#also me: heavy eyes weight eyelids heavy eyes weight eyes eyes

[mikkomacko]

Him and I - Soul Bound

Mob!Nico x reader

Warnings: some angst, but mostly cute. Mentions of death, of heartbreak.

Previous part

A/n: I apologize for how long this took me! I really really hope it was worth the wait haha. I’ll be editing and proofing later but wanted to get it out for y’all. Enjoy!

————————————————————————

Blinking softly, Nico breathes in the scent of your shampoo, the soft strands of your hair warm with each puff of air he exhales. Snowflakes scatter the streetlights coming in the bedroom window, the night clouds dumping snow on the ground. He thinks of you, contemplates waking you up so you can see it for just a moment. You love the snow, love how soft and quiet everything seems during the winter.

You’d love this storm. The flakes are big and fat, building up on the windowsill like something out of a movie.

Nico buries the tip of his nose further into your hair, restraining himself from rousing you. You need to sleep, need to get better so he can take you home. So that you’ll both get your normal lives back.

His thumb rubs circles over your hip, trying to soothe you while also lull himself back to sleep. He’s not sure what woke him. It could be the two wedding rings he has hidden in this bedroom, one that you’re very aware of. It could be the lingering bruises and cuts on your skin, marks that taunt Nico. Or it could be the fact that this entire trip has derailed his relationship with you.

He expected to leave here with a fiancée. Now he’ll be lucky if he leaves here with a girlfriend that still wants the pendant around her neck.

Swallowing heavily, Nico closes his eyes and pushes the thought out his head. You’ve picked him a million times over, he shouldn’t be scared that suddenly you wouldn’t do it again.

“Nico,” you murmur, voice just a whimper and it startles him. His body goes rigid, arms tightening around you and he cranes his neck to look down at the top of your head.

“I’m here darling, what’s wrong?”

Fingertips trail over your forehead, brushing out of place baby hairs away. You stir, heavy eyelids fighting to flutter open as his palm settles on the side of your neck, fingers lightly squeezing in encouragement. Fingers that can cause so much damage but touch you like you’re a precious pearl.

“I had a bad dream,” you finally whisper, shaken. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, guilt settling like a stone in his gut. Unable to look at you, he focuses back on the bedroom window.

“Got you,” he swears “I’ve got you baby, you’re ok.”

Your back shifts under his hands, ribs expanding as you inhale deeply and blow out a rattled breath. Then you do it again, the puff of air hot on his bare chest. Finally, you settle.

Not for long though. Shuffling, you push yourself up until you’re straddling his waist, weight heavy on his stomach and thighs but welcome. Knuckling at your sleepy eyes, you blink sluggishly at him.

“Why are you up handsome?”

He shrugs, smiling softly at the sweet name. Your fingers reach out for him, gentle and tickling as you push a strand of hair off his forehead.

“Was watching the snow fall and thinking about you.” Nico admits, voice just a whisper. Like a bolt of electricity has gone through you, you perk up, eyes brightening.

“Snowing?”

Pursing his lips to keep from laughing, Nico nods against the pillow. You duck your head down, rolling your lips inwards and trying to hide that beautiful smile from him. His heart swells with love, thumping painfully in his chest. Hands running up and down either side of your waist, he finally gives.

“Come on, let’s go outside.”

~~~~

It’s like a dream. The buttery glow of the street lights on the fresh snow, reflecting off your smiling cheeks that have turned pink in the cold.

The fabric of your snow pants swish as you waddle away from him, snow crunching loudly under both of your boots.

Clouds of fog dance in front of Nico’s eyes, thickening as he huffs and puffs after you. Stumbling after you, Nico lazily tosses the snowball in his gloved hands. It smacks you square in the back, and you squeal dramatically.

Nico stops as you whirl around, scooping up your own snowball and he hides behind his arms as you throw it into his chest. Flakes of snow drift up to his chin and cheeks, biting cold but he laughs anyway.

“Right in the heart baby?” He gasps, clutching at his pec. “Ouch.”

You pout, locking your hands together under your chin. “Oh no poor baby Nico.” You tease, a wicked grin morphing on your lips as you quickly scoop up more snow and run at him.

Tossing the half formed snowball into his stomach, you laugh evilly and try to duck around him. Luckily Nico has quick reflexes and manages to wrap his arms around you, lifting you up and swinging you in a circle.

Clutching at his hands and arms, you squeal and giggle, snow boots and legs drifting through the air. Nico keeps swaying you back and forth until his biceps burn from holding you and his stomach and cheeks ache from laughing.

“Cold?”He asks after your feet are back on the ground, the ice cold tip of his nose nudging your cheek.

“Yeah,” you pant out, still trying to catch your breath. The two of you haven’t gone far from the house. You’re still close enough that if any of the boys are light sleepers they definitely heard you laughing and play fighting. Not that Nico cares.

This is his house and he can do as he pleases on the property. Hell if he wanted to walk around buck naked he’s more than welcome to do so.

However, it is getting late (or early, he supposes) so he nudges you back towards the house with two hands on your waist. You move in silence alongside him, kicking snow off your boots on the porch before huddling into the entryway. Like a well oiled machine you seamlessly strip out of your snow clothes and layers, leaving them abandoned in heaps in front of the door to be dealt with in the morning.

Nico’s gotten down to his socks, a pair of boxers, and his shirt when you suddenly crowd into his chest, hands holding his face tenderly as you guide him down into a kiss. Like its second nature he holds you, arms snaking around your torso and lifting you to your toes so he can kiss you back.

It’s then that he realizes you’ve taken off almost everything, the only piece of clothing left on your body the soft pair of cotton underwear that brushes against his pinky finger.

Your skin is warm and soft, soothing against his thawing fingertips as he runs a hand up your spine, fingers gripping your hair.

Head fuzzy, Nico groans when you push your chest tight against his, sweetly nudging at his bottom lip with your tongue.

“Baby,” he murmurs gently, every part of him aching to just lay you down on the stupidly soft fur rug just across the way and have his way with you. But he can’t bring himself too, even if his dick is starting to thicken up in interest.

You must be able to tell by his tone, eyes fluttering open and swollen lips brushing against his. Gaze switching between his eyes, you stroke at the scruffy hairs of his beard.

“Are you ever going to stop looking at me like I’m hurt?”

It’s not accusatory. Or angry. Or even disappointed. Your tone is curious, like you’re simply asking him if he still likes coffee ice cream.

“You’re all healed up, I know.” He assures quietly, but earnestly. “And as badly as I want to make you feel good on me, I can’t until I’m certain that you’re all healed up inside too.”

Something warm and tender settles in your features, lifting the corners of your lips in a bittersweet smile.

“I know,” you whisper, slowly stepping back from him. He’s sure you’ve lost your top somewhere in the mess clothes beneath your feet, so he tugs off his own t-shirt, straightening out the sleeve. You duck your head down when he holds it open to you, helping you pull it down over your shoulders and torso.

Nico holds you again, desperate to feel you against him. His favorite thing in the world is getting to hold you close to him.

You lay your head on his shoulder, left arm squished between your two bodies and right hand innocently fiddling with the waistband of his boxers.

Bashfully, you say, “I don’t know how to be, though. I’m so mad at Timo, and I’ve never been mad at him before. And then I feel bad because I’m not mad you but I should be if I’m mad at him. But I don’t even know why I’m mad.”

Nico hums, swallowing thickly. You maybe should be mad at him. He knows he didn’t handle the situation well, knows he let his fear get ahold of him and he shut you down to protect you. Instead of using this as a chance to make you stronger and smarter, he put you in metaphorical bubble wrap.

“Yes you do,” he finally responds. “You just won’t say it because you don’t think it justifies how upset you are. But it does baby, and you have every right to feel that way.”

You sniffle. “Ok.”

He shakes his head fondly, amused by your lack of response and knowing that it simply means you’re really listening to him.

“But Timo has his own justifications for what he did and until you hear his side of it, you’ll both just be angry at each other.”

Your hand runs up his stomach, fingers cold on his skin and you teasingly pinch at the fat on his lower belly. “When did you get so smart?”

Looking up at him with twinkling eyes and an amused grin, Nico presses a soft kiss between your eyes.

“When I met you.”

~~~~

Nico’s arm is heavy on your shoulders as the two of you descend the stairs. It’s obvious that last nights snowy adventure has left you two exhausted if the dragging feet and yawns are anything to go by.

Chatter, the noisy clattering of pans and silverware travel from the kitchen. Sharing a curious look with Nico, you stop in the entryway and blink twice to make sure you’re not still sleeping.

Mercer is standing over the stove, a pan of bacon popping and sizzling in front of him. Luke is looming over the toaster, a loaf of bread in hand and a pile of toast stacked on a plate. At the bar top, Timo is elegantly slicing through tomatoes, carefully watching Alex in front of him who is doing his best to replicate Timo’s technique. And Jack sits with them, nimble fingers tearing apart a head of lettuce and laying the leafs out on a platter.

Mouth parted in shock, Mercer turns around, a spatula with greasy bacon in hand. He freezes when he spots you two, eyes wide and caught. You realize he’s wearing a white apron that reads “I ♥️ fondue” and wonder if it’s Timo’s or Nico’s.

“Morning sleepyheads.” He greets, bacon dripping grease onto the floor. Beside you, Nico sighs and drags a hand across his face.

“Mess, Merc.” He grumbles, more tired than annoyed or angry.

Mercer makes a noise of surprise, rushing to the island counter and laying the strips of bacon out on a platter. Nico removes his arm from you, grabbing the dish towel off the oven rack and moving to clean up the mess.

“Thanks boss,” Mercer grins, going back to his post at the stove. Nico grunts in acknowledgment, haphazardly throwing the rag into the sink as he heads towards the corner where the coffee pot is nestled.

One track minded for his morning caffeine, Nico putters around silently, dipping in and out of cabinets.

Rubbing your eyes, you look at the other boys. Jack is still going about his business of arranging lettuce pieces but he’s got a shit eating grin on his face, watching Nico intently. You already know he’s waiting for his boss to perk up so he can make some crude remarks or guesses at why the both of you slept in today.

Avoidant, Timo is locked in on the task of slicing tomatoes but you can tell he’s distracted. He’s slowed down, hands moving like molasses as if he’s putting more effort into not looking around than he is cutting vegetables.

Alex however, is watching you. He’s still holding his knife and half cut tomato in his hands, but they sit limp on the counter top. He angles himself towards you, gaze hesitant.

“I tried to make your matcha for you. It’s in the fridge. Not sure how good it is though.”

As usual, he just warms your heart. They couldn’t even make a cup of coffee for Nico, they’re boss, and yet Alex took the time to make you matcha before he started on breakfast BLTs with the rest of them.

“Thanks,” you smile, “M’sure it’s fine. If Nico can make it, anyone can.”

Now leaning against the counter next to Luke, Nico glares at you over the rim of his coffee mug. Even so he looks cute, all puffy eyes and messy hair, thick eyebrows pinched together.

You clear your throat, smiling drooping as you soak in how awkward it feels to be around all of them. How Luke still hasn’t said a word and that’s weird of him. Neither has Jack, and that’s so out of character it’s detrimentally concerning.

And poor Alex who looks like he’s just swallowed a buzzing alarm clock, who has never been holy at handling conflict between those he loves. Guilty, you’re moving before you can even think about it.

Timo must see you coming though because he drops everything in his hands, turning just right that you fit perfectly into the seam of his shoulder when you throw your arms around him.

He’s bigger than Nico, just a hair taller and a bit thicker, but the two of you are like pieces of the same puzzle. Different than you and Nico, but just as perfect.

The hug doesn’t say everything you need it to, but it says enough. You can tell by the way he sighs in relief, breath hot on the top of your head and he melts into you. Your fingers cling to his back, holding him tightly and desperately and it feels like the more you cling to him the tighter he squeezes you around the shoulders.

Closing your watering eyes, you puff out a weighted breath. “Please tell me you helped him make that matcha?” You whisper, just loud for Timo to hear. You can feel his laugh on your skin.

“Of course I did.”

~~~~

Picking at the sleeve of your cable knit sweater, you look from Nico to Timo, lips pursed. Your sat on the freshly made bed, legs crossed over each other in front of you and that teddy bear from Nico’s childhood bedroom resting by your feet.

Timo clears his throat uncomfortably, sat in the large windowsill across from the bed. The sky behind him is bright and blue, showing off after a night of dumping snow in the town. It hurts your eyes a bit to look at it, stabs at the tender spot behind your right eye.

Nico is slowly pacing by the side of the bed. Not anxiously or uneasy, but in a way that makes you feel both of those. He’s got his arms crossed over his chest, the string of his hoodie bitten between his teeth.

Every once in awhile he looks up from his feet, looks at Timo like he can’t really decide what to do with him. Then he looks at you, and his eyes go all gentle and soft, and his lips lift just the slightest bit. Then he looks back at his feet and paces.

“Um Schoa?”

He stops, looks up at you expectantly. “Hi, wanna sit for a second?” You ask politely, patting the bed next to you. His brow furrows.

“Why?”

Laughing, you say, “So that I can hold your hand when I tell you that we don’t need a mediator.”

Across the room Timo chuckles. Nico’s head snaps over to glare at him and Timo hides his smile behind his hand, pretending to scratch above his lip.

Climbing to your knees, you shuffle to the end of the bed until you can reach Nico, taking his hands in yours. Your touch pulls his attention from Timo, gaze going tender as it falls on you. You almost melt at the way his head tilts ever so slightly and his thumbs rub at the back of your hands.

“I know that I just…”

“Just what?” You encourage.

His next breath comes out slow and calculated, eyebrows pinching ever so slightly as he thinks. “I’m trying to decide if I should make you two wait to do this and take you with me to Luca’s.”

The investigation (and subsequent interrogation) that had taken place after Lena and Marcello abducted you was officially completed a few days ago. Luca has been waiting for you to heal before he wanted to go over the run down and findings with Nico.

You know why Nico is so torn up about making you and Timo go. He’s trying to open the work side of the family to you, just as you’d asked him to do. He wants you to feel included, to know that he’s not trying to hide this.

But at the same time, you’re relationship with Timo is more important to you than knowing why and what happened that day in his grandfathers old house.

Besides, it makes your skin crawl thinking about having to watch security footage, hear stories and records taken during interrogation with Luca and the rest of the boys around. Probably Nina too, and whatever men they have tailing them.

Embarrassing, you decide. It would so embarrassing to look them in the eye after they’ve seen you at your weakest.

“I want to hear it from you,” you say, fingers tightening around his palms. “Just you, please.”

He reads you so well. Can tell immediately why you don’t want to go, that you only trust him enough to relive that day with him. No one else.

“Ok,” Nico agrees easily, right hand letting go of yours to cradle the back of your head. He ducks down and presses a comforting peck to your forehead. “I promise I’ll tell you everything we find, show you whatever you want after ok?”

He straightens out, smoothes his hand over the top of your head and looks to Timo.

“You’ll be updated too,” Nico tells him. “As long as you keep her safe and happy today, deal?”

Your best friend scoffs. “That’s literally my job description. Along with being hot.”

His words make you giggle, the sound so unexpected you press into Nico’s stomach to stifle the sound into his hoodie. You know better than to laugh when Nico is talking business, but sometimes those boys get the best of you.

And as much as Nico pretends it annoys him, you know he likes to see how happy the family makes you. You can tell by the way he softly tugs at the roots of your hair, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make you look up at him. He’s fighting back an amused grin when you do.

“Come on Schao,” you mumble. “Get outta here, it’s Timo time.”

~~~~

Snow crunching under your boots, you sip at your latte, wincing when the foam burns the tip of your tongue, but too impatient to wait for it to cool.

To the left of you, Timo has popped the lid off of his drink, swirls of steam billowing up into the frigid air and he’s cautiously blowing to cool the liquid down.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye, the two of you strolling lackadaisically through the streets of town. After a moment he takes a deep breath, gloved hand shoving the lid back on his latte. He takes a sip.

“I’m sorry that I left you in the hospital that day,” he finally says, voice quiet like he’s unsure of what to even say. “I should’ve told Nico that you could handle it.”

“Do you really believe that?” You ask, “or are you just saying that now?”

He frowns, lips pursuing. He looks like he’s fighting himself on what to say and you’re unsure if that’s a bad thing or not.

“When Nico came me to that day and told me he lost you, it was like the ground fell out beneath me,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know how Nico kept his cool, but I mean he’s always been good at knowing what to do and when to do it.

“So when he said it wasn’t the best idea to let you at Lena and stuff, I trusted him-“

“You should’ve trusted me.” You cut in, the reminder of him picking Nico over you making your temper flare.

“I know I know,” Timo concedes, holding a hand out to stop you at the streets crosswalk. He checks both ways before nodding you along. “But I was scared and I just-I couldn’t-I didn’t trust myself.”

The sidewalk under your feet feels slick, and you reach out to link your arm through Timo’s. He’s sturdy, locking your arm under his bicep and slipping his hand into his pocket.

“What do you mean?”

Timo sighs heavily, breath shaking with the weight of it. “It was my job to train you, to prepare you to be Nico’s prinzessin and I failed. Somewhere along the way, something you were supposed to know didn’t click and I didn’t make sure that it did. And then all of this happened.

“I did this to you and Nico!”

He’s stopped walking now, angled himself towards you. His eyes are wet and red when they meet yours, the sadness in them colder than the winter temperatures.

“I had to side with him. It was the only thing that felt right after I screwed up so badly. You know Nico, he can fix literally anything.”

You wrench your arm out of his hold, rising to your toes and throwing it around his neck into a bruising hug.

Timo tucks his face into your shoulder, shoulders hunching down to meet your height. Blinking away the tears in your own eyes, you look up at the bright blue sky and focus on the puffy clouds drifting by.

“I had a panic attack,” you murmur weakly. “At the party. Nico and I were fighting, it felt like he was so far away and I just freaked. It was like I was on autopilot, I just went outside to catch my breath.”

You swallow thickly, choking back tears. “As soon as the world around me came back I realized what I did and tried to go back but-“

“Don’t say it,” he cuts off, voice strained and broken. “Don’t tell me how they hurt you.”

“I should’ve been ready,” you continue instead. “Everything they did I went over with you a million times. At least everything I can remember them doing. B-but it was like my head was exploding. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t see.

“My head hurt so badly. I could feel the instructions and lessons right there but nothing was clicking. All I could think about was Nico, how much I wanted him there.”

The air is colder on your cheeks now, and you realize it’s the wet trails of tears that burn. You tuck into Timo shoulders, wet eyelashes fluttering shut to hide from the world.

“I failed Timo. You and Nico prepared me, I just couldn’t do it.”

The arm around your middle squeezes, so tightly it takes your breath away. “That’s not true,” he utters, earnestly. “You didn’t fail. You showed all of us up, you got Luca to side with you. You got the boys out here.

“You showed me and Nico that you know how to lead, all on your own.”

His assurance is like warm water trickling on your head, trailing down into your bones. It’s soothing, calming to hear. Especially from him, from your best friend in the entire world. And he’s a people pleaser, he’ll tell anyone anything they want to hear. This, however, is sincere.

You can tell by the way he looks down at you after you’ve released him from your hug, baby blue eyes certain and steady.

He holds his arm out to you. “M’sorry I didn’t listen to you before.”

“I’m sorry I shut down on you,” you apologize, taking his arm like before. He nods down the street.

“Come on. I want to show you something.”

~~~~

The room is so silent, Nico thinks he could hear snowflakes hitting the roof of the building if he really listened. If it weren’t for the sound of Holtzy breathing so shakily, angrily.

Nico knows the feeling.

The large display screen in Luca’s conference room has gone dark, reflecting a distorted image of them gathered around the table. Nico doesn’t really see that picture. No, he still sees Marcello tying to the chair, how harshly your limo body was thrown down and manipulated with rope. He can still see the way your head lulled, even after you woke up. The way you tried to move and he’s not sure if the bindings stopped you or the fact that you looked like you couldn’t even identify your own limbs.

He can still see the blood that smattered the floor when Lena hit you. Can see and hear the way you cried when Marcello touched you.

Nico never got the footage of the warehouse in Philly when you taken the first time. He had no way of accessing it, especially after he lit the place on fire. He’s thankful for that now.

If he can’t stand to see this, he would’ve died seeing that.

“All of that because she wanted Nico?”

It’s Luke who speaks up first, lips curled in disdain as he looks away from the screen to Luca. The older Hischier sibling looks guilty as he nods, bringing a fist to his mouth as he clears his throat.

“She wanted the business. And the only way to get that for her was through Nico.”

The phones they’d taken and unlocked from Marcello and Lena lay on the oak table in front of him, message threads pulled up. Nico doesn’t need to read them again. Doesn’t need to see another video, hear anymore audio. The story is clear cut.

Lena convinced Marcello that you were using Nico, that you wanted to infiltrate the family from the inside where’d you’d be able to take over both Luca and Nina’s territory.

Marcello believed her, spurred by the fact that they never saw you in a Devs pendant or with a ring. Because in the states, those marks are subtle and hidden. Yours is always tucked under your shirt.

Unlike in Switzerland, where a pendant is always flaunted, every outfit centered around the piece of gold.

And then they devised a plan. One carefully laid out in a text thread between the two the same night Nico took you to Luca’s bar. The same night that you had a run with Lena, apparently. Her friends said something to Luca about it, his camera picked up the moment in front of the bathroom, and Nina confirmed it.

Nico had no idea about it. Hadn’t even known his ex-whatever was even back in town. He can’t believe he didn’t notice. He’s usually so attentive, so analytic of his whereabouts. He’d let his guard down that night too. Because he was so happy to see his siblings, to see you fit right into that booth in the bar with his sister and at the pool table with Luca.

He remembers holding you that night in the bar. Loving and kissing on you in a way he doesn’t normally do in public. How he swayed you to his favorite song and held your waist when helping you line up the queue ball. The way he whispered stupid little things into your ear just to get you to giggle and curl into him, give him a reason to press sweet kisses to your neck and cheeks.

Lena most of noticed. Must of seen how fucking in love he is with you. He never took her to his family’s places, never played her any songs he liked, never tried to make her laugh.

It makes him nauseous to think that someone took that love and used it to hurt you. That she saw him with you and decided that was reason enough to put you in the hospital, to articulate a plan that would take you out of his life forever.

Because that was the intention.

It’s written out in front of him. Kidnap you, use you as bait to get a private meeting with Nico. And when he’d get there by himself, Marcello would have the barrel of his pistol to your temple and Nico would barely get to say your name before he’d pull the trigger.

And Lena would throw herself at him, threaten to turn him in for treason if he didn’t agree to get back with her. She’d tell his whole family how you were using them, say Nico was in on it, and that would be it.

“She should’ve killed her,” Holtzy mutters, and Nico can’t say he disagrees with him. There was a reason he was saving Marcello and Lena after their interrogation. He wanted to have the whole story before he decided what to do.

You took matters into your own hands though, and Nico now thinks that was merciful of you. Because he’d hurt them in ways they could never imagine if he had the chance to now.

All of this because Marcello couldn’t think to check around your fucking neck for a ring or pendant before he strangled you with Nico’s scarf.

“Alex,” Nina breathes in disappointment, lips parted like she wants to scold him or defend you letting Lena live.

“She should’ve,” Nico agrees, so angry it burns his skin, claws at his throat. “She should’ve fucking killed all of us. When we left her at that hospital, when we lied to her.”

He looks over at his boys, at Holtzy who’s always been so fiercely defensive and protective of you it rivals Nico. At Luke and Jack who tease the two of you, who tell you that you can do better and love to drive the two of you crazy but still flew out here last minute because they believe in you. And Mercer who’s always so immature and playful, goofing off and acting like he’s still the 17 year old kid Nico brought into Jersey.

Mercer who worked with you and Luca to execute your plan of revenge. He stepped up lead, got them all together on that flight, was your second in command. The boys took orders from him that day, same as you.

He’s proud of them. Nico is so fucking proud of this group of kids that you turned into men.

“But she did what she thought was best, not what she wanted,” he tells Holtzy. “And we have to trust and accept that.”

The room goes quiet again. Luca takes his seat at the head of the table, running his hands through his hair. Nico locks the stolen phones, stacking them on top of each other and putting them in his hoodie pocket. In case you want to see them.

“I’m retraining,” Luca sighs. “All of my men. In phases every section is going through boot camp again. So that this never happens again Neeky.”

Nico nods, flashing a quick but grateful smile at his brother. He doesn’t blame Luca for this. He knows how Lena is -was- how conniving and controlling. She was so good at always playing the victim.

“We want to have a party kind of thing for you all before you head back to Jersey,” Luca nods towards the younger boys. “End on a happier note. I’ll shut down the bar for a night, have security still but it’ll be safer. Better.”

Nico takes a deep breath, tries to shake off how exhausting this meeting was. “We’ll be there.”

Nina is tapping her fingers on the table top, gaze burning into the side of Nico’s head. He looks over at her, raises an expectant eyebrow.

“When are you gonna do it?”

It. Propose. Nico winces.

“Do what?”

“What are you doing boss?”

Nico thinks the Hughes brothers could be twins with how in sync they always are, how they seem to have the same thoughts. He could kill Nina for bringing this up in front of them.

“Not here,” Nico mutters, looking away when Nina groans in frustration.

“You fought to get her back just to bail! Come on Nico, I saw you that day! You can’t let this scare you off.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, jaw clenching as he tries to keep his tone in check. He didn’t want to talk about this, didn’t want to be reminded that the whole purpose of this trip got hijacked and now he’s returning to the states with not just one, but two engagement rings. Neither of which are on your finger.

“M’not gonna do this to her here, Nina.”

“Why not?” She presses. “What could be better? She loves it here, you heard her.”

His temper flares, exploding out of him like boiling oil. “No I heard her screaming and crying as she was tortured!

“I watched her fight for her life in a place she was supposed to be happy. So no I’m not pulling out a ring, and looking her in the eye and explaining that the picture perfect proposal she asked for was lost because I left her alone for five minutes, but please marry me anyway. Sorry I’m asking in my brother’s sticky bar.”

Nico’s chest heaves, angry puffs of air rattling out of him as he sinks back into his chair. He rakes a hand through his hair, tugging on the strands painfully for some kind of release.

He can feel the eyes of all them, watching him like he might start yelling again.

“Boss,” Mercer mumbles cautiously, “she’d still marry you, you know that.”

Nico sighs, nods. “Yeah I know. She told me she still wants to. I just-I have to do it right. And it’s not right anymore.”

“Neeky, you could pull out a ring pop in the bathroom of the bar and that girl would still say yes to you.”

Nina is right. He knows she’s right. You told him that as long as he had the ring and was on his knee, you’d say yes.

But that’s not the point. The point is that he wanted it to be a big deal. Something he planned out, put thought into every detail. He wanted you to see the intention. That way you know he’s doing this because he wants to. Because he wants you.

“I know,” he mutters, the sound of you calling yourself a Hischier on that tape echoing in his head. The last name isn’t officially yours yet, but it’s yours in every sense of the word. “It’s not about her saying yes, I know she’ll say yes. It’s about me…”

Showing her.

He has to show you. Because he’s not great at saying things. He’s better with actions.

“It’s fine,” Nico dismisses, “I’ll figure something out.”

~~~~

Kids laughing and chattering fills the air, echoing around the large skating rink. Timo had bypassed the skate rentals desk when you came in, instead guiding you straight towards the upper stands.

You don’t know why he’s bringing you here, or why he’s staying so far from the actual ice, but you follow him anyway.

The sound of skates scraping the ice flitters up into the rafters, and you glance over to find a group of excited kids skating messily around the rink.

Timo sits dead center in the row, holding down your seat for him and you gladly take it, propping up your half-drank latte on your thigh. You look down, watch the kids skate and notice a woman among them. Beautiful red hair in a thick and loose braid, a black and white skating costume on, the sleeves and pants glittering with gems under the bright lights.

“Nico and I learned to skate here,” Timo says, crossing his foot over his knee and relaxing back into his seat like muscle memory. You wonder how many times he’s come here, probably sat in this exact same seat for some reason.

“It’s a nice rink,” you say, looking over. He’s looking at the ice so intently you think his gaze might magically melt it, create little pools of slush. No, he’s not looking at the ice, you realize, he’s looking at her. At the beautiful red head that’s now gathering the children in a circle for stretches.

“When we were about 13, this girl moved here. Went to our school and everything. She got on well with Nico. We would come here after school everyday, when we were putting off assignments especially. Luca would buy us tickets for the train and we’d come with him because he skated better.

“One day she was here too. And it was like nothing, the way she’d just join us. Never hockey, but she’d skate with us. And she was so beautiful, that way she moved, the way she opened up when she got on the ice…”

His voice has gone soft, distant like he’s lost in this vivid memory of this old friend. You take in the lovesick look on his face, so clear even from just his side profile, and it clicks. He brought you here because that girl on the ice right now is the girl he’s telling you about.

The girl he’d left here. The one Nico briefly mentioned to you once, a few years back when you asked him why Timo, with his beautiful blue eyes and his sweet smile, never went out on dates.

“Timo’s heart is back in Switzerland,” Nico had explained. “His girl is still there, I think.”

You reach over, lay your hand over his in his lap and he blinks, his fingers relaxing under your hold. “Her parents didn’t like us. They knew about Nico and his family, about how I was training with him too. Nico’s grandfather wasn’t the nicest person, hell Rino and Katja are like saints compared to his grandfather.

“So they told her to stay away from us. But she didn’t. Everyday she got on the train with us, sat right next to me and would pull out this cucumber snacks her mother made. She always had them for me. And I started bringing her stuff too. Chocolate and sweets from around my house. She has a sweet tooth but her mother never let her have it. Said it would make her unhealthy.”

Timo laughed quietly to himself, like he still can’t believe her parents were like that. Or maybe at his own rebelliousness, how he went directly against them to make her happy.

“That’s really sweet Timo,” you murmur, smiling to yourself. You’ve known he was a big softie, could’ve guessed that he’d be even worse when in love.

“Yeah, it was. We dated for a long time after that. Snuck around behind her parents back, even though we know they knew. But it was fun. And I was like a puppy in love…”

Something sad settles over his features, glosses over his eyes and he sighs softly.

You fill in the next part for him. “And then you left to Jersey with Nico.”

Timo puffs out his cheeks, nods just once. “I asked her to come with. Told her I’d marry her as soon as we got there. And she agreed, was ready to give up everything, even her figure skating career to come with me.

“But she wasn’t 18 yet and her parents could use that to stop her visa. They told her she couldn’t go with, they forbid it. And they threatened to disown her too.”

You laugh humorlessly, familiar with the abandonment of family. It makes you sad to think of her not even getting the chance to pick. Yeah it broke you to have to make a decision between Nico and your loved ones, but at least you had the agency to make that pick. Her parents never gave her that.

“Every time I’m here I come see her. Beg her to come with me. She’s not close to her parents anymore, but she never got over that teenage fear. And she has a career and a life here now. One without me.

“How am I supposed to ask her to give that up?”

He’s looking at you now, eyes glossy and begging, and it breaks your heart. You had no idea how tormented by love Timo has been all these years. That every year when he makes his annual trip home he tears open old wounds just to see his teenage sweetheart that he never got over.

Answers. He wants answers from you because you had been her before.

You swallow thickly, frowning sympathetically at him. “Tell her that,” you advise. “Tell her how much it hurts you to ask her to give that life up. And if she really loves you, it won’t matter.

“It’s not exactly a sacrifice if what you’re getting in return is far better in the end.”

“Is that how it was?” He asks. “For you and Nico?”

It’s not even a question you have to think about, nodding as your lips curl into a loving smile. “Yeah it was. Nico told me he’d never want to make me choose, but my family wanted me to. And no one who really loves you would make you choose.”

Timo sniffles, blinking back his tears and turning back to the rink. “I don’t want her to pick, I just want her to be happy. And I know she loves me still. Every time I’m home we fall back into who we were when I left. Like no time has ever passed.”

You can’t help but ache for him. So you lean your head against his shoulder, hold his hand to let him know you’re here for him, always.

“You know, for being my best friend, you kept this from me for a long time.”

Timo chuckles, squeezing your fingers in acknowledgment. “I wanted her to myself for a bit longer. And I knew if I told you you’d come flying over here in that jet to get her to come to Jersey.”

