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freelancearsonist · 23 days

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make a move on me

➔ pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x reader - 5.5k

➔ You've been teasing Joel every day since he started remodeling construction on your house. He finally works up the courage to do something about it - but not in the way you expect him to.

➔ Rated MA for baby’s first anal fic protected p in a and anal fingering (r receiving), age gap (reader is early 20’s, joel is 36), m masturbation/pillowhumping, daddy kink, size kink, praise kink, gentle-turned-rough sex, pet names (baby, darling, honey, good girl, baby girl, little lady), slight degradation and condescension but only in a sexy way, one use of “slut”, pussy pronouns, one (1) pussy slap, gratuitous dickscription, heavy dom/sub dynamics i mean seriously these power dynamics are out of control, tommy is a little bit of a shit (affectionate) [pls let me know if i missed anything at all :)]

➔ This reader insert character: has female anatomy and uses feminine pronouns, no name/no use of y/n, is generally able-bodied, fits in joel’s shirt and is implied to be shorter/smaller than him, is on summer break from college but no major/year is mentioned.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. Keep his hands to himself and his mind on the job. Don’t fret over the pretty little thing who’s been draping herself all over the house ever since he started demo, practically begging to be fucked.

If he had any sense, he would pack his shit and drop the job–or, at the very least, tell your parents to put you on a leash. But there’s a little part of him that might be a glutton for punishment–that savors the teasing.

The most infuriating part of the whole thing is that he can’t blame you for this whole mess. He shouldn’t be so quick to temptation. You should be able to walk around your own home in whatever you want and not have to worry about the creepy contractor getting flustered every time he looks in your general direction.

But god, you make it hard–double entendre intended. You walk around like you haven’t a care in the world because you don’t; you’re home for summer break after a grueling year at college, and you intend to savor every languid second of it. Your preferred method of savoring just happens to be wearing tight little bikinis that barely hold anything in place as you lounge out by the pool in the Texas heat, or tight leggings that hug your ass so perfectly it almost makes him jealous of the material as you curl up with a book on your couch.

Joel’s a grown man. He can keep it in his pants, no matter how badly he wants you. But you’re not exactly making it easy on him.

Really, it’s Tommy’s fault when the levee breaks. If he could keep his big mouth shut, Joel might’ve been able to maintain the thin control he had over himself. But Tommy goes and makes an off-handed comment about you one night, and that’s the beginning of the downward spiral.

The brothers are both lounging on Joel’s couch after a particularly taxing day of demolition work, beers cradled in hands and the TV droning uselessly with some movie that they’re more staring at than actually watching. It’s late, yet weary muscles are melted so comfortably into the couch that neither of them try to move even after Sarah’s gone off to bed.

Tommy’s eyes flicker over to Joel, then back to the TV. “That girl’s gon’ be trouble for us, brother.”

There’s a question mark in the grunt Joel emits, leaning forward with interest because he knows Tommy’s talking about you without any specification.

Tommy hums in confirmation and takes a sip of his Corona. “She’s always wearin’ those skimpy little outfits a’hers, and she ain’t coy. Must catch that pretty little thing starin’ at your ass even more than I catch you starin’ at hers.”

Joel plays it off as best as he can until Tommy goes home for the night with a half-assed promise to actually be on time in the morning for once. Then he goes up to his room, locks the door, and wraps himself around the spare pillow that lays against his headboard.

He tries so desperately hard not to think about the plump round curve of your ass, or the enticing way you lick your lips, or those damned little bikinis you favor. He grinds his aching cock into the soft pillowcase and tries to think about anything that isn’t you.

But he comes with a muffled growl of your name anyway, face pushed deep into the pillow and hips jerking arrhythmically.

There’s not much he can do now besides clean himself up and try not to think about how thoroughly fucked he is.

The next day is torture because he can feel your gaze lingering. He catches you checking him out on more than one occasion, and you’re brazen about it now. You can tell something has shifted, so you shift with it. Where you once would’ve flushed with heat and hurried away to your room, you now meet his heated eye contact and hold it.

Joel’s jaw hurts that night from the way it’s been hard-set and clenched all day long. He rubs over his sore temporomandibular joints with his long, thick fingers and wills himself to siphon you out from beneath his skin.

It doesn’t work.

The work helps. Laying tile is something he normally considers tedious, but it’s a welcome reprieve in your home because he can get down on his hands and knees and focus on something that isn’t you.

You see the labor he’s going through, and you appreciate it. And really, what kind of host would you be if you didn’t reward his efforts?

It starts with a pitcher of iced tea. It’s made just the way Joel likes it, with light ice and a few slices of lemon. He doesn’t know how you could possibly guess that, but it makes him want you that much more.

