. You should have known he’d love the idea of you two together.

“So, when’s the wedding?” JB asked, a shit-eating grin spread across his lips as you and Joel froze, eyes darting to each other in wide-eyed panic. Your dad practically guffawed at his own humor while you two were practically having a panic attack. “I’m just kidding – there’s no rush. Just make sure you treat her right, Joel.”

Recovering from the initial panic – not that he didn’t want to marry you, eventually, just not quite this soon – Joel laughed a little nervously. “Of course, JB. I’ll always treat her right. I, uh… I love her.” His gaze shifted to you, heart showing firmly in those dark chocolate orbs. “I love you, darlin'.”

tbc

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[coryothesub]

Sinful Desires

So I’ve been dabbling in some more kinky / taboo themes lately which prompted me to write this as a special treat no one asked for. Basically I have no excuse for this and sorry if I got any tbosas lore wrong because I haven't read the book

nsfw / mdni / sub!coryo / stepmom!reader / stepcest / breeding kink / mentions of underage sex work

You married Crassus Snow as soon as you turned eighteen. Looking back you could say that you were truly in love with the tall, handsome general. However for him you were just a warm body to sleep next to and tight pussy to drown his sorrow after the unfortunate passing of his beloved wife. His decision to remarry had definitely come too soon and you were definitely too young to even understand the implications.

After you received the news of your husband's tragic death, you decided to stay with the Snows, because you simply had nowhere else to go. Just like many others, your family had been torn apart by war and even the house you’d grown up in was now bombed to shreds. Your only options were to be poor or to be poor and homeless so you opted for the first one. 

You were always on good terms with Tigris. Daily struggle to sustain the family had brought you two pretty close especially because you both were forced to do the same unspeakable things just to maintain the food on the table and the roof above your heads.

First you categorically refused to bring her into that, but realizing it was getting harder and harder to make ends meet with your own endeavors and after thousands of silent and desperate “I’ll be fine, if you can do it then I can do it too” you finally gave in and introduced her to some men for whom your ripe age of twenty five was already too old to satisfy their needs.

You both didn't have much choice anyways since Grandma’am simply refused to move into a smaller apartment, let alone leave the Capitol. Apart from that and her other weird quirks she seemed to be a pretty nice lady. At least as far as you knew the right patriotic buttons to push in order to stay on her good side. 

Crassus’ son Coriolanus or Coryo, as Tigris used to call him, didn't seem to like you one bit. He considered you an intruder, an unfair replacement to his mother that did nothing but reminded him of his family's tragedy. 

Over the years Coryo seemed to have learned to tolerate you, mostly because he felt somewhat grateful for all your efforts, but still he remained cold and distant. You didn't particularly mind that, because you had no idea how to raise a young man. You felt pretty happy that he didn't ask you any awkward questions and managed to figure out everything himself. 

Sometimes during his teenage years you noticed Coryo secretly watching you while you were changing or getting ready for a bath. On some occasions he even touched himself while doing it trying to suppress his little moans by biting into his fist. You always knew he was there, but you never confronted him. You knew full well it would make your coexistence very awkward for both of you and frankly you found it pretty amusing.

After all, he was just a silly little boy for you until the time his nineteenth birthday came around. It started even earlier if you thought about it. After Coryo returned from his service in District 12 and got his hands on the Plinths' fortune he turned into a completely different man.

Coryo always had the taste for finer things in life and when he finally got the means to fund it, you only saw him wearing tailored dress suits and perfectly polished shoes. Even his whole posture had changed and when he passed you in the dining room followed by an intoxicating wave of expensive cologne, instead of the anxious malnourished boy you had known for most of your life you saw a fit and handsome young man that reminded you of your late husband so much.

Your run down penthouse was completely refurbished to suit your stepson’s taste and he showered all three of you with lavish presents, encouraging you to throw out your old things.

Finally he could have the life he had always envisioned. And every last memory of your humble existence after the war had to be exterminated and written off into oblivion.

Coryo had become confident, strong and ambitious. Some might say even ruthless. It was hard for Tigris to accept those changes and she grew more distant with her younger cousin. They barely spoke, she was mostly just looking at him with sadness and disappointment in her eyes.

Coryo didn't seem to care about that much. He didn't care about other people's feelings in general. But there was one interesting detail. The colder he became to others, the more delicate and gentle he was with you.

He always wanted to be in your vicinity, lighting your cigarette, opening the door for you or helping you to put on your coat. He always had to do a little something just to remind you he was there. He even pretended to care about your opinion, giving you the most dashing smile every time you seemed to agree with what he had actually already decided.

And the weirdest thing about that all was that he had started to refer to you as “mommy”. He had never called you that before and there was no particular reason for starting it now, especially because it seemed to make Tigris extremely uncomfortable.

And it sounded pretty eerie for your ears too, especially because Coryo always accompanied the word by giving you this one specific look that radiated childish naivety mixed with a hint of pure lust.

It always made your heart skip a beat, especially because in some weird twisted way you wanted it too. The sheer hunger in his icy blue eyes made your pussy tingle and after those interactions you always had to go to your room and touch yourself, your pleasure overshadowed by shame.

After all, you weren’t dead yet, you were just a woman in your early thirties and you hadn't been touched by a man since you had stopped selling your body. But for god's sake he was your stepson! You really needed to find some dick, before things spiraled out of control.

One day you returned to your room after running some errands and found a gift box on your bed. It was adorned with a crimson satin ribbon and a single white rose. You found an envelope laying next to it.

You opened it with trembling fingers, the strong rosy scent of Coryo's cologne filling the air. Inside the envelope there was a card with a few words in your stepson's neat handwriting.

From Coryo to Mommy with love…

You sighed and opened the box, finding a snow white, neatly folded piece of clothing inside. You couldn't really call it a nightgown, it was more like a negligee. You lifted the delicate item against the window, seeing the sunlight pass right through it. Of course it was nearly transparent apart from the exquisite hand made lace embroidery.

Coryo's taste was flawless as ever, you had to admit that, but this had to stop! You were gonna tell him tomorrow. But it wouldn't hurt anyone if you tried it on tonight, right? Just for one night, no one would find out, and you would demand him to return it tomorrow morning.

That night you put Coryo's present on and marveled at yourself in the mirror. It looked like a lacy cloud hugging your naked body so nicely the outline of your feminine curves visible through the sheer fabric. You turned around then moved your hips in a suggestive way flirting with your own reflection in the mirror. You couldn't remember the last time you had felt so desirable.

After pairing the negligee with a pair of white cotton panties, you went to bed. Just as you were drowsing off into your sleep, you heard the door creak before someone opened and closed it quietly. You rubbed your eyes and switched on the night lamp just to notice Coryo standing by your bed wearing nothing but his tight white undies and a loose fitting silk robe. His hair wasn't perfectly styled as usual, instead his blonde curls were falling freely around his face.

“Mommy?” He gazed upon you with the most innocent look in his baby blue eyes. “Can I sleep in your bed tonight?”

Coryo had never slept in your bed, even when he was a young boy often haunted by terrible nightmares, Tigris was always the one who comforted him and sang him to his sleep, you were just sitting on your bed listening quietly until you were sure the boy was alright.

You knew full well what his true intentions were. You had to act like an adult.

“I really don't think it's the best idea, Coriolanus,” you tried to sound strict and inexorable.

“Please, mommy! It's so cold and I can't sleep. I feel embarrassed to go to Tigris and ask her for a lullaby, not to mention we’re not on the best terms right now,” he was looking at you, his blue eyes wide and desperate.

“Please, please, just this one time!”

You sighed deeply and gave him a faint nod.

“Alright, just this time!”

To your surprise Coryo threw the robe off his shoulders and pulled down his underwear, revealing his long, handsome half hard cock, its tip looking so velvety and just as pink as his lovely lips.

You were so caught off guard that you didn't even manage to make any protests before he jumped into your bed and glued himself to your side, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Mommy…” he whispered against the sensitive skin of your neck, making you shiver. “I’ve been having the worst nightmares… About the war, about all the things we had to do to survive. I’ve tried everything to make them disappear, but they keep coming back…”

You knew this was your last chance to stop this, you had to push him away, order him to leave your room immediately and never come back, but instead sinful words of encouragement just spilled out of your mouth.