On the ice, the beautiful red head looks up from her lesson, immediately finding Timo in the stands. You were right, this must be his spot in the rink, some seat of significance.

Timo lifts his free hand, waving at her and she effortlessly skates a little flourish, wiggling her fingers back at him with a smile so wide you can see it from all the way up here.

You and Nico have your love story, you decide, and now it’s time for Timo to have his too. Whether it’s convincing him to stay here with her or convincing her to come home with him, you’ll do whatever it takes.

[jaysng]

sulking when he has to leave for work | pjs

pairing: husband!jay x f!reader

genre: fluff

summary: when jay has to leave for work but sulky pouty pregnant reader wants to cuddle just forever a little more.

lower case intended.

you twist and turn trying to get in a comfortable as you turn around and feel warm breath on right side of your face along with the sunrise sky slightly peeking through the curtains.

you smile as you look at the sleeping figure beside you, his hands on your waist carefully holding you not putting alot of pressure, after all being first time pregnant got you 10x more of the gentle treatment that you already recieved.

wanting to live the moment a little more since you know that you have less time and he could wake up anytime for his work now you close your eyes and snuggle close taking in his warmth.

you slightly open your eyes to scan his features again, tracing them as you lightly bop his nose as he twitches in his sleep his eyes stuttering.

just as you are about to grab his bicep for some more comfort, the alarm rings shit you think as you immediately close your eyes shut

no no no no no

you feel him twisting and turning while groaning to the other side taking all his warmth with him carefully removing his hands of you as you frown in your ‘sleep’ and he turns it off with a sigh.

turning back for a while as he looks at you while you stare at him “did you not sleep darling?” he asked as one of his hand found your now round belly and the other under his head.

he stared at you for enough noticing your sulky and pouty behavior as you held onto his arm “wanna sleep more” you told while snuggling close keeping your face in his warm neck.

he quietly chuckled oh god his morning voice makes you go crazy

he gently rubs hand on your hips trailing them to your back as his lightly massages and your eyes trail to this flexed muscles.

both of you held eye contact for a little while lazily boring into each other’s eyes as he closes the space and kisses you as you cringe and block his lips.

“what?” jay says in almost a teasing tone knowing very well why you did that “you haven’t brushed yet” both of you say at the same time as he predicts your usual answer.

“let me kiss you, i have to leav-“ you cut him off by pecking his lips as quick as you can making him blush like a little girl.

he chases your lips but you move away from the kiss earning a confused look from him “no more kisses, not fair you’ll leave me and our baby” you say almost above a whisper in tired voice.

jay feels his heart about to explode because he knows especially in this stage he needs to be there for you, physically since you crave it but he also knows work is as important to keep you happy. 

he sits up as you whine like a kid, he turns around to look at you “stay” you say, “can’t” he laughs a little but then stops when he notices the genuine in your eyes.

“can’t, and you know it baby i’ll have to go” he exclaims but you still don’t give him giving him puppy eyes with a pout.

you try to sit up as he helps you sliding one of his hand on your back as the other secures the bump.

you grab his bicep and put your cheek on it resting your entire weight on him now as you sulk once again “don’t care, stay.” 

he sighs as he gives up pushing you lightly to lie you back down with him as you grin and try to control your smile as your cheeks burn up. 

he slips one hand under your head letting you use his arm as a pillow there was quite something about his arm that you felt so much of comfort.

kissing your forehead and rubbing circles as slow as he can on your bump with his other hand making your eyes shut softly then you hear him whisper “i love you.”

you didn’t want this to end, to be wrapped around in a warm embrace especially by him, if you could listen to only one thing for a lifetime it would surely be his beating heart. 

you opened your eyes feeling your eyelids heavy again as you stare at him he notices and makes eye contact.

it lasts for about 3 minutes before you gain all your energy to move your hand to his hair massaging his scalp as you gather all your genuine feelings as always “i love you.” 

its the way even when you and jay are tired you still remind each other how much you love each other and appreciate each and every moment, but times like these you just get too greedy to keep him for yourself. 

“i love you way more” he says before knowing he fucked up as you try to make an annoyed face “not this again i love you more.”

“no i love you the most” you try to debate sleepily as he shushes you “don’ you wanna sleep drama queen?” the nickname makes you giggle and nod.

“yes. whatever. i still love you more!” you say but whisper the last part as he pretends to not hear you.

once he notices that you fell asleep he double checks waving a hand infront of your eyes, when he gets no reponse he finally starts to move away from you, after all he had to go to his work, even tho if being with you for a little more made him late it was still worth it putting you to sleep. 

he carefully moves away removing the blanket off himself setting the air conditioning to the perfect level so you don’t feel as freezing cold the room got overnight. 

after refreshing himself he once again comes to you like a theif coming to steal something while doing his tie. he removes the blanket off you carefully not to make you wake up from your slumber again. 

he leaves a kiss on your bump “i’ll be back soon baby, love you so much.” 

he moves back adjusting the blanket on you and grabs his blazer, before wearing it he leans down kissing your forehead once again. 

jay leaves for his work, and it ends up thinking about you the entire time. atleast he left a note on your nightstand. 

do not copy or plagiarize my work. — @/j4ygyu

[queerpumpkinnn]

Kinktober 5th: Goldmine

aka hair pulling with Rodrick Heffley

2k words

Summary: Rod learns something new.

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x reader

Warnings: hair pulling obviously, choking, vaginal fingering, unprotected piv sex (don't do this at home kids), smoking, thigh riding, lots of hickeys/biting, scratching, lots of sweet praise but it's also kinda condescending, this is just porn with very minimal plot, let me know if I missed anything!

While reading, I recommend you listen to the altar is my hips - a Spotify playlist by me!

~

"Y'think I should get a leather jacket?"

Your shoulders shook under the weight of Rodrick's arm as you chuckled. "Why, you get an idea for a costume?"

"Absolutely. Even got the name for it." You could see the familiar smirk he wore even as your eyes remained on the screen. Smoke billowed in your peripheral, the smell of his near-finished cigarette long since clung to your clothes.

"It'd be a cute couples costume too," he continued, "you could be Tina Gray."

You turned to look at him. "Oh could I now?"

"Yup." He grinned as he put his cigarette out. "You've got the bedroom personality for it too."

You swung a pillow at his face, but Rodrick easily caught it and tossed it behind him. You huffed in false annoyance, falling back into your spot curled up under his arm.

His hand fell absentmindedly to your hair, gently twirling strands around his finger. The sensation makes your eyelids heavy, getting sleepy as he continued to soothe you.

Until you felt a sharp tug. Your eyes flew open, and you audibly gasped. Your entire body froze, and you curse yourself when Rodrick turns his head. A soft "oh?" leaves his lips, which are curled up into a curious smile. It had only been playful tug, but that was before he knew you'd react like that.

"That's not how you do it," you breathe, ghost of a grin teasing your lips.

"Yeah?" His voice was a condescending lilt. "How d'you do it?"

Instead of speaking, you take hold of his wrist, pushing it towards the back of your head. His fingers thread into your roots and he takes a fistful, tugging slowly. Your eyes flutter shut and your lips part in a deep sigh.

Before your eyes close, you catch a glimpse of your boyfriend's reaction. His eyes are wide and full of amusement, and he's smirking incredulously. His brows raise, and you can see the gears turning in his brain.

"That's interesting," Rodrick mumbled, almost more to himself. "I wonder..."

He climbs up over you, legs caging in on either side of your hips. His foot kicks the TV remote onto the floor but Elm Street is long forgotten. His hold on your hair returns, the tingling in your scalp pulling a weak noise from your throat.

"Now, what would happen..." Rodrick's thought trails off as his fingers ghost over your throat, touch only featherlight until the pads of his fingers find your pulse points and press. Your breathing is shaky and your vision begins to blur, but your hands still fly to his shoulders. You might have even been a little embarrassed at how your hooded eyes began to cross if not for the fact that it just felt so good.

"Aw, y'like that?" Rodrick lilts, his face pulling closer to yours. Heat creeps up your neck.

"Y-yeah," you attempt to nod, but you aren't given much room for movement.

"I like that too, baby." He murmurs against your mouth before he kisses you slowly, tasting of nicotine and gum. They were gentle, teasing kisses, but quickly gave way to a more desperate rhythm as his tongue glided over your lower lip. He hummed a deep note when you let him in, when you whimpered as he started sucking on your tongue.

You let out a disappointed noise when Rodrick lets go of you, rolling back to sit but it's forgotten when he pats his thigh. You quickly oblige, skin heated and brain frazzled.

As soon as you're sat on his leg, the friction to your clit has you gasping into his mouth. Almost involuntarily, your hips began to roll against him, so slowly but enough to make your head swim and heat boil in your gut.

"Oh, sweetness," Rodrick murmurs in between kisses, "so needy already? I've barely done anything."

He knows he doesn't need to do much. Just a few words- or a tug of the hair- and you'd be turned into a pile of mush. He knows you too well, and he loves having that effect over you.

Even though he's teasing you, you can't be bothered to care, muttering an mhm and rutting your hips faster. Your hands fall from his shoulders to his chest, then trail to his thigh to ground yourself.

"Atta girl, keep goin'." Rodrick murmurs in your ear, licking a stripe down the shell of it, planting soft kisses wherever his lips wandered. "'M right here baby, that's it, yeah, good girl."

Rodrick's encouragement was sweet honey to your ear, and a sickening contrast to the hand that hand re-found purchase at your scalp, tilting your head back so that he could teethe at your neck, soft plucks of skin turning into bruising. Deft hands made work of your top, leaving your chest bare.

Your rutting became increasingly frustrated; your thighs burned and you weren't getting any closer to your high.

"Rod... need..." your words were mumbled and breathless, and your brain was too cloudy to be fully coherent anyway.

"Hm? Couldn't hear you, bunny, say that one more time?"

"Need more," you cried, hands pushing into Rodrick's hair when his tongue laved over your nipple.

"More what, baby?" He lilted, cupping and pinching your other tit lovingly. He groaned when your fingers clutched his hair tighter.

"Need you, Rod please..." you sighed, tugging at his wrist.

Rodrick chuckled. "Baby, I don't think I can do that. Might hurt you if I don't get you nice and prepped, yeah? How about we start with fingers?"

"Anything, please," you babbled, nestling your head into the crook of his shoulder.

"Alright, alright, I got ya. Let's get these off, hm?" He tugged at the belt loop of your pants. They were off in record time, along with your underwear, leaving your entire body bared to him. You felt naked, more than just literally.

Once you were situated on his lap again you tried pulling on the hem of his shirt. "Off," you mumbled. Happily he complied, and you took the opportunity to lean forward and plant loving kisses to his neck, his collarbone.

You didn't realize when you'd risen up off your behind that it gave Rodrick the space to slip a hand between your legs, pulling a squeak out of you, muffled against his jaw.

"Aw, so messy baby. A little hair pulling did all this?"

You knew that it was a few other things, but you were so far gone you gave him a whiny 'yeah' anyway. Rodrick's fingers massaged your entrance, gathering slick and smothering it around your clit, making obscene noises- probably on purpose.

"So fuckin' wet, sweet, y'hear that?" Rodrick presses kisses to your pulse point, up to your jaw, then kisses you deep. Swallowing your moans into his mouth as the kiss turns messy.

"Please, Rod..." you're breathless and your pleas are barely coherent, but Rodrick knows exactly what you're asking for. You keel when you feel a finger glide into you, curling up towards your stomach.

"Yeah, good fuckin' girl." Rodrick's grin widens at your reaction when a second finger joins the first. "Always so eager, hm? That's my girl."

"Yeah, 'm your girl," you pant, hips canting to meet his hand.

"That's right," he coos, thumb tracing wide circles over your clit. "So proud of you, my girl."

"Rod," you whine, "need you."

"Hm?" He hums between nips to your collarbone. "You have me."

You shake your head vigorously. "Need you inside."

This gets Rodrick's attention. His fingers slow, while his free hand moves from your hair to his pants. He makes quick work of his pants, pulling his half-hard cock out from his boxers. You watch as he takes his fingers, soaked from your cunt, and wrap them around himself, stroking slowly. His head falls back against the couch, lips hanging open and you feel the sudden urge to bite them.

Before you get the chance, however, Rodrick is pulling you forward, lining himself up to take you. Slowly, so slowly, he runs the tip of his cock through your folds, smearing your slick around. You jerk when his head catches on your clit, sending electricity shooting up your spine.

"Rod..." you whine against his neck, "please."

"Please what?" You want to slap him for the knowing glint in his eye, but that was for another day.

"Please fuck me."

And who was he to deny you? Guiding your hip, Rodrick eased you down on him, guiding you but letting you set your own pace. The stretch set your loins on fire, but it was heaven.

Your head kicked back, and you let your voice have a mind of its own as you sunk down on him. Long and pornographic, and Rodrick matched it. You felt him throb inside of you.

"Fuck, sound so pretty." Rodrick started rolling his hips into you, and you cried out at the sensation. "Yeah, that's it. Moan like a fuckin' whore for me, c'mon."

And who were you to deny him? You had the house to yourself, and the name alone sent your brain into overdrive. He filled you up so nicely, and the drag of his cock inside of you made your skin tingle with delight.

"Rod, yeah, oh- just like that, ohmygod-" your voice was caught in your throat when Rodrick, with the usual knowing twinkle in his eye, takes a fistful of hair and tugs you forward into a sloppy kiss.

All of the sensations- that Rodrick was giving you- were sending you closer and closer to tumbling headfirst off of that ledge. The sting in your scalp, his tongue sliding against yours, the sounds of wet slaps and your combined moans. The smell of cigarettes and the heat of his skin under your fingers. The head of his cock piledriving into your cervix again and again and again.

"Rod I- oh god, I'm gonna- oh, so close- Rod please," you pant into his mouth, fingers raking down his chest and leaving faint red lines in their wake.

"I gotcha," he grunts, hand snaking between your bodies to press circles over your clit. You can hear it in his voice that he's holding back. You don't want him to. "That's it, baby, come for me. Make a mess on my cock, c'mon."

That extra pleasure is all it takes to have you diving headfirst into a mind-numbing orgasm. Your eyes screw shut, and all you can feel is Rodrick. Shaky hands rest on his shoulders, holding on for dear life as hot pleasure courses through you.

You're acutely aware of the hot spurts hitting your cervix, and the fluids seeping out of you, but your body is still tingling all over. Your voice has long since become scratchy, but that doesn't stop you from whimpering and crying as he coaxes you through it.

"Good girl, did so good for me, yeah?" His grip on your hair is no longer a grip, but gentle, soothing strokes, almost as if to apologize.

You hummed, dropping your forehead against his shoulder as you breathe. The smell of sex had permeated the air around you, and you were suddenly very aware of how sweaty you'd become.

"Think we need a shower, baby, c'mon." Rodrick nudged your head.

You wanted to, you felt sticky, but your body was on fire, this time with a less-than-pleasurable ache. Begrudgingly, you lifted yourself off of his now soft dick, hobbling down to reach for your clothes and then to the nearest bathroom.

The shower was peaceful, and the water was soothing on your muscles. You both worked in a comfortable silence.

"Well, I was right." Rodrick finally said.

"About what, the hair pulling?"

"Nope."

You turned around to face him, head tilted in confusion. His mouth was curled upwards and his eyes were lifted in a smile.

"You do have the bedroom personality of Tina Gray."

~

Rodrick Heffley Masterlist

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Miscellaneous Characters List

Main Masterlist

~

[aft3rhrs]

— close ღ

pairing: jungkook x reader

genre: forbidden romance, step!siblings au

warnings: yandere, mentions of violence (not towards the reader), pseudo incest, manipulation, corruption, mentions of somnophilia, praise, degradation, cockwarming, breast play, dirty talk, dom!jk but he's needy, (he's also a pervert), humping, creampie

It started out as an unconscious gesture; searching for your warmth. Hugs that lingered and limbs tangled together under the sheets on stormy nights. A primal yearning, seeping into his consciousness slowly; until sharing a bed became a normal occurance, no need for rain or thunder. Until exploring your skin under the cotton of your t-shirt no longer served to comfort you; but rather to feed the starving fire in his bones, prickling your skin with its heat. He always needed more.

It was so hard to think clearly through the fuzziness in your head, his own warmth filling you up; and the innocence lacing his lewd actions. A pretty, silken ribbon coiled around a snake.

"I love you," he'd whisper, "I want to be close to you. Is that so wrong?"

The words, so heavy, sank all the way into your skull, their weight slowly crushing your common sense; and all that was left were the raw, unfiltered instincts creeping beneath. In a way, Jungkook was right, wasn't he? And it wasn't like anyone would ever know...

You ended up disappearing deeper into that thought the more daring his touches became, the longer his hands lingered so intimately on skin that so clearly longed for them.

"I missed you so much... Couldn't wait to come home."

The whisper turned into a sigh, his hand brushing over your abdomen. A soft moan was muffled into your neck when his hips pushed forward, the drooling, swollen tip of his cock prodding against your slick entrance. He filled you up inch by inch, throbbing as you clenched around him, so fucking tight a dull bang sounded through the room before he was even halfway in. He paid no mind to his head hitting the headboard, hissing and squeezing your hip with an inked hand, eyes shut and stomach twisting hotly.

Unfortunately — or fortunately, at this point, who knew — hearing the gentle quiver in each breath Jungkook took for some reason only made you clench harder.

"Ahh—" a weak, breathy, little groan that made his voice break. "F-fuck.. Please stop, baby..."

You pressed your face into the pillow, trying to stifle the whimper pushing past your throat. His hands lowered down to your thigh, holding you open with ease so he could slide in deeper, make you take it all before his hips finally touched yours.

You've spent many nights spooning like this, eyelids heavy and fingers intertwined. At first, Jungkook obediently kept his touches limited to caressing your thighs and tummy, decorating them with mindless patterns.

Until that, too, was not enough.

Every night he buried himself inside you, he found it harder and harder not to cross the line — and you found it harder not to fall apart. "You feel so good," didn't suffice anymore; neither did the gentle, appreciative way he felt your body. He needed more. And who could blame Jungkook with the way your cunt gripped his cock, dripping wet and heavenly warm, like it was made for him.

"So perfect."

His palm roamed your thigh, getting dangerously close to the curve of your ass.

"So perfect for me," he whispered softly. "Must feel so empty in the mornings, huh? Pussy so pretty gaping after I leave— ah."

It would have looked even prettier with his cum spilling out of it, but the thought turned to dust the moment he felt you react to his words, the pulsing around his thick girth drawing a groan out of him. The corner of his lips twitched upwards lazily, his eyes falling shut.

You felt like you couldn't breathe.

Being inside you was meant to serve a purpose; to comfort and relax. You never thought Jungkook actually looked at you, let alone while you were unconscious, and the admission made the room around you spin in hazy circles.

"Filthy," he murmured, his fingers finding rest on your ass and squeezing.

You gasped, squeezing him right back, and Jungkook wasn't sure how much longer he could stay still, the heat blazing through him too consuming.

"Shh, shh, shh, baby," he tried to soothe, one hand reaching to envelop your own. "Doing so good. Such a good girl."

Nuzzling your neck, he helped your heartbeat slow down a little, his embrace solid; leading you straight back towards the safety zone.

"Wanna watch a movie?"

While grateful for the offered distraction, you shook your head, wishing for nothing more than to finally fall asleep. For a moment, it was silent, and it almost seemed like Jungkook had the same idea.

Then, his lips inched towards your ear and you felt him twitch inside you.

"Wanna make one?" He breathed.

Your eyes shot open, stomach turning. Jungkook felt you tense up in his arms, and for some reason it turned him on to see you struggle, thrown from your safety zone into the deep water.

"What if my cute, little sister got stuck under the couch? Or t-the table—ohh fuck—"

He couldn't quite finish the sentence, his dick beating as hard as his heart as your walls constricted.

"Jungkook!" you tried, though your voice barely rose above a choked whisper.

He hummed in response, brushing his nose along the nape of your neck.

"You started it."

How?

You didn't get a chance to ask. His hand sneaked under your shirt again, shamelessly sliding up to cup your breast. Tingles crept up your spine, making it arch beautifully, and Jungkook groaned at the slight movement.

"I mean, how filthy are you, baby? You find out I lift the sheets every morning to look at your little cunt while you're sleeping, and you clench around me like a bitch in heat."

He couldn't deny the ache shooting through his stiff cock as he taunted you in a whisper, goosebumps flooding his skin. Not once in his life has he ever spoken to you like this before; maybe that was one of the reasons for the bubbling heat unfurling in his stomach. Maybe that was the reason for the way your thighs quivered as well.

"I felt you then, too," he groaned, rolling your nipple in between the tips of his fingers. "Is that what you want? To get stuck under a couch and fucked by your brother?"

The next roll turned into a pinch. Arousal made you burn from head to toe, and for a reason you couldn't fathom the shame worked like gasoline, making the fire spread quicker. You were struggling to breathe again, too hot under the sheets.

"I'm starting to see a pattern here... You like being treated like some mindless toy? You wanna be a little doll for me?"

You were meant to stop him, say his name, but it came out as a pathetic moan, and you felt your eyes water. It was a mix of mortification and the intense need pulsing in between your thighs, the kind you've never felt before, the kind you knew you shouldn't feel at all when it came to your stepbrother.

As if reading your mind, Jungkook slowly began to pull back; dragging every thick inch of his cock through your walls slowly, until only the tip remained inside.

The moment he parted from you completely, you instantly felt his absence. There was no better time to say something than now, when your ability to form sentences wasn't completely blurred by lust.

"Jungkook," you tried again in a whisper, swallowing, "please, stop using that word when you're—" a gasp cut you off when he flipped you onto your back, leaning his muscular arms on either side of your head.

Even in the darkness of your bedroom, it was impossible not to notice how fucked out he looked, smirking down at you.

"What word?" He murmured, unceremoniously lifting your shirt.

Your heart jumped, hand flying down to try to cover your chest, but he caught your wrist and slammed it against the pillow.

"What word?" He repeated. As if he needed to ask. As if he didn't feel you squirm every time he used it. "Sister?"

While you were trying to process the situation, heart beating out of your chest, he lowered his head and wrapped his mouth around a hardened nipple, sucking. A veiny hand reached to fondle the other breast and you moaned softly, eyelids fluttering. Jungkook grunted in response, dark gaze flickering up to your face. It was a sinful sight, the feeling even more so, his tongue so hot and wet as it flicked against the bud. But your hesitation must have shown, because after a moment he pulled away and caressed your face instead.

"Don't act so innocent, baby. You think I don't notice how you don't even need to touch yourself to let me inside? Just seeing my cock gets your panties wet. Besides," he leaned in closer, staring into widening eyes. "That's what you are, aren't you?"

There was a look in his eyes you haven't seen before; something possessive that prompted you to nod and agree, despite the nervousness buzzing through you.

Jungkook purred, rubbing his nose against yours.

"Then be a good little sister," he whispered, "and spread your legs for me."

A tremble went through your spine, and you found yourself doing just as he asked. It earned you a tender kiss on the cheek, then another. He loved you so much. Was is it so wrong that he loved you? No, and he would continue to assure you that there was nothing wrong with you loving him either.

Biting down on his lip, he grabbed his hard cock and gave it a pump, then two, shuddering when it touched the warmth of your cunt.

He felt his abdomen tense, keeping eye contact as he began pushing himself into the welcoming softness of the tight hole. He's never kissed you before, but his lips were practically on yours, brushing your mouth and releasing hot, short puffs of air. Swallowing harshly when he bottomed out, he felt the moan that escaped you, felt your hole twitching around him, greedy and so much wetter than when the night began.

"G-god," he forced out, fighting back a groan. He buried his face in the crook of your shoulder.

"I love you so fucking much, y-yeah. I'm so fucking hard. Always m-make me so fucking—ah—hard. So pretty."

He was so drunk on you, his words were beginning to slur. Warmth tingled through your chest in crashing waves. His hand went back to kneading your breasts, any traces of gentleness gone and replaced by need. He lifted himself up to look, fascinated by the way your body reacted when he twisted and abused your nipple. He could have came just from this, from the view under him and the feeling of your perfect pussy. And fuck, he wanted to come so bad.

"Fuck," he finally groaned, barely conscious of the little grinding movement his hips began to make. You were getting lost in the pleasure, your hips lifting subtly to aid his in gaining friction.

Immediately, mindlessly, his grinding became faster, his cock rubbing against your walls so well and reaching so deep you knew you were going to come; and he wasn't even fucking you properly.

"Ohh fuck, baby— need you so much, please."

You heard him sniffle, the mattress squeaking beneath you.

"Please let me come. I need to come."

"Jungkook," you breathed, "I, I—" your stomach tightened, the tension in it so close to bursting.

Was this wrong? It didn't feel wrong; Jungkook always said that it's okay to have a special bond, that it's okay to feel good, it's your business. And you knew you weren't connected by blood, but you were still connected by family ties.

"A-are you still on the pill?" He asked brokenly, his voice hoarse.

"Yeah, I— am, oh—"

With a low groan, he humped you faster, making your legs stiffen around him.

"Can I come inside? Need to come inside. Need to fill this sopping fucking cunt."

You whined, hiding your face in his neck, a tiny part of you still aware that your parents were home, asleep. At this point though, it didn't really matter anymore. You wanted to feel him come so badly; you wanted to feel him fall apart with you.

"Yes, please," you whispered breathlessly, your fingers digging into his broad shoulders. "Come inside me."

The moan he let out was obscene, but you didn't get a chance to beg any more; your vision became blurry and you couldn't hold back any longer if you tried. His hand slapped over your mouth just in time to muffle the scream that broke through, his teeth biting harshly into your shoulder to dull his the desperate sounds of his own orgasm. His hips stilled, dick twitching and shooting rope after rope of cum until his mind went numb.

You've never felt this sated before; so full and complete, lost in the bliss. It took a while for Jungkook to gather up the strength to lift himself up, but you didn't mind at all, his weight on you adding to the comfort and the butterflies still swarming around your tummy. What caught your attention was the silky lips touching your own; a chaste, loving kiss, the first one he dared to give you, making your heart pound.

"I'm all yours. Are you mine?"

Not that he needed to ask; of course you were his. He'd sever someone's arm before letting them even think of putting a finger on you. But he did need to hear you say it. He needed you to know that you belonged to him only, that no one else was allowed to do the things he did to you. And you sighed, so sweetly, whispering your answer straight into his mouth.

"Only yours."

Eyes hooded, Jungkook stared at your beautiful face, peace taking over your features. You were already falling asleep, and he could barely keep his eyes open, even though arousal still stirred in groin. He came so much it drained most of his strength, but he'd be able to sneak into your bed again. And this time, you'd let him give it to you properly, you'd beg for it like you begged for his cum. You'd let him fuck you again and again until you were so dumbed out on orgasms and love, you'd barely question waking up in a new apartment he rented for you to share.

Your parents wouldn't question it either; they'd have no reason to. Wasn't it just heartwarming for siblings to be close?

[shellshocklove]

ridin' shotgun | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: as the snow covers the land, joel starts to like his new life on the farm, but is it too good to be true?

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, guns, vomit, use of pet names, fluff, angst, fingering, oral (f receiving), some tags are left out to avoid spoilers, no use of y/n

a/n: this is the second part to this. so i'd recommend reading that before this one. i'm very sorry this took me so long! i'm hoping it was worth the wait! <3 also a big thank you to @dustydaddyyy who's always up for helping me when i'm stuck <3 happy reading!

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

“Morning, Joel,” Arthur greeted him as Joel entered the kitchen.

Joel felt far from rested. His eyes burned with sleep behind his eyelids. He’d love another hour or two on his pillow, but Arthur’s heavy steps coming down the stairs had woken him.

Damn, these thin walls.

“Mornin’,” Joel said as he sat down at the dining table, looking past the curtain on the portrait of the day. The world was blue with dusk, contrasting the low candlelight inside. Alma stood at the stove, butter crackling in the frying pan as she cracked an egg, then another, two suns in a greasy night sky.

“I think we’ll bring the logging sled today,” Arthur spoke up and gestured out the window, “I think the snow is more than deep enough for the sled.”

“Yeah?” Joel looked out the window again. Assessing the snow, he guessed it was about two feet give or take.

“Yeah, I think it’s gonna be enough– If not we’ll test-drive the sled, make sure it can handle the weight.” Arthur continued, but Joel lost interest as soon as he heard the sound of a door shutting down the hall.

Joel hummed, leaning back in his chair, his eyes flickering to the door of the kitchen waiting to see you walk through. A moment later, you padded into the kitchen in your pajamas, feet clad in soft wool socks. You’d thrown a sweater over your sleep shirt, but Joel remembered how the thin fabric had clung to your skin last night. Remembered the shape of your nipples poking through, the sounds you’d made as you’d whimpered his name. Joel’s cock twitched in his pants at the memory; crashing against the wave of shame and guilt that washed over him when he recalled what he’d done after he’d stepped back into his room.

“Good morning, sweetie,” Arthur greeted you as you sat down, opposite Joel.

“Good morning,” you smiled, resting your chin in the palm of your hand, tiredness like a faraway look across your face.

“Did you sleep well?” Arthur asked.

Your eyes widened at the question, quickly flickering to Joel before they found the table. Your face dug deeper into your hand as you twisted slightly in your chair. A shy smile blossomed across your face.

Huh.

A forgotten tickling feeling of pride filled Joel’s chest as he watched you. The way you avoided his gaze, like your dreams would show through your eyes if you did. But Joel didn’t need to hold your gaze to understand. Something had shifted, both for him and for you. It was different now.

A chuckle escaped Arthur at your motions, “That good, huh?” Arthur teased, “All fairytales and rainbows?”

“Something like that,” you breathed out a chuckle.

Joel cringed. He was closer to a nightmare. Why did he even entertain his thoughts of you? You were the one who was a rainbow, while he’d paint you in a dull grayscale.

Joel let out an inaudible sight, and leaned back in the creaky kitchen chair, as his hands twisted in his lap. He didn’t miss the way his movement caught your eye as he felt the drumroll of your gaze break over him. Joel didn’t dare move, scared he’d scare the warmth of your attention away. But something pulled at his chest, and he couldn’t deny himself to look at you, to drink in your early morning shyness. You didn’t look away this time, instead you smiled. It was a small and polite smile, but it still felt like a kiss to his skin. The small moment between you only lasted a second, but to Joel it felt like an eternity – one he wouldn’t mind spending with you.

You dropped your gaze when Alma placed the breadbasket on the table, and like it had broken a spell, you immediately stood to your feet, “Let me help you, Alma.”

A moment later the table was set and ready, and Arthur was already helping himself to a fried egg. Safe for the sound of cutlery against porcelain plates, a silence fell over the kitchen.

“We uh,” Arthur started, looking over at you, “We were thinking of using the logging sled today,” he informed with a dig into his eggs. “'Could use your help saddling up the horse.”

“Okay,” you nodded, reaching across the table for the butter, “but I need to milk the cows first– you know how they get if I don’t do it first thing–”

“I can do that, sweetie,” Alma interrupted you with a smile, taking a bite of her bread.

“Oh, okay,” you turned your head to Alma as you said it, giving her a smile, but Joel could see the worry behind it. “But if it’s too much I’ll be right there–”

Alma cut you off again, “I can handle it– I did this all by myself before you came along, you know.” She said it with a wink to put you at ease, but Joel saw how your teeth dug into your bottom lip, and he wanted nothing more than to ease it away with a kiss.

No. No kiss.

Shit.

After last night, Joel couldn’t think straight. He wanted you now. He wanted what he knew he couldn’t have– what he shouldn’t have. With his eyes boring down into his plate, he tried to will his wants away. Tried his best to not build memories on things not yet said – to not feel the ache of never having touched you.

The air nipped harshly at Joel’s cheeks. The sun had finally risen over the mountain, shining its light over the crystals in the snow. A thousand diamonds blinked at him as he helped Arthur pull the log sled out of the barn. It was covered in dust and dirt, and the cobwebs stuck to Joel’s mittens like cling film. Clapping his hands, a cloud of dust evaporated from his hands – almost cartoon-like.

Joel picked at the yarn, trying to cover the hole that had become wider and wider every day. He felt bad about it; you’d made them for him out of the goodness of your heart, and now he’d ruined them– or the work had. Sharp branches had hooked themselves through the stiches, and the rough bark had worn the yarn down.