And then it’s cookies. Pain-stakingly handmade oatmeal raisin cookies, to be exact. You’re like something out of his most shameful domestic dreams in your cute floral-patterned apron and oven mitts as you pull the tray of cookies out of the oven, and an image of you in nothing but those mitts and that apron flickers through his mind before he can stop it.

All the while you traipse around the house like a mirage–humming along to the yacht rock that drifts from Joel’s stereo, swaying your hips in the kitchen as you put together the most delicious bologna sandwich Joel’s ever eaten, toweling off your soaking wet body after an afternoon in the pool. You’re the worst temptation Joel’s ever had to face.

It becomes his mantra. Be respectful, be respectful, be respectful.

But there’s no respect in your eyes. There’s nothing honorable about the way you bite your lip and smirk when he catches your gaze lingering on him.

Joel had one rule for himself going into this job: be respectful. But why should he have to play nice if you don’t?

And really, the whole thing is Tommy’s fault. He started it with that first comment about you, and then he goes and calls out sick (read: horribly hungover) this morning. He leaves Joel all alone with you–gives you the perfect opening to pounce.

Or, more accurately, entice Joel into pouncing on you.

He’s just setting his tool bag down, about to decide where he wants to start today, when your beautiful face pops in through the door.

“Good morning, Joel,” you say with that gorgeous smile of yours that makes his knees go a little weak. “No Tommy today?”

He nearly chokes on his own tongue when you step further into the room wearing a plaid button-up he left here earlier in the week and booty shorts so small he has to do a doubletake to make sure you’re actually wearing anything on your lower half. You look fucking good in his shirt, and suddenly all he can think about is pulling you in and bending you over the half-finished vanity–

“N-no. He’s sick,” Joel manages to choke out. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, then, “that’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

You look down and rub the time-worn fabric between your fingers like you have to think about it, like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.

“Oh, it must’ve gotten mixed in with our laundry!” The little giggle you let out is so innocent that he almost believes you. Almost. “Here–”

You start to lift the fabric up your torso in the most tantalizingly slow fashion, and he just sits there and watches it happen. He sees the first peek of skin above the waistband of your shorts, and then your beautiful stomach, then the delicious curve of a breast–

He quickly jolts out a hand to stop you in the midst of mentally willing every single molecule in his dick to control itself. “S’alright, darlin’. You keep it. Looks better on you, anyway.”

“Okay,” you acquiesce and let the fabric drop back down into its rightful place. “Can I get you anything? Water maybe?”

He certainly could use it. His neck and face are flushed red, and there’s sweat starting to form at his temples despite the relatively cool temperature within the house.

He realizes, with startling clarity, that he’s at a precipice right now. This might be the only chance he gets to really do something about this burgeoning tension that’s spread thicker than butter between you and him. He’s got a choice to make, and it’s not going to be an easy choice.

“Sure.” It comes out a bit too high-pitched, so he clears his throat and tries again. “Sure, sweetheart. That’d be great.”

“Alright,” you say with that damned giggle again. “I’ll be right back.”

As soon as you leave the room, Joel feels like he can breathe again. It’s so much easier to think straight when you’re not standing there, smiling up at him and looking so damn gorgeous.

He’s got two options, when it boils down to it: fuck you or leave you alone. And he really, really wants to take you. Make you scream his name while he pounds himself into you, fill you so full that you never completely wash him out. And you want it too, he knows you do, you’re practically begging for it.

But he promised himself he would be respectful. That he would keep his hands away from the girl that’s definitely too young and too pure for someone like him–because he knows that if has you, he’ll never be able to get enough.

There’s a very clear and obvious loophole that comes to mind now; a way he could have you without ruining you, a way you could both come out of this satisfied yet mostly intact. Joel’s never been opposed to doing the hard jobs, after all.

He’s got a condom in his wallet and KY jelly in his bag–mostly used for plumbing fittings, but it’ll do the job for this kind of pipework, too.

You come back with a glass of ice water, and his resolve slips. How the hell is he supposed to initiate this? What if you say no and think he’s disgusting? What if you tell your parents? He can’t do this, this was such a horrible idea, he–

Your touch on his back is like a gentle breeze, just a flutter of your fingers to alert him to your return. He flinches a bit at the sudden contact, but when he turns you’re still so achingly close. He can smell the agonizingly sweet aroma of your conditioner and the lotion you slather on your body after showering, and all he wants is more. He wants to wrap you around him, to inhale that scent straight from the source. His resolve is back, just like that.

He doesn’t give himself another opportunity to hesitate. He places one big, meaty palm on your cheek and wraps the other around your hand that holds the glass of ice water to steady you; and then he kisses you with such bruising force it almost knocks the wind out of you.