“It's alright, babyboy! Mommy's here and you're safe with me,” you hummed gently as your hand caressed his golden curls. 

God, this felt so wrong on so many levels especially feeling your stepson's now fully hard cock pressing against your thigh, waiting for what seemed to be inevitable at this point.

“Thank you, mommy, you’re always so good to me,” you heard Coryo say just before feeling his lips on your neck. He kept kissing your soft skin and teasing it with his tongue, you felt your pulse running wild and you knew he probably felt it too.

Coryo's hand, previously resting on your shoulder, was now traveling down, his fingers dove under the lacy fabric of your negligee and started drawing circles around your nipple making your breath speed up.

“Coryo what are you doing?” Your mind still felt as you had to resist the pleasant feeling although your body was enjoying it so much.

He looked at you ever so innocently.

“I read that fidgeting something with your fingers can be really calming,” he said, playing with your nipples and tweaking them gently. “I just wanted to test that theory, it seems like it truly works…”

You just sighed, feeling your whole body filling with the insuperable feeling of pure lust, your nipples were rock hard under Coryo's masterful fingers and you felt a treacherous wetness pooling up in your panties. You hated that your own body was betraying you like that under your stepson's salacious touch.

“Mommy, you have such beautiful breasts…”

You inhaled sharply as Coryo's lips wrapped around your nipple, starting to suck hungrily, while his hand traveled further downwards. It easily found its way between your thighs and dove under the waistband of your soaked panties.

“Oh,” he cooed, dipping his fingers in your wetness. “Mommy really needs her babyboy to help her out, huh?”

“Shut up, Coriolanus!”

You grabbed a fistful of Coryo's curls and pulled him away from titty to smash your lips together in a passionate kiss, he felt so needy and desperate as he was exploring your mouth panting softly as you felt his erect cock pressing to your thigh, leaving a trail of precum from its leaking tip.

“Oh fuck, Coryo,” you whispered his name against his lips feeling him pushing his long slender fingers inside you. Your wet cunt that swallowed them so easily. You were literally dripping around his digits as you felt the embarrassment slowly leaving your body and getting replaced by a feeling of raw insatiable desire.

“I'm here for your mommy,” Coryo whispered, his fingers deep inside your pussy, curling against your soft walls and teasing your sweet spot.

“I will help you fulfill all your needs. That's what family's for right?”

With one swift move you pulled down your panties and crawled on top of him pinning him to the bed and covering his mouth with your hand.

“Don't mention family, you filthy little boy!  If you want mommy to give you a treat, you need to stay quiet, is that clear?”

Coryo nodded and you took your hand away from his mouth, wrapping it around his throat instead. The young man gasped watching as your free hand steadied his rock hard cock at your entrance before you slowly sank down on him, your wet pussy taking his whole length with ease. A soft moan escaped your lips as he stretched out your tight cunt.

You kept your hand on his throat in a tight grip as you started to move at an easy pace, eliciting a series of moans from his lips. Coryo's pupils dilated as he saw your pussy sliding up and down his length making it glisten from your juices.

You tightened your grip around his throat as you sped up your movements enjoying his little gasps as he was fighting for air completely under your control. The sight before your eyes made you impossibly wet and lewd slapping sounds filled the room as you bounced up and down his shaft faster and faster with each movement.

Chasing your own pleasure you let go of Coryo's neck and threw your head back, letting the straps if your negligee slide down your shoulders revealing your lovely tits bouncing up and down as you kept riding your stepson's cock.

Coryo's eyes widened at the sight and he let out a deep groan as your tight walls clenched around his cock, his tip hitting against your sweet spot as you kept moving.

“Oh mommy, you’re making me feel so good,” Coryo spoke, breathing heavily as you were too busy chasing your release to make him keep up with his vow of silence.

“I want to cum inside you, to put a baby in your belly. To make you nice and round full of new life that would make our family complete and strengthen our ties forever.”

In your mind you realized how twisted these words were and that they could actually become true considering that you weren't on birth control since your sex work days but your brains were completely shut off by pleasure as you kept moving up and down Coryo's wonderful dick your manicured nails digging into his smooth pale chest.

Coryo's nostrils flared, watching your boobs bouncing up and down as he felt his climax approaching.

“I can't wait for those beautiful tits to be swollen and full of delicious milk oh oooooh…” he cut himself off, moaning loudly as thick ropes of cum filled your cunt spurting up against your velvety walls.

You rode him through his orgasm and your red nails dug deep into his skin leaving red scratches. After mere seconds you came hard all over his cock and squelching sounds filled the room as your juices were mixing together with his cum. You collapsed on top of your stepson, his cock still inside you and he wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly.

“Just let me stay inside mommy's pussy a little longer,” he whispered. “Don't let the seed go to waste.”

“Fuck you, Coriolanus!” You hissed and bit into his neck using his distraction to wiggle out of his grip and crawl off of him making him whine at the loss of contact.

Coryo didn't put up a fight, he just watched you as you pulled the straps of your negligee back on your shoulders and then pulled you into his arms, wrapping himself around you.

You sighed and brushed a stray curl off his forehead looking into his big sleepy eyes. There was no way of denying the fact that you had just slept with your stepson, especially since you could still feel his heart beating softly against your skin and his cum dripping down your inner thighs.

It was so wrong. But still deep down in your heart in some sick and twisted way it felt so incredibly right.

[elred001]

(This may be uncomfortable for some people. Please be very careful and proceed with discretion. Hugs and kisses for everyone)

I really don't think you guys understand how obsessed I am with BuckTommy. A month ago I had no more than 100 9-1-1 bookmarks in ao3 and now I'm over 350, all the new ones being about them.

I'm autistic, I have ADHD, I'm asexual and coming to that realization was one of the most precious and liberating moments of my life. Lists are everything to me, they are the definers of my life. I have a hard time understanding social subtleties and metaphorical language, and my biggest drawback that autism brought me was my incompetence to regulate and understand emotions. Mine or others. So I had this huge list of what emotional attraction and/or interest is supposed to feel like, and how my body is supposed to react around those I'm attracted to or like or love, so it was such a mess and an absolute pain that every time someone touched me intimately it felt like ants were running across my skin and biting into my flesh. And I cried a lot about it, and I screamed and I had fits of anger that I didn't understand at all and my parents hugged me to calm me down but that only made it worse because, tact. Touch. Awful. I made myself do things I hated because I thought it was normal and I hated myself for feeling bad about it. Those were hard times.

A couple years ago I went on a sexualities research binge and went down an ADHD rabbit hole trying to learn everything I could because I was so tired of feeling that way, and that's when I found out.

Learning about asexuality felt like magic, it felt like freedom. It felt like crying after years of putting up with it all. It felt like relief. It all made sense and the world opened up to me, and I felt like I was meeting myself for the first time. It was beautiful.

Of course, then came the moments of panic because, how was I going to tell my mom that I am asexual? Or, am I even asexual or do I just want attention? And then the famous "so how do I know I love someone romantically if I don't really want anything physical with them?"

Where am I going with all this? Well, I'm obsessed with the way the series and Oliver have portrayed the realization. The idea that discovering something completely new, and it's actually not as new as you thought, brings more than just fear. Bring freedom. Bring understanding. Brings an "Oh" moment that feels down to your bones and penetrates your soul, and you can never come back from that moment because everything feels like you finally woke up and the whole world opened its arms to you.

And it's something sweet. It is something very delicate, soft, hopeful and so, so precious. And Buck, Evan, is experiencing it all for the first time with a man who is soft to him, sweet, considerate. He is learning about himself from someone kind, so he has the opportunity to have his "Oh" moment and feel freedom, because that freedom is being given to him by someone who knows what it's like to feel imprisoned. So nothing is rushed. So everything is calm and full of understanding. So Evan can feel emotions. And feel good throughout the entire process.

So yes, I am obsessed with them both and I love them and I want them so much that they last a long time and that Tommy stays.