As Arthur checked the sled, and got it ready, Joel felt himself drawn to the open stable door. Leaning against the barn door he watched you quietly. You worked with practiced hands, saddling the old workhorse, Ingydar, as you talked to it in a low voice.

“You’re going to work in the woods today,” you said to the beloved nag, “Work in the woods with Arthur and Joel. Do you remember Joel? He’s a nice man, isn’t he?”

Joel felt his cheeks warm at your words, his eyes falling to the worn wood floor, as he continued to listen to your little conversation.

“Yes, he is! He’s very nice– fed you too many carrots last time he said hello, didn’t he? But you liked that, didn’t you?”

Joel looked up at that, his eyes locking with yours’ as you looked straight at him, a teasing smirk covering your face.

“That ain’t how I remember it,” Joel defended, stepping closer to the open stall door. You tightened the straps on the saddle while your smile grew larger at his words.

“No?” You teased, moving on to checking the straps on the bridle.

Joel stepped closer, his mitten clad hand coming up to pet the old horse. “No,” Joel shook his head, “you kept handin’ me all those carrots ‘s how I remember it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you laughed, stepping closer.

“Sure, you don’t,” Joel teased, a rare smile tugging at his lips, matching your own.

Locking eyes with you again, Joel felt something light bubble under the surface of his ribcage. You really were beautiful like this – eyes sparkling and smile wide. He couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at him the way you were right now – like he hadn’t lost everything, like he didn’t have blood all over his hands, like he was worthy of a smile.

Stepping even closer, you noticed the holes in them. “Joel, your mittens.”

“Sorry…” he started, trailing off when you grabbed his hands, “They get hooked in the branches ‘nd–”

“Don’t apologize,” you cut him off, with a shake of your head, “I can fix them– it’s no problem.”

The sun shone through a small window in the back wall of the stall. Bright white light lit up the back of your head, crowning you in the morning. You stood so close now, the warmth of your finger brushing over his rough skin through the hole, and his hands suddenly felt heavy in yours.

A burden you shouldn’t bear.

“Uh…” Joel cleared his throat as he stepped away, pulling his hands from yours, “Thank you.”

Finishing up saddling the horse you led it out the stall door, the iron shoes click-clacked against the worn wood floor before it fell silent against the snow when you led the horse outside. With a nod in the direction of the house you told him to wait inside for you.

“Would ya let Arthur know he can go right ahead with the sled?” he asked you, his body half-turned towards the barn house.

You let out a breathy laugh, a frosty cloud of smoke clouding your smile before you nodded.

Inside, he waited for you on the couch, watching you wave Arthur off on the horse through the window. Joel’s heart picked up its beat when he heard your hollow steps across the porch. He shifted slightly in his seat when you walked in, almost standing but then decided against it in the same moment, rubbing his hands over his thighs instead.

Stomping off the snow covering your shoes you smiled at him like always, and Joel didn’t know what to do. A feeling starting to bubble under the surface of his skin. Excitement? Nervousness? Dread? Joel couldn’t tell. Maybe he felt all three at once– if that was possible. Excitement at the prospect of being alone with you, but also nervousness at the prospect of being alone with you. They gathered around his heart, filled his chest, but the dread, it climbed up his spine, bit its cold teeth in the back of his neck.

“Just let me grab my things,” you hurried with a gesture towards your room.

Joel cleared his throat and nodded. It felt clumsy and awkward, and he cursed himself for it while he waited for you. He couldn’t be alone with you. Couldn’t entertain the growing feelings. It wasn’t right – to you – Joel needed to stay away, to keep a friendly distance.

Joel sighed and closed his eyes.

Nothin’s happenin’. 

Like a broken record, those two words spun in Joel’s head in the few seconds it took before you were back in the living room, dropping down next to him with your basket overflowing with yarn.

It felt like déjà vu.

You worked in a comfortable silence, and Joel didn’t know if he should say anything. He watched how you worked your needle with a practiced hand – you made it look so easy – but Joel knew it wasn’t. A lifetime ago he’d spent way too many nights with a needle in his hand trying to mend a hole over the knee of tiny pink pants, his stubby fingers gripping the needle tightly, guiding it clumsily through the fabric until he was red in the face from frustration.

He needed to thank you, but should he say it now or wait until you’d finished? The longer he watched you, the stronger that bubbling feeling felt, bubbling over, up his throat and over the bite of dread.

“There!” you smiled when you’d fastened off the last stich. You grabbed a hold of his hands before he’d had time to think and pulled the mittens over his knuckles.

“Thank you,” he said, voice scruff but tone still shyer than he’d expected.

You smiled at him again and leaned a little closer to readjust the mittens, tugging at the yarn where you’d mended them, pulling them into the right shape.

“You’re welcome, Joel.” You locked eyes with him and suddenly Joel noticed how close you sat. It made him hold his breath as his heart started hammering against his chest.

His gaze flickered towards your lips for half a second, wishing for something he couldn’t have– shouldn’t have. He caught himself quickly, finding your eyes again but they were fixated on something else, his lips. Who leaned in first, Joel would never know, the only thing he knew was the feel of your breath against his lips before they brushed over yours in a soft kiss.

Warm. Joel felt so warm.

His hands worked by their own volition; mitten clad, and soft against your cheek, pulling you closer to him, but not close enough. Your hand grabbed at his jacket in the crook of his elbow, tethering yourself to him, to the moment, like you’d float away if you didn’t. You hummed against his lips, a desperate sound as you shifted closer.

The sound messed with Joel’s head, he wanted to hear more of it, pull it from you again. His tongue teased at the seam of your lips, a distant thought at the back of his head questioning where his boldness suddenly came from, but he ignored it.

It didn’t matter.

The sound escaped you once more and you opened yourself up to him. Joel’s other hand, moving with desperate urgency, found your hip – pulling you even closer. He licked into your mouth, and he fell deeper into you, deeper into the grip you’d snaked around his heart.

A loud slam of the kitchen door pulled Joel away, and the reality of what he’d done trickled coldly down his spine. Out in the kitchen Alma rummaged around while you looked at him with bright eyes, pupils slightly dilated with a hazy smile across your lips.

Joel felt awful.

He shouldn’t have done that.

He’d taken advantage of you. He’s too old for you – none of this was right.

You noticed the change in him, you must’ve, because your eyebrows pulled together in the smallest of frowns as you regarded him.

“Joel,” you started, your voice low and soft, but he just shook his head.

“I’m sorry!” Joel quickly stood to his feet, wiping his hands on his jeans as though that would somehow erase what he’d done. “We– I shouldn’t have done that– I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” you tried to grab at his hand, but Joel only shook his head again.

“I’m sorry.”

Joel was out the door before he could regret it, lord knows he couldn’t take anymore regret. His life had been full of them, full of ‘I shouldn’t haves’. He dug his mitten-clad hands in the pockets of his jacket, his head hanging low as he headed down the road towards the forest.

A heavy blanket of clouds had shaded the morning sun, the world darkened in the beginnings of real winter. As a snowflake kissed his cheek, his thoughts wandered to the butterfly he’d seen all those weeks ago. How it had rested over his knee– made him think of Sarah.

You’re on the right path.

Joel had never felt this lost.

The kiss.

It took up most of Joel’s mind. When he worked himself hard with an axe in his hand, when he was counting sheep, but most of all, each time he saw you. Then his thoughts had a mind of its own, reminding him of how your lips had felt against his own, the feel of your body under his touch, and the sounds you’d made just for him. The kiss had been the first kiss who’d made him want another. The first kiss where he’d pulled away and not been satisfied. He needed to kiss you again, to feed this new hunger for you.

But it wasn’t right. An old man like him with someone like you. It wasn’t a good idea– would never be a good idea.

So, Joel tried his best to avoid you, but avoiding you was impossible – you lived in the same house, shared a bedroom wall. He saw you every day whether he liked it or not – and he did.

He liked you, and it scared the shit out of him.

He felt like he lived in a cruel state of limbo. He didn’t know what you were thinking. If you were mad (you had every right), if you were disappointed (he hoped you weren’t), or happy (maybe the most devastating thought of all).

The fire crackled loudly, sparks kicking, the sound making you look up from your book. Joel’s eyes found his own book, rereading the same paragraph he’d been trying to read for the last thirty minutes– ever since Arthur and Alma had retired to bed. This was the first time he’d been alone with you since the kiss, and he felt it all over his body. The aftermath of the kiss sticking to his body like the Austin heat had done in the peak of summer – he couldn’t shake it off, couldn’t ignore it.

“When was the last time you cut your hair?” you suddenly spoke across the silence.

Your question was unexpected, and it made him pull his brows together in a frown. “You sayin’ I look bad?” Joel asked, dogearing the page he was on before closing his book.

“No,” you said quickly, shaking your head, “No-no, I mean it’s just a little long.”

Joel looked at you for a second before he ran a hand through his hair. Well, it wasn’t like you weren’t right. Lately his hair had started to get in his eyes, even when he pushed it back. Most days when he was working outside, he could tame it under the knitted beanie you’d made him, but it had started to have a life of its own.

“Boston. I think, Tes–” he cut himself off before he said her name, clearing his throat awkwardly to cover his slip up. He’d forgotten, forgotten for a second that she was dead. Forgotten she’d died for him and his stupid quest to find his brother. Died for nothing.

“I can trim it for you… if you want?” you asked with a bite of your lip.

He couldn’t say no to you.

“Uh… yeah,” he nodded, “Okay.”

As you led him up the stairs to the bathroom, Joel tried not to think too hard about what it would mean – you cutting his hair. He tried not to think about how the last person who’d done something like that for him was Tess, and what it meant that she was gone– that it now would be you.

Your fingers running through his wet hair felt good– what didn’t feel good was the way his back almost gave out from leaning his head in the bathroom sink. The basin was too small, and the tap hung too low for him to comfortably turn his head, instead the water spilled down his face.

Why the hell was he drowning himself for you?

“Done soon?” he grunted, his hands gripping the sides of the sink while he felt your fingers scrub at his roots.

Yes, Joel was uncomfortable, but the way you stood so close – practically leaning on him – it felt nice. So nice that Joel thought that if his eyes weren’t already shut, they’d flutter shut at your touch.

Soap suds ran down the sides of his face as you giggled, “Just a little longer.”

You maneuvered his head back under the tap, your right hand running through his hair under the water while the left covered his eyes in a useless attempt. Then you grabbed the towel resting next to him on the porcelain, the world suddenly silenced through fabric as you dried his now clean hair.

“You can stand now,” you told him with a small tap to his back as you stepped away. You’d laid the towel around his shoulders, ready to catch any excess water.

Joel groaned, “I don’t think I can.”

You giggled again and then your hands wrapped around him, helping him up. Joel groaned again, but this time for show. He liked the way you touched him, gentle – always gentle. He plopped down in the chair you’d brought in from the spare bedroom, while you got your comb and scissors ready. The wooden chair creaked as he shifted his legs, widening them while he rested his hands in his lap.

He’d never seen this chair before, but then again Joel hadn’t explored the house much – it didn’t feel right. He was a guest after all, only staying for a few months– or was he? His eyes found you in the mirror, and then that thought suddenly felt awfully wrong.

“Ready?” you turned around to him, a pair of kitchen scissors in one hand, and an old shaver plugged into the wall in the other.

You didn’t say much as you worked. It was uncharacteristic for a hairdresser, at least from what he could remember. Back before the outbreak he’d rarely gotten his hair cut by someone other than himself. With his clipper guard set to four he’d tidy up the sides when it was needed and called it a day.

Your quietness was also uncharacteristic to you. You never talked his ear off, but you were never this quiet – at least you weren’t before the–

Stop.

Joel tried not to think about that.

He’d gone and fucked everything up now. Instead, he stole a glance at you in the mirror, watched the way your lips pursed in concentration to the metal sound of scissors snipping, and the low buzz of the shaver.

He needed to apologize to you.

“I…” he started, watching your head snap curiously to watch him in the mirror.

No turning back now– just say it.

“I’m sorry ‘bout the other day– It wasn’t right to kiss you like that.”

Your curiosity pulled into confusion across your face, and your eyebrows tugged together in a frown.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Joel,” you told him, your voice gentle, “I didn’t exactly–... well I definitely wasn’t stopping you.” You said it with an awkward laugh. Your kind, always kind, eyes that’d watched him in the mirror, now glued to the back of his head as you gently combed his hair.

Joel felt something bloom in his chest at your words, and despite himself, he felt his cheeks warm slightly as thoughts invaded his mind. 

Maybe he should tell you why he did it. 

Shit, did Joel even know why he did it? 

“I thought you–” Joel felt the words stall in his throat for a second, before he cleared it decisively. 

No going back now, he thought to himself, just rip off the band aid you idiot.

Another part of Joel screamed at him to stop the words before they even left his lips, and his doubts gnawed at his insides with more intensity than ever.

“The other night, when you were asleep,” he paused to swallow, a lump growing in his throat, “I was getting to bed and I heard–... well, y’were sort of having a dream, sweetheart.”

With nervous eyes, Joel found your face in the mirror, and watched the way the smiling expression dropped off your face, quickly replaced by a wide-eyed look of pure mortification. 

“I–” you stuttered out, and Joel rushed to correct himself. 

“It’s nothin’ to be embarrassed about, I shouldn’t a been watchin’ you, I just–... thought maybe y’liked me, or something.” 

His words hung heavy in the air between you, and Joel’s heart picked up its beat as he watched how all your movements suddenly went quiet, along with the shaver, seemingly processing all this new information.

Your eyes found the back of his head again, and when he felt the comb run through his hair again, Joel suddenly felt very guilty for even bringing it up. 

Stupid. Why on earth would he do that? Was he trying to send you into an early grave? 

“I’m sorry you walked in on that,” you finally managed, your eyes fixated on your working hands as you refused to meet Joel’s eye – looking infinitely embarrassed.

You’re sorry? He didn’t want to hear those words leave your mouth ever again – the only person in this bathroom who was sorry, was him.

In the mirror you looked so small, and it was his own doing. Your teeth dug harshly into your bottom lip as your combed, and combed, and combed his hair in a shaky hand. Joel felt his heart break.

He’d dug himself too deep now, Joel thought, he had to tell you, to reassure you it was okay.

After a beat of silence, Joel spoke again.

“I’m not.” 

Your eyes widened at his words before they snapped to the mirror, staring at him as the shears trembled slightly in your hand. Still, you didn’t say anything.

Joel didn’t have the faintest idea where he was going with this, and with the way you looked at him now, his doubts seemed to overtake him as he got the sudden urge to swallow his words right back up. 

“Look, forget I even said anything angel, I didn’t mean anythin’ by it–” 

The word slipped from his lips like the most natural thing in the world. Something flashed in your eyes through the mirror, he could’ve sworn it, and Joel seemed to realize a beat too late what he’d called you. Feeling his cheeks heat up, his embarrassment forced his gaze to fall anywhere but at you, quicklyfinding his hands knotted in his lap.

“Joel,” you said softly, and despite himself, Joel felt the earlier warmth expanding like a balloon in his chest, “It’s okay.” 

He perked up at your words, his eyes snapping from his hands to you as you moved, coming to stand in front of him. Your hands deftly moved the comb through his curls as he looked up at you through the strands. You seemed focused on cutting the ends, before you let out a breath. 

“It would’ve been okay if you had been watching, you know,” you said, your voice simple and even.

Joel felt his entire body tense at your words as his eyes bored into your face. He watched the way your face grimaced slightly; your eyes focused on snipping the strands right.

“I just mean I–” There was a pause as you gave him a half-embarrassed smile, your lips pursed together as you seemed to search for your next words. 

You were standing so close, so close he could smell the sweetness off you. You made him dizzy. Dizzy with warmth. Dizzy with proximity. Dizzy with something heavy in the depths of his chest he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Joel didn’t know why he did it, didn’t know why the way his hands moved felt like second nature, but when the tips of his fingers grazed the back of your knee in an attempt to reassure you, it felt like something was calling to him.

“It’s okay,” he told you, “You can tell me, angel.” 

Finally, your eyes met Joel’s. Those kind sparkling eyes bored into his own as you, in an attempt to gather some courage, swallowed hard.

“I–I do like you,” you said.

The finality of your words lodged something loose in Joel, and something he hadn’t felt in a long time flicker to life in his chest.

“That so?” he asked, his voice a little lower.

Somehow, you were stood even closer, only slightly taller than Joel as he angled his head up towards you. Your chest started to rise and fall in a quicker rhythm at his question. Looking at him, your lips twitched in a nervous smile as you turned slightly away from his, placing the comb and scissors on the sink gently.

You nodded.

Still turned away from him, he watched how you gathered yourself, your hands resting on the porcelain as your head hung low between your shoulder blades.

“When you…” you trailed off, moving the comb and scissors in a perfect parallel line next to each other. “When you,” you repeated, “kissed me… I thought maybe… you liked me back.”

It was now or never.

Joel knew it.

Standing from his chair, Joel’s hand found your shoulder, turning you to face him. You didn’t look at him right away, your head tipped in a bow as you fiddled with your fingers.

“Hey,” his fingers brushed lightly under your chin, tilting your head up. Your eyes were wide, flickering like sunlight over wavy water as you studied his face. His eyes fell to your lips – he couldn’t help it, and the memories of how they’d felt against him resurfaced in his mind. If he just leaned a little closer, he’d feel them again.

“Joel… if you don’t want me– if you don’t like me, you can just tell me– I’m a big girl.” Your voice sounded almost breathless, like you’d run up a flight of stairs or walked miles in knee deep snow.

Joel shook his head before you’d even finished your sentence. Don’t want you? Don’t like you? It was absurd.

“It ain’t that.”

“Then what is it?” The way the words left your lips, broken, beaten, it had Joel’s heart tear apart in his chest.

“It ain’t right, angel. I’m too old f’you– I can’t take advantage of you like that.”

A frown pulled at your face then, “Take advantage?” you questioned with a shake of your head. “I’m a grown woman, Joel. Would it be taking advantage if it was what I wanted? If what I wanted was… you?”

Joel had never thought about it like that before. The thought of you wanting him back had seemed like a fantasy – something that would never even be a possibility.

Your fingers moved a strand of hair out of his face, brushing it away, and Joel held his breath. Hesitating for just a second, you cupped his cheek gently and leaned closer. The softness of your lips over his own had Joel reeling – didn’t matter how quick or chaste the kiss had been – it only left him wanting more.

“I look stupid.”

“You don’t look stupid, Joel,” you laughed, full of joy.

You adjusted the bandana holder and fixed the crooked kerchief around his neck slightly. The red fabric picked up the warmth in his lined leather jacket, and the metal holder caught the shine of the sun.

Joel couldn’t believe he’d said yes.

This morning when he’d gotten up with the sun, Alma had stuck her head out of her and Arthur’s bedroom right as he was on his way out the bathroom. Arthur wasn’t feeling well, and Joel had prepared himself to work in the woods alone. It wasn’t the first time Arthur had gotten sick, and with the way he was looking lately, Joel figured it wouldn’t be the last.

He'd been washing his dishes from his breakfast when you’d padded into the kitchen. With a look over his shoulder, he’d caught the way you’d smiled at him before you padded over to him.

“Good morning,” you’d said and wrapped your arms around him from behind.

“Mornin’, angel,” he’d hummed back. He’d dried his plate and placed it on the counter before he’d turned around, still in your embrace.

Joel wasn’t used to it yet, your affection, he still had a hard time comprehending it was meant for him. That it wasn’t some joke you’d so cruelly played on him. A joke to see how long you could feed him this adoration until he’d get hooked on it, hooked on you, before pulling away.

Joel didn’t dare hold you too tightly. Everyone he’s ever held in his arms had been pulled away by death’s hands. Every day since you’d told him you liked him, wanted him, Joel had been afraid to lose you.

Maybe that’s why he’d said yes? You’d convinced him it’ll be safer for you if you knew how to shoot.

Joel didn’t know.

The only thing he knew was that he’d caved under your wide and blinking eyes. You’d looked too cute to say no, and he disliked seeing a frown upon your lips, unless he could kiss it away.

Which he did – but only when you were alone.

You’d both agreed to keep this thing, the fondness, the love, growing between you a secret. It was easier that way, at least until you both knew what it all meant. Right now, it was a thing, a fondness, but not yet a love, although Joel wasn’t far off if he were being honest with himself, especially when you looked at him with those moony eyes.

With a pat to his chest, you pushed off him with a smile. In a closet upstairs you’d found you both a cowboy hat and some bandanas you’d insisted on him wearing. The whole thing was silly, but the way you’d lit up with happiness when you’d placed the cowboy hat on his head, it didn’t matter to Joel.

“C'mon cowboy,” you laughed, and grabbed his hand.

He let you drag him with you before he caught up with you. He pulled at your arm so you crashed into his side, and wrapped his arm around your shoulder. It made you giggle, and the sound bubbled around Joel’s heart.

Ingydar stood waiting dutifully in his stall, where you’d gotten him ready. The saddle bags were packed with your lunches and a box of ammunition, and at the back of the saddle you’d rolled two sheep skins and tied them with leather ties. Everything was ready for your day out together.

Or your date, Joel thought as he trailed after you, closing the stable door behind him as you led the horse outside.

Joel insisted you get on the horse first with his help. He wanted to make sure you were comfortable and sat as safely as possible before he slid his foot into the stirrups. You wiggled around to mess with him, and Joel grabbed your knee to steady you. It made you giggle again, and he earned himself a ‘Relax, honey’. Then you leaned back and made space for him to get in front of you.

Joel liked the sound of ‘honey’.

“Y’alright back there?” Joel said over his shoulder after he’d gotten on the horse. Placing the shotgun over his lap, Joel made sure the safety was on before his hands came down to take yours where they rested over your thighs, and gently guided them to slot around his waist.

“Y’actually gotta hang on sweetheart, or you’ll slide right off the minute he starts trotting,” Joel said, fighting back a smile when he felt your arms tighten around him.

“I know how to ride a horse,” you retorted, and his chest shook with a slight chuckle. 

“Not saying you don’t, angel,” he replied easily, and kicked Ingydar lightly in the sides.

The old horse started walking, and Joel pulled on the reins, steering it down the road and then south towards the woods.

“’Just makin’ sure you ain’t gonna fall off ‘s all,” he said.

You hummed in return, leaning your body against his back. “It’ll have to be a really bumpy ride for me to fall off, Joel,” you spoke, the innuendo not lost on Joel.

He decided to pull at the thread a little, “And I s’pose you’ve had a lot of these bumpy rides, have you, angel?”

Your hands around his waist tightened slightly as he felt you lean over his shoulder, your hat dumping into his. A smile tugged at his lips, and in his side vision he could see you narrow your eyes playfully at him. 

“What are you insinuating, Joel Miller?” you asked him, your tone only half-sharp.

A chuckle rumbled in Joel’s chest, before he bit back a smirk. “I’m not insinuatin’ nothin’,” he replied, keeping his tone as normal as he could.

He felt your eyes study him for a moment before he heard you let out a dissatisfied hum. “You definitely are.” 

“Well, we got an entire horse ride to god knows where to debate it,” he shot back, which made you smile.

You leaned back again, and a second later he felt you rest your forehead against his back. Joel figured you must’ve flicked your hat off; letting it rest against your back tied by the string around your neck.

“An entire horse ride to god knows where?” you repeated half-mockingly, speaking into his back but Joel could hear your smile in your voice, “You really know how to make a girl wait for it.”  

“You have no idea, angel,” Joel replied, an otherwise joking tone overshadowed by something else, something more honest.

Behind him, Joel felt you shift, and a small spark of pride filled his chest. He had an effect on you, the same way you had an effect on him. Quickly, you changed the subject, and that spark of pride grew larger in Joel’s chest.

“Did you have a plan, by the way?” you asked him, your voice light and innocent, “Or are we just riding this horse off into the sunset?” 

“It’s the middle of the day,” Joel pointed out, “And you’re the one who put me in a bandana, so don’t even bother tellin’ me you ain’t the one with the plan.” 

You let out a giggle at this and pressed your face into his back once more. “Just keep going straight for now, you bore, I’ll tell you when.” 

Joel chuckled at you, and did as you said, guiding the horse south at the edge of the forest where the snow wasn’t as deep. He felt you tighten your hands slightly around his waist, before you fell into a comfortable silence.  

The horse held a steady pace, rocking you in a soothing rhythm in the saddle. The day was bright and sunny, almost blinding against the snow. Joel had never gone down this way before, never seen the stone face of the mountain up close, the way it cried glittery winter tears when the sun shone.

“There’s a river down here somewhere,” you suddenly spoke, breaking the silence that had built between you. “There’s a nice little spot down there where we can camp.”

Joel pulled at the reins, following in the direction you’d pointed. “You’ve been down this way before?” he asked.

“Maybe once or twice a year,” you started, “There’s this town, Jackson, maybe a week’s ride south. I’m not exactly supposed to talk about it– they run a pretty tight ship, coming off a little more threatening than they are, but they’re sort of like a commune. Arthur has this deal with one of the ladies, Maria, where we help each other out by trading.”

A frown pulled at Joel’s face, “I thought y’all were all alone out here?” 

“Well, we are, but not really. It’s because of them we still have running water and electricity– we’re connected to the same system they use. And then usually in the fall or in the spring Arthur will go trade with them for things we need like soap, or nails and stuff we can’t make on our own at the farm.”

Joel hummed, and the puzzle pieces of information you’d given him, started to fit into the bigger picture he’d painted of your life at the farm. He could understand why Alma and Arthur still resided at the farm. It was their home, the place where they’d lived their whole life, but for you, for you it was different.

“So… you know ‘em? You’ve gone with Arthur to meet this Maria?” he asked.

“A little, I guess. She’s uh…” you trailed off, resting your cheek against Joel’s back instead.

The river finally came into view, and Joel let you have the silence. He guided Ingydar down towards the riverbank. A wound cut the ice in two where the river poured backwards eternally. The water clucked under the ice as you rode along the edge; was it wishful thinking to think it sounded like the coming of spring?

“She?” Joel prodded gently.

Joel heard you sight before you sat up, no longer leaning your weight on him. “She invited me to come live with them… in Jackson.”

Joel frowned, “’nd you told her no?”

“Well… yes– I just, I can’t leave them alone.”

“Sweetheart–” Joel started, but you cut him off.

“Let’s stop here!”

You didn’t say anything as Joel watched you loosen the saddle bags and sheep skins, while he petted the old horse. He found himself wondering how you’d ended up on the farm, and if you could’ve been happier somewhere else– like Jackson.

He tied Ingydar to a tree, before he waded back to where you were trampling the snow flat. He helped you form a bench out of the snow, cutting through the layers until you found a hard enough crust to hold both your weights. The sheepskin warmed under him, as he sat down with a groan. It made you turn around from where you sat on your haunches in front of the fire you were building, a teasing smile pulling at the corner of your mouth.

“Tired already, old man?” you teased as you stood to your feet and walked closer.

Spreading his legs, Joel made room for you to stand between them, as he tipped his head back to study you above him. Your smile was dangerous, wild and wonderful.

“Old man, huh?” He raised an eyebrow at you, not able to resist the urge to wrap his hand around the back of your knee.

Your teeth caught on your bottom lip at his touch, and a pride swelled inside Joel. Pride at pulling a reaction from you. Before you could answer him, a boldness took a hold of him, and he wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you down into his lap.

You yelped out a giggle and your hands came down to brace yourself against his shoulder. Joel felt a feeling overcome him; one he hadn’t felt in a long time.

Happiness.

It tickled at his heart, teared at something inside, and it scared him.

“You okay?” you asked, your voice coated in concern, and Joel felt his cheeks heat up. He let out a dry chuckle, embarrassed by how easily you could read him.

“Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “I just…” he trailed off, studying your face and watching how your eyebrows pulled together in the smallest of frowns.

He shook his head again, before he leaned forward, not thinking it through as he brushed his lips over yours in a kiss. You reciprocated the kiss immediately, although maybe a little caught off guard. Joel’s arm around your waist tightened, as his other hand brushed up your side. He needed to hold you close for just a second, just to know this was real, that this feeling was real, and that you were real.

You broke away first, breathless with a giggle before you dove down again for another peck. Joel let you kiss him; let you cup his cheek and bring him closer. You shifted in his lap, your core rubbing slightly over his crotch. It could’ve been an accident, but the small gasp you let out told him it wasn’t. His arm around your waist tightened, and he had to pull away.

Wide eyes looked back at him, and Joel couldn’t help but stare at your lips. He felt like a teenager, a teenager sneaking out the house to meet a girl. To finally be with you without the secrecy – to touch you and kiss you openly.

“You’re somethin’ else, aren’t you?” he whispered.

A smile teased at your lips before you leaned in closer, your breath brushing over his ear, “You have no idea.”

Blood coursed south, and Joel felt his cock come alive behind the confinements of his jeans. It was cold enough for a man to freeze his balls off, but desire’s warmth filled him anyway.

He pulled his head away, finding your eyes blown full of lust. A smile teased at the corner of his mouth as he spoke, “Let’me teach ya to shoot before you get too excited.”

“Before I get too excited?” you laughed, and sat up properly in his lap again, “I think that might be you, old man.”

Teaching you to shoot was less of a success than Joel had intended. He’d found a couple of old glass bottles in the barn to use as target practice, but your aim was terrible, missing each shot. To your credit, it wasn’t your fault. He’d taught you how to load the gun, how to stand safely, and with his hand snaking around your body, how to hold it properly.

He could swear his intentions were good at first, he actually wanted to teach you, to make sure you knew how to shoot, and safely, but when he saw how your body shivered from his voice in your ear – he decided to play with you a little.

Maybe he whispered a couple of innuendos in your ear while he dropped his voice an octave just to see your reaction. Or maybe he pressed himself a little closer to your body, showing you how it was done like in those cliché romcoms he’d been forced to watch with Sarah.

It didn’t take long before the empty bottles, or the shot gun was forgotten, as you pressed your lips against his in a desperate kiss, your cold nose rubbing against his own.

But Joel didn’t have it in him to complain.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound at the door jolted Joel from his sleep. He’d almost been dragged under, laying in that limbo state between awake and asleep– not yet in dreamland, but not still among the living.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Joel sat up, letting the duvet fall into his lap and exposing his chest as the streak of yellow light coming through the ajar door cut his bedroom in two. Joel had to squint to see you properly in the doorway as he shed the last grip of sleep.

“Angel?” he questioned, as a tight grip of fear ran through him. He sat up properly now, ready to jump out of bed, his hands already searching for his shotgun resting at the foot of the bed.

With his eyes now fully adjusted to the dark, he watched how you quietly stepped inside his bedroom, closing the door as gently as you could – and the panic seemed to seize just a little. You padded to the edge of his bed, still so quiet, with your hands clasped nervously over where the hem of your sleep shirt met the bare of your thighs.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you whispered.

Joel shifted over slightly and lifted the duvet for you to slip under. An open invitation– one you were quick to accept.

“D’you have a nightmare?” Joel whispered, the wolf hour keeping his voice down.  

You shifted closer to him, your head rested on his pillow, and Joel couldn’t help himself from touching your waist gently – his fingers dancing over the soft cotton of your shirt.

“No,” you whispered back, “just couldn’t sleep.”

Joel hummed and shifted over onto his back, extending his arm for you to shift closer. It felt natural now – touching you. You felt like his, and he felt like yours. He didn’t know where it was going, but he was starting to enjoy the road to you. To get to know you more, what made you laugh, your quirks, and the way your body felt under his hands.

The weight of your head on his chest, Joel welcomed; his other hand quick to intertwine with the one you’d slung over his middle. He just wanted you close now, every chance he got.

“’Just try ‘nd get some sleep, my angel.” Joel pressed a kiss to the top of your head before he pulled back and closed his eyes. With you in his arms now, he knew he’d have no trouble falling back asleep.

“I–” you whispered.

Joel hummed; his eyes still closed.

“I kept thinking about you.”

Curiously Joel opened his eyes to find yours. You had tilted your head to look at him, you mouth slightly parted as you studied him with moony eyes. The way you looked at him stirred something inside him, a warmth pooling in the depth of his core.

“Yeah?” he questioned with a slight cock of his eyebrow, “’bout what?”

Then you got shy all of a sudden, hiding your head in his chest. “Thought about how you touched me,” you whispered.

“Touched ya how?” he prodded, gliding his hand up your arm slowly.