You moan. You actually moan the second his lips meet yours, and he knows just like that–with a startling moment of clarity–that this isn’t going to be enough. He’s going to take, and take, and take–gorge himself on you until you have nothing left to give. And the strangest thing of the whole matter is that he thinks you’ll actually enjoy his greed.

“Joel–”

“Tell me you don’t want this,” he murmurs as his lips break away from yours–so low and soft in your ear it can’t be anything but a growl. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop right now.”

“I want it,” you affirm.

He searches your eyes, but he finds only earnest honesty and lust. That darkness, that pure and unadulterated want is enough to make his pants tighten. “Fuck.”

He’s so big underneath your roaming hands as he crowds you back against the long bathroom vanity. He lifts you like you’re nothing and sets you on the counter top; he slots himself between your legs and there’s an actual stretch in your muscles to accommodate the width of his hips. One of his wide palms slips behind your head and his fingers tangle into your hair, tugging a little bit to angle your head just the way he wants it. It’s messy and frenzied and desperate–your hands gliding over tee shirt-covered muscle, his tugging your (his) shirt up over your stomach.

“Was starting to think you weren’t interested.” Your voice is heavy and breathy as he breaks away to tug the shirt over your head, casting it aside to lie forgotten on the floor.

“I’ve been tryna convince myself m’not,” he kisses into your neck. “Didn’t work.”

With a sudden roll of his hips, he has you gasping into his neck. He can’t be more than half-hard, but that bulge is formidable. Thick and straining and… suddenly you can’t focus on anything except getting him out of those tight jeans to see what you’re working with.

Your hand just barely fits around him. He’s thick and flushed, getting harder with each passing second as he scatters feather-light kisses over your neck and shoulders. He muffles a groan into your neck as you slowly pump his length–you think he’s seven, maybe eight inches at best guess. The tip of him is flushed red once you get his uncut skin out of the way, and it makes your mouth water. There’s a slight upward curve to him and a long, prominent vein that runs down the left side. It’s porn star material–you didn’t know real people had dicks like this.

“Joel… Jesus, that’s gonna be a tight fit.”

“Oh, don’t worry darlin’,” he hums, thumb ghosting over your clit in a way that makes your entire body jolt. “It ain’t goin’ in there.”

There’s nothing but pure excitement in your voice, despite the anxious gulp that tracks down your throat. “Where…”

“Flip over f’me.”

You follow his instruction with a sort of morbid curiosity, hopping down from the counter before folding yourself over it.

You can feel his eyes on you, as he takes in your willingness. It’s like you’re on display for him, for his appraisal. You’ve still got shorts and a bra on, yet you’ve never felt more exposed.

It’s almost like he can sense your mind swirling–maybe it’s because his is prone to do the same. He sets a gentle hand on your back and smooths it down your spine as he crowds up against you–you can feel the press of his exposed cock against the curve of your ass, and it makes you shiver.

“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs as he folds over you, caging you in with the delicious weight of his body. His lips trace along the curve of your jaw and down your neck as he speaks. “But I made myself this little promise that I wouldn’t fuck you. You got me actin’ so unprofessional, honey.”

You whine at the sincerity in his voice–all you’ve wanted since the day he started was for him to have you folded over and at his mercy like this.

“You can fuck me,” you whine earnestly. “It’s okay, I promise. Won’t tell.”

“Mmm, I know. You’re too good a girl to go gettin’ me in trouble over somethin’ like this,” he hums–you can hear the condescension in his voice even as he praises you, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. “But with all the teasin’ you been doin’... don’t rightly know that you deserve to be fucked.”

“Please–”

“However,” he continues, landing a light smack to your ass in retaliation for your interruption, “might be willin’ to take you anyway, with some conditions. Out of the goodness of my heart.”

He pauses to let you ask, “What conditions?”

And then he pauses again, asking his own question this time. Is he really going to go through with this? But he’s spent the better part of two weeks staring at your ass, and you’ve spent the better part of two weeks putting it on display for him. It’s like you’ve been silently asking him all this time to take it.

His hand slides down from where it rests on your spine, over your tailbone to where he’s been thinking about all this time. He feels the way your muscles tense up even through your shorts, and it sends a thrill he can’t describe coursing through his veins.

“You ever taken someone here before?”

“N-no.” He feels it again as his other hand comes to soothingly rub your hip–that excited-yet-nervous flutter of muscle. You haven’t run away screaming yet, and that’s the biggest motivator he could have to keep going.

“I think you ought to let me. As a thank you, for puttin’ up with all your play,” he growls into your ear.

It’s fucking dirty, the idea of letting a man you hardly know take you in such a taboo way. It’s even dirtier how fucking excited the idea has you.

“You say no right now and I’ll drop it,” he murmurs so sweetly. “Don’t ever have to talk about this again.”