[maggeemoo]

Tarnished Mirror; Ch. 1

-[CW: Brief mentions of Suicide]-

“I was expecting you’d be here soon enough.” Neo stood still as she stared up at the Blacksmith, starting to rethink her quick decision to jump into the colorful leaves of the Tree. “Hm? Oh, I see. You don’t quite know what to do here, do you?” Neo shook her head, a tiny bit of tension draining from her as the Blacksmith’s voice began to calm her. Her thoughts raced with the last few things she saw outside. The others saving her by using the smoke of the leaves, the cat screaming as she snuffed its life, the others nothing more than thankful that Ruby was still herself. Just thinking about Ruby was met with a pang of guilt, with how she forced her to practically commit suicide, and when her desire was filled, nothing but emptiness was what she felt. “You seem… sorry. You only wanted vengeance–no, closure–and you got it. There have been others that came here for the same reasons. But that doesn’t matter anymore. Now you have a choice to make, a choice that is yours and yours alone.”

As the Blacksmith spoke, a wide array of weapons rose from the ground. Some familiar and some not, some too heavy to even think about and some so light they could float. But there were two weapons whose weight and quality couldn’t be described: one, a parasol with an impossibly sharp blade inside.

The other, a pair of weapons. A sharp shield with scooped indents on either side, and a weapon capable of swapping between a Javelin, Sword, and Rifle. Though Neo’s eyes briefly lingered on the all-too-familiar parasol, the other pair grabbed her gaze as the Blacksmith continued.

“Your choice is who you want to be. No matter what that choice is, as soon as you make it you will be the person who wielded that weapon. It seems you’ve already left yourself behind once, but you are still you. Should you choose, that will no longer be the case.”

Neo couldn’t help but approach the case with the paired weapons inside, still glancing back at the parasol. With every glance, though, it felt heavier. She had held that same weapon for so long and she knew that it was her perfect weapon, so why did it feel so wrong now? Why did these bronze weapons seem so much more fitting?

“Those weapons are as good a choice as any. Do know that every weapon has its weight, that every person who wields a weapon has burdens. While picking up their weapon may release you of your troubles, you will be shouldering theirs.”

Pressing her hand to the case of the weapons, Neo felt an inherent rightness. Like a river finally reaching an ocean, an immaculate completeness. She could feel tears start to well up as the Blacksmith somehow perfectly put her messy thoughts into words.

“You’ve taken so much, so you think it’s time you gave back instead? If that is your choice, then very well.”

Neo closed her eyes as she noticed all the other weapons sinking away, giving a final glance to the parasol before feeling her new weapons in her hands. She feels her body suddenly change, and the last thing she sees is a gateway into a jungle in the Ever After as her memories slowly fade. As she steps through, the Blacksmith speaks again. “Just as I have done for the others, you will be brought to when you are needed most. Though it is not my part to influence your fate, I wish you the best of luck, Pyrrha Nikos.”

================================================

Just as the Gateway closes, Pyrrha realizes she has no idea where she is. She thinks out loud, and though her voice comes easily it feels odd in her mouth. Every word feels strange to say, like it was the first time she was speaking at all.

“Where am I? Wasn’t I just… What’s happening?”

Pyrrha tries and tries to remember anything, but all she sees in her memory is the impact of the Wyvern Grimm against the tower where she was fighting. Everything feels fuzzy like she was looking through stained glass and hearing with ear muffs on.

“I must’ve gotten injured… But nothing hurts at all. Maybe a dream thanks to hitting my head? No, everything feels too… real, too coherent…”

All Pyrrha can think to do is look around. Trees all around, a thick canopy shading her from too much light, and herself with her weapons. She starts to pat all over her body in search of any injuries or abnormalities and finds nothing. Nothing save for a lock of her hair, a chocolate brown instead of the usual red. She pulls and brushes at the brown, assuming that it’s dirt or mud stuck into her, but nothing comes out. As her motions get more manic her thoughts do as well, her mind drifting to her friends.

“Calm down, calm down. Something happened, I just have to figure out what exactly. The last thing I remember is getting knocked back by that impact, so I must’ve hit my head hard enough to lose whatever happened next. I can’t be far from Beacon, if I get somewhere high up I could look around and find my way.”

Now with a concrete goal, Pyrrha let go of her hair and glanced around. Upon spotting the Tree through a gap in the canopy, she quickly heads straight towards it. But then she realizes that the vine she just passed looks familiar, and that vine too. And didn’t she just walk past that rock? Something is wrong. So Pyrrha sat still for a moment, confused. To test her growing suspicions, she tore a vine from a nearby tree and wrapped it around the branch of one ahead of her. She tied it snugly and then kept moving forward. As she emerged from the thick bushes she saw that same tied vine. Pyrrha balanced her spear on her forearm and used her semblance to magnetize it, now seeing that the direction she was trying to go was north.

“North isn’t an option, okay. How about south- okay, I guess that’s north too.” Pyrrha says as she turns around, seeing that her spear-turned-compass thinks that north is all around her.

Now just using the faraway Tree as a landmark, she turns and finds that her path isn’t infinitely looping anymore. As to why, she doesn’t know, but thankfully she finds a site of interest soon after to distract her. A small clearing with one strange tree in the center. She reaches for the strange, clock-like fruits but notices on the opposite side of the tree lies one of the fruits on the ground, clearly dented and smashed. From the damage to the fruit, it looks like it was frantically smashed in, and clearly, this was quite a long time ago as its metal parts are rusted so badly that just picking it up nearly breaks it in half.

“I couldn’t even hope to guess what this thing does if it was working, but I don’t think I want to find out. Someone must have found out and broken it, and it looks like it took a few hits to do it.”

Pyrrha glances around after she sets the strange fruit down, not seeing much. She does spot a lightly trodden path though, and as she nears the end, she finds a small camp that looks recently visited, but currently unoccupied. She keeps a good eye out, but goes ahead and scouts the small camp.

“Small tent, campfire, and… Perfect, a map of the area. Apologies to whoever is living here, but I’ll be sure to thank you later.” Pyrrha thought out loud as she also found a small pouch with some jerky in it, quickly stashing it away for when she inevitably got hungry. As she looked around for anything else of use, she saw a small note written in scrawling, frantic writing that has a sort of… familiar twinge to it. DON’T FORGET:

-Clock fruits: Harvest by cutting the vine instead of plucking, Jinxy wanted one in exchange for another year or two. Done, but go barter since Jinxy lied and only gave a month

-Check the Monster’s Grave, make sure he didn’t come back again

-Wait, make sure none of the Monster’s victims fall for the clock fruits like he did

-If the Monster comes back then don’t fight, reminding him of what he did to Penny works faster

“...Penny? What the… This has to be a different Penny, right…?” Is all that Pyrrha can say, her thoughts again being said aloud. She looks over the note again and on the back sees more manic words, but written in handwriting that she finally recognizes. The Monster isn’t back he just never left I am the Monster please please please Penny I’m sorry please someone anyone help me kill me

Despite the agitated writing, Pyrrha recognizes the handwriting nearly instantly, the shorter note on the back being clearer than the scrawled front. “Jaune…?”

================================================

(That's the end of Chapter One, everything past this is just me the author rambling~)

Hello everyone! I doubt that anyone really knows me, I don't post much but I wrote this quite a while ago and recently touched it up a little and finished what I think is a good "Chapter" of sorts! I think it could be shorter or longer, but after months of on-and-off writing I finally got to a point where I think it works well enough on its own, which is something I strive for with writing since there are a lot of times I condemn a WIP to the shadow realm known as "Write later."

Anyways I'd just like to thank one person in particular, @pilot-boi for at least somewhat entertaining an idea I had a few months back. Had it not been for you saying that you like the idea even a little, this short work may have never existed and would have never been posted, so thank you so so so so so much. I've written a lot of things that just kinda came out of nowhere that not a lot of people have found interesting so I never bothered to post them anywhere, but the tiny bit of encouragement that you gave me was a spark. I can only hope that spark stays lit long enough for me to write this AU out fully, and maybe for me to give the series an ending that I think it needs.