He knew it was wrong to play with you like this. Everything was still new, each touch unexplored and seeking. He couldn’t fuck you, even if he wanted to, and he did, badly, but Joel couldn’t risk it. Not in this world, not at this farm, it wasn’t fair to you.

Over him you held your breath as he teased your skin, eyes fluttering shut as his hand moved down the side of your body, and under the duvet.

“Like… like how you touched me in my dream,” you exhaled in a breathless voice.

Now Joel sucked in a breath, holding it in his lungs as he tried to calm himself down. He had an idea on how he’d touched you in your dream, but he couldn’t hold himself back from asking anyway.

“’nd where did I touch ya in your dream, angel.”

You squirmed against his body when his hand reached your bare thigh under the duvet, and soon your fingers locked around his wrist to guide it up over the soft skin of the inside of your thigh.

“Here,” you whispered.

A small gasp escaped you when he brushed his thumb gently over your clothed clit. Joel felt the wet warmth of you against the pad of his finger, making his cock twitch to life in his pajama pants.

“Here?” Joel whispered back, as his thumb started rubbing small circles over your clit.

“Y-yes.”

The noise you made, the noise he pulled from you from his small touch, sounded like the sweetest melody in Joel’s ear, and he wanted to hear it again. He ran his fingers through your cloth covered folds, and felt the wetness already seeped through.

Fuck.

“My angel… You’re so wet already,” he tutted, “Were you touchin’ yourself thinkin’ ‘bout me in that bed of yours?” he hummed in your ear.

A shiver ran through your body when his fingers found your clit again. Slowly, he started circling his fingers again, and the quiet moan that escaped you filled his chest with desire.

“Yes,” you breathed out, almost a whimper.

His teeth caught on his bottom lip, biting down to stave off the groan he wanted to let out at your words. He needed more of you, to feel the softness of you, to pull more of those breathy whimpers from your breath.

“Tell me, angel.”

In a bold move, Joel dipped his fingers into your panties, gliding two thick fingers through the seam of your folds, dipping into your arousal soiling your panties. His touch made you suck in a quick breath, as your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure. A proud grin spread across Joel’s face. It had been a while since he’d been with a woman, even longer since he’d been with a woman he felt something for.

He’d felt something for Tess, but that had been so complicated – it didn’t work right, they didn’t work right together as more than friends, like the puzzle pieces didn’t quite fit together. But the sex had been good, something to make them both forget for a little while.

Everything with you worked almost too easily, and Joel wanted to make you feel good, you deserved it, he thought.

“I-I,” you said breathlessly, as he worked his fingers slowly up and down from your hole to your clit, “I thought about your f-fingers.”

“Yeah, baby? Where?” He whispered in your ear before placing a kiss to the column of your neck. Joel was playing with you now, seeing how desperate he could get you before he tasted you.

“I-inside… I thought about your fingers inside me.”

Joel smiled into your neck. This felt as good a time as any to slip a finger inside you, so he did, slowly. You keened under his touch, and the sound of the small gasp you let out made Joel’s cock even harder.

“Like this baby?” he teased, pumping his finger slowly in and out of your wet warmth. He felt your hand wrap around his wrist, holding his arm, almost guiding him in his movements. He curled his finger inside you, trying to find that spongy spot inside that made you see stars.

“Y-yes, Joel–ah!”

There it was.

He liked the sound of his name falling from your lips like this, and he intended to hear it again. He couldn’t help but think about the way your cunt would squeeze around his cock, how tight you’d feel around him, as he continued to massage the spot with the pad of his finger.

“That feels good, doesn’t it?” he cooed, and placed a kiss to your cheek.

“Uh-uh,” you nodded, your eyebrows pulling together in a frown of pleasure, “Uh-uh.”

He felt your walls flutter around him, and Joel knew he had you just where he wanted you. Quickly, he pulled out his finger before slipping in a second. Your wetness dripped down his hand, coating him in your arousal with every pump of his fingers inside you.

Your breathing picked up, and small moans escaped you in time with the thrusting of his fingers. Joel had to contain himself from rubbing his bulge against your thigh, chasing any kind of relief.

This wasn’t about him, he told himself, he only wanted to make you feel good.

He knew you were close now, with just a flick of his thumb over your clit he’d have you coming on his hand – but Joel didn’t want it to be over yet. He needed to taste you, he’d thought about it as he’d jerked himself of, fantasized about how you’d taste on his tongue.

Suddenly, Joel pulled his finger out of your cunt. A strangled noise of, what Joel could only describe as disappointment, escaped your lips. It made Joel chuckle.

“Joel,” you whined, and squeezed your fingers around his wrist.

He didn’t answer, instead he sat up, a teasing smile coating his face as he shifted down the bed and pulled the duvet with him.

“Calm down, angel, be good f’me, okay?”

His hand wrapped around your calf to spread you apart for him, and he slotted between your legs. He placed a gentle kiss to your knee and let his eyes find yours where they looked back at him wide with anticipation.

“Are you gonna be good f’me?” he asked as he gave you another soft kiss, but this time to the inside of your thigh.

A breath escaped you in staccato, and you nodded, “Y-yes, Joel.”

“Good girl,” he rumbled, placing fluttering kisses up your thigh until he reached your core.

Joel didn’t want to waste any more time.

He stripped you out of your panties, and threw them to the side to get lost in the bedding. Finally, he got a good look at you, and fuck you were beautiful. Your cunt glistened with your wetness in the low white light of the moon coming through the window. Your hole pulsed when his thumb found your clit, where he pulling the hood back slightly as he teased you.

“Please,” you pleaded, your hand wrapping around his shoulder; searching for something to hold on to.

“It’s okay, angel,” he comforted you, as his finger spread your lips apart, and put you on display for him before he pinched them together. Under him you let out the smallest of whimpers as he played with you.

“I’m gonna put my mouth on you now, baby,” he told you, his finger back to circling your clit. “Gonna taste you pussy.”

His eyes flicked from your cunt to your face, searching for any indication that this wasn’t what you wanted. But Joel didn’t find any, your mouth had dropped open in the smallest of o’s, and your eyes were glazed over in lust.

“Please, Joel,” you begged, spreading your legs wider for him.

A grin spread across Joel’s face, and at last he finally closed the distance between his lips and your cunt, placing a kiss to your clit to start.

A hand found his head, as your fingers dug into his hair, which only made him smile wider. He dipped lower, flattening his tongue to taste you properly. You tasted so good, a sweet-salty taste he instantly craved more of. He licked a stripe from your clit to your hole, gathering up the arousal leaking from you, and hummed in contentment.

The fingers in his hair tightened their grip as he teased at your hole, pushing his tongue inside you a couple of times and earning himself the sweetest moans. Joel made sure to remember every twist of pleasure, and whiny moan.

He continued with a lick up the seam of your folds, which made your hips buck, chasing the swipes and zigzags of his tongue.

“That feel good, angel?” he prodded before latching onto your clit.

“Y-yes!” you gasped as he sucked and flicked his tongue.

The noises he pulled from you went straight to his hard cock. He could feel the precum leak from the tip and staining the fabric of his pajama pants. Shamelessly, he started bucking his hips against the bed.

He had to calm down, this wasn’t about him.

With a sudden move he pulled away, making a breathy whine escape you at the loss of his mouth. Joel sat up on his knees, before his hands found the back of your knees.

“Hold your legs f’me, angel,” he commanded, and pushed your legs up towards your chest. You did as he told you, and hooked your arms under your knees to put your cunt on full display for him.

“Fuck,” he breathed out, “so pretty f’me… so messy– listen.”

He ran a finger down your cunt to prove his point, a slick wet sound filling the air.

“Please, Joel,” you begged again, your voice broken with a breathless whine.

“Please what, angel?” he mocked, a spark of pride filling his chest as he watched you bite down on your lip.

“Please… make me come,” you whispered, and Joel thought he’d never heard anything sound so hot in his life.

He dove down again, consumed your cunt. His tongue lapped at your core, his finger teased your hole, pushing the pad just inside your opening; in and out, in and out. His lips found your clit again, where he flattened his tongue before drawing precise circles. Around his finger your cunt pulsed – you were close.

Joel never slowed down his tempo, determined now to make you come. He continued to lick and suck, thrusting his fingers inside you fully now as he pushed up against the spot he’d found earlier. Your breath picked up the pace, small breathy moans and whines escaping you in an increasing tempo.

“R-right there,” you heaved, your face scrunched together in pleasure. “D-don’t stop– I’m gonna c-come.”

Joel hummed against you, continuing his rhythm with his fingers and his tongue, coaxing you closer and closer to your orgasm. You started to mumble something, but Joel couldn’t hear it clearly between your heaving breaths.

He was determined now.

Curling his fingers again, your eyes snapped open, “Joel!”

Your cunt spasms around his fingers, and then you came around his fingers. Your eyes screwed shut as you moaned, as your body squirmed under him.

You looked so beautiful– you sounded so beautiful.

He continued to massage his fingers inside you, thrusting them slowly as you rode out your high. Making sure to drink in every sound, every squirm and twist of your pleasure as he watched you calm down.

When your breath had started to come back to normal, Joel pulled his fingers from your cunt. His fingers were coated in you, coated in your slick arousal and your cum. With a cheeky smile he brought his fingers to his mouth as he locked eyes with you and sucked them clean. The wide-eyed look on your face was the sweetest thing he’d seen.

“Joel,” you begged, your hand pulling him down over you.

He held himself up with a hand digging into your pillow, and he couldn’t help but smile as he looked down at you. He never wanted to forget the look on your face in this moment, never wanted to forget what you looked like glowing in a post-orgasm bliss.

Your hands cupped his cheek and pulled him down to your lips. The kiss was desperate, wet and messy, and it made Joel’s heart soar inside his chest. His cock was so hard. He could slip it inside you just for a moment, only the tip.

“Please,” you said breathlessly between kisses, “you can fuck me, Joel.”

No, not yet.

With a shake of his head, he came to his senses, “No, angel, this was just f’you.”

Your eyes widened with confusion; a slight frown pulled at your eyebrows as he pulled away. Joel bought himself some time by pulling you closer and wrapping an arm around you, careful not to press his hard cock into your ass.

“There ain’t exactly any condoms out here,” he told you, “It’s just too risky.”

It was a sorry excuse, Joel knew it, and he could tell you did too. His boner rubbing into your ass told you as much. Joel wanted to, he wanted to fuck you, but he just couldn’t, not yet anyway. Not until he knew that it was what you wanted, that he was what you wanted.

A moment went by before he heard you whisper, “You can pull out?”

Joel couldn’t hold back the smile threatening to spill across his face, “I’ve heard that one before, didn’t exactly go to plan.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, turning around in his arms to find his face.

Shit.

“Nothin’,” he shook his head. He didn’t want to think about that right now, didn’t want to feel that grief that’s never gone away, didn’t want it to tear at the happiness he felt in this moment. “It’s just somethin’ from before.”

Your interest seemed to pique at that. You turned around fully in his arms and slung your arm around his broad chest. Your eyes glittered with curiosity, “How was it? Your life before?”

Memories flashed before Joel’s eyes; days of hard work under the Austin sun, drunk laughter at the bar with his brother, pink birthday parties, and singing along to girl groups in the truck.

He held his breath for a moment before he let out a quiet sigh, “Normal, I guess.”

When he looked down at you where you rested your head on his shoulder, it seemed his brief answer had disappointed you, so he decided to elaborate, “I worked too damn much– me ‘nd my lil’ brother we uh, had a business together–”

“Contractors,” you remembered.

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “that’s right.”

“What’s his name?” you asked.

“Who’s name?” Joel frowned.

“Your brother,” you said, the ‘duh’ not spoken out loud, but your tone indicative of it either way.

“Uh, Tommy.”

“Joel and Tommy,” he could hear the smile in your voice. “What’s he like?”

Joel sucked in a breath, “A pain in my ass first of all.”

A playful slap landed on his chest and Joel couldn’t help but smile, “I’m serious.”

Interlocking his fingers with your hand on his chest, Joel opened up to you. “Tommy always wanted to be a hero. He enlisted in the army right outta high school, I was… well, it doesn’t matter– they shipped him off to Iraq a few months later and he…” Joel trailed off, his eyes fixating on a crack in the ceiling.

“What happened when he got back?” you gently asked with a squeeze of his hand.

“Turns out bein’ in the army doesn’t make you feel much like a hero,” Joel sighed, “I watched out for him, kept him outta trouble, made sure he had a steady job.”

“You’re a good brother,” you told him, but Joel felt the opposite.

“I don’t know,” Joel shook his head slightly, “Then the outbreak happens, and Tommy convinces me to join a group makin’ their way up to Boston, which I did, mostly to keep an eye on him, keep him alive. We meet Tess, join a crew ‘nd… did some things I ain’t proud of, but we were survinin’, right?”

You squeezed his hand again, urging him to continue. “Then Tommy meets Marlene. She talks him into joinin’ the Fireflies. Same mistake he made when he was eighteen– wants to save the world. ‘Course, last I heard he quit the Fireflies too. So, now he’s on his own out there.”

“And that’s how you ended up here, looking for him.” You said the words slowly, like you were contemplating each word, “and he’s still out there somewhere.”

A lump of guilt grew in Joel’s throat. Had he abandoned his brother for the safety of your arms? Let Tess die for nothing?

“Yeah,” he swallowed around his guilt, “Last contact I heard from him came from around the Cody tower– in Wyoming.”

“Cody?” you sat up, “That’s not too far from Jackson… maybe that’s where he is? I need to ask Arthur, but there’s no other settlements around here except in Jackson.”

A small glimmer of hope awakened in him, “You sure?”

“Yeah,” you nodded your head, “when spring comes you should go to Jackson with Arthur– maybe he’s there!”

Your enthusiasm was cute; the way you seemed to glow above him. “Maybe,” he hummed, noncommittedly, as he pulled you down to rest against his chest again.

A moment passed in silence before you whispered, “And this Tess… was she your wife?”

“No, she… she was my partner– but she was family.” The words strained in his throat, like they didn’t want to come out, “She’s dead… got bit.”

“I’m sorry, Joel,” you said, your voice gentle as you squeezed him tighter. “I understand… my family–” you cut yourself of, but Joel understood.

Dead.

“Arthur said I wasn’t the first person passin’ through. I’m guessing that was you?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “I uh, my family and I, we were travelling with a group. It wasn’t very large, but I guess it was big enough to draw attention. One night, uh,” your voice started to tremble, and it broke something in Joel.

“Angel,” he whispered, his hand wrapping tighter around you, “It’s okay, you can tell me.”

“I’m sorry,” you sniffled, “it’s just really hard to talk about.”

“Don’t apologize, I know baby, I know,” Joel soothed before pressing light kisses to the top of your head.

“One night,” you cleared your throat, “We’d camped, had dinner and I… I waited for my parents to fall asleep so I could sneak into the tent of this boy that I liked, Ben. He was the only person my age in our group. I had just turned eighteen and I was in love, I guess.”

You paused, and Joel pressed another kiss to the top of your head. “We were fooling around in his tent when I heard something outside,” you continued, “Ben said I was being paranoid, that I was just afraid to get caught by my parents, but then we heard a gunshot. It was chaos, e-everything, t-they’d killed my family, Ben, e-everyone. I managed to hide behind a tree, my feet were like frozen to the ground, I-I couldn’t run. I saw each and every face of the men who murdered my family. They raided the camp, took e-everything.”

“Angel,” Joel soothed when you started crying, “You’re safe… you’re safe now.”

“I don’t know how I did it, but I managed to get away– I just ran, ran as fast as I could for as long as I could. I’ve never been so cold, or tired or hungry as when I stumbled on this farm. I don’t remember the first days, I was so sick, but Alma and Arthur took care of me– I owe them everything, they saved my life.”

You were full on crying now, and Joel tried his best to calm you. He whispered soothing words in your ear, pressed soft kisses to your skin, and held you in his arm. He let you cry, as he cursed the people who’d done this to you – cursed the world who continued to take, and take, and take.

Joel couldn’t leave you, and maybe deep down he’d know it for a long time. He’d do as you’d suggested and go with Arthur to Jackson come spring, but he was coming back for you.

He wasn’t gonna leave you.

The days came and went and collected into a tranquil rhythm of the cogs in Joel’s routine. He’d wake to the bleeding blade of the sun over the lip of the mountain, or your kisses over his heavy eyelids. After that first night together, you slept in his bed more nights than not, as his bed transformed into a room for just the two of you. A place where Joel didn’t have to think or be anything other than completely himself. A place to laugh and smile, whisper under the bright moon, and hear his name fall from your lips in breathy moans.

Your chest rose and fell in a steady beat, your eyes closed so delicately you looked like a sleeping angel. And you were, his angel. Joel never made a habit of watching you sleep, but sometimes he’d indulge himself in the peacefulness of the hour between night and dusk. By the time the room started to turn blue with the morning light, that’s when Joel missed you too much; wrapping his arms around you with just enough movement to wake you without being blamed.

He’d let you dream for a few moments longer, though. Content to lay in the silence with you before the noise of the day would pull you apart. But the moment of peace could only last for so long, the soft thumps of Alma’s steps down the stairs told Joel it was time to wake up.

Under the crinkling of the sheets, Joel’s hand found the dip in your waist. He was about to kiss you good morning when he heard Alma’s steps come closer and closer. A surge of panic coursed to his chest.

“Joel?” she knocked on his door.

“I ain’t decent yet, Alma,” Joel yelled through the door. The loud bass of his voice made you blink your eyes open, looking up at him with a curious look.

“I’m sorry Joel– I was just letting you know that Arthur isn’t feeling well today.”

Joel sighed. This was the third time in as many weeks Arthur was sick, and now Joel was in for another day alone with the work and the trees.

“Thank you, ma’am. I’ll be out in a second.”

“I’m going to get started on breakfast for you, Joel,” she answered.

When Joel had thanked Alma, and her steps had faded away, Joel indulged himself in a morning kiss. The way your lips slotted against his felt like oxygen rebounding his lungs. 

“Again?” you sighed when you broke away from the kiss, your hand found his hair to brush a curl from his face.

“’s the cold I reckon– ‘nd the work… it ain’t exactly easy on the old man.”

You hummed and cupped his chin. “Maybe I should go with you today? Help you out?” you posed.

Joel heard himself chuckle and shook his head, “That ain’t happenin’, angel.”

A gasp left your lips in mock shock, “Why?”

“’Cause the animals would miss you, and I intend on stayin’ on their good side,” he said, a smile hanging off his face.

You narrowed your eyes at him playfully, intent on making him cave, “They’ll be fine.”

Joel only laughed, “You say that ‘nd the next thing I know I got Colonel Eggsworth on my ass.”

“I don’t believe that,” now you were giggling, “Colonel Eggsworth is the nicest rooster we’ve had!”

“I ain’t takin’ any chances, angel,” Joel pecked your lips.

“Coward,” he heard you mumble under your breath as he got out of bed. It made Joel smile, and a warmth gathered around his heart.

Back in the routine, after another quick kiss, you sneakily slipped back into your room to get dressed. While Joel pulled his sweater over his head, he thought about what it meant to wake up each morning with you and feel three words rive at his heart, never having it in him to say them, to let them spill out his mouth.

Maybe saying nothing was honesty’s default. Maybe it was how he could avoid telling you all the stupid things he wanted to say. So, for now he said nothing. Said nothing at the breakfast table. Nothing when you’d helped him saddle up Ingydar. And nothing as you waved him goodbye.

After months working in the woods, Joel did his work on autopilot. He always started with a reconnaissance round, looking for which trees to chop down. Then, with the weight of the axe in his hands, he’d start his work. Now, after they’d brought the horse out, the work was somewhat easier. He still had to chop down the tree, and clean off the branches, but he could move the trunks much easier now with the horse.

The wind howled like a hound, biting at Joel’s cheeks but the sun was out, and Joel didn’t mind. He’d gotten used to the cold by now, and Arthur had taught him quickly how to layer up. The increasing number of knitted pieces of clothing you’d made him also helped.

By the time the sun was at its highest peak, Joel debated going back for lunch. He’d done so every time he was alone out here, and especially after they’d started bringing the horse. The walk back had been cut in half on horseback, maybe even more than half now that he didn’t have to wade through the snow.

Looking back, Joel almost couldn’t see Ingydar where he’d tied him to a tree. He’d gone deeper into the woods than yesterday. Maybe it wasn’t worth it today? He could eat his packed lunch and finish up a little earlier instead.

The days had gotten shorter and shorter, and the hours of daylight had shrunk in the months he and Arthur had been working. But the sun had turned, Joel felt it. It wasn’t much, maybe a half hour or so, but he felt the difference.

He ate his lunch in the company of Ingydar, feeding him some carrots he’d snagged from the basement. He was a good horse, old and tired but hard working. Joel worked until the sun dropped behind the mountain, a shadow coating the world as it grew darker and darker. He needed to get back before it got properly dark. Joel quickly gathered his things, swinging his gun over his shoulders before he was back on horseback.

The horse knew the way back by itself at this point, even in the dark, but something wasn’t right. What was that smell? Small snowflakes started to fall from the sky the closer he got to the edge of the wood, but the smell only grew stronger.

Smoke.

Thoughts tumbled in Joel’s head, small fleets on a stormy sea. With a kick to the sides of Ingydar, they picked up their pace. The muted rhythm of horse hoofs against the packed snow trail, beat along to Joel’s heart.

A cloud of smoke rose up to the sky, dancing through bright yellow and orange flames. Joel couldn’t get there fast enough, pushing Ingydar to the limit as they galloped up the trail to the house. Joel’s heart was in his throat.

What the fuck was happening?

The flames licked at the sky, devouring the house, moaning and kicking like a beast. The heat was unbearable, the light almost blinding. Ingydar neighed loudly as Joel quickly jumped down, not bothering to tie him to something or calm him down. Joel watched the house burn in total disbelief. Frozen to the ground by shock, his heart beating loudly in his ears.

You.

Where were you? You had to been able to get out somehow, right? Why was everything so quiet?

Something caught his eye then, only a few steps from the porch stairs. His feet carried him without a second thought. Arthur was clad in only his pajamas and his robe. He must’ve been forced out of bed. The snow around him was stained crimson from where the life had spilled out of him.

Joel’s first thought was that he was dead, but then Arthur’s eyes flickered open to find Joel’s. The snow creaking under Joel’s shoes must’ve pulled him from his slowed death.

“Joel?” he croaked, blood spilling from his mouth.

“Don’t try ‘nd speak.” Joel’s voice came out colder than he’d expected. This couldn’t be real. Falling to his knees, Joel worked quickly, placing Arthur’s head gently in his lap as he found the source of the bleeding.

The blood oozed from a hole in his stomach. A bullet wound, most definitely. Joel put as much pressure on it as he could manage. His mittens drank the blood greedily, saturated by red. It just kept coming, the warmth coating his fingers.

What the fuck had happened?

Under him Arthur coughed, spilling more blood down his chin, coating his white beard in red. “Listen…”

Joel shook his head. This couldn’t be happening. This was just a bad dream. If he could just open his eyes, he’d be back in bed with you. He just needed to open his eyes.

“She’s alive,” Arthur managed to say, “They took her alive. Raiders–” another cough, “Broke in. Alma dead.”

The panic in Arthur’s face was almost too much for Joel to watch. His breath was heavy, breathing through this new information as his head spun with questions. Arthur’s eyes glazed over, and Joel knew there wasn’t enough time.

“Where is she?” he hurried, his hand lightly tapping Arthur on his cheek. He just needed to stay alive a little longer.

“Woods.” Was the only word Arthur could manage, as he used the last of his strength to point south.

An awful stench mixed with the smoke, and Joel knew Arthur was gonna die. His body couldn’t control itself anymore, ridding itself of the last of pieces of life. There was nothing beautiful about it. Nothing peaceful or dignified. Not how an old man like Arthur should leave this world.

Joel grabbed Arthur’s hand, it was clammy and cold, but it was the least he could do – Arthur wasn’t gonna die alone. He tried to think of something to say, anything at all, but the words died on his tongue.

“Alma…” Arthur whispered with his last breath, and Arthur’s hand went slack in his hand.

An eerie silence fell over the farm, safe from the fire crackling and moaning. Emotions raged inside Joel, fighting to bubble to the top. Anger, confusion, guilt, grief. A loud crack could be heard, like glass shattering, and it pulled Joel from his shock. He gently laid Arthur down on the ground, before he managed to rise on unsteady feet.

A loud noise started ringing in his ears, and Joel’s breath started coming out in an uneven pace. Shit. Joel tied a fist over his chest, his body tilting forward as he tried to catch his breath over the panic tying up his throat. He took a few shuffling steps before he hurled, gall burning his tastebuds as Joel vomited on the ground.

When he’d thrown up all there was in his stomach, Joel groaned. He ripped off the bloody mittens as quickly as he could, his hands digging into the white snow to wash his mouth of the bitter taste.

Joel burned inside and outside. Standing so close to the house, the heat was unbearable. Everything was unbearable. Sarah was dead, Tess was dead, Alma was dead, and Arthur was dead.

Could he take anymore grief? Joel wondered. How much grief was a man supposed to endure in a lifetime? None of this was fair.

Had he just gone back to the house for lunch, they’d all be alive. Had he not dragged her across the country to find his stupid brother, she’d still be alive. Had he not told that soldier she was hurt, she’d still be alive.

As he stared into the raging fire, Joel felt his own anger simmer to the surface. It pushed away all the grief, and the guilt, and sharpened his senses, made him laser focused. His arms and legs moved by their own accord, tugging the shotgun from his shoulder, before he started moving in the direction Arthur had pointed.

They were gonna pay for this. They’d made his world go up in flames and struck the match on their own life in return.

As Joel vanished into the night, he left a piece of himself behind. He was going to find you. He was going to hold you and kiss you again. Nothing or no one could come in the way of that.

Nothing could come in the way of Joel.

i hope someone liked this? i'm very curious about what your thoughts for the last part will be, so if you have them please leave a comment, reply or an ask. they are always super welcomed, and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

next part -> here!

© shellshocklove, 2024 i do not give any permission to repost, translate, feed to AI or redistribute any of my writing, with or without credit!

[bowsnchoso]

Interrupted – Gojo Satoru

➺ synopsis: you and your husband, Gojo, were spending some time together until he got an urgent call for work. will he make it up to you once he arrives back home?

➺ character: Gojo Satoru

➺ word count: 6.9k

➺ cw: married couple, femreader, sweet pet names (cause Gojo is soso cutie) lots and lots of teasing (like always) fluffy, so much loving, shower scene, nipple play breeding, smut, nsfw, aftercare crumbs, did i mention lots of loving? (there's lots!) ^^

➺ note: i can't get enough of my blue-eyed king so here's another little post about him, enjoy!

It was times like these that you relished the most. Your fingers tangled up in his silky white hair, his blue eyes that mimicked the crashing waves of a blue ocean, rolling over your body, drinking you whole.

Your husband, Satoru, marveling at your body, seeing right through your soul. His hands caressed the innate curves of your tempered body, having your figure well memorized under his avaricious and gentle touch, yet he still couldn’t seem to get enough of you. No matter how many times he held you close, no matter how many times he had you wrapped in his arms, snuggled in his chest. No matter how many times he inhaled your intoxicating scent, the inebriated state it left him in never seemed to ebb.

He purred against your intricate touch like a loving kitten would, his hand stroking your waist as you toyed with his hair, brushing the stray tufts behind his ear. His eyelids were heavy, carrying the weight of his equilibrium, but the lubricious gaze in his cerulean eyes remained as vibrant as ever, glistening as the stars would under a new moon.

You two lay side by side, simply gazing at your husband as you two engaged in conversation with one another, sometimes getting sidetracked by your infatuation for one another.

He grabbed your hand that stroked at his hair, and he began kissing each of your knuckles, peppering his soft lips above your skin, tracing them over your hands, drinking you up, as he typically did.

“I miss spending this kind of time with you, Toru.” You whispered, watching the way he kissed at your limb.

He hummed, and the vibrations of his gruff voice ricocheted throughout your body, sending waves of a tempestuous storm in your raging heart, adorned in his love and touch.

“I miss it too,” his voice was like honey against your skin, sweet and smooth, “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy with work, I need to pay more attention to my gorgeous wife, don’t I?” He teased you, reeling you into his figure, gently pelting your face and jaw with kisses.

You couldn’t help but giggle, flustered by his immense attention. “You pay attention to me, it’s just I want more moments like these.” You expressed, accepting his kisses and attention despite how flushed they made you. “I know you get busy, especially with missions, I know how important they are.”

He trailed his lips down your arm now, simply attacking you with his incessant love. “I bet you didn’t think marrying me would also mean you have to deal with my work, right?” He said, now caressing his cheek against the soft skin on your arm.

You watched him, blushing. “When we were boyfriend and girlfriend I was already aware of how busy you were. I figured that getting married wouldn’t push back any responsibilities you have… but that doesn’t mean I regret marrying you, I love calling you my husband.”

He smiled lovingly, staring into your eyes with his blinding blue irises. “You remember our wedding day?”

You chuckled. “How could I forget the day we got married, Satoru?”

It was a very intimate wedding, and considering Gojo had no family, not very many people were invited besides close friends and your family– the very few people that both you and Gojo handpicked by yourselves, sending out your invitations together.

It was a day you would never allow yourself to forget, or grow cavalier to. You stored that sweet memory deep in your soul, it was etched in your heart, locked away for safekeeping, only to be opened upon recollection.

Satoru fell into a pool of sweet memories, appreciating you with his eyes and hands. “It was the best day of my life. I don’t think you understand how happy I am to call you my wife.” He carefully adjusted himself, hovering above you.

You lay flat beneath him, your hands intrinsically reaching up to his nape, massaging his broad shoulders under your delicate fingers, your foot rubbing against his bare leg, tangled up in each other.

He smiled at your affection, leaning down to kiss at your jawline again. “What did you love most about that day?” Satoru questioned as he continued to leave a trail of kisses down your neck.

You hummed, closing your eyes as he focused his attention all on you and your body. “What I loved most about our wedding?” You reflected, to which he murmured in response, still kissing your neck with sweet sounds that parroted off the walls. “Hm, when I said I do~” You tease, kissing his cheek.

He chuckled, and his cheeks slightly reddened before he composed himself adeptly. “Wanna know my favoirte part of the wedding?”

You nodded.

“When we cut the cake together.” He shared with a blissful smile.

You laughed at his revelation. “Of course, you picked the cake out yourself, and you’re a fiend for sweets.”

“Well, yes,” he mumbled, stroking your long hair behind your ear, “but, that’s not why it was my favorite part. It was my favorite because I couldn’t help but just smile at you. Your cute hand over mine as we cut into the cake, it hit me then that I realized we were going to be together for the rest of our lives.”

You recalled that moment perfectly. “That moment was caught on camera, I remember that.” You grinned, remembering the photo of you and your husband cutting into the cake.

While your eyes were focused on the camera, smiling big, your husband had his sights set on you with an ebullient smile tugging on his lips, his beautiful blue eyes washed in adoration.

He kissed your neck once more. “Well, that’s my favorite moment. Besides the night we spent together after~” He winked, teasing you.

You laughed, blushing red at the thought of your wedding night.

He began to trace his lips over your collarbone, slow and sensual against your skin, prompting chills throughout your body. “Wanna recreate that night together, sweetheart?” Satoru entreated, his voice silky smooth.

You blushed. “N-now?” You whispered.

He chuckled. “Yeah. Now.” His hand caressed your side. “Is my little wife nervous?” Satoru teased you with a playful smirk tugging on his lips.

“Yes.” You blatantly reveal, to which he laughed at.

He kissed your forehead. “You’re so easily riled up, huh? Still getting nervous for your husband, hm?”

You had been together for seven years, married for two, and you still got so apprehensive at the thought of sharing intimate moments with Satoru. Which, he adored. To him, it meant that your love for him was humming as chirping birds, still burgeoning and festering just like how it once was when you two first began dating.

You closed your eyes, relishing the feeling of his lips and tongue against your jawline, knowing exactly what to do to get your body warm, his hands trailing your curves, ravenous for more of you.

His hunger for you was insatiable, years could go by, and he would still thirst for your love.

You hummed in pleasure when he nipped at your skin.

“You like when I do that, don’t you, my love?” His voice was but a mere susurration that whisked against your hot flesh.

You nodded, tracing your arms over his biceps, grabbing onto his muscles.