You’re shaking your head before he’s even finished talking–a sly smirk spreading over your lips as you grind back against him hard enough to make him choke on a moan.

“It’s only right,” you affirm. “Gotta make it up to you for how naughty I’ve been.’

His eyes flash dangerously as he grinds his cock against you again, smearing precome against the flimsy fabric of your shorts. “Atta fuckin’ girl.”

He has your bottoms and panties down around your ankles in a flash, and he actually groans at the sight of your sticky cunt all puffy and wet and on display for him.

He can’t resist the urge to swipe a finger through your folds, delighting in the string of shiny arousal that connects his finger to your core when he pulls away. “She wants it so bad, hmm? Such a shame she ain’t gettin’ any.”

It tugs a moan from your throat, especially when he drags as much slick as he can up to circle your tightest hole. He feels the way you flutter with apprehension, and he leans back down to kiss the corner of your jaw.

“Gonna get you nice and ready, I promise. M’not gonna hurt you, baby girl.”

“Thank you, da–” You almost lost yourself there for a second–almost laid your whole hand of cards out on the table for him to see. You try not to get flustered over the slip–you simply clear your throat and try again. “Thank you, Joel.” But you aren’t nearly as smooth as you hope to be.

In a flash Joel’s free hand is lifting your head, forcing you to look into his deep brown eyes. They’re so much darker than normal, and it only serves to make you wetter.

“What’d you call me?”

“J-Joel.”

His hand slips down to your throat and gives it a warning squeeze–his jaw is set, you know he isn’t playing. “Try again, and tell the truth this time.”

“D… daddy.”

You try to hide your face, to cower in shame, but he won’t let you. He smashes his lips to yours at the exact second his first finger probes that tight, waiting entrance.

“Good girl,” he murmurs as he slowly breaches you, using your own slick to guide the way. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You can’t do anything but gasp, hands clutching for dear life to the edge of the counter. This feels different, and not in the way you were expecting it to. It’s tight, sure, and it feels foreign, but it also feels so much better than you ever could’ve expected it to. The subtle stretch around his thick finger is addicting.

Joel’s jaw drops at the expression on your face; you already look so thoroughly fucked-out, and he’s barely even started. “Fuck.You like this, hmm? Like feelin’ daddy’s fingers gettin’ you ready for his big cock?”

The only response he gets is a wrecked little whimper, and he props your chin up again to meet his heated gaze. “Talk to me. Gotta talk to me, tell me how you’re feelin’, or I’m gonna stop.”

“Fuck!” It’s shriller than you want it to be and you would feel pathetic if you weren’t so thoroughly overwhelmed with this new sensation. “Don’t stop daddy!”

“Feels good, yeah? How long has daddy’s little slut wanted to try this?”

But there’s no way you can be expected to answer, not when he’s adding another finger to the onslaught. Not when your legs are already shaking and you’re thinking about just how many fingers he’s going to have to use to get you ready for the massive cock you can feel throbbing against your thigh.

He retracts just as suddenly as he started, and a needy little whine escapes from your throat involuntarily.

He can’t help chuckling as he reaches for the bottle of KY jelly he’d dug out of his bag while you were getting him water. It feels like it’s been years since you left the room on that little errand for him–definitely not the barely ten minutes it’s actually been.

“Relax, baby girl. I’m comin’ right back.”

You feel the cool drizzle of the water-based substance over your hole and it forces another whine from your throat. It’s met with his thick fingers again, spreading the jelly over your hole before plunging two in knuckle-deep.

“Atta girl.” His voice is thick and sweet as honey as he slowly works his fingers, thrusting and scissoring at an achingly slow pace. “Doin’ so good f’me.”

“Daddy–”

“I know,” he coos. “I know, it’s so much, isn’it?”

All you can manage to do is nod your head, arms shaking under the strain of holding yourself upright. He sees the way your limbs tremble and he adds a third finger just to be extra cruel–although he steadies you by grabbing your hip firmly with his free hand, keeping you in place as he fucks you open with his fingers.

Everything is so hot. There’s a sticky sheen of sweat covering your forehead and your chest; you can feel your own slick dripping down your thighs.

And then his free hand drops down to thumb at your clit, and everything twists in your gut so fast it nearly gives you whiplash.

Within seconds you’re coming–no pretense, no warning. It explodes white-hot from your belly and sweeps through you to the tips of your fingers and toes with flash flood speed. One second there’s nothing more than pleasant anticipation–the next, you’re shaking and convulsing and sobbing Joel’s name as you fight with every cell in your body to remain upright.

He does his part to work you through it, thumb swiping even circles on your sensitive clit, pulling his fingers from you to pin you in place on the counter so he can continue working you through it.

“I know, I know,” he coos so sweetly in your ear over the sound of your moans and cries. “You’re doin’ so good baby, let yourself have it.”