Thanks everyone for reading, and have a wonderful day/morning/night~ Toodles!

[headphonemouse]

dcst animal mutuals as pokemon (+Peter)

@megacarapa @diamondsheep @galacticonejos @birbliophile @froqpi

[gritsandbrits]

Sentinel after retiring from the Magnus position:

[captaincolorblob]

Listen s5 is a blast to watch in general but I think the Halloween arc has gotta be hands down the most fun. Like Mikey throws a silver coin down a guy’s throat, if that isnt amazing entertainment i dont know what is

[ambrosiagourmet]

This episode of the anime made me realize something about Namari and her relationship with Tansu and his party. Before now I haven't been able to quite pin down how and why they start treating her more like family and less like a disposable bodyguard. But the anime conveys the shift so well!!

So, at the start of the episode, Tansu pulls Namari in the way of the undine's attack to protect himself. He's perfectly happy to let her die to save himself.

Kiki and Kaka both shout for him, but no one expresses a lot of care for what happens to Namari. This isn't remarkable to any of them. They do bring her back to the camp, of course, and Tansu resurrects her... at which point she starts yelling at him about how this is, in fact, a common thing.

Throughout the rest of the episode, there is a clear contrast in how the Tansu family all treats each other versus how they treat Namari. Tansu or Kiki being in danger is concerning. Namari getting hurt or killed is just part of the job. She is a meat shield, a tool they paid for and are using as part of this expedition. They take care of her, but they care about each other.

And though it's not exactly explicitly stated, Chilchuck's speech about reputation makes it clear why - they probably assume, because of her reputation, that this is how Namari views things, too.

From their perspective, Namari signed up to die a lot and get paid a lot. She is only there for the money, but acts upset when they don't treat her as a proper member of the party (and family). From their perspective, flawed as it is, she is asking for more respect than she will return.

That's not how Namari actually feels, though, and at the episode she tells Tansu as much:

And this is what changes things between them! Tansu finally sees her as more than a tool. For the first time, the party bonds with Namari as a person.

It's very fitting that this comes right after Namari realizes the value of Senshi's pot, too.

Just like the adamantine shield can be used for more than just fighting, Namari is more than just a tool and shield herself.

So they all share a meal, and things are different between them now. Tansu and his family will go on to treat Namari with more respect in the future, and they will begin to forge actual bonds. As complex as the layers of distrust, reputation, depersonalization and assumption are... In many ways it's as simple as that. How very like Dungeon Meshi. I'm so glad the anime made this finally click for me.

[foxgirltail]

I love you being trans I love you trans women i love you gender exploration I love you self discovery

[link to the Reddit post]

[ID: two screenshots of a reddit post on r/offmychest by user awaythrowjessie, titled "My girlfriend made me realize I'd be happier as a woman". it reads as follows:

I am 33, born male, and have had major self image issues my entire life. I hated seeing myself in mirrors, pictures, you name it. I honestly thought it was kinda normal so I just accepted it.

Now about 3 weeks ago I was at my girlfriends house, we have been dating a little over a year now, and have plans to move in together soon. Now recently she has shaved her head to support of her friends with cancer (side note thenl treatments for that friend are going very well). She had since bought some wigs to wear while her hair grows back out. We were joking around as I have male pattern baldness, and when she went to the bathroom I jokingly threw a wig on and waited. She came our, saw me we laughed for a bit and she said "you know I think you'd make a pretty girl" we laughed some more but those words triggered something in me.

Cut to a few night's ago she asked why I've been acting weird lately and I just told her how i was feeling. She said "alright let's do this " and when I asked what she told me she was going to give me a bit of a makeover and put me in one of her dresses and if i liked it then good. I was nervous and asked what if I did like it would she still be attracted to me. She just responded with "Baby you know I'm bi, guy or girl you're still mine." Her words reassured me honestly i love her so much.

Anyways she finished the make up, fitted a wig on me perfectly and got me in a dress and even helped me put a bra on and stuff in a little so i could see what breasts would kinda look like on me. Now I expected to see myself in the mirror, laugh this off and move on right, but I didn't. She did an unbelievable job, like I looked like I had been born a woman, and when I saw myself in the mirror for the first time in my entire life, I liked what I saw. I probably stared at myself for a good 10 minutes before she finally asked me something. She asked what I wanted to be called. After a few seconds I said Jessie, I always like the name Jessie. She whispered in my ear "well Jessie, you look beautiful." And that was it, I knew this was who i wanted to be.

I'm nervous now though, my friends will accept it but my family are, well let's just say not very progressive. But this is what I want.

end ID]

[cosmicbucky]

wallpaper

summary: bucky finds out how to change the wallpaper on your phone, and takes every opportunity he can to do so. until one day he doesn't have the heart to

pairing: bucky barnes x female reader

word count: 1000

warnings: fluff, nonspecific friends to lovers, this was just a dumb idea i had

《《《《 ♡ 》》》》

The first time Bucky changed the wallpaper on your phone, it was an accident - kind of. He sat on your couch, lazily scrolling through the photos of Alpine you insisted he looked at, because you simply couldn’t resist having a Halloween photoshoot with her while he was off on yet another mission, leaving her in your trusting hands. He was happy you were in the kitchen, because he would never let you see the smile he wore as he browsed the album, chuckling silently to himself over how elaborate these photos were. His mood swiftly changed when he swiped incorrectly, an array of different options suddenly presenting themselves to him. He swore under his breath as he tried to make them go away, but he only made it worse as the option to change your wallpaper came up. With an annoyed huff, he just kept tapping, figuring that eventually he would get it back to how it was. After a few more grueling seconds, he sighed in relief as he was once more face to face with Alpine sitting inside a jack-o-lantern candy bucket - how was he supposed to know that photo was now both your lockscreen and homescreen?

“Did you change my lockscreen?” you curiously asked when you finally sat back down beside him, taking your phone and checking it for any new messages.

“Did I what?” he asked in confusion, his head snapping up from his own phone to look at you with a scrunched brow. 

You could only laugh lightly, turning your phone to display the new photo brandishing your screen. The second Bucky saw it, his eyes widened almost imperceptibly as his face flushed ever so slightly. 

“I, uh- sorry,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to, your phone is just - it’s different than mine.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle fondly, your chuckles growing into more laughter as you realized it was also your homescreen. “It’s okay, Buck,” you assured softly, laughing quietly as you changed the photos back to their precursors. “It could have been worse, at least it’s not an embarrassing photo or something.” 

You were too busy fixing his mistake to notice the glint that sparkled in his eyes, a smirk growing on his face as your words gave him the most incredible idea he’s had in a while. 

The second time Bucky changed your wallpaper, it was very much not an accident. You left him your phone so he could look at the photos you took on your latest trip, unpacking your bags as he split his attention between listening to your stories and scrolling through a seemingly endless array of new pictures - which he truthfully enjoyed, but he was on a secret mission for the perfect, nondescript one to choose. 

“Again, Buck?” you giggled, flopping on the bed beside him as you took your phone back. 

“What?” he asked, just innocent and clueless enough to not raise any flags. 

“You and your fat thumbs, I swear,” you mumbled under your breath, changing the photos back once more, completely oblivious to his proud little smirk.

It took three more times for you to suspect that Bucky had started doing it on purpose, but your suspicions weren’t proven correct until he took a photo of you to display.

“Did you- when- really?” you stammered as you looked between him and your phone, half annoyed and half impressed because when did he even take this photo? 

He only grinned in response, laughing about how long he was able to do it under the pretense of it being an accident before running away in a fit of giggles, dodging the pillow you threw after him.

From that moment on, it became a game for him. 

Any opportunity that presented itself, Bucky snatched your phone and changed your displays to the most embarrassing and ridiculous photos of yourself.

A sunset was changed to you mid-sneeze. Alpine was changed to you post-nap. You partying with the gang was changed to an extreme close up of your face in that very photo. Louisiana docks were changed to you mid rant as you yelled at him to give you your phone back. A cherry blossom was changed to you passed out on the couch, wrapped up in a hoodie you stole from him and drooling all over the sleeve of it. 