He smirked, reaching up to your ear to kiss your lobe. “I love watching you melt under me, you’re so gorgeous, my wife.” He whispered in your ear, making you blush.

“Satoru.” You mumbled his name as though it were the call of a siren, completely addicted to your husband and the sweet words he never seemed to run out of.

It drove you insane.

“I’m here my love,” He chuckled, nipping at your earlobe. “I’m here.”

“Kiss me, Satoru.” You whispered, almost inaudibly, but he heard you loud and clear.

He didn’t waste a second, his lips finding yours like a strong magnet. It was slow and deliberate, the kinds of kisses you two loved to have, the ones you loved to have with your husband. The sweet sound your touching lips would make, resonating throughout your effervescent chest, making your heart tremble, beating in unison with Satoru’s.

You continued to trace your foot down his leg, while his hand traced down your hip, holding and kissing you as though it were the last time he would ever hold you and touch you again.

You buried your fingers in his white hair, feeling him melt into your hand, aware of just how weak he became whenever you touched his silky locks.

He pressed his tongue against your lower lip, wishing for more access, and you allowed him in, meeting as one, tangling together. Satoru licked at you, humming and moaning to himself, unable to get enough of you.

That’s when you heard the sound of buzzing.

You pressed your eyebrows together in difficulty, however, Satoru didn’t seem to notice as he continued to kiss you, his tongue exploring yours with traces of longing and desire, growing more and more hungry for you by the second– utterly impetuous he was.

The buzzing continued, and Satoru seemed to catch onto the sound, releasing your lips.

“Is that my phone?” He asked, wiping the side of his lip free of shared saliva from your wet kiss.

You pressed your lips together. “It’s not mine, I have my ringer on.”

He huffed, stretching his arm over your body to grab his phone from the nightstand.

“Shit,” he mumbled.

“You can answer it, Satoru.” You encouraged, sensing the confliction in his voice, tempted between you, his wife, and taking the call.

“Higher-ups.” He waved his phone, removing himself from your body to sit at his side of the bed, answering the call.

You sat up, planting your back against the headboard behind you, watching your husband as he took care of the unexpected phone call he received from management.

Or, the people he referred to as annoying and old and worthless.

He had ranted a plethora of times about these people to you.

You watched as he stroked at his hair, trying to focus on the phone call.

His expression was taut, focused, nodding every now and then.

“Now?” Satoru questioned, blinking a few times.

You perked up, tilting your head at the urgency that pooled through his voice.

“Right.” He nodded, lifting from the bed.

You felt your heart sink in utter disappointment, your heartbeat decreasing to a slow and deliberate pace.

You knew the moment he picked up these phone calls, he was either going to be on the call for quite a few long minutes, or he would be getting up to leave to tend to unexpected work that called for him.

This time, it seemed he would be tending to work.

You sat crisscrossed on your bed, watching as he began rummaging through your shared closet, keeping his phone in hand, humming periodically to the person on the other end of the phone.

He set out his work clothes above the corner of the bed, along with the blindfold he invariably wore with his uniform.

“Got it, I’ll be there.” He said one last time before he hung up, setting his phone down on the mattress beside his clothes.

He looked at you with a sympathetic glint in his eyes, almost as though it was his fault that he had to work.

“I’m sorry, my love, I know you were just talking about-”

You shook your head. “Satoru, don’t worry. It’s fine, I was just being overly clingy.” You lift from your side of the bed, tracing back to him. “Like I said, even before I married you, I was aware of how busy your work keeps you.”

His eyes flickered in admiration for his wife’s ability to respect his work and be so understanding and compliant for something he would be upset over if he were in your shoes. 

You reached on the tips of your toes, kissing his lips. “Let’s get you changed?” You offer help.

He nodded eagerly, enjoying things best when you two could partake in the activity together.

You helped him dress, saving the blindfold for the last bits, relishing his blue eyes for as long as you possibly could.

“I don’t know how long I’ll be out,” Satoru informed, zipping up his dark blue uniform, “so I don’t wanna tell you to wait up, I’ll feel bad if you’re waiting all night, sweets.”

You blushed, grabbing his blindfold from the bed. “I’ll try to stay up, not like I sleep knowing you’re out on missions. I worry too much.”

He chuckled. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head, wife, I’ll be okay.”

You smiled a small grin, praying that he truly would stay safe. Not that you didn’t have any confidence in Satoru’s strong abilities, but you still worried for his well-being, as his wife, you simply could not turn that switch off no matter how strong and capable he was of taking care of himself and others.

You held up his blindfold. “Ready?” You asked, nudging it toward him.

He leaned over with a teasing smile. “Put it on me.”

You chuckled, shaking your head before carefully stretching the piece of fabric, slipping it over his hair, and carefully placing it over his eyes. His hair naturally spiked upwards as he adjusted it, moving his hair away that got caught in the blindfold.

You smiled, kissing his nose. “Perfect and ready for work.” You muttered, admiring the man who was your loving and hardworking husband.

He grinned, his white canines sharp. “How does your husband look?”

“Sexy.” You teased, placing your hands over his broad chest.

He chuckled, wrapping his hands over your waist before he dramatically tilted you to the side and began pelting you with silly kisses, enunciating the mwah sound as he attacked you.

You gripped onto his shoulders, holding onto him, falling into a pool of laughter at his farcical actions that always had your heart fluttering.

It was those moments that made it hard for you to send him off to work.

You lay awake in bed, waiting on the return of your husband, unable to fall asleep when you were fully aware of the danger he was presumably getting himself into. It was practically torture in its most raw and detrimental form.

You turned in your covers, restless, the drafts from the open windows made you shiver, curling up to gather your warmth, wishing Satoru was there to hold you, and share his neverending series of warmth that you cherished so much.

You sighed, feeling your exhaustion take its toll on you, closing your eyes to sleep away your persistent worrying.

It had only felt like minutes had passed before you felt something caress the small of your back, rubbing and comforting you with slow circles.

Carefully, you opened your eyes, meeting with your husband, Satoru, who sat right at your side, watching you sleep, his hand caressing your body. His blindfold was removed, and slung over the nightstand, but he still donned his dark blue uniform.

He smiled sweetly when he saw you had finally woken up. “Sleepy girl~ I’m sorry I didn’t mean to wake you. I just wanted to admire you.” Satoru hummed, outlining your figure with his hand.

You couldn’t help but smile, all your exhaustion fleeing your body as you got up from bed to embrace him.

He chuckled. “Did my lovely wife miss me?” Satoru asked, embracing you tight against his chest.

You laid your head against his shoulder, inhaling his musky pheromones that always drove you so wild. “I miss you always. I’m happy you’re home again. How was everything?” Something you invariably asked him whenever he got back home from doing anything work-related.

He shrugged. “The same stuff all the time. Exhausting, but I’m here now with my love, so I have no more room for complaining.” Satoru said, kissing the side of your head. “I have to shower though, so I’m gonna have to leave you again for a few more minutes.” He said, bracing himself for your disappointment.

You pulled yourself from his hold, frowning at him. “Can’t you save it for tomorrow morning, love?”

He laughed at your question. “Tomorrow morning? Well, I hardly break a sweat on these missions sometimes, but are you seriously gonna want me to leave the bed tomorrow morning to shower? I doubt that.” Satoru guffawed, teasing your head with his nestling hand, finding your clinginess to be quite adorable.

“Can we shower together?” You prompted, hope glistening in your eyes.

“You wanna shower together, love?” Satoru asked, tilting his head, wearing an amused grin on his soft lips. “You don’t think you can wait at least ten minutes for me to finish?”

“I can… but I just want to help you get clean.” You expressed, partly lying.

Waiting those five long hours for your husband to return from work had been intense, and for some reason, you were missing him a little bit extra that particular night, unable to get enough of him.

He nodded, wearing a charming smile. “Who am I to deny my loving and clingy wife?” He nestled in your cheek, kissing you. “Come, let's go clean up, sweets.” He grabbed onto your hand, leading you into your shared bathroom to clean each other up.

You followed along, your heart fluttering in your chest, unable to conceal your excitement while your husband shut the door behind you two.

Once he turned over, he approached you with his hungry blue eyes, unzipping the blue jacket that was part of his uniform, unveiling a compression shirt that he had been wearing beneath his uniform.

The shirt embraced the swell of his muscular chest magnificently, his large biceps flexing as he pulled the uniform off his arms one by one, keeping his eyes on you in the process, his anticipation was tangible in the thickening air.

He chuckled, reeling you into him. “My eyes are up here you little minx~” Satoru teased you for gawking at his ostentatious muscles, loving your overt desire for his meretricious body.

You placed your hands against his distended chest, gently running them up and down his broad shoulders. “I can’t help it.” You murmured before stretching over to his lips.

He hummed at your sudden kiss, pressing his hands against the small of your back to keep you in place, savoring how your lips felt against his soft ones. Your longing for your husband was palpable as you kissed him, the pace was a bit quicker compared to your shared kisses before he had left for work. You had been waiting hours for him, and taking it slow was something you were way past, longing for him and his kisses.

Satoru didn’t question it, matching your pace, licking at your bottom lip in an attempt to get you to open up for him, wanting to explore you with a more in-depth desire now that he had you to himself with no chance of work ever reaching out to him again for that night. 

You released him before giving him that opportunity. “We’re getting sidetracked, Satoru, we should be showering, not kissing.”

He groaned, “We can do both, can’t we?” He huffed, watching as you opened the shower door to switch on the water.

You closed the door, turning to him. “You’ll help me undress?” You asked with a saccharine smile on your lips.

He nodded, eager, practically transporting to you to get the job done, lifting at the hem of your shirt, throwing it over your head. You couldn’t help but giggle at his eagerness, tearing away at his clothes as he did the same to you, taking the time to undress one another before stepping inside the shower together.

You shared a few more kisses with Satoru, allowing your skin to gather up the warm water that pelted your two bodies, softening your tense shoulders, simply basking in the affectionate sentiment your husband brought upon your figure with his attentive hands and lips.

He gently kissed your neck, keeping his hands at your elbows, standing chest-to-chest. The feeling of your hardening nipples against his smooth skin driving damn near insanity as he left open-mouth kisses against your hot flesh, getting quiet hums and moans of pleasure out of your mouth, which only further aroused him more than he already was.

He licked at the sensitive skin beneath your ear, down the side of your neck, earning a shiver from you, squeezing against his biceps as he gave you the attention you had been craving, growing more and more antsy by the minute.

He chuckled against your skin. “You like when I do that huh?” He teased you, licking at your skin once more.

You hummed, nodding your head, unable to reply. The thick fog of the tempered water flustered you tenfold, your brain nebulous and powerless against Satoru’s inebriating touch and kisses.

You then pulled back from his close vicinity, grabbing his shampoo bottle to get back on track. “Want me to wash your hair for you?” You offered.

That smile on his lips never diminished, his eyes sparkling in awe at your question. “You know I’d never say no to that.” He chuckled, watching as you squeezed out a generous amount of shampoo in the palm of your hand.

You rubbed it in slightly to get it foamy before you began to work it through your husband's white and wet hair, massaging his scalp as you lathered him, cherishing his closed eyes, his head leaned over, melting in your simple touch.

You loved the sight of him completely weak to your touch, listening to the way he would purr lovingly all due to your attention. 

The way he trusted you– it was something you didn't think you would ever get tired of. You wouldn't. Something you would never see yourself disregarding it. Sure, he was your husband, but knowing he trusted you beyond any sort of words truly brought ineffable pleasure to your fluttering heart.

Once you were done scrubbing his hair, you brought him closer to the shower head, running your fingers through his hair to wash out all the suds. The woodsy smell of his shampoo permeated that shower, mingling in with the steam, savoring the delicious scent that resonated perfectly with Satoru.

He opened his eyes, wiping his face free of water. “It’s your turn, right?” He asked, grabbing your shampoo bottle. “Turn around for me, love.” He instructed, opening up your shampoo bottle.

You didn’t protest, following his directions, showing him your long damp hair that clung to your wet back.

He pressed his body closer to yours, shivering slightly when you felt his hardening self against the side of your hip. Blush tainted your cheeks, and you stood in silence as Satoru began to wash your hair, scrubbing and massaging you.

He washed your hair with one hand, while his other hand followed down the arch of your waist, trailing his long fingers over toward your belly button, tracing it with his middle and ring finger.

Your face was hot, imperceptibly opening your neck when you felt his lips kiss at your shoulder blades, assailing you with all the love and affection he had for the night.

His gentle touch brought you to your very own Arcadian, a paradise sufficed with vehement love. One that gently plucked at the chords of your heart, overtly singing a tune that described your bliss and lascivious thrill.

Carefully he moved your head under the showerhead, running his long fingers through your hair.

You nearly felt yourself drifting off in a reverie, closing your eyes, swayed by the warm water that caressed your head and body.

He chuckled, observant of the exhaustion in your heavy eyelids. “Don’t fall asleep on me just yet, baby. We still need to wash our bodies, hm?”

You opened your eyes, smiling at his comment.

You got hold of his loofah, mixing in his musky body wash to clean his body.

You scrubbed at his chest, first, receiving a content sigh from your purring Satoru, responsive to any little touch you planted on his large body.

You giggled. “Feels good?” You whispered, scrubbing at his shoulders and arms.

“So good.” He muttered, watching you work against his body. “I love the way you touch me, sweetheart.”

You laughed once more. “I’m just cleaning you, Satoru, it’s nothing special.”

He shook his head, still watching you clean his body. “No, that’s where you’re wrong, sexy. Every little thing about you is so special.”

You blushed, never quite used to the way your husband would openly flirt with you, and his sweet nicknames that still got your heart racing.

You pressed your chest against his body, reaching over to scrub at his back, wanting another excuse to get closer to him.

He instantly snaked his arms around you, pulling you even closer to him, unable to resist you, staring at your breasts that were smooshed against his stern body.

You directed him under the water, letting all the suds fall off his figure.

He grabbed your loofah off the shower rack next, tending to your cleanliness.

He gently scrubbed your stomach first, squeezing the loofah to get your body extra sudsy, hooking his arm over your hips while scrubbing the rest of your body.

Your legs, your breasts, your thighs, your shoulder blades. He cleaned just about every inch of your body.

“You look so sexy like this, all clean and soapy~” He muttered while cleaning you, loving to tease you.

He turned you over, your back facing him to direct you toward the shower head, rinsing the soap off your body. You laid your back against his chest, allowing the water to rinse the soap off your body while Satoru had his arms wrapped over your figure, keeping one hand over the side of your thigh while the other fondled against your breast, outlining your areola with his long fingers, squeezing your hardened buds between his slim fingers.

You moaned at his dexterous hands, laying your head back against his shoulder, enjoying his efforts and attention to get your body warm and hungry for him again.

His other hand trailed down toward your heat that had been aching for his attention all night, pulsing each time his hands trailed against the skin on your bones.

He toyed with your opening for fun, teasing you, watching the way you melted against his body under the hot water, your chest rising and falling, your nipples hard against his hands as he got himself full off you.

“Satoru,” you muttered under your breath, staring up at him.

He looked down at you with his blue eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What is it love?” He asked before he began circling his fingers against your pulsing clit.

You huffed, biting your lower lip, already so worked up.

“You like when I play with your clit huh?” He enticed you further, running slow circles around you.

You sighed, nodding your head, keeping yourself adhered to his body.

He laughed at your willingness to admit such naughty things to him before he released you. “Why don't we get out of here, huh?” He proposed, turning off the running water.

You disguised your utter disappointment, a tense knot forming in your gut while you continued to pulse, aching for him in ways you had been craving him all day.

The both of you exited the shower, drying yourselves off before leaving that hot bathroom.

Your cheeks were flushed, digging through your drawers to find your clothes for the night before sitting on your side of the bed, preparing to dress yourself.

That was until Satoru towered above you, his towel draped lazily over his torso, that brawny v-line teasing you, glistening under the iridescent moonlight that peeked through your window. The white hairs of his happy trail made your heart twirl in excitement.

“You’re gonna get changed?” Satoru asked, watching you set out your panties and a bra.

You laughed at his silly question, “yes?”

“Why?” Satoru tilted his head, his voice expressing his genuine curiosity. “Then I’ll just have to undress you again when I fuck you.”

Your eyes widened at his crass words, your cheeks tainted in a hot blush once more, flustered.

You kept yourself composed, releasing the strong grip you had on your towel. “When you fuck me?” You parroted, caught off-guard.

He smirked. “I was thinking about you all day, sexy, you think I was just gonna let you brush up against my cock in that shower and get away with it?”

You wore an impish grin, lying back in your bed. “I can’t help that he wants me.” You refer to your husband's dick, carefully opening up your towel, and revealing your naked body to your husband who watched you with parted lips. “Besides, I know you secretly like it when I tease you, cause you’re such a naughty boy.”

Satoru was lost in the artwork that was your body, his hungry blue eyes feasting upon your figure as a famished animal would, his cheeks imperceptibly tinted a bright pink for a quick moment at the name you gave him.

“Naughty boy, huh?” He asked, his hands on the fold that kept his towel together over his waist. “You haven’t seen naughty yet, baby.”

You enjoy the dirty talk, bending your right knee into the air, opening up your legs slightly, and showing yourself off to Satoru who huffed at the sight. “I haven’t? So then… come show me.”

Satoru took that head-on, as a challenge, hovering above you, the towel still wrapped over his waist.

“You’re such a damn tease, you know that?” He muttered, a smirk on his lips as he drank you whole with his blue eyes. “Like I wouldn’t fuck your pussy into next week.”

You lifted your foot, rubbing it against the hem of his towel. “Fuck me, Satoru~ I’ve been thinking about your cock all day.” You made your voice extra whiney, caressing his large pecs with your peckish hands.

He dragged his lips down your chest, circling your hard nipples with his teasing lips. “Thinking about my cock all day?” He repeated, licking your nipple with his warm tongue, making you whimper. “Who knew my innocent wife could be so crass? So dirty.” He muttered against your skin before he kissed your nipple, taking it in his mouth, and sucking on it.

You moaned at the sensations he brought upon your body, placing your hands against his shoulders, squeezing him, already so antsy with how much he had been making you wait, teasing you.

If you were a tease, then what did that make him?

He focused on your chest and breasts, kissing your body, his dick poking at your leg through the towel, making you extremely restless.

“S-Satoru, please.” You muttered, reaching your hand down, and tugging at his towel.

He chuckled against your breasts, second waves of vibrations throughout your body, causing you to shiver in reply. “Someone is eager~”

You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care to beg, and you definitely didn’t care if you appeared desperate. This man was your husband, and you had been teased and edged by the mere thought of him all day when he had promised you his time.

“I’ll give my wife what she wants, okay?” He settled, reaching his hand down his towel, making you hum in anticipation. “Since you’ve waited long enough.”

With that, he finally removed the towel from his bottom half, his dick jerking forward, slapping against his abdomen, making him grunt in response. Precome had already gathered on his tip, he hadn’t anticipated himself to be so turned on, the shower he had with you was enough to bring him to his edge.

You marveled at his size, never getting quite used to how big he was. “And I’m the eager one, huh?” You teased, running your hand down his chiseled muscles. “Looks like you’ve been tormenting yourself just trying to keep him contained.” You reached low enough to grab his dick, gently squeezing him.

He groaned at your movements, dropping his head in your chest. “Y-You don’t know how fucking sexy you looked when we showered together. How sexy you look right now. I could just fuck you senseless right now, and I wouldn’t stop, even when you’re whining and begging me to stop.” 

His words had you chewing your lower lip, the knot in your gut tightening.

You released him, bringing both your hands up to his cheeks. “Satoru. I need you.” You voiced your desires, unable to wait anymore, you could practically feel yourself spilling over the towel that still lay under you, soaked.

Satoru shushed you, kissing your neck and cheeks. “I’ll give you what you want, okay?”

You hum, nodding in excitement, taking his kisses while you feel him position himself at your entrance, distracting you with his moving lips.

He spread you open himself, his hands pushing your thighs apart, prepping you for him. You worked with him, opening up, slightly adjusting your hips.

“That’s it, baby, open up for me, okay?” Satoru praised, something you loved when you two had sex.

You moaned when you felt his tip slip against your folds, slightly tensing up.

He kissed your forehead. “Relax baby, okay? For me. You’re okay, you always take me like such a good girl.”

You moaned in reply, keeping your grip on his shoulders, your eyes open, never wanting to miss a moment of such a blissful moment with your caring husband.

You relaxed your shoulders, and that’s when he pushed part of his dick inside your wet self, slipping inside you so easily when you were already so wet and turned on for him.

You gasped, digging your nails into the skin of his shoulders. “S-Satoru, I-I need all of you in me.” You requested, knowing he wasn’t fully inside yet.

Satoru hummed, his eyebrows pressed together, focused on pleasuring you and giving you what you wanted most. He followed your orders without a second thought, fully entering you, the sensations of your tight walls against his tumescent dick always left his brain clouded. It was always him who needed time to adjust, focused on not releasing his load so fast with how your walls contracted against him.

It also allowed you to adjust, too. It had been a while since the two of you had sex. With how busy Satoru had been, it had nearly been three weeks, which was quite a while considering how eager and ravenous the both of you constantly were for each other daily.

He kissed your lips, then your cheeks and jaw, smothering you while he remained stagnant inside you, simply taking in this moment, the moment he loved most. After a few lingering kisses that left your skin hot, he began stroking himself against your walls, slow and gentle at first.

You wrapped your arms over his nape, tangling your fingers in his hair, sharing your breaths, inhaling one another, keeping your eyes on his.

That glossy look in his blue eyes, the look you’ve memorized to be a look of pure love and desire. There was never any hint of disrespect in his eyes, admiring you, and loving you thoroughly with all his heart, cherishing every moment of lovemaking with you– his wife. 

His cheeks were red, thrusting into you with passion, his voice brittle against his pace as he spoke. “Y-You look so gorgeous whenever you're full with my dick. I-I don’t think I could ever get used to it.” He lowered toward your ear, kissing your soft lobe. “It’s- It’s been so long since we last had sex, I don’t know how I’ll keep up today.” He chuckled, removing himself from your ear.

You mumbled nonsense under your breath, practically inebriated, gasping quietly when you felt him pick up the pace just a little bit.

Satrou watched as your breasts would bounce with the pace he set, looking back and forth between your boobs and your trusting eyes. “You’re okay, love? Y-you’re not saying much.” 

You hadn’t realized how quiet you had been, simply moaning and sighing under his muscular body, occasionally mumbling something under your breath, scratching your nails over his back, watching the way his expression would wince at your scratches, yet he allowed you to, not stopping you from it.

 “I-I’m just focusing on not finishing so fast.” You revealed to your husband with blush-stained cheeks, to which he laughed at your revelation. “It’s been so long, Satoru.”

He agreed, humming, caressing your wet hair behind your ear as he continued to thrust inside your walls, hitting every right spot, the knot in your gut coming undone each time he pounded in you with such passion and force. “Oh, baby I know it’s been too long. I miss the way your pussy feels against my cock, the way your walls stretch against me.” He began describing, earning pleasured moans from you, his gruff and unsteady voice was enough to make your finish.

You rolled your head back, shutting your eyes.

Satoru grabbed your leg, clutching it over his torso. “No, baby, keep your eyes on me.” He instructed.

You looked up at your husband through blurry eyes, wrapping your other leg around his torso, your lips falling open as he thrusts his twitching dick inside you.

“Oh, Satoru.” You mumbled his name, unable to stop words from flooding your open mouth, being fucked senseless, beyond any coherent words.

Satoru chuckled, keeping his eyes on you. “I’m right here sexy.” He reassured.

You listened to the sweet sounds your touching skin would make, the noises reflecting and bouncing off the walls, along with your breathy moans and whines and the groans that fled Satoru’s sensual lips, watching how dizzy and drunk you were off his pounding and restless cock.

“F-Faster, please.” You requested, feeling the tension in your gut coming to relief with just a little bit more pushing. “I-I want to come all over your dick.”

“You want me to go faster?” Satoru repeated incredulously, laughing. “Alright, my wife.” He heeded, moving one of your legs off his torso and onto his shoulder, readjusting himself so that he had a better angle that granted him more speed, just for you.

You moaned at the stretch it caused, letting your leg dangle off his shoulder, your foot moving in the air against his fast thrusts.

You felt yourself coming to your edge, the knot in your gut unraveling quickly. You rolled your foot in the air, curling and pointing your toes, gripping the sheets with your hands as you shut your eyes, focused on your rising climax.

Satoru knew that look on your face. “Ooh, there it is, baby, come all over this hard cock, be such a good girl, and come for your husband.” He cooed, hitting your g-spot over and over again with his aching tip.

You moaned in reply, gasping and whining beneath him. “Ah, ah~” You cried against his powerful thrusts. “S-Satoruuu.” You moaned his name with hot desire lacing your tongue, your heartbeat hammering against your chest, nearly breaking out of your heated body.

Satoru groaned. “That’s what I wanna hear, this cock has you senseless doesn’t it? Can’t even form words can you?”

You hummed, taking a few more last hot breaths before you felt your body tremble, your climax hitting you like waves of a tempestuous storm on a salty ocean shore, shuddering and gasping, as you released your sacred juices onto your husband's throbbing cock.

Satoru moaned at the warmth enveloping his dick, the sight of your reaching your edge was just enough to bring him to his own, still fucking you, speeding up his pace to catch up with you.

You were unable to form words, unable to form thoughts, overstimulated as Satoru only pounded into you with more force after your reached climax, pain, and pleasure stunting through the core of your flushed body as he used your limp body for his finish, throwing your other leg over his shoulder now, giving him more access to fuck you harder.

You let him, whining and gasping beneath him, your breath caught in your tight throat as you listened to him curse under his breath, feeling the way his cock would spasm inside you, granting more moans out of you as he reached his own pleasure.

He finished with a loud groan, hovering over your body as he stopped his set pace, releasing his warm fluids inside you, dressing and coating you with his love and warmth, breathing out shaky breaths, his body trembling above you.

You adored the way his come would wash over your womb, how warm it was, how full he would get you, practically spilling out your wet cunt.

With meticulous hands, he set your legs down, huffing as he pulled himself out of you, his dick wet, leaving a string of come and shared fluids as he pulled himself out of your distended entrance.

Satoru collapsed at your side, not wasting a second to bring you into him, smothering you with his love and affection, not at all tired of having you attached by his hip despite spending passionate minutes inside your body.

You embraced him, panting against his chest, still slightly trembling as you recovered from your impactful climax.

He stroked your hair, kissing your sweating head with his pure lips. “You’re okay, my love?” He whispered delicately, his voice laced with purity and concern.

You nodded, gripping onto his shoulders. “I-I’m okay.”

He sighed in relief. “Good, I was afraid I lost you there.” He expressed with a chuckle.

“You did.” You replied, laughing.

He ran his fingers through your damp hair. “But, you’re okay, sweetheart. Aren’t you? You were so good.”

You blushed at his praises, nuzzling in his chest.

Sex was good.

No, it was always amazing with Satoru.

But, Satoru’s aftercare was an arcadian in itself, always making sure you felt so loved and so appreciated.

“I love you.” He whispered in your ear, planting more kisses on your forehead with his wet lips.

You hummed, holding him tightly against your naked body. “I love you, Satoru.”

[bloddysnow]

Hickeys

Pairings: sub!Zayne x dom! gn! reader

nsfw minors dni

Zayne woke up feeling heavy in his head. The eyelids seem leaded, and every breath is difficult. Sunlight breaks through the curtains, cutting the semi-darkness of the room with sharp rays and causing a painful burning sensation in the eyes. He slowly rises from the pillow, feeling his head pulsating, as if his whiskey is squeezed with a vice. The mouth is dry, like in the desert.

He tries to remember what happened the day before, how bottle after bottle was empty, and how cheerful hops gradually turned into a state of unconsciousness.

He sat on the edge of the bed and saw a glass of water and a hangover pill on the bedside table near the bed. A weak smile breaks through the grimace of pain. He slowly stretches out his hand to the glass, then takes the pill, looking at it for a few seconds before putting it on his tongue and washing it down with water. Water seems to be a divine nectar, gradually moisturising the dry throat. Mentally, he thanks you for your concern. Remembering your affectionate voice and soft look, he gets a little better.

Zayne slowly get out of bed, feeling a slight weight in his body. There is a cold floor under his feet when he heads to the bathroom with his bare feet. Opening the door, he turns on the light, which blinds him for a moment. Something unimaginable is reflected in the mirror in front of him.

He sees in the mirror his body covered with many red and purple hickeys that looked like small semicircles or arcs from tooth marks. On his neck he can see traces left by passionate kisses, which gradually pass to the chest, where larger traces become more noticeable. His nipples were slightly swollen and very sensitive to touch.

His shoulders and arms are also covered with these marks. His stomach is decorated with smaller bites. The gaze descends lower, and on his legs, especially on the inside of his hips, the traces become larger, and very noticeable leaving the feeling that his whole body was the object of unrestrained passion and as if someone enjoyed every centimetre of his skin.

He slowly touches them on his neck, memories have flooded: with each new bite, his breathing becomes more intermittent, his heart is pounding furiously. He tilts his head back, opening up more space for you on his neck. His hands reach out to you, his fingers greedily squeeze your body, as if he is afraid of losing this moment of passion. His head leans back, his eyes are tightly closed, his lips are slightly open, and sounds full of desire and devotion come out of his throat.

His fingers move towards his swollen lips: he raises your hand to face, crashing into your palm and leaning against your body. He opens his mouth, releasing his tongue and begins to lick your fingers, suck two of them when he looks straight into your eyes, hitting you sweetly with his eyelashes. Your smell filled his nose, darkening his feelings.

He gently touches his nipples and hisses with sensitivity: your lips touched his nipples, you gently ran your tongue over one of them, feeling how he strained under your touch. His nipple became hard, and you started playing with him with the tip of your tongue, driving in circles, slightly teasing. You sometimes bit his nipple a little, and then caressed with tongue again, feeling his breathing become more and more intermittent. His body reacted: his muscles strained, his hands sometimes clenched involuntarily.

He ran his fingers on the tracks on his hips: he spreads his legs for you and you move to stand between them, your hands feel his hips, kneeling down so that you can kiss his soft hips. His back bends and his fingers and nails dig into the sheets while you bite and suck as much as possible.

Zayne remembers how he repeated your name as a prayer over and over again and how he cried, muttering the same words: "I want to be yours. Please. I'll do anything. Breed me. Get me pregnant. I beg you. I'll be a good mom. I promise. Make me yours."

Shame and embarrassment roll on him with a wave, like icy water, giving the whole body. He lowers his head, avoiding his own look at the mirror. Inside, he is torn apart by a feeling of awkwardness, as if he had opened his soul and flaunted the most intimate and darkest corners. Zayne can't believe that he allowed himself to express those desires that he always concealed even from himself. His cheeks are filled with a thick blush, the heat rises to his ears.

But now he feels like he's yours, as if you're claiming that the marks on his body can prove it.

Masterlist

[graphedpaper]

Renter Problems 4

yandere!celebrity x fem!reader

Synopsis: Your once childhood nuisance turned celebrity, turned aggressor, is advancing further and further into his delusions, pushing past your boundaries in any way he sees fit. He won't even let you shower by yourself or get a cup of water to quench your dry throat. Just how much of your autonomy is he going to invade, and why is he doing this? Details: Verbal abuse, NSFW, manipulation, fem reader, kidnapping, non-con, masturbation, delusional thinking Warning: NSFW, Non-Con

The warm late morning sunlight glows on your face as you rustle up from your slumber. Your eyelids drudge open, and you blink a couple of times to wake yourself. You slowly sit up using your tied arms, your elbows digging into the biggest mattress you've ever seen. 

The first thought that comes into your hazy mind is the sore hunger pains coming from your empty stomach. You look down at yourself. You're still wearing your top and pants from almost 2 or 3 days ago, and you're not sure what day it is exactly.

And when you hear heavy footsteps nearing the bedroom door you immediately remember what happened yesterday and the tenseness returns, making your whole body sore. You try not to dwell on it, but you remember where you are now fully and completely.

You need to escape. 

As the tall, smooth white panel door opens inwards you slump back down into bed. You don't have the energy to stay on guard, and you're past starving. Everything feels light, especially your limbs, yet they also simultaneously feel tied down by ten ton weights.