It’s minutes before you’re breathing normally again–your legs are cramping from trying so desperately to support your shaky weight. Joel’s hands are soothing you the whole time once he lets up the onslaught on your clit; it’s like he’s mapping you, tracing over every dip and curve so tenderly you could almost forget what this encounter really is.

“Doin’ okay?” He husks into your ear–and then he’s folding himself over you again, and you can feel the insistent press of his hard cock against the curve of your ass.

For some reason, that’s what really makes it sink in. That’s the moment you realize that this is actually going to happen–that you want it to happen. Joel’s about to take something from you that no one has ever taken before, and you want him to. You’re offering it willingly, even.

You hum in response and buck your hips back, giving him a delicious taste of friction that pulls a ground from his throat. “Mhm. I’m ready, daddy.”

“Fuck, that’s my girl.” He gives your hip a light pat before pulling away for a moment, and you somehow have the presence of mind to jump up on the deep countertop because you know your legs won’t be able to support you through what’s about to happen.

There’s a smile on his handsome face when he turns back towards you, lube and condom in hand. “That how you want it, baby?”

Despite everything that’s already happened, you feel so much more exposed like this. You’re completely naked, and he’s fully clothed with his pants shoved down just enough to free his dick. Even as you spread your legs to admit him between your thighs, you feel shy. And he senses it, the slight apprehension in your gaze, because his smile softens even further; he sets the lube and condom down on the counter next to you so he can grasp the collar of his worn t-shirt and tug it up over his head.

He’s beautiful for a nearly forty-year-old man, you think. He’s firm and toned, but there’s a softness about him that you can’t help admiring, especially around his belly. Your eyes eagerly lap up the soft curve of his tummy, following the tantalizing promise of his treasure trail to his cock, hard and aching for you. The ruddy, flushed tip is weeping for you; you don’t know that you’ve ever seen someone so turned on before, and it’s a heady rush of power.

He chuckles as he sees your hungry eyes taking him in–he raises one big hand to cup your chin and pull your gaze up to meet his. “You’re so pretty, baby, look so good spread out f’me like this. You sure you’re ready f’this?”

“Fuck yes,” you say with an alluring little wiggle of your hips, and that’s more than enough for him.

He pulls his bottom lip between even rows of shiny white teeth as he rolls the condom down over his length, and it’s actually intimidating like this. He’s so big and imposing and it makes your legs want to close, but–

“M’gonna go slow, okay?” He vows, voice gentle as his big, brown eyes look into yours. His fingers wrap tightly around the half-used tube of KY jelly, and he leans down to kiss you when he sees the nervous gulp that bobs your throat. “Gonna be real gentle, I promise. You tap out at any time and we’re done, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you affirm, and you feel a lot better. As out of the blue as this is, as little as you really know Joel, you can tell he’s being sincere. You trust him; you know he won’t hurt you.

The first press of his aching tip against your hole is enough to make you choke on a gasp. He’s big, and even with all of his attentive prep work to get you ready for him it’s a tight fit. You can tell it’s affecting him, too. His eyes flutter shut and he bites down hard on his bottom lip, and you can tell that he’s fighting with all his strength not to just shove himself deep inside you. You appreciate his restraint more than words can convey, so you don’t even try; you hook your arms around his neck and pull him in for a deep, messy, desperate kiss instead. His tongue licks eagerly into your mouth as he eases his hips further and further towards yours, and it’s a nice distraction from the nearly overwhelming stretch of your muscle trying to accommodate his girth.

He shudders when his hips finally meet yours, cock stuffed to the hilt into your ass. “God damn baby, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You doin’ okay?”

You whine at the first roll of his hips, nodding your head rapidly because words won’t come. It’s such a foreign sensation, being stretched and breached like this. Not unpleasant necessarily, but so brain-scramblingly different that all you can do is dig your nails into his strong, broad shoulders and hold on for dear life as he actually starts to fuck into you.

It’s nasty, and you’ve never been so wet in your life. You hear the sticky squelch of lube as he thrusts his hips, shoving his cock deeper than you imagined possible. Your own wetness seeps from your neglected cunt and drenches him, dripping down around his cock and wetting the dense curls at the apex of his sex.

“Shit baby, you’re takin’ daddy’s cock so well,” he whines breathlessly; one arm hooks under your knee so he can spread you open a bit wider for him, and then the other hand returns to your puffy, arousal swollen clit.

You make what has to be the most high-pitched sound you’ve ever made as his index and middle fingers start a torturously slow pace on the little bud. “Fuck daddy!”

“I know,” he coos–you think that soft, breathy, Southern twang is going to actually put you in your grave. “I know, you wanna come, dontcha? It’s okay baby, daddy’s gonna make you come all over his cock just the way you need.”