As time went on, you stopped being surprised whenever it happened, and you grew to enjoy it. It was a silly thing, but it was a silly thing that only you and Bucky shared. It was a special thing, a cherished thing. It was your favourite thing.

Neither of you realized how the dynamic between the two of you started morphing into something else right in front of your very eyes. It was slow. It was gradual and complex and delicate and went unnoticed for almost a whole year. 

It was only noticed now, as Bucky took the opportunity to grab your phone as you slept soundly against his chest. It had been a while since he was able to get a chance to do this, and so he eagerly unlocked your phone, already running through different ideas of what picture to use. 

He was caught off guard when the picture staring back at him was from a few weeks ago. It was the day you finally convinced him to let you drive his bike after months of endless asking. It was a photo neither of you knew Sam took until later that night, when he sent it to both of you. 

It was you, sat in front of him on the bike and wrapped up in his arms, one securely planted on either side of you as his hands rested on yours, guiding you through everything as you both gleefully laughed at the fact that you actually managed to convince him to do this. 

For once, Bucky didn’t have the heart to change it. 

He couldn’t. 

It was his wallpaper, too. 

[clairenatural]

Dean doesn't like the word "boyfriend." He decides this the second time Cas says it–the first time it was new, shiny, exciting. The second time, he fights the urge to cringe.

It's not the "boy" part. It's not. It would have been, for a long time, but he's dug all that shit up and unpacked all the suitcases. They hold hands in public. They kiss goodbye in front of his coworkers at the garage.

It's just–not enough. Not nearly. Jack comes home from hanging out with his friends and fills Dean on the gossip and his boyfriend and her girlfriend and–that's not them. "Boyfriend" feels like a cheap mockery. Like how demons used to tease.

He's heard "partner." He's heard it from Sam, to Eileen, but he doesn't know how he can stomach it. He's said that word too many times. I'm Agent Tyler and this is my partner, Agent Perry. This is my partner, Agent Page. My partner, Agent Stills. All lies. Sam says he likes it, that he's making it mean something real. Besides, Eileen loves it.

Good for them, Dean thinks. It makes his skin crawl.

So he sticks with “boyfriend” and he shrugs off the funny urge to protest every time Cas says it. It makes him happy, and honestly, it’s not like he has an alternative.

It’s a Sunday when he realizes that somehow, Cas does. They’re at the farmer’s market, like Cas is every weekend, but Dean had picked up weekend shifts and missed the past few. Cas is excited the whole way there, telling Dean about how he’d manage to befriend the local honey vendor in his absence, how she’d invited him to a beginner’s apiarist group she helps run. They beeline (heh) to the honey booth as soon as they get there, and the woman--Judith? Janice?--smiles up at them both, hands Cas a jar of honey like she’d been expecting him, and says “Oh, this must be the husband! I’ve heard so much about you.”

Dean stares at Cas. Cas stares at the honey. Judith/Janice stares at both of them, smile fading as the silence goes on a beat too long. 

Dean clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. The husband, that’s me! Ha ha.” Beside him, Cas relaxes, just barely. In front of him, the woman breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Sorry,” Dean shifts. “Just didn’t, um. Realize I was such a hot topic.” 

The smile he gets is almost sympathetic. “Oh, only good things. Here,” she hands him a business card. “You should also come out to our meeting on Wednesday. Lots of people bring their partners.” She leans in, almost conspiratorial. “Beekeeping can be wonderful for couples.”

It’s at this point that Cas clears his throat and finally looks up from the honey in his hand, evidently giving up hope on escaping this conversation. “Thank you, Janet.” (oh. Janet.) “Dean works late on Wednesdays, but I’m very excited to see you all.” He’s pulling out money as he says this, apparently deciding to just go ahead and end the entire interaction. He hands her the bills, grabs Dean’s hand, and is already moving away from the booth by the time Janet calls “See you Wednesday!” after them.

Cas drags him all the way back to the car without stopping for tomatoes, or Sam's carrots, or the free-range eggs that are way too expensive but Cas buys anyway because you can taste when the hen is well cared-for, Dean (whatever that means). They slide into the car, still not talking, and sit in silence for several long seconds. Dean stares at Cas, who stares out the windshield at the parking lot.

"I can explain," Cas speaks, finally, right as Dean was about to open his mouth and say anything to break the silence.

Dean pauses. Can you? Cause I feel like I missed a few chapters, he thinks.

"I don't work late on Wednesdays," he says instead.

"Oh." Now it's Cas staring at Dean, and Dean staring out at the asphalt.

He turns the keys. He drives them home.

Later, making dinner, Dean rolls the word around in his head. Husband. He's making his husband pasta (It's missing the tomatoes. He's made more with less).

Husband doesn't feel like a costume, like an ill-fitting suit and scratchy tie. It doesn't feel like high school gossip, or a monster trying to hit him where it hurts. It settles in warm in his chest.

It's just the two of them that night, and they're eating in the comfortable silence of the bunker until Dean clears his throat and brings it up. "Why does Janet at the farmer's market think we're married?"

Cas pauses, fork of pasta halfway to his mouth. He puts the fork down and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad," Dean hurries to clarify. "It's just that there's usually, uh. Steps, you know. Like a whole....thing."

"I'm aware." Cas sighs. "She assumed, seeing us around - the first time I spoke to her without you, she asked where my husband was. And I..."

"You didn't correct her?"

"...No. I, um." Cas is looking down at his plate again. He picks up the fork, still half-full of pasta, then puts it back down again. "I didn't want to?" He says the end of the sentence like a question but looks back up at Dean and squints just a bit, and Dean knows he's watching for a reaction.

"Uh huh."

"It felt trivial."

"To tell her we're not married?"

"To call you my boyfriend." For the first time, he stumbles over the word.

Dean blinks. "You--" he stops, brain processing too much information to finish that sentence. "Okay." He leans back in his chair. Sighs. Rubs a hand across his eyes and lets it drag down his face. "Okay, listen. I don't like boyfriend either, but we gotta...talk about it."

"We are talking about it. You don't like it either?" Cas leans forward as Dean slumps back, following him across the table.

Dean snorts. "No, man." He shakes his head. "It's been a decade. I've seen you die." Six times. But who's counting.

"I agree." Cas pauses, and then, as if it's the most natural conclusion in the world, "Will you marry me?"

Dean actually laughs at this. "You're asking me that now?"

Cas quirks an eyebrow at him. "I've grown quite fond of calling you my husband at the farmer's market. I'd like to continue."

Dean stares at him in disbelief. It's not how he'd pictured it going, but he also can't think of it going any other way. Slowly, he nods. "Yeah, okay. Let's be husbands."

Across the table, Cas grins at him.

"But we're getting rings," Dean points a finger at him, because something about this is going to be normal.

"If you'd like. Although I already told Janet that you can't wear a ring because of your work at the garage, and I don't wear mine in solidarity."

"Rings," Dean insists, and decides to overlook the rest of that sentence. For now. He stabs his fork into a pile of the pasta. "And let me stop for the damn tomatoes next time."

They get rings and wear them on chains around their necks. Cas puts a beehive on the hill, and there's a small ceremony in the summer - a "vow renewal" to Cas' beekeeping group, who all receive invites attached to little jars of honey. Janet gets the nicest one.

[meiieiri]

𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫 [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: so she tells him not to cry over the injustice of a life cut too short for at the end of all this, she’ll only be a dream.

pairing: ex-husband!toji fushiguro x terminally ill wife!reader | song inspo: soon you’ll get better, cancer

warnings: heavy angst, terminal illness (primary bone cancer, stroke and MS), mentions of divorce/past infidelity, allegories to cheating, major character death. please read at your own risk. | a/n: this was so heavy for me to write, i started writing at 2 in the morning, and it’s 6:34 now.

word count. 3k~

“Why can’t you do anything right?”