"Hey, did you sleep well?" He asks walking towards you with a cup of hot tea. Good, you were parched. 

You manage to croak out a 'yes' and he sits beside you, placing down the beverage to help you up. He strokes your hair as he picks the mug back up with his right hand. You reach for it, bracing for the hot ceramic to touch your palms, but instead, Jacob brings it to his lips, leaving you dumbfounded at his blatant selfishness.

"Oh, you wanted it?" He asks, with a dumbfounded look on his face. 

You stare blankly at him back.

'Oh, no Jacob, it's fine, I don't want something to drink after being starved and kidnapped for days.'  You think, sarcastic and bitter. Yes, you did want the fucking tea after he threw you around, threatened to cut your finger and neck, and came in your mouth. 

"Of course my pretty girl can share with me." He adds sweetly. So sweetly in fact, it makes you question if what happened yesterday truly happened. What was going on? Were you being kidnapped? He hands you the steaming drink and with awkward T-rex arms you manage to lift the cup to your dry lips and take a few sips. The restraints on your wrist... It's awkward, it's janky, it's uncomfortable. The metal cuffs keep cutting into your skin and you can barely do anything.

"Jacob-" You start, attempting to ask him to unlock the handcuffs.

He shoots you a look. A 'don't say it and ruin the mood' look. It sends you a gut-tossing chill, muting whatever you were going to ask him to do.

" Babe, I found this great brunch place for us to try. You must be starving huh?" He quickly jumps to a different subject, before you even have a chance to ask him to take the handcuffs off of you, or let that dangerous stare of his sink in.

Brunch? Like as in a restaurant in public? Somewhere you could get help? Your scheming begins and your heartbeat rises at the chance of being saved.

"I was so worried, because you haven't eaten in a while."

Jacob can see it on your face and he can see it in your eyes. That flash of determination that he hated throughout childhood. The cancer that was infecting this pure love, it had to be cut out and blazed. He could almost hear you plotting your escape from the relationship.

"I ordered it to go, it'll be here soon." He tells He announces to you.

"Oh." You say in crestfallen hopelessness. Your stomach growls.

"I hope this can count as our new start." He adds on.

You try to hide your desperation from his observant eyes as your chance of escaping seems to start withering away. Perhaps focus on something else?

You look into his golden eyes. Today he's wearing a soft-looking grey long-sleeve and loose-fitting cargos. His silver watch on his left hand had been making a ticking sound this whole time, and you hadn't noticed in your narrow-sighted distress. He had clean clothes and a lovely shiny watch, while your hair was a mess, your clothes old.

"What can I wear? Can I take a shower?" You ask him abruptly. You didn't feel like a human anymore, you felt more like an animal. You needed to get away from him, at least temporarily. He scared you, his weird switches in behaviour, from doting to violent.

"I'll give you a bath, and your old clothes are in the other closet." He responds smiling.

Oh god, please, god if you're real don't allow him to give me a bath, please god.

"Jacob, please, just let me shower on my own." You beg. He hadn't seen you naked yet, and it was one of the last dignities you could hold on to. 

"You're too weak, now stop it." He snaps, annoyance flashing his face. 

And you do, you shut up like the helpless prey you are. And now he'll to see you stripped and all, his hands over your bare body-

'You're not a helpless prey,' you think to yourself. 'Don't ever think like that, especially not in a situation like this.' Didn't you know this well enough? For humans, morale was the most important thing in survival, it didn't matter if the heart was beating or not, first and foremost it was mind had to stay alive.

You blink back tears and slide yourself off the bed, following him to the washroom. He sees it, and perhaps he feels pity for your pathetic form, because he tells you to give him your hands. Hesitantly, you place your restrained hands in his, unsure what he'll do. You wait for him to reach into his left pocket, where he brings out a small flat key, which he uses to unlock your handcuffs.

So that's where he keeps the keys to the handcuff.

You shake out your wrists, free from the restraints and you feel- so light. You try not to look too hard at the red cuts and marks around them from the prolonged use, they give you mind-numbingly painful reminders of the terror you're facing.

"I'll put some ointment on it, okay?" He says, gently, while hovering his fingers above the injuries. 

He leads you across his wide bedroom to his bathroom. It's like another room on its own, grand with marble, and a great bathtub overlooking the view of the vast backyard pool. 

He turns the faucet of the sleek bathtub, as the water rushes down and echoes the room with the sound of falling splashes hitting porcelain. 

You stand near him, not daring to move an inch without the weight of your cuffs. He turns back to you and starts to pull your shirt off. You reluctantly lift your arms up to help him and you quickly cover yourself. You cross your arms over your bare chest and avoid Jacob's burning stare at you. To Jacob, you were overreacting. Why were you so insistent on acting innocent and shy in a relationship? What's the big deal seeing his girlfriend's tits? For fuck's sake, you'd already sucked him off, hadn't you?

You try to take yourself out of this experience while he pulls your pants down, leaving you down to your underwear. You knew this was his motive, but you can almost hear his arousal. The hot, buzzing excitement, disguised as a caring gesture revolts you. He wasn't really washing you out of concern of you being 'too weak', he just wanted to control you and see you naked.

"I can do it!" You exclaim, breaking the silent tension. His fingers linger on the waistband of your underwear. You don't dare to push his hands off of you, but you do step away from his touch.

Jacob brushes his loose hair back with his hand and sighs. 

"Babe, please, let's not fight over this, let me take care of you." He says, seemingly exasperated.

He pinches the elastic of your underwear and slowly pulls it down in not very well concealed anticipation. It's a light pink pantie with a small ribbon, you probably got it as a value set from a cheap store. If it was up to you, you wouldn't have to wear this juvenile shit anymore, you'd wear something... tinier. Lacier.

He holds his breath in excitement and when the last piece of your self-preserved dignity on you falls in a pile to your feet he takes a good look. Quick, but a good look nonetheless. That was a mistake though, because now he's harder than steel. He desperately wants to push you against the wall. Hear your heart start to beat faster as your arousal drips between your legs. 

He won't do it now, don't worry, you're too weak at the moment. He may get excited at times, but he's no rapist. Instead, he lifts you up onto the sinktop. Dipping his finger into a small pot, he gathers a dollop of clear gel. As he starts to apply the cool gel on your sore wrists, an herbal smell invades your nose. You try to observe him, see if he feels guilt that these injuries were from him. But he remains seemingly unfazed and without shame, as if these cuts appeared from nowhere.

"Shouldn't you apply it after the wash?" You ask. 

"Oh, right." He says, laughing. 

You force yourself to crack a smile. Jacob wipes the gel off his fingers.

"It's fine, we can apply it before and after, anything for you." Jacob tells you.

Jacob can't help but feel hopeful. It seemed like you were already warming up to him. Of course, right now, maybe you were just faking it, but soon, it would become habit, then it would become a part of you. Then, it would be you, truly you. You would love him, laughing by his side, whether in bed or on the red carpet. No one could deny it, could they? You wanted to drink the tea from the cup he drank from, and you let him help you change out of your clothes, you even smiled at him. Yeah, you were definitely falling for him as well, slowly, but surely. He saw you as a mother of his children, but he could also see you on all fours, being fucked into whenever he wished for. You were so special to him.

The splattering sound of the water quiets down, and the swirling steam rises from the water. 

He uses his right hand to check the temperature, and when he decides it's fine, he comes over to lift you from the waist into bridal position, carefully lowering you into the wide tub, akin to a baptism of a baby. He's gentle and caring, allowing you to adust to the hot water.

 You turn your head to the wide window, and you can see atop the long, large trees, lush green leaves shaking in the gentle breeze. You can almost imagine that warm sunlight smell, the one that saturates the world in richness and sticks on your clothes, the wind blowing your hair. That summer bliss you experienced as a young girl. You didn't deserve this, to be held captive. You deserved to be a teen girl with her friends looking forward to starting college. Jacob's turned his back, reaching into the drawers for soap, or something, and for those few seconds, his distracted self tempts you to escape like honey to an ant. You want so badly to get up and sprint out, but the fear stops you. When he comes back you avert your eyes to the clear water. Jacob smiles. Your bare skin under the slow-moving water ripples, it's distorted but there.

"You like waffles?" He asks suddenly, kneeling down behind your head as he squirts a cool liquid onto your scalp, sending tingles down your spine. He massages it into your hair as a fresh, rosemary scent wafts around you, the aromatic bubbles starting to form into suds. 

"Waffles? They're okay." You reply, uncomfortable at how comfortable you were becoming. Fuck, why was this relaxing? The hot water invaded all your senses and it soothed your tense body.  

"What do you want to eat then?" He asks, his hands working at your wet hair. 

"Anything's fine, I'm starving." You reply

And it's true, you couldn't possibly care if it's a waffle or a pancake. Hell, give the peeled skin of a potato and you just might eat it with the fervor of a child and a chocolate cake.

Jacob bristles at the word 'starving'. It's just how you said it, almost as if you're accusing him of your pain. It's not his fault, it's yours that you couldn't stay up until a few minutes to eat. It's not like he prevented you from eating, so why were you saying it like that? Why were you constantly treating him like that?

"You fell asleep before dinnertime." He states accusively, his voice going from calm to stiff.

"I know." You reply back, sensing his rigid form behind you. 

You don't have to look back to visualize his face, dark twisted eyebrows and a deep, wronged frown. It's best to agree with him in a passive, neutral manner, at least when he's swinging from one emotion to the next. He doesn't feel like a person, he feels like a bomb you must cradle to your chest, one wrong move causing it to detonate and kill you.

There falls a moment of quiet while he rinses the soap from your hair. The only sounds are the gentle splashes of water and scrubbing of soap. He takes a sweet citrus-smelling body wash scrub, washing your arms and torso. He takes his time to wash your legs, and his fingers linger in between your thighs. His fingers brush against your clit and you sit up straighter, alert. 

"You might get an infection if I don't clean it well enough, I've heard about it," He explains.

But it's a lame justification, because you both know what he's actually doing. Infection, my ass. He's at the side of the tub now, still knelt down, and his index finger makes a light circle clockwise on your bud, twice. It may have been a mistake the first time, but now it's intentional. You can't help but gasp in horror. You mentally smack yourself in the face, and pray he doesn't take the gasp as encouragement to continue.

"Jacob," You whisper, turning to his face to look at his expression. 

His eyes stare back at you, a dark greed filling his face.

"Jacob, not right now," You try to tell him again.

"You'll like it, I promise. It'll feel good." He replies, focusing on making tight circles on your clit as you fidget your legs and splash some water over the edge. Your clit swells with a new type of arousal, and you don't know if it's the heat from the water, or something more internal. Jacob enjoys the scene playing out before him, your body contorting to handle the pleasure he's giving to you, while you try to stay still for him. You're so compliant. You contain any sound that might escape, in fear of egging him on to continue further. 

"You wanted this to happen, huh? You asked for a shower? Knowing I wouldn't be able to resist your naked body?" He asks mockingly. He rubs your engorged clit faster, and you clutch the sides of the tub with knuckle-white hands. 

You want to deny his words but a moan slips past your lips as that familiar pressure builds up inside you. You want to scream at him to stop but your mind flashes back to the knife he held to your neck, the needle he used to sedate you. He finds satisfaction in your unravelling, all by him, and he can't help but palm his own arousal underneath his pants. 

"Jacob, too much!" You whimper. 

Oh god, it feels good, but if I come he'll take it as encouragement, oh god, oh no, 

"It's okay, you can come, I know I'm making you feel good, so don't shy away." He tells you sweetly, adoring that flushed look on your face, the warmth that comes from your gratification of his touch. It validates him, to see you lose control like this. All those celebrity bitches were already sluts that were used to sex, but you were simpler to please. He could never let you go, you were the only one he could do this to. He's too distracted by his fantasies of you and him, to notice your orgasm as your legs tremble and your moans become a background as he mindlessly draws more circles on your sensitive clit. How would you react to him proposing? Somewhere public, of course, where everyone could see the love you two shared. What about a sweet baby boy, who could grow up to be another successful actor, just like his dad? After that, a beautiful young girl, that looked just like you and him. She could easily become a model with those looks. 

Your pleas for him to stop over-stimulating your poor self brings him back to ground as he smiles at your exhausted face. 

"Good girl, now let's get you dressed so we can eat." 

-----

You two are sitting down on the sofa to have brunch. Jacob finds it more intimate, and casual, than sitting at the dining table. Besides, the dining table brings back bad memories, don't they? While you're devouring liège waffles with intense speed, Jacob has an egg sandwich. 

"Is it good?" Jacob asks you.

Jacob wishes you'd instigate more conversations. He wants you to thank him for the orgasm, and the food. Throw up some compliments, and smile at him like you did in the washroom. Can't you stop eating for just a minute and talk to him?

"It's good, where'd you get them?" You ask, and you instantly raise an eyebrow at your own tone after you say this. You said it a little too normal for your own liking.

Could you be getting used to this? How could you act so nonchalant in a kidnapping? Was this kidnapping?

"There's this stupid guy I know. He cooks, owns a few restaurants." He responds vaguely.

"Why stupid?" You ask him, noticing the look of distaste on his face.

"He's an heir to the throne of some country, but he put it on pause and now he causes trouble here." Jacob says. He looks agitated just talking about him. 

You're surprised. 

"Really? He turned down the chance to be king?" You prod more, eager for any chance to bring Jacob's guard down. 

"Yeah." He answers curtly.

Jacob sighs and looks back at you enjoying your waffles and he can almost feel a warm happiness filling everything broken inside him, like molten gold. You were the best girlfriend, you made him want to be better.

You can feel his eyes on you.

It's disturbing. 

"Do you have work today?" You ask, avoiding eye contact with him and staring at a painting on the wall.

"No, today's off." He answers, still looking at you, with his arm over the couch in a relaxed manner.

Well, any predator would be relaxed when faced with a puny prey. 

You realize then and there that you've lost track of the date.

"Wait, what's the date today?" You ask him. 

Jacob hesitates to tell you. He doesn't know why, why he wants to with hold this information from you, it simply feels wrong to tell you something that relates to the outside world. It's a strange feeling that he's never sensed before, he's really not sure of the reasoning he has inside for his avoidance to tell you the date. It then irritates him a bit, that you would ask something like that when you two were enjoying a meal together. You weren't eating with the whole world,  you were eating with him. So your attention should be on him.

"Saturday." He finally answers after a few seconds, lying through his playful grin.

You accept his answer, and make a note to not lose track again. You each go back to working at your individual late breakfast when another question forms rapidly in your mind and blurts out from your mouth before you can stop it.

"Where's my laptop and phone?" You ask him.

Jacob pauses eating and turns his body towards you. You can't decipher this look. But it's dangerous, it's dark, it's a warning. You look back at him, not daring to break this twisted version of a staring contest. 

"Maybe you'd like to go outside." He says, ignoring your question. 

And you immediately understand what he means. Perhaps you wouldn't have before, but you're starting to understand his nature. This is not just an aversion of your question, it's a threat, that he will keep you inside for however long he pleases if you don't act the way he wants you to act. That reply serves as a reminder to you that he's in control here. That it's either you do what he wants and gain some freedom, or remain locked up.

"Yes, that would be nice," You reply, meekly. 

"Good, we can go sometime when you're ready." 

Jacob pauses, in thought.

"But for now let's stay inside. We can watch my new movie."

[lovebugism]

i have a lot of nightmares and shake a lot when nervous. could u maybe write something abt a reader that goes through similar issues, and eddie comforts them and tries to make them feel safe? u can do whatever u like with this, i just need some fluff! :]

as someone who also has frequent nightmares, this was very self-indulgent heheh i hope you like it :D — eddie calms you down when you have a bad dream (hurt/comfort, established relationship, cw for mentions of panic attacks, 1.2k)

Eddie didn’t know he loved you until now. Like, right now.

He’d always had an inkling, at the very least, but he didn’t know for sure until he got you into his bed — bare-faced and swallowed whole in an oversized t-shirt older than you are. You share a single pillow with him despite having your own, leaving your noses mere inches apart. His tired eyes go a bit cross-eyed when he looks at you.

Despite his heavy head and heavier eyelids, he doesn’t want to stop looking at you. He doesn’t want to stop talking to you, either. He doesn’t want to fall asleep at all ‘cause he’s scared he’ll miss you too much. 

And that’s when he realizes that he’s head over heels, completely, utterly, and hopelessly in love with you.

“You asleep yet?” he whispers into the dark bedroom, lit only by the streams of silver moonlight slipping through the curtains.

You shake your head against the pillow you share with him. “No,” you mumble — voice thick with exhaustion, eyes fluttered shut.

“Good,” Eddie replies, shifting on the mattress until he melts further into it. Your cold feet entwine with his warmer ones. He exhales a contented sigh through his nose. “Me neither…”

You can’t be entirely sure who dozed off first, but you know for certain you wake up before he does. 

3:47 A.M. blinks at you in bright red numbers on the nightstand. The witching hour greets you along with a rapidly beating heart, thrumming hard against your ribcage like it’s trying to escape from its confines.

The nightmare was a vivid one when it painted the backs of your eyelids, but you can’t really remember it now. You think that might be worse. Now you don’t know why you’re so scared — you just know that you are.

Fear, that’s all you can think about now, as your body trembles with a heavy, ice-cold feeling. Fear. Panic. Dread. 

The nightmare fades. Eddie’s body, warm and comforting next to yours, becomes a much more tangible thing. But you just can’t shake the feeling it left behind. The bad dream clings to you like smoke and swallows you whole before you can blink.

You shake with the longing to hold the boy beside you. If only you could clutch onto Eddie like a life vest, or a life-sized teddy bear, maybe then you could soothe your racing heart. But you know you don’t want to wake him, just like you know you don’t want him to see you like this — so torn up over a stupid bad dream.

You sit on the edge of the mattress and try to calm yourself down. The attempt is futile. You end up with a tight chest, a pounding heart, and two cheeks damp with fat tears. 

After no longer than five minutes of trying to stave off a panic attack by yourself, do you notice the bed shifting behind you. A wide palm smooths over your trembling shoulders a second later.

Eddie squints at your shivering silhouette, trying to see you better through the darkness and bleary haze of sleep. He finds you slouched over and clawing at your chest like something’s wrong. Your choked-back sobs and quiet sniffles aren’t any less concerning.

“You okay?” the boy slurs as he sits up behind you.

“‘M sorry,” you blurt, voice wet with emotion. You don’t know exactly what you’re apologizing for. You just feel like you should. Through hitched breaths, you manage out, “I didn’t— I didn’t mean to wake you— I’m sorry.”

Eddie shakes his wild head in response. The mattress squeaks under his weight as he shifts closer to you. “It’s okay. I woke up on my own,” he tells you, even though that’s not exactly the truth. “What happened, huh? Are you okay?”

You sniffle and try to respond through feeble gulps of air. “It was just a bad dream. I’m okay—” you blubber through tears, breath catching halfway through.

With his palm pressed to your spine, Eddie can feel each of your rattling breaths as you fight to drag them in. It makes his own chest ache. Your panic is his own.

“Breathe, baby, c’mon,” he urges gently as he slips in beside you. With one hand over your trembling shoulder, he slides his other over your heart. The delicate organ patters with an inhuman vigor against his palm. 

“Gotta calm down, sweetheart,” he murmurs against your temple before pressing a kiss there. “‘Fore you heart explodes on me. Breathe, babe. You’re okay.”

Your swelling throat tightens. “I don’t feel good,” you confess through tiny whimpers, ‘cause you don’t know how else to tell him it feels like you’re dying. You put a cold, trembling hand over one of Eddie’s — the one gently cradling your heart — and fight to stay grounded.

The boy’s brows pinch with concern. “Do you feel like you’re gonna be sick?”

You think for a moment. Then shake your head.

Eddie rubs a hand up and down the length of your back. “You’re doing good, babe. Just keep breathing for me. That’s it.”

He pulls you closer, embracing you despite the awkward angle. Your shoulder presses into his chest as your head nestles between his jaw and shoulder. You rest there until it no longer feels like you’re fighting for each breath. Until your ragged sobs turn into mousy sniffles.

The first thing you think to do after you’ve calmed is apologize.

“‘M sorry,” you murmur, thick with leftover emotion.

You feel his head shake against you, untamed curls tickling your skin. “Don’t apologize. It’s okay.”

You snivel. “I feel like such a baby…”

“Everyone has bad dreams, babe. That’s life,” Eddie tells you with a lighthearted laugh. “I can’t count how many times I’ve slept on the couch after having one just so I could be closer to Wayne. Like, that’s embarrassing.”

“No, it isn’t,” you argue with a scrunched nose, cracking a small (but no less sincere) grin.

Eddie smiles at your smiling. He squeezes your shoulder with a gentle hand. “Wanna talk about it?” he offers, watching as you visibly ponder the question. You shake your head in response. He nods in understanding. “Wanna go back to sleep?”

You shake your head again, much less hesitant this time. You’re too scared to shut your eyes for longer than a blink now — lest the nightmare threaten to plague your mind again.

“Wanna sit in the kitchen with me while I make us some hot cocoa?” Eddie offers then.

You nod slowly, pursing your lips to the side of your mouth to hide the smile pulling there. You can’t help but beam, though, when he smacks a kiss to the warm apple of your cheek.

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he urges as he rises from the bed, pulling you gently with him. He guides you out of his bedroom with a warm hand cradling your smaller one. The quiet trailer fills with the sounds of creaking floorboards, bare feet shuffling against carpet, and Eddie’s tender voice.

“I’ll even pick out marshmallows from the Lucky Charms box to put in your cocoa—” he says before a yawn cuts him off. “—‘Cause that’s how much I love you.”

[denwritesandcries]

Hug me Tighter – S.C

Pairing: sam carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You’re only trying to make your girlfriend take a nap with you, the fact that it’s in a hospital bed after one of the worst nights of your lives doesn't really matter.

Word count: 1,8k.

Content: post-scream VI, cursing, tooth-pudding fluff, mentions of violence, cuddling, pet names, long dialogues, REALLY soft gfs.

Note: Damn, this might be the sweetest and cheesy thing I’ve ever written. Could also be an AU, since Anika is alive, or just Scream, if they could actually be happy.

English is not my first language.

You realized that you were waking up at a terribly slow pace, as if everything was suddenly in slow motion and even the smallest movement took hours to run and every second was longer than the previous one. Your body feels heavy and comfortably warm, resting on perhaps the best bed in which you've ever slept. You blinked slowly, failing to keep your eyes open, every movement of your eyelids almost making you fall into unconsciousness again.

Your body shudders with the feeling of a long yawn crossing you and you turn your head to bury your face back in the location and go to sleep again, only to be surprised when you come across hot skin instead of what your brain thought was a really soft pillow. It is only then that you register a movement against your back, light and constant, almost as smooth as your own sleepy state, climbing and descending your spine and enveloping you even more in this security bubble almost supernaturally.

Another weight lies between your neck and your head, right at the point of your wrist and there's another heavier resting on the top of your head, although you're sure of the mess your hair should be right now. Your hands grope and instinctively grab a handful of familiar fabric beneath you, feeling the texture of a sweater you knew very well.

“Sam,” your hoarse voice breaks the silence.

You were tempted to let the darkness and the inviting fog of sleep consume you again as you relaxed and held another yawn, but your resting place vibrated with a low laugh.

“‘M sorry, baby. Did I wake you?”

“Nah,” you denied with a satisfied sigh, sinking against her body.

The chin on your head pulled away and the hand on your back stopped and you immediately missed the contact, finally opening your eyes and lifting your head to protest.

“You're feeling better?”

Sam's question catches you off guard and you pause, staring into your girlfriend's soft brown eyes and raised eyebrow with confusion. Frowning, you finally decide to take a look at the place you are in and come across a messy white room with machines nearby. A hospital room.

The events of the last few hours come back to you in a quick, jumbled flash. The confrontation with the Ghostfaces, the deaths, the police, the ambulance... and the surgery, because of course in addition to all the terror and threats of the last few days you also ended up being stabbed.

Well, that explains why you feel so sluggish then. You're high on drugs. That is, if the IV prick in your arm is any indication.

The hand on the back of your neck moves up towards your face, fingers tracing the contour of your chin and jaw, thumb rubbing soft circles on your cheek, your body relaxes and you lean into her touch, sighing all too contentedly at the affection. The memory of waking up a lot more groggy before and convincing Sam to lay down too when you found her sitting next to the hospital bed holding your hand tightly slowly returning to your hazy mind. She was a little hesitant at first, but it wasn't that difficult to convince her to hold you with the excuse that it would only be for a few minutes. You bet it must have been a few hours already.

“Hm,” you murmured absently, stretching against her, “I’m definitely feeling much better now.”

“That's good,” your girlfriend huffed softly, “I can't feel my legs in this position anymore.”

That caught your attention.

“Am I too heavy?” You ask, lifting your head to examine her for any bruises from the previous fight, “I can move if it’s hurting you.”

“No,” She squeezes you tighter quickly, “I’m good here.”

Sam's own eyes were half-lidded, almost closing over the last few minutes you were asleep, but she refused to give in to the urge to doze off too. It would have been such a waste when she could just hug you and breathe properly for the first time since the last few hellish weeks you've all had.

The TV on the wall had long since been muted, with the image of some random animal documentary flickering in the background. Sam's head rested against the pillows and your body lay happily spread over hers – and she looked perfectly satisfied for someone who had complained and complained about your puppy dog ​​eyes before.

Somewhere between convincing Sam to lie down and pretending to pay attention to the screen, you ended up falling asleep, one of your arms hanging lazily over the side of the bed. Sam realized this instantly, feeling your weight finally relax on her. It made her relax too. Not completely. Sam was never completely relaxed, no matter how tired she was, not anymore, especially not after a night like that. But she managed to feel good enough to enjoy the moment.

The environment was as welcoming as any hospital could be, but her embrace brought a sense of security that lulled you perfectly to sleep and the knowledge that everyone was okay and in the next room allowed Sam to let her guard down. Yet falling asleep and losing that, the feeling that nothing could happen as long as she held you tight and ran her fingers over your warm skin, seeing and hearing every sleepy sound and movement you made – from a tired sigh as you fit, to one of your hands founding the collar of her sweater and grabbing it, holding her close – it would be a waste.

“You sure?” You hesitate, searching her eyes for any hint of hidden discomfort.

Sam sighs, nodding: “You wouldn’t believe how comfortable I am right now.”

“Okay then,” you rest your ear on her chest, feeling her head nod and her heart bumping, still a little high. A yawn crosses your lips, “But let me know if you need me to move.”

She hums in response and you fall into a comfortable silence for a while, the sound of machines running and your soft breaths in the same rhythm left you trying your hardest not to fall asleep again until you felt your girlfriend's chest vibrate beneath you again in a barely contained laugh.

“You’re cute when you’re tired.”

“Huh?” you muttered, lifting your drooping head and finally refocusing your vision on her.

“I should probably get up now, let you get some rest.” Sam said, reluctantly removing her arms from you so she could move away.

You shook your head, grabbing one of her hands and letting them fall to the side of the bed, swinging freely in the air.

“No, I’m good here.” You echoed, denying nonchalantly. You let your head find a place on her neck, making her lie back against the pillows.

Sam sighed against you slowly, much more out of satisfaction – and relief – than annoyance at your insistence, returning to the task of running her fingers down your back until you spoke again.

“Where’s Tara?” You ask, voice muffled by the face buried in her neck, “And the twins?”

“They're watching Anika.” She responds and you get alarmed, before Sam reassures you, “She's gonna be alright, she just needs to stay in the hospital for a while longer. And also a lot of rest. Like you, by the way.”

“I am resting.”

If Sam hadn't been fighting sleep for over an hour now, she would have a wide, stupid grin plastered on her face at the sound of your indignant mumble. Since that wasn't the case, she contented herself with a small smile.

“Whatever you say, amor.”

She surrenders, completely this time, without any more false attempts to leave. Sam felt as if you were the one rocking her and not the other way around, as if nothing else could touch her, even for a little while. There were no worries about horrible jobs, breakdowns in therapy, pressure with college exams and much less paranoia about the existence of cinematic serial killers. Nothing else could exist in your – literal – white room. Just the two of you in that small bed.

Each synchronized breath of your chest next to hers pressed her own ribs, the delicate breath sending delicious shivers down her spine and making her completely aware of how close your bodies were and shocking her at how it still didn't feel close enough.

“I love you,” she says. Rasped, you barely hear it. “I love you so freaking much that sometimes I just want to drown into your chest and curl up between your ribs, with your heart.” She takes a breath, then pauses, hesitantly: “...Is that too weird?”

“...Well,” you gasp, heart completely racing against your ears, “No weirder than what we already go through on a daily basis, I guess.”

Sam groaned at your response, feeling like a lovesick teenager in one of the movies Tara and Mindy love to make fun of. Rambling poetically about her passion.

But, screw it, that's exactly what she is, right? Sam thought. Let her have it. She deserves it.

(Her therapist would definitely pat her on the back for that thought.)

Unlike what Sam thought she should feel with the realization of that thought, her heart didn't skip a beat uncomfortably, her hands didn't get sweaty and cold with the doubt of how to deal with this. It kept pounding in that same slow, steady, familiar rhythm, with one of the most precious and loved people of her life completely aware of how she felt.

“I feel like drowning into your chest all the time too.”

Her favorite place in the world was anywhere you were together and it was physically impossible to be closer than that at the moment, although she wouldn't give up trying.

It was pure and simple happiness. Warmth and security that captured her stomach and left it churning with what felt like a million bubbles popping simultaneously.

When you first came to her life and Sam realized being falling for you, she thought her love would swallow her. That it would be something she would keep to herself until it exploded. You seemed to have made it your mission to prove her otherwise.

“I didn’t say ‘all the time’ tho.”

Here you were, together and fine.

“Oh, shut up.”

Your grip on Sam's hand tightened in very bad feigned irritation and when you rose quickly to give her a kiss, your girlfriend burst into laughter and your lips hit her strong jaw instead.

“That tickles, baby.”

“I was shooting for your lips, but you moved.” You simply shrugged, leaning into her again and this time she met you on the way, a stupid smile growing between you and breaking the kiss too soon. You lay back down and Sam took a long breath, leaving one last kiss on your forehead.

This time, when her head feels heavy and droops from sleep, Sam does nothing to stop it, letting the feeling finally consume her.

Nothing, not even in her most vivid fantasies, had ever been so perfect.

And if by chance Tara ends up sending Sam a photo of the two of you napping the next day when everyone is getting ready to go home and it becomes the new wallpaper on her phone, well… that's nobody's business.

[izvmimi]

cw: smut. both of you are inexperienced. handjob and cunnilingus only. fem!reader. reader has vaguely specified magic.

I want to do all the things that make you happy. 

Mash has a way of saying things that light a flame through your body from head to toe as though they are natural and hold minimal weight, as if the very idea of the man being at your service is a matter of fact, rather than a privilege you won’t easily give up.

It’s been a long road to making things official so to speak, converting the idea of friend into boyfriend, going so far as to having to use your magic to demonstrate the kinds of things ‘couples’ do. At times, it feels a little pushy and you wonder if you’re demanding too much of him, and that your next unexpected graze of his fingers might be met with recoil rather than softness. 

But when he holds your hand tighter whenever you reach for it, or rests his head on your shoulder; when he tells you how he feels, however serious or silly, you know that perhaps, at least for the time being, there’s something special between you. 

The only remaining matter is sex. Sex is something you’re hesitant to propose, particularly to someone who thinks of physicality only in the sense of battle or sport. You’ve laid awake many nights, conjuring images in clouds you think you could present to him to help better explain it, but your boyfriend is innocent like a child, and there’s no pure and demure way to tell him you want him so far up your center he needs a tour guide to come out.

But he’s told you, honestly and meaningfully, that he wants to make you happy, in any way he can. 

And so here you are, under the cover of night, letting him spoon you the way he knows you like, and wondering if he’s asleep yet.

“Mash.”

“Mm?” His legs fold, the fronts of his thighs pressing closer to the back of your legs. Sleeping together was something you’d also proposed, and for now it truly meant sleep, with some cuddling, and he’s found that he’s good at that too, fond of nuzzling his neck in the crook of your shoulder and inhaling your scent. You turn around and face him, and he’s not asleep or even tired yet, but his eyelids are lowered as he watches you, gold catching the moonlight. He’s pretty like this, mouth closed, and watching, attentive and waiting.

“Are you sleepy?” you ask. 