His hips pick up the pace in time with his fingers, and all you can do is lay there limply like a ragdoll. The pleasure is so much different than what you’re used to, but it’s good. It’s amazing, the feeling of him balls deep in your guts in tandem with his ministrations on your clit, in a way you never imagined it could be.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl f’me,” he growls, hitching your leg a bit higher over his hip so he can thrust even deeper. “Fuck, m’not gonna last long like this. You’re gonna make daddy come so hard in this tight little ass.”

His words are accentuated with a little smack to the side of your ass, and it makes you moan louder still. Your head rolls back as he picks up the pace of his fingers, swirling hard and messy circles with reckless abandon. He’s not trying to prolong it anymore–he’s going for the kill.

“Fuck daddy!” Your hands scrabble for purchase on his smooth, freckled skin as he pounds harder into you. “W-want it, please, want you to come in my ass–”

“Gonna give it to you, impatient girl,” he growls deep in his chest. “You gimme one first.”

Your entire body jolts when he brings his hand down on your sensitive cunt before groaning at the way your arousal sticks to his hand and makes his fingers shine.

“She wants t’be stuffed so full, doesn’t she?” He purrs, fingers dancing so fucking teasingly around your fluttering cunt that it makes your eyes water. “Bet she’d love to be chock full’a cock right now.”

“Joel–”

“Now, now, baby, no whinin’. It’s unbecomin’ for such a sweet little lady,” he grunts, and the condescension dripping from his tone is almost enough to make you come on its own. “You’re gonna take what I give you and be grateful for it, aintcha?”

“Yesyesyesplease–”

His fingers have barely returned to your clit before you’re coming again. This one is even more powerful than before–a hurricane instead of a flash flood. Your entire body trembles with the ebbing flow of pleasurable waves–the words you’re panting aren’t even discernible English anymore.

The way you clench and flutter around him in your own pleasure pulls him over the edge faster than anything ever has before. He comes hard, chest clenching hard around his breath, cock twitching more violently than anything you’ve ever felt before as he spills his load into the condom.

It’s a long, breathless moment before he pulls himself from the vice-like grip you have around his dick. He pulls out with a deep, long groan–it makes you giggle, because it’s the most over-dramatic sound you’ve ever heard in your life.

There’s a beat, and then he starts laughing, too. At the sweet sound of your laugh, at the way he feels like he just ran a marathon, at the absolute absurdity of this whole thing. His laughter is so sweet and gut-deep and infectious, and it only serves to make you laugh harder. For a good few moments it’s just you and Joel, half naked, panting and sweaty, doubled over in laughter.

And then the bathroom door swings open and Tommy barges in.

“I’m feelin’ a helluva lot better after sleepin’ in, what’s so funny–” He stops dead in his tracks; he sees you naked and spread out on the counter and Joel disheveled and sweating. Neither of you are laughing very much anymore as you both scramble to cover yourselves up.

Tommy quirks a brow, a smirk spreading across his lips as his eyes dart back and forth between you and Joel. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

You don’t know how to answer when you’re so mortified, so you do the only thing you can think of–you dart out of the room and down the hall to the safety of your bedroom as fast as your shaky legs can carry you.

➔ beta: @fhatbhabie dividers: @saradika-graphics

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pinksturniolo · 25 days

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If I Can’t Have You, No One Can - Part One

Matt Sturniolo x Fem Reader

Summary: Matt can’t seem to stand the fact that he can’t have you to himself. He knows it’s wrong to want you. After all, you’ve been dating his best friend for the past few months. But he never claimed to be a good guy. And he’s more than willing to show you just what you’ve been missing.

Content warnings (not in every chapter): smut, oral, fingering, raw sex, cheating, unhealthy relationship, obsession, spanking, use of alcohol

word count: 3,887

written in first person pov

Spring 2023

I never liked L.A. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s a nice city. Besides the cost of living being outrageously expensive, the weather was almost always nice and there were a lot of fun things to do. It’s the people that are insufferable. The increasingly large number of influencers and rude celebrities make me want to move away to a small town where nobody knows me, somewhere with a lot of nature and miles of land between you and your neighbor.

I grew up in Pasadena, moving closer to the city after my parents divorced and my mom switched me to a different high school. After I graduated, I got a job in merchandising downtown working for a clothing brand. It was always my dream to work in fashion and I was lucky to be in a spot I wanted.

Working in the fashion industry and living in L.A., I was bound to end up in the circle of today’s social media stars and to be quite honest, there were only a handful of people I actually liked. One of my coworkers, Jackson, became my best friend and he was very outgoing, always dragging me along to influencer parties and events. He had a lot of connections which were good for work but as far as I was concerned, I tried my best not to get involved with anyone on a personal level.