Toji should have noticed, he laments as he takes a sip of his cognac. He should have sensed that something was wrong sooner, maybe that way, he wouldn’t be begging to borrow some more time to make things right. Your fingers were trembling that day — the first time you ever ruined his morning coffee — your hands shaking uncontrollably as you washed the mug with a sorrowful look on your face, your eyes glossy with the tears you were desperately trying to hold back.

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”

“I want you to be real. And I don’t care if we’ll live on borrowed time. Another extra second with you…is enough to last me my entire lifetime.”

[tojisun]

the way you wrote simon “my cock is too big it won’t fit” riley was jaw dropping, eye-rolling, and heavenly!!!

I’m imagining Simon who finally puts it in and is even more desperate than reader (cue male whimpering audio)

awww thank u so much!! i had such intense need that i bonked my head n went, “yup. this is the horny thought for the day” <333

oh but he was always soooooo desperate, even more so than the reader!! especially before they finally fucked!!!

thinking about the way he fucks his fist every night after your date ends :((

while you were at your home, stuffing your hole with your fingers (and toys, really—your eyes having devoured the chub underneath simon’s pants every time you two would sit close together, snuggled as you watched a movie, before rushing home and putting in on an order for toys because god do you need one. or four…), simon was locked in his room, messily fisting his cock.

there is too much lube, and it is staining his boxers and his pants because he was too horny to even strip properly. he bites down his moans, hesitant to let them out even when he is alone at his safe house, his eyes pressed close as he imagines the way he'll take you: on your knees while he pinches your nipples, flicking the buds with the blunt ends of his nails, or on your back with your legs folded to your chest because there is no way in hell that simon's not going to breed you.

it's that thought that always makes him cum, rumbled groans pouring out like rippling water.

“jesus,” he murmurs as he stares at his cum-stained palm, mind running at the way you clenched-and-unclenched your legs during dinner—something, he notes, was happening more often. “this is torture.”

(simon has always known how you look good in your own desperation, ragged in the way you stare up at him with furrowed eyes and lips jutted into a pout, but there was something different then. it was charged. primal. and simon realized how the ache must have peaked for you.

good, simon thought. i need you just as much.)

he slid two fingers in your twitching hole, relishing in your stuttered moans at the ease of their plunge. the wet squelch made his cock jump, thumping against his thigh, but he wasn’t done.

it wasn’t enough.

(simon has had countless partners before you, just like you had others before him.

you told him of the dissatisfaction, how cocks only ever breached your walls for the pleasure of the body it was attached to and never for your own. you told him of your elation that bubbled into sputtering disappointment because they never knew how to coax an orgasm from you with just their cock. you told him of the accidental orgasms, those that they cannot recreate because it wasn’t intended. sure, you told him of their wonderful fingers or mouths, of their robust laps you were grinding on during those days when sex is more foreplay than the penetration, but it wasn’t what you ached for.

you told him all of this, in return, simon told you the others who could never really fit him. the others who tried but they were never really interested in the preparation. the others who could only take half of his length, hissing when an inch slides in even when it shouldn’t.

“impatient,” simon murmured when you asked why his ex-partners couldn’t fit him.

“and they don’t have that…” he trailed off, tongue heavy in his mouth.

“they don’t have what?” you prodded, blinking at him all so darlingly, your blood buzzed with alcohol.

“they don’t have that masochistic streak,” simon replied, voice gentle. testing.

your only reaction was a quiet gasp, heavy eyes widening a fraction as the words settled in. he watched as you began fidgeting, throat bobbing at your dry swallow.

that was all simon needed to know you are made for him—soul and body.)

the moment your greedy hole managed to gobble all of his four fingers was when simon knew you were ready. he flicked his eyes away from your dripping slit and watched as you laid on the bed twitching, your eyes red from your tears, your skin dotted with sweat.

you looked like a beautiful, hot mess and simon was ready to engulf you whole.

simon slots himself between your legs, fist warm around his flushed cock. your glazed eyes focus on him, watching with open-mouthed gasps, and simon coos, unable to stop himself.

“ready f’r me, pup?” he asks, tapping the head of his cock against your sensitive sex.

it makes you keen, hips squirming, mussing up the already soiled sheets. simon chuckles, heat filling his cheeks, and taps it once, twice, three more times before finally lining the leaking head of his cock against your twitching hole.

the slow press in makes you two moan, bodies locking at the explosion of ecstasy that fills up your senses. overwhelming pleasure quickly razes through him, overtaking his sanity as the wet squeeze of your walls grips him deliciously.

he buckles, muscles liquifying, and the dizzying euphoria makes him stumble. he slips, his cock sliding in deeper, breaching further—

simon whimpers, unable to stop himself as unadulterated bliss grips him. he couldn’t help it: he sinks all of himself in you, your walls not even protesting as they swallowed him in, hungry in the way you are all filled up by him.

“si-!” he hears your delirious squeal, the rumble of your voice scratching into a ragged echo, and simon—

simon gurgles a response.

his mind has been zapped by the peaking high, rendering him unable to string coherent thoughts as all of his synapses sing nothing but the enveloping pleasure, running him on overdrive.

simon feels like he is being devoured. like he is stripped into nothing but his sensitive spots.

“t-too good,” he mewls. “pup, s’too good–”

[shadesoflsk]

THE OLD WAY

pairing: Leon Kennedy x fem reader

summary: Living at a farm and being married surely has it perks. However, Leon can't help but think something is missing.

warnings: smut, MDNI, oral (fem receiving) p in v, mating press (??), creampie, breeding kink, outdoor sex, age gap (unspecified), established relationship, fluff, Leon is so husband in this, mentions of pregnancy, domestic bliss.

word count: 4k

author's note: Hello! I had this fic in my drafts for sooo long. I was kind of ashamed to post this since it's not my usual type of content but !!! fuck it !! Ovulation goes brrr. I hope you all like it!I had an older Leon in mind but I used a re6 leon pic for funsies. (And please... don't judge the lack of creativity in my title... I didn't know what to write.)

MY MASTERLIST

City life was no longer fitting for a man like him. Job was not the same and he was afraid he might not get up from one of his falls one day. Joints no longer worked like they used to, a painful reminder of how his age was getting to him.

That's why he chose to retire, rather early for the average citizen. But he believes his position as a federal agent has aged him to the point where he could easily describe himself as an 80 years old man who needed help crouching down.

With that in mind, he wasted no time buying a home away from civilization. Money was no problem and owning a ranch now sounded like the best idea he could come up with. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. Time seemed to flow faster as he settled down in a peaceful lifestyle.

Solitude was very much welcomed. The sounds of blood dripping and ragged screams were replaced by the soft pitty patter of the rain and the usual rooster’s crow each morning, announcing a new day. 

But, as much as he has grown to love and appreciate his simplistic routine, the monotonous daily work and the lack of companionship were hitting him hard. When night came and his thoughts clouded his rational side, he yearned for a change in his life. He was never the romantic type, never been. His previous job as an agent cut off any possibilities of having a partner and settling down like any normal person would. But years made him a sappy man, it seemed.

Life works in mysterious ways, though. He wouldn’t have thought that farm life would bring him a sweet thing like you. It all started with your car breaking down a few meters away from his farm. You wanted to thank him for his help, there was no way you would simply express your gratitude through words, not after his assistance. 

So, your first visit consisted of a home-baked pie which he reluctantly accepted. Not because he didn’t want to but it had been a while since he was last gifted something. That first meeting soon turned into a couple until you were basically there every day. 

“Stay with me,” shifted into a “Be my girlfriend” and therefore the “Marry me?” finally came. 

You were the best thing that has ever happened in his life, a peaceful life away from any danger the city may bring and a beautiful wife by his side? God granted him the most perfect miracle ever. 

He followed the milestones of your relationship to a T. Even though the lack of knowledge was sometimes obvious, he knew the basics of how to keep a girl—his girl— happy. It was in his nature to provide, and living with you meant no exception. 

He always strived to do better, to be better. Your needs were always met and he took pride in knowing he was your husband. No one else but him. 

However, he felt selfish when none of that actually fulfilled him. He was happy with you, don’t get him wrong. Nothing was like before when he thought he would die alone with no one who cared about him. But something in the back of his mind kept bothering him.