“I’m okay.” His hand grazes your cheek hesitantly then falls back under the bedsheets. “You need me?”

You fight the urge to pull his hand back to your cheek, then muster the courage to say, “Yes.”

He doesn’t ask how, because he can tell that there’s the same need in your eyes whenever he kisses you and pulls back too quickly, or when you watch a movie with him and a scene is particularly steamy, forcing your legs to press together as you lay against him, wrapped in a throw blanket. Instead of inquiring further, he turns your face towards him and lets his lips press to yours, tongue slipping quickly into your mouth, pulling your leg around his waist. You breathe him in until you’re practically dizzy, panting by the time you’ve pulled away from him. You never go further than this, but tonight, nipples pert against the thin fabric of your pajama set, warmth flooding the space between your legs, you are selfish enough to ask for more.

“Mash, can I… touch you a little lower?”

His hand takes your wrist and presses it to his abdomen, letting your fingers trace over the ridges of his sculpted core. His voice is breathy as he responds to you. “Here?”

“Lower.”

He nods and lets go of your wrist, letting you take the reins and have your fingers march slowly down, keeping heavy-lidded eye contact with him to make sure he’s okay. You travel to the soft hair of his happy trail, to the uncharted territory of his pubes and stop as he gasps, your hands reaching the root of his cock. 

“I-I can stop,” you say breathily. He kisses your wobbling lip, then smiles gently. 

“I don’t mind.”

Reassured, your hand closes around the girth of his cock, warm, thicker and heavier than you expected which makes your throat dry up and water just as fast once you start stroking. His eyes close as you pump his cock, leaning forward to suck kisses at his clavicle. He moans, a new sound that you haven’t heard, one that excites you and makes you hungrier for him - you pump faster, thumbing the pearls of pre coming from his tip, delighted in the fact that he feels good, you’re making him feel good, and soon-

He gasps and shudders, and your hands are now wet, sticky and he’s breathing heavily, looking at you again with a new hunger in his eyes.

“Can I repay you?” he asks, quickly, too eagerly. It’s all you want him to do, and your body arches as his fingers travel in the same way along your own anatomy, down the soft of your lower belly, past your pubes, lightly resting on your clit. There he lingers for a moment, and watches you for instruction. You don’t use the clouds you’ve prepared, rather you just whisper,

“Tap softly.”

He does, and he moves faster when you ask him to, slower when you do, the pads of his fingers surprisingly soft and careful. He dips his fingers in your warm center when you ask him to fill you, two teasing through your wet walls and curling, pressing up with gentle pressure against your front wall, the way you’ve guided him. Your stomach turns pleasantly as you careen into pleasure, and soon he’s up, straddling your legs, his other hand resting on your belly as he continues to move his fingers in and around your pussy. 

What shocks you, sending electricity down your spine is when he dips low and presses his mouth to it. 

“You, ah-” you moan and shudder involuntarily as his tongue replaces his fingers. “H-how do you…” your voice trails off as he continues to suck at your sensitive places, making your head rock back in need.

“I asked.”

The idea of him asking how to give you head should make you laugh, but you’re too busy letting your thighs squeeze around his head and hang off his shoulders. He’s doing a good job, it almost upsets you because perhaps you should have just asked earlier.

“M-Mash…”

He’s still working your center and now he seems like he’s gotten a rhythm to it, lapping up the juices that leak out of you like sweet cream. His hands dig into your thighs and his hands slip under as he eats, lifting your lower body off the ground to adjust his angle. 

He’s quiet and intentional, trying his best to make your body feel the pleasure you so desperately crave, to wear you out so you can fall asleep peacefully in his arms and not worry about if you’ll ever receive a sexual flavor of love from him, or how he feels about you sexually. He likes you in all ways, even if you have decided that him not wanting you sexually is acceptable if you can have the rest of his tender love and care.

Your head spins as the last long lick of his tongue from clit to taint sends you over the edge and you tremble in his mouth. He lowers you down as you shake, content to watch you let pleasure wash over you, hot and pliable before him as he settles on his knees.

“Do you feel good?” he asks.

He kisses you as you nod, then settles beside you. He smiles to himself as he stares at the ceiling, his own hand on his cock again, stroking up and down. 

“You wanna try something else?”

And as usual, Mash shows you that in all things physical, he's a very quick learner.

And more importantly, he's very good at what he does.

[tasteracha]

a/n: i'm still taking a little tumblr break but the combination of things i've seen today and @astraystayyh and @forlix had me.......is this chan? is this hyunjin? who knows. also this was written very quickly and not proofread.

you’re on top of him before he can blink - still wearing that sinful outfit and wearing an annoying confident smirk that makes your blood bubble up and threaten to burst out of your veins. 

it takes only a few minutes of a nasty makeout and heavy petting before he’s touching your core through your shorts and you’re jerking in his lap. 

you unbutton his pants and free his cock from his boxers in what must have been record time, him returning the favor to your shorts like he can’t last one more second without being inside of you. 

of all people, you understood the sentiment, especially when he looked like that. 

you take advantage of your spot on his lap and position yourself over him, sliding slowly down and savoring every centimeter of his cock as it enters you. 

“oh, fuck,” he curses under his breath when you’re seated fully, his entire length throbbing against your walls. your knees are already wobbly from just one taste of him inside of you, and yet you work past it to roll your hips against his. 

he lets you have your fun for a few moments, looking up at you with a twistingly confusing mix of adoration and condescension. you can almost see the moment he tires of your slow pace, his eyebrows furrowing as he weight out his options before deciding on your fate. 

his hands circle your waist, tight in a bruising grip as he steadies you. you barely have time to whine in confusion before he starts fucking up into you, keeping you still on top of him. you felt weightless, the only stimulus hitting your empty head was the feeling of him sliding in and out of you, over and over. 

“eyes on me,” he all but growls out when you drop your head to his chest, starting to pant a bit. “i want to see you fall apart on my cock.” 

you meet his eyes and almost fall apart on the spot - his pupils are blown out, dark possessiveness overriding everything else as he keeps you in place. you feel like a puppet, taught on his strings and there is nothing else running through your head other than his name chanting like a prayer. 

you don’t realize that you’re saying it out loud until he moves one hand to tangle into your hair, pulling your lips into his to shut you up. 

you come together and it’s brighter than the sparks of fireworks behind your eyelids. you sob into his mouth as he fucks you through both of your highs until the only sound echoing through the room is your harsh breathing mingling with his. 

you can't stand straight when he lifts you off and you almost stumble back onto him; and he laughs at you and you shoot him a glare, reaching for his softening cock in retaliation. the sound of his panicked shout when he curves away from you sends your heart soaring through the skies. 

[thekissofaphrodite]

Can you maybe do Clarisse x fem! Child of Hypnos?? I don’t think I’ve seen anything of that dynamic and I’d like to see how you would write it!

OKAY. IM ACTUALLY RLLY EXCITED ABT THIS SINCE JUST LIKE ANON SAID, I'VE NEVER SEEN A DYNAMIC LIKE IT BEFOREE.

Sweet Dreams

Clarisse La Rue X Daughter of Hypnos!Reader

Summary: A shared moment with clarrise with a flick of your finger.

Warnings: Hypnokinesis, people passing out and language

Author's note: Okay, I'm actually tired of some writers portraying a child of hypnos who likes to sleep... yeah, sure, their dad is the God of sleep, but that doesn't mean they just slump on their bed and snore away! They're also powerful! If you read the books !SPOILER ALERT! Hypnos literally knocked an entire city to sleep before the battle of Manhattan for Kronos. Why can't we portray his children like that? 🤨 No hate! Just speaking facts <33

CHILDREN OF HYPNOS DESERVES SOME RECOGNITION!! (coming from cabin 7)

——

You missed your girlfriend so much.

She was in archery and capture the flag today, but you two barely got enough time to run to each other before she was bombarded by tasks from Chiron.

You saw the way her eyes would soften from afar, giving you a discreet sympathetic look while she went on a rampage on her siblings ready to stab them into kebabs using her spear. But she knew you'd find a way to get to her, she always knew.

and you always do.

It wasn't long before every camper eventually dozed off after a fun sing-a-long around the campfire, singing their hearts out about their godly parent, minus a Demeter Girl complaining about getting a fern for her birthday instead of a car like all her friends.

So here you are, pulling your night robe closer as you impatiently wait for your father to caress Clarisse's siblings to sleep so you can have a moment with her.

But your father was taking way too long.

you have been hiding behind the cabin for hours, Listening to the unpleasant way the swords and spears of the Ares cabin got sharpened and big boisterous faces laughing at eachother. Clarisse was in her bunk, her arms crossed with a seemingly frowning expression. Every laughter made by her siblings made her more and more annoyed.

Every minute that passed made you more agitated until you finally snapped.

You stood behind the cabin and held your hands, focusing on the heartbeats and every breath that they exhaled, The sound around you became indistinct and fuzzy, the time seemed to slow down. A translucent light smoke seemed to snake inside the Cabin before it swirled around Clarisse' siblings, it took a few moments before their eyelids got heavy, their breathing ragged. And sure enough, there was a soft thud where their body fell.

It took you by surprise. It also snapped Clarisse out of her thoughts. Seeing her siblings who were talking lively minutes ago dozing off turned her off, She stood up alarmingly, ready to fend herself to any attacks of intruder.

When she saw you, her tense body softened, the beam on your face was a little unreadable, but she couldn't help but smile.

You ran and threw yourself into her arms, she caught you easily, carrying your weight like nothing.

"I did it, Clar!" You squealed, Clalrisse looked at you, confused.

"Did what, Baby?"

"My father finally blessed me! I get to use my powers, i can't believe this, did you see?!" You were babbling like a baby, words being thrown at her in hyperplaps, but she listened, never letting you go in her arms. She listened and remembered everything.

Like the time you were sobbing in her arms, after multiple failed attempts on praying to your father, it hurt her. She remembered when she used to devote herself to Ares, offering him big chunk of brisket and the freshest strawberries on her plate, just for him to answer her prayer, but it never worked, until finally he had enough of her, and gifted Clarisse a spear to shut her up.

But seeing you happy for finally being able to have powers, she felt something inside her change.

Clarisse tightened her arms around you, placing her nose to your hair, inhailing your scent.

"I'm proud of you" she pulled away and placed her hand against your cheek. She was slowly analyzing the color of your eyes, carefully studying each and every details your face had, then she slowly reached to your lips, the color was a mix of peach and pink, assuming it was from the lipgloss, but it looks so deliciously kissable right now.

Her hands reached the back of your head and before you know it, her lips were against yours, an arm wrapped around your waist while pulling you close.

"I love you, did you know that?" Clarisse whispered on your lips, "i doubt it" You laughed, falling over Clarisse' soft bunk bed as she kissed you once more.

An extra for you guys since i disappeared too long :>

——

There were soft groans and mumbles coming from Clarisse' siblings, it was already 3:46 am.

"What happened?" Asked Sherman while rubbing his temple.

Clarisse rolled her eyes at her brother, Sherman, glancing at their weapons leaned against their bunk.

"Nothing, i guess you two spent way too long gossiping that your eyes eventually took it themselves and took a rest" she said, Clarisse was trying not to grin at her siblings, knowing well that it was all her girlfriend's doing.

"Huh... what did you do when we're out then?" One of her brothers, Ellis asked.

"The usual, inspection and lights out"

"Really?" Both brothers said in unison.

"Yes, don't look at me like I'm lying, unless you want a spear up your ass" Clarisse snapped, rolling over and hugging her pillow to sleep.

Both brother looked at eachother and quietly snickered, i guess they'll keep hush about that peach and pink lipgloss smudge near clarisse' neck.

And they'll definitely tell the others tomorrow.

[the-mandawhor1an]

My favorite pillow - Jackson!Joel Miller x Reader drabble

disclaimer: the picture above is to set the mood, you can imagine reader to look however you want

Tags: Safe for work! Established relationship; Joel is riddled with guilt; lots of cuddling; pet names;  reader’s gender isn’t specified but they have boobs; Reader is basically Joel’s plushie; angst! and fluff; one allusion to sex but it’s tame I swear

Synopsis: Joel feels the weight of guilt clouding his mind one evening. You feel the weight of him over you, trying to soothe his worries. 

Words: 900

A/N: Unbeta'd; The teaser trailer is to blame here. also, thank @djarins-wife for screaming at me in the DMs after the trailer dropped and motivating me to turn this: 

“I need him. on top of me, engulfed in a death grip cuddle, head on my chest and I can play with his hair and he tells me about all of his worries 😭”

into a drabble

Divider as always by @saradika-graphics

It’s an evening like any other, you think. Things have been a bit different since Joel and Ellie returned, but today seems to be a particularly bad day for him. You had dinner and now you’re in bed, cuddled into his side while he draws small circles on your back. As much as you want to fall asleep and feel yourself drift off, something about Joel bothers you. The way his digits brush over your skin, his breathing that is steady but somehow labored. 

You lift your heavy eyelids and nuzzle more into his chest. “Joel?” you ask him gently. He answers with a “Mh?” but his voice cracks. Carefully, you sit up straight and detach from his warm body. The barely lit room doesn’t offer much for you to see, but his head is faced away from you. “Joel, look at me. What’s going on?” 

After a short while of hesitation, he faces you. The moonlight enters the room just right for you to see some tears sparkling in his eyes. Your heart aches. What could worry him so much that he would lie there in silence and just… hurt? 

“Baby what’s wrong?” you ask again and gently place a hand on his heart. “Nothin’, I’m fine,” he tries to brush you off. With a tilted head you shoot him a more prying look in hopes to make him tell you.  

With a sigh you lie down on your back and pat on your chest. “C’mere big boy, tell me what’s bothering you.” He sighs deeply himself and turns over. Two giant hands bury under your back as he rests his body on top of you. His head lands on your chest, his torso presses you into the mattress. 

“I don’t understand why I feel so awful about saving Ellie…” he begins. You place one hand on his back, the other on his head to dip your fingers into the silver-brown curls. You play with his hair as he closes his eyes. 

“Well, what goes through your head when you think about it?” you ask. 

“I – I don’t know,” he sighs. “When Marlene told me Ellie would die in the process, I just saw red.” You feel him tense up as the memories replay in his mind. He pulls himself closer into your embrace. “She could’a saved the world but that means I would lose her.” You feel his chest press into yours as his breathing becomes heavier. 

“I can’t lose her, I can’t let go. Fuck,” he starts sobbing, every little hiccup hurts you, not physically but emotionally. “I couldn’t lose another daughter. Sarah was my baby and I was unable to protect her,” he continues as you feel his tears on your skin. You caress his back and keep combing your fingers through his hair, but you stay silent.  

“I thought… having gotten used to this shithole of a world would make it easier for me to look after Ellie. I failed. She’ll hate me for lying to her.” You bend your neck to place a kiss on the top of his hair. “She’ll leave when she finds out. When she realizes I wasn’t strong enough to let her go, to sacrifice herself for a fuckin’ maybe.” 

It’s obvious it weighs him down, it destroys him. You let him cry in your arms, not doing much beside gently running your fingers along his scalp. If he needs to get all of that out, you want him to feel safe to do so. Joel isn’t one to show emotions like this often, he feels like it makes him appear weak. He can be weak with you, vulnerable. 

After a few minutes of Joel just sobbing into your chest, his breathing steadies and he finds his voice again. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess and an awful father.” You shake your head. “Stop it, you’re neither. You did what any father would do, protect his child.” “I hope she sees it the same way.” 

Your fingers trail down to his face and you caress his cheek. “Will you tell her?” “Maybe one day, I don’t know” With an unsteady sigh that still reminds you of his sobbing, he nuzzles into you once again. 

“Am I too heavy?” he asks. It’s like he just now realizes that he’s been lying on you for the last minutes. “It’s fine,” you remind him with a smug expression. “Ain’t the first time you’re on top of me.” His face turns toward you, an equally smug grin on his. “Won’t be the last either, Sugar.” 

“Does that mean you feel better, Baby?” You ask hesitantly. If he’s up for joking he has to feel somewhat okay. “Think so. Keep forgettin’ how good cuddling feels,” he murmurs. “I love it when you hug me like a pillow,” you tell him. And he does indeed hug his pillows like that. It was amusing when you saw him nestled into it like that for the first time. 

“You’re my favorite pillow,” he nods. “Well, right now you’re not really pillowed by anything,” you comment. Technically, his head rests on your sternum, his face is almost buried in one of your boobs. 

“My face is,” he grumbles into your breast and places a kiss on your skin. “Okay, okay,” you sigh. “All better?” 

“All better.” 

“Do you want to stay like this?” 

“If I may.” 

“Of course you do.” 

“I love you.” 

“Love you too, Baby.” 

[haddonfieldwhore]

tired - ethan landry

no spoilers 🔪 // pre ghostface attacks

warnings: none 💓 just fluff 🧸

click here for a soft ethan playlist 🎧

your eyes felt like they were going to dry up and fall out of your skull as you stared at the many papers spread out across the floor in front of you. you were at your friend ethan’s dorm to study for your econ final together, and after about 3 hours, you decided you had retained all the information you could for one night.

“e, i think i’m tapping out,” you sighed, closing your book and dramatically flopping onto your back, laying amongst all the notes you had taken in class.

“me too. i think i’ve been staring at the same word on a page for the last five minutes,” he laughed, shoving his textbook off his lap and onto the bed next to him. “wanna watch a movie? chad went out so the living room is free.”

“sure,” you agreed, and he got up off his bed and reached out his hand to help you up off the floor. you and ethan had met at the start of college, and quickly became friends after sitting together the first day in class. the two of you always studied together, usually in the library or at ethan’s dorm; your roommate partied a lot and often had all their friends over so it was too loud to study there. ethan and his roommate chad didn’t seem to mind welcoming you into their dorm though, which you were grateful for.

chad was in almost every way, a stereotypical jock, but he was harmless, and was nice to you whenever you spoke to him. he often wasn’t home, usually out with his friends or at their place. you and ethan rarely joined them, both of you preferring to stay in, watching movies or binging tv shows when you weren’t studying.

“what movie are we watching tonight?” you asked, grabbing a glass of water from the kitchen and walking back to the couch where ethan was sat, a selection of dvds spread out in front of him.

“hmmm.. jaws?” he suggested. after a nod of approval from you, ethan put the disc in the player and sat back down. he tossed you a blanket he had brought from his room, and switched off the lamp next to the couch as the movie started. getting comfortable, ethan pulled the hood of his pale coloured sweater over his brown hair, and he offered his lap for you to rest your legs on. you were thankful, as your knees had become stiff from sitting cross legged on his bedroom floor for hours. his arms rested on top of your legs, keeping them warm and making sure you didn’t fall off the couch somehow.

it was only about 30 minutes into the movie when you felt your eyelids getting heavy, and the warmth of the blanket was making it hard to stay awake. no matter how hard you tried not to, you eventually fell asleep, not able to fight it any longer.

•••••

the sound of the door opening caused you to wake up slowly, and you were confused at first to feel a weight on top of you. at some point, ethan had also fallen asleep, his arms around your waist and his head buried in the crook of your neck. you could feel his soft breathing against your skin, and you realized how comfortable you were. chad hadn’t noticed that you were awake, since the lights were low and he was trying to be quiet since he thought you were both asleep.

after he had gone into his room, you gently laced your fingers through ethan’s curls, his hood having come off in his sleep. he stirred slightly, but didn’t wake up, instead holding onto you tighter. his lips and nose brushing against your clavicle as he snuggled closer to you. a sleepy smile spread across your face as you sighed deeply, and you realized how content you were to just be in his arms. ethan truly had become your best friend; you had left all of your friends behind when you moved across the county to go to college in new york. you didn’t know anyone here, and you were so thankful to have met ethan.

ethan awoke as you gently stroked his hair, your fingers gliding through the soft ringlets slowly pulling him from his sleeping state. he groaned softly, lifting his head off your chest and realizing the position you were both in.

“hey- sorry,” he mumbled, his voice deep with sleep. “i didn’t think i was that tired.” he rubbed his eyes as he sat up, and you immediately missed his body heat. in the low lit room you almost couldn’t see that there was a light pink blush across his cheeks.

“it’s okay. neither did i,” you smiled, tugging gently at the soft fabric of his hoodie sleeve. “come back.” you pouted. ethan smiled, laying back down next to you, tucking your head into his neck this time. happy to have his warmth back, you hummed contently and closed your eyes, nuzzling into his neck.

“i’m so gonna fail that econ exam,” you thought aloud, and ethan laughed, and you felt it vibrate it his chest.

“that’s okay- you can come over and study for the makeup test with me; i think i’m gonna fail too.”

“we can fail together,” you mumbled. growing sleepy again. as you both lay in silence now, you absentmindedly pressed a soft kiss to the underside of ethan’s jaw. he tensed slightly underneath you, before he relaxed again humming slightly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead in return. at that moment it didn’t matter what it meant, the half asleep kisses likely to be forgotten by both of you in the morning.

“goodnight, eeth.” you whispered, but all you got in response was the sound of his soft snores, which quickly lulled you back to sleep. ☁️

[the-sunflower-room]

✧ to die by your side ✧

dazai x fem!reader

☆ genre: angst, hurt/comfort

☆ wc: 9.5k

☆ summary: dazai’s girlfriend is kidnapped by a revenge-seeking enemy and must count down the agonizing minutes to her death. dazai and the rest of the ada race to save her before time runs out.

☆ warnings: kidnapping, violence, language, mentions of blood/torture/drugging, dazai-typical suicide mentions, brief mentions of throwing up, self-loathing dazai, panic attacks, etc- overall just pretty angsty! slightly canon divergent with the way i wrote dazai’s ability. i also threw in some comfort at the end as a little treat <3

………………………………………………………………………………….

Pain. Blinding pain.

That was the first thing Y/N noticed as she slowly regained consciousness. Her skull felt like it was on fire, her temple throbbing and wrists aching. A heavy weight sat on her chest and made the simple act of breathing difficult. A faint but persistent beeping noise seemed amplified in her ringing ears, worsening her pounding headache while the heavy scent of blood in the air made her stomach churn.

What was going on?

Confusion persisted until her mind began to register the other noises in her surroundings.

A man’s voice she didn’t recognize.

The soft beep of a video camera starting to record.

Something about the agency.

Dazai’s name.

Her body broke into a cold sweat at the sudden mention of her boyfriend.

Realizing her eyelids were too heavy to even open, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder what the hell had happened. The last thing she remembered was kissing Dazai goodnight outside of her apartment, then quietly getting ready for bed once he had left. What could have possibly happened between then and now? Whose voice was echoing around her? Why did her body feel so heavy, and why were her thoughts so incoherent? If she could just get up-

Oh.

Oh.

Her wrists were bound behind her, the rest of her body anchored to the chair she was sat in by chains of steel. There was something large strapped to her abdomen emitting a beeping noise every few seconds.

Her heart nearly stopped beating in her chest as she slowly put together what was happening in her hazy mind.

“-Pay for your crimes by letting her die. This pretty little thing only has three hours left,” the gruff voice continued, sounding much clearer and much closer than before. Her panic increased tenfold as she realized the mystery man was directly behind her. Before she could fully prepare for it, a large hand suddenly grabbed a fistful of hair on her scalp and yanked her slumped head upwards. The pain forced her eyes open and she was greeted with a camera pointed at her, along with a room full of armed men. Her eyes slowly widened in terror and clarity as it all finally clicked in that moment, no matter how much she didn’t want to admit what was happening to her.

I’ve been kidnapped as a means to get back at the agency.

There’s a bomb strapped to me.

I have three hours to live.

The tears started then. Even though she could vaguely recognize that she was being recorded for the Agency’s viewing and it would only worry Dazai more if he saw her in so much distress, she couldn’t help her panic. No matter how strong she wanted to be for him, this was terrifying. Her life was suddenly on the line and she would die at the hands of these men if the agency couldn’t find her in time.

“Please,” she cried, squeezing her eyes shut and feeling pathetic as she let out a choked sob. Her voice cracked from disuse and she felt like she might hyperventilate. “Please, no. I don’t want to die.” The room filled with cruel laughter at her naive pleas, and she could only sink further into despair as the gravity of her situation became painfully evident. These were ruthless killers who were happy to see an innocent woman die for nothing more than the sake of revenge.

“Hear that, detectives? She’s begging for her life. What are you gonna do about it? The clock is ticking,” The man behind her sneered, grabbing her face in his calloused hand and squeezing it. She weakly attempted to yank her head away from his grasp and maintain her last shred of dignity. He was taunting them with her, the bastard.

Weaponizing their good nature and care for her. Trying to break them; trying to break her sweet Dazai.

Oh god- Dazai.

The more she thought about him, the more her tears flowed. Dazai, whose greatest fear was putting her in danger with his line of work. Dazai, who had lost so much more than a person should. Dazai, who loved and cared for her more than anyone she had ever known. The mere idea of him sitting at the agency headquarters, watching in horror while these unknown men teased him with her life, was too much to bear.

Through her cries of terror, Y/N could just barely overhear the man saying something else into the camera before ordering one of his subordinates to cut the footage. Dread filled the pit of her stomach as they turned their full attention on her and she realized she was truly alone with these psychopaths.

She had no way of knowing if the ADA was coming for her, or if they would be able to get to her in time. Hell, she didn’t even know if they would be able to diffuse the complicated bomb even if they did manage to reach her before it was set to detonate. She certainly didn’t want them to risk their own lives just to save her, even if the thought of dying in an explosion shook her to her core.

She felt her hope drain away with each new tick of the bomb, her body shaking with fear. Three hours was an awfully short time.

Please, Osamu.

My time is running out.

~

Dazai had never felt a rage quite like this before.

He knew that something was wrong the moment the agency had received a video from an untraceable source and Y/N hadn’t texted him about her day. That didn’t stop his heart from dropping clear to his stomach when he saw her on the monitor, chained up and bloody with a bomb on her chest.

No. Not her.

He avoided the nervous gazes of Atsushi and the rest of the agency members as he stared at her unconscious body on the screen, jaw clenched unimaginably tight and hands gripping the wood of the conference room table. The man standing in front of her was droning on about how Dazai had personally wronged his pathetic organization —something about putting a stop to their human trafficking network with the help of Kunikida— but he couldn’t bring himself to listen or even care.

He was attempting to keep his composure by focusing on the facts of the case. Namely, the extent of her injuries and her location.

Blood was dripping down the side of her face from her temple, some of it dried and caked in her hair. The bastards had likely hit her with some sort of blunt object to knock her out. His fury only grew at the thought of her being treated with such senseless violence. She still seemed dazed and confused as the man forced her awake to face the camera, a sure sign of a concussion or even drugging to further subdue her. She had a few more bruises and bloody cuts on her face, and he knew by the way the metal chains cut into her skin that they would cause serious irritation at the very least.

He couldn’t help but screw his eyes shut and let out a shuddering breath as her weak and desperate pleas reached his ears. The complete and utter terror in her voice as she begged her captors for mercy was nothing short of gut-wrenching to him. Even worse, the man was taunting Dazai with her pain. Smugly showing off her broken body like some sort of prize. She’s suffering because of you, a small voice in his head spat, making Dazai grit his teeth even more. No. Focus, you idiot. Focus on where they’re keeping her.

She looked to be trapped in some kind of metal room, potentially reinforced with anti-ability precautions to keep them from easily reaching her. The cell was dingy, dark, and silent, leading him to wonder if she was being kept somewhere underground. That would be a likely spot for these despicable cockroaches to hide. There were just over a dozen guards surrounding her, although they wouldn’t be an issue in the grand scheme of things; the ADA could certainly handle a few thugs with guns. What concerned him most was the bomb strapped to her chest.

There were plenty of geniuses among their ragtag team, but bombs were tricky. There could be dozens of triggers on it, or someone could detonate it remotely if anyone got too close to her. A single misstep or miscalculation could immediately cost Y/N’s life, and that was a risk Dazai certainly wasn’t willing to take.

He was furious at himself for letting this happen. He was so careful- always keeping tabs on her, steering her away from involvement in ADA antics, keeping an ear to the ground for trouble in the Yokohama underworld. He was constantly calculating and preparing for every outcome, always several steps ahead of his enemies with his dizzying plans. And yet, somehow, this measly organization he could hardly remember had managed to snatch his girlfriend out from under him with almost no trouble at all.

She was in mortal danger, and it was all his fault.

“Snap out of it, Dazai, I can hear your thoughts from all the way over here,” Kunikida piped up from across the room, his voice sympathetic but stern as he glared at his partner. “You need to keep your head on straight if we want to get her back.” He could tell just by reading Dazai’s expression how much inner turmoil the man was going through. How much he blamed himself for Y/N’s capture. But if they were going to rescue her before the three hours were up, there was no time for wallowing in self pity.

“Kunikida’s right,” Fukuzawa’s booming voice spoke, causing Dazai’s distant gaze to snap over to his boss in an instant. The fact that he was involved in the case at all revealed just how seriously the entire agency was taking her kidnapping. “Time is not on our side. We must be swift and rational if we are to have any hope of getting to Y/N and disabling the bomb in time.” Their words struck Dazai to his core. It was hard to remember that the other ADA members also cared deeply for his girlfriend, and they were willing to go so far as to put their lives at risk to help him get her back. Their unwavering support seemed to snap him out of his stupor and focus on the task at hand.

Get her back from those sorry motherfuckers.

“Right,” he nodded curtly, his expression suddenly devoid of all emotion as he turned to face the team with renewed focus and determination. “Ranpo-san, what’s the plan?”

The raven-haired detective, who had been quietly perched on the window sill and shadowed by the deep orange sunlight filtering into the room, suddenly jumped down from his seat and whipped out his pair of glasses in a flash. His trademark smirk spread across his face as he placed the glasses on the bridge of his nose, poised to activate his ability.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

~

Fifteen minutes.

That’s what the little timer read—from what she could tell, anyway. Y/N’s heart felt like it would burst out of her chest. She was drenched in sweat from the overwhelming fear taking over her body, despite her cell being practically freezing. The men had left her alone a while ago, but not before roughing her up for good measure. She now sported a throbbing bruise under her eye and a few new cuts on her face and neck, but she had blocked all of the pain out. All she could feel was pure panic as the countdown to her impending doom grew shorter and shorter.

She had no idea if Dazai and the rest of the ADA were even close to figuring out where she was, and her hope was beginning to run out. How could they possibly find her and disarm the bomb in a mere fifteen minutes? It didn’t seem at all possible, no matter how skilled they were. A single tear ran down her cheek as the reality set in. She was really going to die.

Trying to find some form of comfort as the seconds ticked away and she neared what she assumed were her last moments, Y/N squeezed her eyes shut and forced her mind to go somewhere else—anywhere else—to escape this hell.

Dazai’s soft laughter filled her ears.

It was a lazy Sunday morning- the couple’s favorite time to lay in bed for the whole day and forget their actual adult responsibilities. They were tangled up in fresh sheets, warm sunlight streaming through the windows as Dazai playfully teased her about her refusal to let him get up.

“Five more minutes!” Y/N grumbled sleepily, burying her head into the crook of Dazai’s neck and breathing in his fresh scent. He still smelled like the floral body wash he had used in the shower the night before; the same body wash she had bought him when he insisted he loved the way it smelled on her and needed some for himself. Catching traces of its scent on him always brought a smile to her face.

“You said that five minutes ago,” he chuckled, his voice still husky from sleep. His hand absentmindedly massaged her scalp as he held her tight to his chest. “You can hear my stomach practically begging for food. Are you trying to starve me, my love?” Y/N was seemingly unaffected by his dramatic ploy to escape her embrace. “Yes,” she answered simply, burrowing further into his t-shirt to hide her smile that would give away her crumbling resolve. Of course, there was no hiding anything from Dazai Osamu.

“I saw that!” He gasped, playfully poking at her face. “My Y/N does care about me, who would have thought!” She couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped her lips at her boyfriend’s theatrics. He was always blowing things out of proportion, but she would be lying if she said she didn’t love it.

Daring to peek up at him with heavy eyelids, her eyes met gentle brown staring back at her with nothing but warmth and fondness. The lovesick smile plastered across his face sent butterflies rushing through her stomach and she suddenly felt shy. His eyes were so pretty. “If you get up, I’ll be so lonely without you,” she pouted, hands snaking around his waist as she gave him her best puppy dog eyes. She knew she was playing dirty by pulling the pity card, but she also couldn’t stand the thought of being away from his comforting embrace for even a moment.