But life has a funny way of throwing you for a loop. Jackson introduced me to Mark who was also in the same line of work we were in. We instantly clicked, the conversation flowing easily. He was attractive, funny and nice. It didn’t take long before we became exclusive and our friends were over the moon, saying how good of a couple we made.

A few months had passed, and I was content. But there was something missing. He was a good boyfriend and treated me well, but I just didn’t feel… passion. I didn’t feel those fireworks. That heart racing, mind bending, butterfly inducing feelings that were portrayed in every romance movie or book you’ve seen or read.

The only person who ever made me feel like that was Matthew Sturniolo.

Matt and his brothers Chris and Nick happened to be really good friends with Mark, and I was introduced to them once me and him started dating. I found them charming, hilarious and some of the nicest influencers I had met so far. Me, Jackson, and Nick became inseparable, hanging out almost every weekend.

Mine and Matt’s friendship started out innocent. He was a little shy at first, but it didn’t take long for him to open up around me and we found that we had many things in common.

Maybe more than I have with Mark.

The more time I spent around him, the more I liked him. And it was rarely ever one on one interactions. Most of the time, we all hung out in a group setting but I found myself looking to him when something was funny or observing his reaction when we were watching a movie, and hanging on to every word he said when he joined in on conversations.

As much as I tried to deny the fact that I had developed a huge crush, I couldn’t help that my mind was constantly filled with thoughts of him.

Thoughts of his smile, his laugh, his eyes. The way he looked in the mirror when he fixed his hair, the way his pinky lifted from the cup whenever he took a sip of his drink. I found myself wandering how well his lips would fit against mine. How his hands would feel on my body, the sound of his voice panting in my ear if he was on top of me-

It was sinful. I felt horrible and disgusting and I’m sure there was a special place in hell reserved for me.

So, I tried to back off as much as I could. Whenever Mark went to the triplet’s house to hang out like we did almost every week, I made some excuse that I didn’t feel good, or I just wanted some alone time. He was a little concerned at first but then stopped questioning it after a while which I was thankful for.

Matt and Nick constantly blew up my phone, asking why I suddenly stopped coming over and I kept my responses as dry as possible. Even Chris called me a couple times, but I ignored it. I felt bad but I knew it was for the best.

I wanted to respect Mark because even though it pained me to finally admit to myself that I wasn’t in love with him, I did care for him, and I didn’t want to break up. We had only been dating for a few months so obviously we weren’t that serious yet to consider moving in together or even discuss marriage but that didn’t mean that he deserved for his girlfriend to lust over his best friend.

And then one night, when they were all at Top Golf, Jackson called me. I knew I would never hear the end of it if I ignored his call, so reluctantly, I picked up.

“Y/N! Get your bum ass over here, I’m sick of you avoiding us. You’ve had enough alone time. You need to come back to reality.” He scolded.

“Jackson, I’m not avoiding anyone.”

“You sure about that? Cause I could argue there is a certain someone-“

“Jackson.”

“Y/N. I’m serious. I miss you, everyone misses you.”

“I miss you guys too…”

“Okay, so why can’t you come out?”

“It’s… complicated.” I sighed in frustration, unsure how much longer I could keep dodging the situation without explaining it properly. I had a feeling Jackson knew why. He was my best friend, and best friends always knew.

“Complicated how?” He pressed.

There were a few seconds of silence as I tried to find the right words to say, but I just couldn’t come up with anymore good excuses and I knew I was fucked.

“Well, I’m not hearing any good explanation, so if you’re not at the triplet’s house by the time we get there, I’m literally coming over there and dragging you out of the house myself.”

Click.

Yeah, I was fucked.

I walked up the driveway to the entrance of the house, my heart racing and legs feeling like Jello. I really needed to get my shit together. I hadn’t seen Matt in a while, and I found myself extremely nervous as I entered the front door. I walked up the stairs, seeing everyone at the kitchen table. Everyone except Mark and Matt.

I smiled, setting my purse and keys on the table and greeted everyone.

“Mark said he had to finish up some work at the office. Something about a deadline that was coming up soon.” Jackson said, noticing the curious expression on my face.

“Okay…” I replied. That was weird, he’s usually good at communicating with me and I had assumed he had come back with everyone after Top Golf.

Jackson just shrugged, taking another bite of his chicken finger. Once I saw the familiar styrofoam box with red lettering, my jaw dropped and I put a hand over my heart, acting like I was just utterly betrayed.

“Wow, you guys got Cane’s without me?” I asked.

Chris rolled his eyes while Nick gave me a dirty look. “Excuse me, you haven’t been here in fucking 6 months.” He spoke.

“Don’t be dramatic, Nick. It’s been 3 weeks.” I replied.