And ever since he realized something was missing, he couldn't help but try to find out what it was. 

For days and weeks, he tried picturing the change both of you needed. More pets? You had enough with the dog you both have. Vacations? He had already taken you to the beach. More space in your home? The house at the farm was alright… Maybe a little too big for just the two of you.

Oh.

Oh…

The problem was the two of you. Or rather, being just the two of you on this big ranch. 

He had come to realize that he could, in fact, dream bigger. A few years ago, he would have thought that being married was a faraway dream, unachievable and stupid. But now he’s a husband and maybe if he tries hard enough, he can get to be a family man.

However, nobody has taught him how to face these types of situations. Even when he asked you to be his wife, he needed months of preparation. How was he going to explain this desire to put a baby in you? 

On one peaceful night, he was spooning you as always. It was his favorite activity after taking care of his chores at the farm (and even doing some of yours just so you could relax more). But even when there was nothing but a comforting silence, his thoughts wouldn’t stop flooding his mind. 

He let one of his hands rest on your abdomen, caressing the skin there with circular motions. He tried closing his eyes to prevent more of those thoughts from coming to his mind yet it was useless. His imagination was running wild when he pictured you carrying a life in your belly, swollen and round, the perfect scenario.

He imagined taking care of you. Of course, his pretty wife won’t do anything if she’s next to him. There was no way he wouldn’t take that opportunity to show her how much of a man, a good man he was. 

Pressing a kiss to your cheek as he rested behind you, he spoke before even thinking what he was supposed to say.

“You would be a good mom, you know?” It slipped out of his mouth, he should’ve used a more discreet way of speaking his mind. Now it was too late to draw back.

“What?” You chuckled as you turned your head to look at Leon. “I’d look great as a mom?” 

“Yeah.” He whispered, finally admitting his desire to have a family. “What do you think?”

He wouldn’t push the matter if you don’t feel the same. As much as he loved the idea of having mini versions of both of you, there was no way he would force you to do it. 

“Mhm… I think you’d also be a great dad.” Your voice was as soft as his, indulging in this little moment of intimacy and raw honesty. 

The word dad rings in his mind. His life before having his ranch was violence-filled, then years of solitude surrounded by nothing but nature cornered him to think that being alone was his destiny. Now, you brought him a newfound desire to come back home and finding you and your child. A family.

“You think so?” 

“Absolutely.”

Leon had a silly smile formed on his face. His dreams were actually achievable and domesticity and tranquility were now his everyday life.

“We can try if you want.” You added, feeling how Leon continued drawing shapes on your stomach. “How many would you like?”

Leon didn’t think he would get this far. 

“Want me to be honest?” Leon’s lips curled into a mischievous smile. “I wouldn’t mind having an entire football team with you.” He joked, hearing how you gasped in response.

“Leon!” You slapped his hand out of your abdomen. “I’m the one having them!” 

Both of you laughed as the night embraced both of you like a blanket. Confessions have never been so much welcomed as tonight’s. 

“I love you.” He murmured as his eyes closed. It was a reassurance that whatever life had in store for both of you, he would gladly accept it.

“I love you more.” You replied with the same fondness as always. Drifting off to sleep was easier than ever.

-

Days passed and the conversation wasn’t forgotten. Nonetheless, you let the flow of time and life decide for both of you.

Daily chores needed to be completed no matter what. So, he’s now washing his hands after feeding the horses. You’re holding the garden hose which makes a wet mess given the force of the water. 

“Didn’t know it was raining.” Leon jokes as the water soaks his shirt and pants. 

“Shit, sorry.” You turn off the garden hose as you giggle watching how drenched Leon looks. 

And while you are genuinely sorry since Leon still has things to do on the farm, you can’t help but appreciate the image your husband is offering. White shirt now see-through, giving you the perfect view of his soft abdomen clinging to the fabric.

When you first met Leon, he had told you what an amazing body he had. With so much pride, he once showed you pictures of his past self. Images of a toned torso and strong arms would look appealing to your eyes. But each time Leon and you are intimate, you get to feel his slightly rounder belly pressed against you, his strong arms clinging to you. In those moments you can’t help but thank God for the gorgeous man you have. 

“Enjoying the view?” Leon breaks the silence when he feels your eyes not leaving his body. 

“Maybe…” You quietly whisper as you drop the hose and walk closer to him. “Can’t help it, my husband is so handsome.” You add, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. Inevitably, you inhaled the scent you have grown to love. 

For a moment, you stay there, just drowning in the affection letting your hands rest on his sides unaware of how Leon could feel the slight friction of your breasts against his soaked shirt. The thin fabric of your dress does a poor job of preventing Leon’s hands from wandering around your body. 

A pool of arousal starts setting in Leon as he reaches your ass and gives it a firm squeeze.

With one swift and smooth move, he lifts you off the ground. Your feet are no longer touching the floor as Leon walks away from the barn. And, as if on command, you wrap your legs around his torso, allowing him to walk easier to whatever destination he had in mind.

For once, Leon hates the fact that he owns a big ass farm. His place is a bit far away from the barn, so his decisions are fogged by the desire and neediness he is feeling at the moment. Years in solitude led him to think he was imponent but with the way his jeans seem to get tighter each time your lower half brushes against his, he knows it's not true.

He is a gentleman, don’t get him wrong. He’d have picked you up and carried you to his bedroom as usual, laid you on the bed, taken off your clothes, and fucked you gently (or rough) like he usually did. However, a newfound wish piqued his interest, and even though you're in a secluded area, he wishes everyone would know what pretty girl he got.

Without further thinking and no complaints made, he places you down on the grass. The sensation of the blades tickling your skin is, in a way, bothersome, but your brain is easily turned into mush every time Leon dares to touch you.

Leon, however, wouldn’t allow you to feel any discomfort. His sun-kissed skin would be exposed in swift motion as he takes off his wet shirt. Those antagonizing seconds of admiring him unbuttoning the fabric push you to press your thighs together, seeking any type of release or mere pleasure.

“Up,��� And after those endless seconds of him taking off his shirt, his hand taps your hip, motioning you to lift the lower half of your body for him to lay his shirt there. Giving no second thoughts, you raise your rear, pathetically quick, and Leon notices. “So needy, have I been slacking off?”

And his tone gives him away. He is looking forward to letting nature be the witness of your lustful acts. The sun being your light and the grass your makeshift bed. His body embraces the position on top of you.

“Of course I have.” He cooes, bringing his face lower and lower before pressing his cheek against your inner thigh. His stubble resembles sandpaper with how it scratches your skin, but at this point, it brings more pleasure than annoyance. “Look at her, already crying for me.”

His breath tickles the middle area between your legs. The wet spot in your panties is obvious to Leon who wastes no time to bring up that fact. And you want to thank yourself for choosing a dress today because there is no way you could do anything besides laying on the grass and letting Leon treat you so nicely and tenderly.

“How could I?” He hums against the soaked patch of the fabric. “Been neglecting my pretty girl.” He presses a kiss on your clothed area, dragging down the anticipated pleasure you’re looking for. 

“Mhm… please.” Your babbles gain a chuckle out of Leon’s lips. He is enjoying the whole setting, he wouldn’t have known he had a thing for outdoor sex but then again, he loves discovering new things with you. 

Antagonistically, he lifts your dress until it reaches your abdomen and exposes your lower half.

And finally, his fingers hook around the sides of your panties, yanking down the fabric, allowing himself to admire the way he has made a mess of you already. 

As always, he was ready for his favorite meal in the whole world.

Lying on his stomach, he props up on his elbows, his mouth dives into your pussy as his tongue laps at your clit. A moan escapes your lips as the sensation of being eaten out by Leon floods your mind and soul. 

He feasts like a starved man, like he is eating his favorite dessert. He delves into your aching hole, his tongue tasting the sweet and well-known flavor of your juices. He brings your legs over his shoulders, propping you to raise your lower half and reach even deeper. 

“Shit,” Your fingers tangle in his dirty blond hair, shoving his face into your cunt. His lips suck your clit, paying close attention to that part, drawing moans and whines out of you. 