Dazai heaved a sigh, a mischievous twinkle in his eye as his hand moved to her face and gently brushed some of her hair away from her eyes. “Well how could I ever say no to that? I would rather starve than see my belladonna lonely and upset.” She rolled her eyes a let out an amused huff at his words, craning her neck so she was mere inches away from his face. “So you’ll stay?” She whispered, knowing that she’d already won the minute he hadn’t actually gotten up when he announced he needed breakfast.

Instead of responding right away, Dazai leaned down and planted a gentle kiss to her pouting mouth. She was just so irresistible. “Of course, darling,” he murmured against her lips, pulling her head back into his chest and smiling as he felt her snuggle closer. She truly was his everything. “Five more minutes with you is nothing short of pure bliss.”

Five minutes left.

Y/N thought she might pass out from the sheer terror that consumed her, threatening to pull her under completely. She would never see her friends again, including all of the agency members she had grown to call her family. She would die before saying goodbye to her loved ones- to Dazai. How would he react when he found her body, or what was left of it? How would he cope? The very thought forced a watery sob from her throat.

This is the end.

I’m going to die without seeing him one last time.

Suddenly, a loud bang sounded outside of the door to her prison and startled her out of her despair. It sounded like someone throwing their body against the heavy steel door. She froze, swallowing back her tears and preparing herself for the worst. Maybe the men were back to torture her one last time before setting off the bomb. As her mind came up with the worst possible scenarios, a familiar grunt reached her ears through the metal walls. It couldn’t be. After a beat, she heard the noise again. Then- “Y/N?”

She nearly stopped breathing at the sound of his angelic lilt. “…Samu?” She called out weakly, afraid to let herself be filled with hope in case it was some kind of cruel trick. “Y/N!” He yelled back, a mixture of desperation and relief in his voice as the banging noises continued. It was incredible how quickly hearing his voice had managed to relax her, even if she knew she was still in immediate danger. He always did have a calming effect on her. “Osamu, I don’t have much time left,” she gasped, desperately struggling against her restraints. Now that she knew he was here, she wanted nothing more than to be with him.

“I know, I know. I’m gonna get you out of here, baby,” he assured her through the cold metal door, giving the handle another frustrated jolt. Why couldn’t he have been blessed with a strength-related ability? “Those assholes had some ability users up their sleeve, so the others are busy trying to break through their defenses,” he explained in a rush, throwing his body into the door again despite the blooming pain in his shoulder. He wouldn’t have the help of Atsushi or Kenji like they had originally planned, and that worried him. “I promise, I won’t stop until I get into that room and you’re safe.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” a voice suddenly boomed over a hidden speaker, catching the attention of both Dazai and Y/N as their heads snapped upwards in near unison. Her blood ran cold as she recognized it as the voice of her captor. “Break into that room, and we’ll set off the bomb early. Didn’t you listen to us? This is your penance, Dazai,” he spoke, clear amusement in his tone. The bastard was watching them from somewhere else in the underground facility, enjoying their pain. Using it as entertainment.

Three minutes left.

Dazai grimaced outside of the door, hands balling into fists as a new fear and rage ignited inside of him. There was never going to be a way to reach her without the bomb going off. It was a cruel way to torture him; forcing him to either live with the guilt of leaving her and save his own life, or stay with her until the bitter end. It wasn’t a difficult choice to make.

As Y/N pieced together the new information, she quickly came to the same conclusion as her boyfriend and felt her eyes go wide. “Dazai, NO! Get away from here, now!” She screamed, fresh tears already burning in her eyes. She knew that he was selfless and loved her more than anything, but in that moment she wanted him to turn his back on her. To break her heart and leave her behind to save himself.

Ramming his now probably broken shoulder into the cold, unforgiving metal one last time, Dazai shook his head as he slowly sank to the floor. His hands were raw and bleeding from practically clawing at the wall for a weak point, but he didn’t care. Nothing else mattered anymore but staying with her. “I won’t leave you,” he said simply, leaning his head against the wall. The agony of knowing that she was in that room, alone and afraid, minutes away from her death, was crushing. But if he could offer her even the smallest comfort before that timer hit zero, he would do it in a heartbeat.

Meanwhile, Y/N was on the verge of a panic attack. Tears streamed down her face and she struggled to breathe, completely overwhelmed by what was happening. To have to accept that she really was about to die a horrible and graphic death in a few minutes was terrifying, but to know that Dazai was right outside the door and would also die if he stayed; that was too much. She knew how stubborn he was, but she had to try to make him leave anyway. Anything to get him to save himself.

“Please,” she cried desperately, consumed with grief as sobs wracked through her body. “You can’t stay, Dazai, you have to GO!” Hearing her in so much pain was like a thousand knives to the heart, but despite everything, Dazai couldn’t help the small smile that made its way onto his face. She really didn’t get it. “Go where, huh? There’s nowhere in this world I would go without you,” he spoke softly, shutting his eyes and letting out a small sigh. He seemed strangely content.

She continued to sob, choking on her breaths as the timer reached one minute. He was so stupid and selfless and wonderful- she couldn’t let him die. “Please…you can’t do this to me, you have to leave…you can’t stay,” she whimpered almost incoherently, barely able to yell anymore. Her strength was running out, her body exhausted from all of the mental turmoil. Still, she continued to strain against the chains wrapped tightly around her as if she could break them by sheer will. “Don’t be scared, Y/N,” he called to her, the smile still on his face. “I’m right here with you and I’m not leaving you. It’s gonna be okay.” Through the walls he could hear her voice break as she wailed in agony at his words, the sound blood-curdling.

Thirty seconds.

Dazai thought it ironic that this was the way he was going out; a tragic double suicide with his lover. It was almost funny. Almost. “I love you, darling. My sweet belladonna. Not even death can keep us apart,” he reassured her, opening his eyes and staring at the wall as if he could look straight through the metal and meet her gaze. His heart squeezed in his chest as she let out another horrible, strangled sob. “There- isn’t much time- left,” she gasped in between breaths, her whole body trembling. Why couldn’t he leave her? Why couldn’t he save himself? He was too important to the ADA, to the world, to die. The guilt was eating her alive.

Ten seconds.

“I love you, Y/N,” he repeated, and he was never more sure of his words. She let out one last piercing, guttural scream, pulling at the chains so hard her skin started to bleed. She thought she might faint from the agonizing anticipation as the clock counted down her last moments of life; their last moments. “I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut in defeat. He shook his head once again. She had nothing to be sorry for. “It’s gonna be okay,” he whispered one final time, placing his bloody hand against the door. Offering his comfort in their last seconds alive.

Three.

Two.

One.

Silence. A flash of white hot light. A horrible booming noise. Then, nothing.

~

The rest of the ADA halted in their battle at the sound of the explosion, staring at one another in horror. Smoke billowed out from one of the dingy tunnels, the familiar scent of flames filling the air. There was no way they had failed…right? The couldn’t have lost Y/N and Dazai; not when they had worked so hard to get out of the situation with everyone unharmed.

The sound of cackling laughter echoed through the underground base mere moments after the explosion, drawing their attention to a man emerging from the shadows. They immediately recognized him as the man from the video- the organization’s leader who had personally tormented Y/N.

“The great Dazai Osamu is dead,” he shrieked, his crazed laughter forcing him to double over. The rest of the organization’s thugs began to jeer and laugh along with him, celebrating their victory over the ADA’s elusive genius. Atsushi felt tears welling in his eyes, not just for the tragic and sudden loss of his brilliant mentor whom he deeply cared for, but for Y/N as well. Those pieces of shit didn’t even care that they had killed her too; to them she was just a means to an end. The sweet woman who had shown him nothing but kindness when he joined the ADA and brought so much joy into their lives…dead.

To his left, Kunikida was also fighting back angry tears, refusing to accept that his frustrating but brilliant partner had truly been killed by these incompetent fools. Kyoka and Kenji’s eyes were blown wide in shock while Tanizaki panted heavily, his mouth gaping. It seemed that none of them could actually comprehend that the pair were truly dead and gone.

“You detectives are nothing but a bunch of sentimental fools!” The man cackled, face red and eyes bulging. He looked insane. “I can’t believe your genius was lured and killed by such an easy trap. All it took was kidnapping that little bitch and blowing her up!” All of the ADA members tensed, looking visibly appalled by his cruel, demeaning words. Not only was this man completely unhinged, but he was outright mocking an innocent woman’s death.

It was sickening.

Just as the sinking feeling of dread began to settle in the pit of Atsushi’s stomach, a distant but familiar voice called out from the smoke to interrupt their little celebration. “Ah, you underestimate me…” the voice drawled, jerking everyone’s attention to the smoking tunnel. All of the color drained from the leader’s face as he watched three silhouettes slowly emerge from the haze. “No…that’s impossible!” He screeched, all confidence gone and white as a ghost as he pointed at the trio with a shaking finger. “I watched you die! I-I saw it with my own eyes!”

Dazai, Y/N, and Dr. Yosano appeared at the entrance of the tunnel as the smoke cleared, Y/N leaned against Dazai for support while Yosano brandished her weapon. Y/N looked slightly stunned and shaken up, but the two survivors otherwise seemed completely unharmed, no trace of any injuries on their bodies.

“You did,” Dazai flashed his signature shit-eating grin, eyes flicking over to their team’s resident doctor. “Thankfully we had a backup plan in case you tried anything dirty, like you did.”

Ranpo had luckily had the foresight to bring in Yosano from a different entry point and position her near the cell that Y/N was being held in once they figured out her location, in the event that things went wrong and the bomb went off. That way she was there to immediately patch them up with her ability once it detonated, making it so that the harm was only temporary. There had never been any real threat of death; as long as Yosano worked fast enough, that is.

“You were a fool to play with this woman’s life to get back at an enemy,” Yosano spat, pointing her cleaver at the now trembling man before her. “Those who do not properly respect life will receive the ultimate punishment!” The rest of the thugs glanced around uneasily, sensing a shift in the power dynamic of the fight. Suddenly their main target was alive and well, and the rest of the agency seemed even more bloodthirsty than before.

“I-Impossible! No!” He cried, slowly backing towards another tunnel. The ADA members adjusted their stances and stared him down with what could only be described as murderous glints in their eyes, making it clear that he wouldn’t be getting away without a gruesome fight. He gulped. “Take this as a lesson!” Dazai announced cheerfully, still smiling but now with a terrifyingly cold and emotionless look in his eyes.

“There are grave consequences for those who hurt the people I love. And you’ve stupidly chosen to hurt the person I love most.”

It was a blur after that, all hell breaking loose. Dazai quickly ordered Tanizaki to cloak Y/N with his ability and get her safely to the surface as fighting broke out all around them. She wanted to protest, but the look in his eyes told her that he just wanted to get her out of harm’s way for the time being and that’d he be back at her side as soon as he was done dealing with the room of pitiful men. She certainly didn’t want to stick around and see what he and the rest of the ADA had in store for them. He pressed one last comforting kiss to her forehead before sending her off to escape with the ginger detective, his fiercely protective gaze never once leaving her as she fled the scene.

Covering the two of them with Light Snow, Tanizaki grabbed Y/N by the wrist and rushed her out of the disgusting underground hideout, pulling her away from the violent fight that had broken out. He knew that it would only be a few minutes until the team was done putting those miserable scumbags in their place.

They eventually reached the entrance of the base after a few tense minutes of running through winding tunnels, finding Ranpo and a trusted driver from the agency waiting in a running car. Tanizaki carefully opened the backseat door for her and made sure she was safely in the car before stepping back, flashing a comforting smile. “I’m so happy to see that you’re safe, Y/N. Ranpo will take care of the rest and make sure you get back to the agency safely,” he quickly explained, nodding at the driver before closing the car door and giving her a small wave.

Although she was still shellshocked, she managed a small wave in return and and even smaller smile. “Thank you,” she mouthed as the car pulled away, grateful for his help in getting her out of that hellhole. She was happy to leave the horrible place behind.

“Good to see you, Y/N,” Ranpo greeted from the seat next to her, drawing her attention away from the now small spec that was Tanizaki. Seeing her old friend sitting next to her filled her with so much relief she could hardly breathe. She opened her mouth to thank him for everything, knowing that the elaborate rescue plan was his doing, but the words caught in her throat. Everything had happened so fast that she barely had any time to process it. The bomb going off, practically dying, being saved by Yosano, briefly reuniting with Dazai, escaping the underground labyrinth. She was so overwhelmed with emotion as she realized she was actually alive and safe. Dazai was alive and safe.

We survived…

but we almost didn’t.

She promptly bent over and threw up onto the floor of the car.

Ranpo shrank into the corner of his seat, looking wildly uncomfortable but biting back his usual snarky and tone-deaf remarks. She had been through a lot, and her body had to expel all of those suffocating emotions somehow. “I had a feeling you would do that,” he grimaced, but he nonetheless leaned over and gently pat her back in a small act of comfort. Coughing on bile, Y/N felt hot tears burning the back of her eyes at the detective’s kind gesture. Everyone at the agency had shown up to help her in one way or another, and it was staggering to see just how much they cared.

Even in this very vulnerable moment, Ranpo was offering his genuine support, something that was incredibly rare for him. She would have to buy him a big care package of his favorite snacks later to show her gratitude for all he had done for her.

Eventually the car arrived at the agency, the normally bustling streets of Yokohama quiet and deserted in the late hour. Y/N apologized profusely to the driver for the small mess in the car, thoroughly embarrassed even though she hadn’t been able to help it. He simply dismissed it with a wave of his hand and an understanding smile. “No problem whatsoever, miss. You just take it easy.”

With that, Ranpo carefully guided her into the safety of the agency, leading her upstairs with one arm draped over her shoulder. When the pair finally reached the office, Y/N practically collapsed into one of the couches in the lounge area, letting out a sigh and massaging her temples to try and soothe her pounding head. Being dehydrated and malnourished for nearly 24 hours wasn’t exactly helping her stress-induced headache that had quickly developed in the car ride over.

Once again, as if reading her mind, Ranpo disappeared for a moment before returning with a water bottle, a few snacks, medicine, and a blanket in his arms, placing them on the coffee table in front of her. It was like he knew everything she needed- and he probably did. “Rest up and take care of yourself,” he instructed, his tone leaving no room for debate. “I’m sure Dazai will be here soon to take you home, but in the meantime try to relax and get some food and water in you. You’ve had a long day.” She smiled gratefully, albeit a little tiredly, at the gesture. Yet another rare display of his care.

“Thank you, for everything,” she whispered, trying to convey just how sincerely she meant those words. She wouldn’t soon forget his help. He flashed her a small, lopsided grin before waving her off dramatically. “It was nothing for the world’s greatest detective!” He declared, pointing a finger into the air before turning on his heels and making his way back to his desk, munching on a snack of his own. Just like that, Y/N was alone.

She quietly opened one of the snacks Ranpo had provided her, washing down some pain-relief pills with the water after she’d eaten a few bites. When her nauseous stomach began to protest the food, she forced herself to stop. Although she was still incredibly hungry, she certainly didn’t want to end up with another mess to clean up. Shuddering at the thought, she wrapped herself up with the plush blanket and tried to calm her racing heart. Her mind was still reeling from everything. The constant thoughts of the traumatic events she had just undergone only made her headache and nausea worse by the minute, and her brain felt like it might explode.

She was exhausted.

If she could just clear her mind and close her eyes for a moment…

~

Without even realizing she had dozed off on the couch, she awoke some time later to the feeling of a slender hand cupping her cheek, stroking her jaw with delicate precision. She didn’t even have to open her eyes to know it was Dazai. “Wake up, my love,” his hushed voice cooed, immediately pulling her from her slumber. Slowly blinking her eyes open, she was met with his comforting smile, but his eyes were unimaginably sad. Her heart ached.

“Ready to go home?”

Nodding sleepily, Y/N slowly picked herself up from the couch, shrugging the blanket off her shoulders and neatly folding it up before placing it back on the coffee table. After gathering her bearings, she realized that some of the other agency members had also returned to the office, likely to fill out paperwork before heading home for the night. She felt a pang of guilt shoot through her as she realized they would have to do extra work because of her. If you hadn’t gone and gotten yourself kidnapped, they would all be home sleeping right now.

A dreadful thought suddenly crossed her mind. Would she have to fill out paperwork and recount what had happened to her? It seemed likely, as they kept track of nearly every incident like this. The very idea made another wave of nausea roll through her.

As if sensing her worry, Kunikida rounded the corner with a stack of papers in-hand, taking in her dead-tired appearance with a single glance. “Just so you know, we will need a statement on what happened eventually, Y/N, but I don’t want you to even think about it until you’re recovered and ready to talk,” he instructed, concern and sympathy evident in his expression despite his no-nonsense tone. He was truly glad to see her safe and back under the protection of the agency. Y/N nodded, relieved that she wouldn’t have to recount the traumatic events until she was ready. At the moment she couldn’t even imagine a time when she would ever feel ready.

Turning his attention to Dazai, the sympathetic look vanished from Kunikida’s face and morphed into one of general annoyance. “Don’t think that you’re getting out of doing the paperwork just because you almost died,” he barked, jabbing an accusing finger at his partner’s chest. “It’s no excuse to be lazy.”

Dazai placed a hand to his heart and looked aghast, as if the very insinuation of him trying to avoid paperwork was ridiculous. “Me? Getting out of paperwork? Really, Kunikida-kun, what do you take me for?” He gasped, earning a growl and a sharp smack to the head with a roll of papers.

Their antics miraculously drew out a soft chuckle from Y/N’s lips, but it was half-hearted at best. As enjoyable as Dazai and Kunikida’s banter was, her eyes still drooped with fatigue and her anxious mind longed to rest in the comfort of her own home. She just wanted this horrible day to be over with. Gaze dropping to Y/N’s face at the sound of her reserved amusement, Dazai quickly noted the weight of her exhaustion and took it as their cue to leave.

“I think it’s time for us to get home,” he announced, glancing back up at Kunikida and sharing a knowing look with him. The blond held his stare for a moment before sighing, giving a small nod before politely bidding the two a good night and moving on to pester Ranpo about doing his work.

Placing a hand on the small of her back, Dazai carefully led Y/N out of the agency and into the streets of Yokohama below, glancing at her every few minutes to make sure she was doing ok. She was quiet during the walk home, her expression blank and her eyelids heavy. He found himself wishing he could figure out what she was thinking. Normally he could read her like a book, always knowing exactly how she was feeling or what was troubling her. Now she just seemed numb. A dark part of his mind feared that she was distancing herself from him because their relationship had nearly gotten her killed.

Would she even want to be with him anymore? Would she leave him to heal the trauma he had caused her? He shuddered at the thought.

Eventually arriving at their destination, Y/N quickly realized that Dazai had led her back to his apartment instead of her own. That’s right. Mine was broken into, and no one’s been around to clean up the mess that was probably left behind. She was grateful for his thoughtfulness. There was no way she would’ve been able to keep her composure if she had walked into her home and seen the evidence of her capture.

Walking into the entryway after Dazai had unlocked the door, Y/N immediately wanted to cry as the warm, familiar scent of his apartment hit her. It just smelled like him, something she thought she’d lost mere hours ago. The familiarity of the space nearly brought tears to her eyes.

It was overwhelming, to say the least.

Noticing her distant, watery gaze, Dazai quickly swooped in to distract her, helping her slip out of her shoes and guiding her to the bedroom to change out of her clothes. Although Yosano had done away with all of the physical injuries on her body, she still felt dirty, the scent of mold and metal clinging to her shirt. It drew her back to that room and the horrible, agonizingly slow ticking of the bomb. The memories lingered in the back of her mind as she discarded her old clothes, slipping into a comfortable t-shirt and a soft pair of shorts that she kept in Dazai’s drawer for the nights when she slept over.

“Better?” Dazai questioned softly when she had finished changing, eyes searching hers almost frantically for any sign of discomfort. He wanted to help her in any way possible, but for once in his life, he didn’t know what to do. The day had taken a toll on him as well and he was struggling to maintain his calm facade. Staring deep into his eyes, she gave the slightest of nods and opened her mouth to reassure him, to tell him that she was ok now. She was home, she was safe thanks to him, she was with him- everything had turned out just fine. But for the second time that night, the words refused to come out.

Instead, she just stared in silence before collapsing into a sudden fit of sobs, knees buckling and sending her falling to the hardwood below. Panicked, Dazai scrambled to meet her at the floor, strong arms holding her steady while she attempted to muffle her pained cries with the palm of her hand. Her sudden tears had him terrified that he had done something wrong. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter, angel? Please, let me help-“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence before she threw herself into his arms, holding him tighter than she had ever held anyone.

Her desperation to feel him and be close to him now was due to the fact that their reunion in the underground base had been so short lived. Y/N was in too much shock, not understanding how she had gone from dying a gruesome death to perfectly fine in only a matter of seconds. She could barely even register Dazai’s arms wrapped around her in a bone crushing hug or the sweet encouragements he was whispering in her ear.

Dazai was used to Yosano’s incredible ability. Having been saved by it countless times, being revived by the dark-haired doctor was practically second nature to him. But Y/N was still reeling from the excruciating pain she had experienced moments ago that had just vanished. It was like it had tattooed itself under her skin, a painful memory of her near-death.

The shock of being revived clouded her mind as Dazai had clutched her body close, kissing her forehead and squeezing her tight. She couldn’t even enjoy the pure relief that normally would have filled her when she pieced together that she was alive and safe in her loving boyfriend’s arms. Before she could comprehend what was going on, he had already helped her off the ground and had begun to walk her down the hallway with Yosano, headed towards the main fight.

Now, on the floor of Dazai’s dark bedroom, her mind had finally registered exactly what had transpired mere hours ago. He sacrificed himself just so I wouldn’t be alone in my last moments. He stayed with me until the very end, and he was the first thing I saw after I was healed by Yosano. He means more to me than anyone ever has- and I almost got him killed.

Shushing her cries of despair, Dazai cradled her head to his chest, feeling tears building in his own eyes. He just wanted to take all of her pain away. “Shhh…it’s alright, darling, you’re safe,” he whispered into her ear, feeling her grip around him tighten even more. She was gasping for breath, practically hyperventilating. It seemed her distress was never ending. “Please, my love…please tell me what’s wrong…I want to help you,” he muttered, stroking her hair and pressing gentle kisses into the crown of her head. Her muffled cries only grew louder and he only felt more helpless.

Eventually, after a few minutes of his hushed reassurances and tight, comforting hold, she managed to catch her breath enough to speak. When she pulled away from his chest and finally looked up at him, her eyes held a sorrow so deep that it broke Dazai’s heart all over again. “I- I’m so sorry,” she rasped, sounding completely broken. “You almost died because of me. I hurt you.” Another watery sob escaped her throat before she hung her head and pressed a hand to her lips yet again to stifle her pained cries.

Her words left him in utter shock. He couldn’t imagine how she could possibly think any of this was on her. Not when the truth was the complete opposite. It was time for him to be honest about his feelings, no matter how terrifying it was. “Hey…will you look at me?” He questioned gently, tilting her chin upwards with his finger to guide her gaze back to his. The smallest of smiles graced his lips when she finally complied, glassy eyes locking on his own. “There you are. It hurts that you blame yourself at all, darling. Especially when it’s me you have to blame for all of this.” When her distraught expression morphed into one of confusion, his hands made their way to her own, squeezing them tight. She absentmindedly stroked her thumb along his wrist in a comforting gesture, urging him to explain.

“…I knew Yosano would be there the whole time we were trying to rescue you. I knew she was waiting for us in case things went wrong, and that she would heal us if the bomb went off,” he began, staring intently into her eyes as he spoke. “But listening to you in there, scared and alone, waiting for it to detonate, was horrible. It was the worst possible scenario that we tried so hard to avoid. And knowing that you would have to endure the god awful pain of the explosion even for a moment, and I could do nothing about it, made me sick. It was just another cruel reminder that I always end up hurting the people I care for.”

His sincere confession had stunned Y/N. Though she and her boyfriend were incredibly close, Dazai was a fairly private person who didn’t often air his deep insecurities. The fact that he was being so vulnerable in this moment told her just how genuine his words were, and it hurt like hell to hear. Before she could say anything to rebut his confession, he continued. “I just feel like…a curse to the people I love most. They’ll always be hurt or worse because of me. And it’s so hard to live with myself because of that.”

Eyes widening, Y/N shook her head in disbelief. She couldn’t even imagine where his horrible self-deprecating talk was coming from. “How could you even say that? You saved me. I’m only here and alive because of you and the agency.” He let out a soft, humorless chuckle at her words, his gaze distant. “I failed you, my love. You were almost killed because of me.” He practically spat the word out, like he was disgusted with himself. His grip on her hands tightened.

“The whole reason those men took you in the first place was to get revenge on me. To force me to choose to live with the guilt of letting you die, or die alongside you. The fact that you had to be wrapped up in all that, traumatized and hurt and almost killed because of my enemies, my line of work…” he trailed off, his voice nearly breaking as his eyes begged her to understand. “No matter how careful I was and how much I tried to protect you, it meant nothing in the end.”

The guilt inside of him was all-consuming. Yes, they had saved her. Yes, they had made sure that the organization would never lay a finger on her or anyone else ever again. But what if something had gone wrong? What if they had been outsmarted, and Yosano hadn’t been waiting in the wings to heal them after the bomb went off? Y/N had been tortured, terrified, in pain because of him. To know that it was his fault that she had been scarred so deeply was his own personal hell.

In a way, the assholes who kidnapped her had won. It was Dazai’s penance, as their leader had called it- still living with the crushing guilt even after he had saved her. Hating himself over and over again for putting her in that position in the first place. Remembering her in the video, bruised and bloody and scared for her life. Constantly reliving her desperate cries for him to leave her in those final moments while he was utterly helpless to save her.

It was torture.

He just felt so stupid for being outsmarted by the lowly organization and allowing his precious lover to get hurt in the process.

“Dazai,” Y/N spoke sharply, effectively snapping him out of his spiral. She rarely called him Dazai unless she was being serious, and she couldn’t stand hearing him blame himself for one more second. “I won’t lie to you and say that today wasn’t one of the worst days of my life. The fear I felt, knowing I’d been taken from my home, having to count down the minutes to my death…” she paused, squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head as if willing away the unpleasant memories. He patiently waited for her to come back to herself, giving her hands a comforting squeeze.

“…It’ll take me a long time to get over that,” she finally admitted after a moment. “But the worst part of it wasn’t being kidnapped, or hurt by those men, or waiting for the inevitable explosion. It was thinking that I was going to lose you too. All I could focus on in those last minutes was you behind that door, too stubborn to leave me. All I could think about was how much I loved you, and how much I wanted you to be selfish for once and save yourself.”

She watched as he blinked back tears, a mystified expression in his face. As if the very thought of someone worrying about him and his life was completely foreign. Wanting to make herself absolutely clear, she kept going, no matter how much it hurt to see him struggling to understand her love for him. “I could never blame you for what happened. Those men did this to us- they caused all this pain and hurt. Not you.”

Her words left him dumbfounded, to say the least. They managed to remind him of why he loved her as fiercely as he did- she was the good in his life. Even after such a traumatic experience, she was incapable of blaming him for what had happened. Her love and compassion for him despite the darkness he brought into their lives was eye opening, forcing him to realize that no matter how much he thought it untrue, he was capable of being loved.

And how lucky he was to be loved by her.

Unable to articulate his complicated feelings any other way, Dazai cupped her face and surged forward, pressing his lips into her own and kissing her with such genuine fervor that it left Y/N breathless. Although she was momentarily shocked by his sudden show of affection, it quickly wore off as she melted into him. This was the first time they had truly kissed since reuniting, and they were each aching to communicate just how much they loved one another. How close they were to losing their other half; the person that completely them.

Her hands raked through his brown curls almost erratically, desperate to compensate for those long, torturous hours spent away from him. He seemed equally if not more hungry for her touch, like he was trying to prove to himself that she was really there with him after their near death experience. His slender fingers glided across her body and gripped her closer to him, nearly feral in his pursuit to feel every inch of her. She tugged at the hair near the base of his head and elicited a low, rumbling moan in return.

“My beautiful girl,” he rasped as he briefly pulled away, eyes roaming over her body with a look of complete infatuation. She was the most perfect thing he’d ever seen—and he’d almost lost her. His arm snaked around her waist to tug her impossibly closer, practically pulling her into his lap. She didn’t mind.

He continued to plant kisses all over her face, her hair, her jaw- anywhere he could reach. His lips ghosted over every inch of skin that had previously been covered in blood or bruises, almost as though he had memorized the exact locations of all her injuries just from watching the video hours ago. Knowing Dazai, he probably had committed all of her injuries to memory.

In between kisses, he muttered gentle praises and affections into her ear, all of which made her face flush a deep red. She would never tire of the way his whispered adorations made her heart race and the feeling of his soft lips against her skin. “My darling. My sweet belladonna. You’re everything to me. Everything,” he breathed, kissing the tip of her nose. “Words cannot even describe how much you mean to me. I’m nothing without you.”

Y/N rolled her head back as his lips trailed up her neck and neared her jawline, sucking in a sharp breath when his hands moved into her hair and his grip tightened. His kisses were becoming more passionate, more anxious to prove to her how grateful he was that she was finally back in his arms. That he would never let anyone lay a hand on her again. She allowed his love the wash over her, happily reciprocating when his lips finally captured her own once again.

He tasted like salty tears and home.

Eventually breaking away from one another to catch their breath, Y/N rested her forehead against Dazai’s and let out a shaky sigh, finally letting herself feel safe after what had felt like an eternity of fear and unease. Just being in his presence was enough to help alleviate some of crushing panic she had felt just hours ago.

“Thank you for being with me. For always protecting me, even when you think you’re not. And for never leaving me behind,” she whispered, glancing up into his big brown eyes that were mere inches away from her own. Although the thought of him almost dying with her in the explosion filled her entire being with dread, his determination to stay with her and offer her comfort until the very end meant more to her than she could explain.

“I wouldn’t dream of abandoning you. I’ll spend every day of the rest of my life protecting you and making sure something like this never happens again,” he assured her with nothing but sincerity in his soothing voice, taking her hands and gently brushing his lips over her knuckles. Her eyes fluttered closed at the gesture. “You are the most wonderful thing in my life. My reason for living at all. It’s hard to wrap my head around what I’ve possibly done to deserve you, but I promise I’ll do everything within my power to cherish you and keep you safe as long as I live.”

Y/N felt herself genuinely smiling for the first time in hours at her lover’s words. She was filled with such utter relief to be back in the safety of his arms. To be home, alive, and in love despite it all. Her heart felt like it would burst from all the love it held for Dazai Osamu.

“I love you,” she breathed, eyes meeting gentle brown once again. She was desperate for him to understand just how much she meant those words. To convey how safe he made her feel, and how much his presence comforted her. That no matter the danger she was in, she knew he would always be there for her.

“I love you too, Y/N,” he replied effortlessly, a part of him melting at the sight of her smile. He would burn the world just to keep that beautiful expression on her face. He made a silent vow to himself in that moment— no matter what it took, he would never lose her again.

The two eventually ended up in Dazai’s bed, practically clinging to one another as they shifted into a comfortable position. There would be no such thing as personal space that night. Y/N, who had been worried that the horrors she had faced would keep her exhausted body awake through the night, was pleasantly surprised to find that she was calm and content in Dazai’s embrace, already dozing off. He chuckled softly as her whole body relaxed against him.

“Sleep tight, my love. I’ve got you,” he mumbled into her hair, his warm breath fanning across her neck. She shivered and nuzzled herself further into his embrace, a soft smile on her face. No harm would come to her so long as she was in his arms.

Though they were both still riddled with guilt and turbulent emotions from the terrible night, they silently agreed to let go of their baggage for the time being and just appreciate one another, falling asleep in each other’s embrace.

Safe and home at last.

………………………………………………………………………………….

☆ note: yeahhhh dazai fic! i literally haven’t written in ages but i’ve been knee-deep in my bungo stray dogs era and dazai is taking up most of my brain capacity at the moment. this feels both rushed and wayyyy too long at the same time lol, i just had that feral writing energy and had to get it off my chest as soon as possible. it might be a mess but i’m exhausted and i’ve reread it too many times to catch all my mistakes lmaooo whatever. thanks so much for reading :)