A plethora of names are being said as Leon continues being trapped between your thighs. He flicks his tongue while he feels how some of your slick drips to his stubble. And with the way your legs squeeze him even tighter, he can already guess you’re feeling so much pleasure from his tongue alone.

You arch your back, trying to bring him even closer to your core. The wet noises of his saliva and your slick mix with the outdoor ones. The soft rustling of the trees’ leaves and the birds chirping are a reminder of the scenario you both are in.

Whimpers leave your lips as Leon's tongue makes out with your cunt. Your fingers grip the shirt Leon placed as a makeshift blanket. Heat starts pooling in your belly as the antagonizing seconds of Leon eating you out bring you to the edge.

At last, your body jerks and comes undone in Leon’s grasp. He holds you in place, flattening his tongue to collect every drop of your slick. He could easily cum too just by the fact he was tasting your release. 

“My sweet girl, always so perfect for me.” He finally disconnects from your pussy to crawl back to where your face is. He places some kisses on your neck which is glistening with a layer of sweat given how much pleasure you were previously feeling. 

At last, his lips reach yours and he passionately kisses you. You could easily taste yourself in the kiss yet you don’t care at this very moment. 

For a moment, he indulges in the tenderness of the kiss after bringing you to heaven with just his tongue alone. However, the easily noticeable restraint in his jeans was getting harder to control. 

You feel him grind against you, seeking any type of friction to ease the aching feeling of his erection. 

“Leon… I can’t….” Leon’s intentions are obvious as you feel his clothed dick humping your leg like a needy man yet, you are still tender from your ecstasy. 

“You can…” He brings his face against the crook of your neck once again, placing wet kisses around your skin. “Just one more baby.”

He pleads, he begs, he needs to feel you wrapped around him. Those thoughts about leaving his mark, leaving his seed in you are still pretty much present. So at last, you nod. That’s when you can feel a smile forming on his lips which continue being pressed against your neck. 

“Thank you, thank you.” Acting like he hasn’t touched for ages, you hear the rustle of fabric and his belt buckle falling to the ground. You see how his dick springs out of his boxers when he pulls them down, already leaking precum just from eating you out.

In less than a second, you feel him collecting your previous release, sliding his cock through your folds with such ease that it had you gripping air. 

“Fuck…” He murmurs as he pushes himself painfully slowly, taking his time to feel how your walls tighten around his length. Pinned underneath him, you feel overwhelmed by the sensation of having his body so close to you. 

“My pretty wife…” He whispers as he is finally all the way in. “Look at you, so pretty full of me.” He adds while one of his hands caresses your hair.

He starts gently rocking against your body, the pace is slow and comforting as if trying to remember the way your velvety walls clamp his dick, the stretch being something you’re accustomed to.

“I love you so much, you know that?” He says as he thrusts inside of you, this time a little more urgently. The hand that was previously running through your hair wraps around your waist and lifts it slightly. 

“Mhm…yes.” You nod as your eyes lock with his, witnessing a newfound desire you haven’t seen before. Maybe it was the fact that both of you are outdoors, you don’t know. 

The sounds of his skin slapping against yours mix with your heavy breaths. The perfect music for the perfect scenario. As soon as Leon hits that sweet spot of yours, you whimper his name like a mantra. 

And then again, the thought of a family floods his mind. The mental image of your belly stretching out, making space for the baby is everything he longs for. And not only that, but he craves to take care of you, his pretty wife. You wouldn’t need to lift a finger for the nine months of pregnancy. 

“Wanna fill you up.” He finally confesses in a moan. He isn’t a stranger to dirty talk, you know it well. The way his words come out like a promise and an already-made decision is proof of his not so hidden wish. “This farm is lonely with just the two of us…”

And as he presses his forehead against yours, you see in his eyes the devotion he has for you. The same man that promised you the world is now promising a life, a new life who is going to be the perfect combination of both you and him.

“What’chu mean?” You feign ignorance just for the sake of hearing those words coming out of his mouth again. And as you try to say some more teasing words, you can feel the way his thrusts get rougher as if trying to make a statement. The statement being that he wouldn’t stop until you get pregnant.

“You know what I mean…” He is huffing by now, letting out a grunt as he utters those words. “Wanna get you nice and full.”

Ultimately, your dreams are the same as his. So you allow him to transform this dream of his into his—your—reality now.

“Yeah?” You say through your teeth, trying not to whimper from the fact that his cock is reaching so deep into you. 

“Yeah.” He groans, his sticky forehead never leaving yours as he looks into your eyes and your dazed-out expression. “You’re gonna look so goddamn beautiful as a momma.” 

Out of desperation to fuck you even deeper, he brings your legs to his shoulders, just like he previously did when he was eating you out. But this time, it is an attempt to let his dick mark your womb. 

It is his mission to one day see a positive test. It’s his mission to show his devotion to his princess and the now-future mother of his children. He’d never stop looking at the telltale of his seed making its home in your body. 

He wouldn’t let you do anything besides resting and growing your little miracle. He’d cook, he’d clean, he’d feed you if you ask him to. 

“Keep squeezing me like that, I’m gonna—fuck—cum…” He effortlessly bends your knees even more, bringing them closer to your chest.  “Gonna fill you up until I’m so damn empty.” 

He takes advantage of the vulnerable position you’re in to bring a hand to your clit. Rubbing it, he waits for the imminent climax of both of you.

“Cum for me, princess.” He presses his body on top of you, the position allowing him to let out an almost growl against your ear. The sense of purpose that Leon is showing prompts you to finally reach your climax. With a broken voice and your fingernails leaving crescent moons on his back, you coat his dick with your release. A gooey ring forms at the base of his cock every time he pulls in and out of you. 

His actions don’t stop there, though. He was so close to spilling right inside you and making his dreams come true. He brings the hand that was previously teasing your clit to your face, brushing away some of your hair that has stuck to your forehead, he looks right into your eyes.

“Fucking love you so much.” He grunts, his deep sea eyes never leaving yours, as if trying to engrave this moment in his mind. To forever remember the time when he finally achieved his dream. “You’ll be the prettiest momma ever.”

Although his thrusts are too much for you to handle and the overstimulation turns into a slight discomfort, the way his hand is gently caressing your cheek—a juxtaposition of his determined attempt of marking you— makes you melt on the spot.

And especially since the cold feeling of his wedding ring reminds you of the amazing man you married.

“I'm cumming.” He warns you as his thrusts get sloppy and without rhythm. He's seeing stars at this moment, every time he plunges his dick into you he reaches the sky. And at last, with the way his breath gets laboured and heavy, it announces his high coming.

The head of his dick spurts rope after rope of cum into you, the angle you are in makes it easier for it not to drip out of you. He wouldn’t allow a drop of his seed to go to waste. 

You feel the warm and thick liquid filling your insides, proof of Leon’s actions and therefore fulfilled wish. For a moment, you stay there letting his weight crush you and your bent legs. 

After a while, he slowly slips out of you, carefully placing your legs on the ground. You feel the grass blades tickling your calves where Leon’s shirt doesn’t reach. 

Leon rests his arm next to your head, admiring the dazed-out expression you have after letting him fill you.

“Hey…” He murmurs before letting out a soft chuckle. 

“Hi you.” You respond with a smile amidst the exhaustion that is running through your veins. “We really just did that.”

“Yeah…” In his eyes, you can observe how much love he has for you and how eager he is to know if this one dream will be a reality.

With his free hand, he grabs yours and places soft pecks on your knuckles. 

“Are you okay?” He once again speaks, now making sure you are alright. 

“More than okay.” 

He gives your knuckles one last kiss before he lets out a breathy laugh, shaking his head while doing so.

“A penny for your thoughts?” You ask.

“Nothing…” He shakes his head once again. “It's just that… I may have some dad jokes already prepared.”

“Shut up, Leon.”

You couldn’t wait to know if your dreams were achieved by this act. You couldn’t wait to see if your life could get even better than this. And especially, you couldn’t wait to experience being a family.

💬 shadesoflsk: Comments, reblogs and likes are very much appreciated.