“I’ll save you my last piece of toast if you promise to stay and watch a movie tonight?” Nick said, giving me puppy dog eyes.

My heart dropped and I gave him a soft smile. “Maybe.” I replied.

“Don’t get your hopes up, it took some threatening just to get her over here.” Jackson added, glaring at me.

“Whatever, you’ll only be breaking Matt’s heart if you don’t stay.” Chris said, looking at me with an expression I couldn’t read.

“What do you mean?” I asked. Did it really matter to Matt that much whether I was here or not?

Chris started to speak but then Nick stomped on his foot which caused him to hunch over in pain. “What the fuck dude?” Chris said, rubbing his hurt foot. I raised an eyebrow and looked over at Jackson. What the hell is wrong with them?

He simply shrugged again, a small smirk on his face and went back to eating. His nonchalant attitude was starting to bother me. I was definitely having a talk with him later.

“What he means is… Matt misses you. He said you’ve been ignoring his calls. And don’t get me started on that. You have a lot of making up to do.” Nick said, referring to the fact I’ve been ignoring everyone’s calls.

“I know, I’m sorry… Where is Matt anyways?” I asked, looking around.

“He’s in his room if you wanna go talk to him.” Nick replies, and I get nervous again, butterflies starting to form in my stomach.

I nod and walk away, towards Matt’s room.

I had only been in his room a few times and it was usually with Nick or Jackson, never just me and him. It wasn’t even a big deal but for some reason, the thought of being alone in his room with him scared me.

I knocked on his door softly, waiting for his response. After a few moments of silence, I knocked again, calling his name quietly. “Matt?”

He still didn’t answer. I was about to give up when I heard him respond, “Come in.”

I slowly cracked the door and could see it was dark in his room, the only light coming from the TV. I walked in and saw that he was in his bed, submerged under his comforter, only his head peeking out. His hair was a mess, and his eyes were barely open.

“Oh shit, I didn’t mean to wake you up.” I said and started to move back towards the door.

“No no, its okay. I needed to get up anyway.” He rasped, sleep still thick in his voice.

He sat up slightly, moving the blanket down and I tried not to stare because he didn’t have a shirt on, and I was getting a full view of the tattoos on his arm. Even though he had just woken up, he still looked so handsome.

He pats the spot on the bed next to him, inviting me to sit down. My heart is still beating faster than usual as I sit on the edge of his bed, making sure there was more than enough space between us.

“All that golfing got you tired?” I ask teasingly, smiling at him. He laughs, a sound that I hadn’t realized I had missed so much.

“To be honest, I’ve been tired all the time lately.” He responds, running a hand through his hair.

“Me too.” I say, looking down to my lap. This small talk was killing me.

“Is that why you’ve been declining my calls? You sleeping too much?” He gets straight to the point, and I can feel his eyes on me.

I laugh nervously, unsure how to tell him the real reason I’ve been avoiding him.

“I’ve just been really busy with work. You know how that goes.” I say, hoping he won’t question me further.

He hums and nods his head, as I finally make eye contact with him. “I don’t really believe you… But that’s fine. I just hope it’s not because I’ve done something wrong.”

“No, of course not. It’s not that you’re doing anything wrong…” I reply, stopping before I say anything I regret. You’re just consuming my every thought and desire.

“So, it is something I’m doing then?” he asks, wanting me to clarify.

My words seem to get stuck in my throat as I look at him, unsure how to even answer that. His eyes are burning into mine, making my heart race faster.

“No.” I simply reply, and he raises his brows at my dry response.

“Yes.” I blurt, and his face is now plastered with confusion and hint of amusement as I get flustered, pinching my nose and closing my eyes in frustration.

“Yes?” He asks.

“No- fuck, I meant-“ I start and Matt interrupts me, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Yes or no, Y/N?” He says, now enjoying the fact I was making a fool of myself.

“No, Matt. It has nothing to do with you, okay?” I say, getting up from his bed. Lies.

“Now can we go watch a movie before Nick starts throwing a fit?”

✿

A couple hours and three bags of popcorn later, we were all sat on the couch as the credits of Edward Scissorhands roll on the screen. I checked my phone and to my surprise, Mark still hasn’t texted or called. I’m sure he’ll just call me in the morning.

Jackson yawns and stretches his arms out in his seat next to me, announcing it’s time for him to go home. “We’ll talk later, yeah?” He says to me, and I nod as he gives his goodbyes to Matt and Nick. Chris passed out halfway through the movie until me and Nick started spraying whipped cream smiley faces on his forehead, annoying him enough to make him storm off to his room.

Once Jackson is gone, Nick scoots next to me and throws his arm on the back of the couch behind me, giving me a suggestive look.

“Sooo… are you gonna spill the tea? What’s up with you and Mark?” He asks, nudging my shoulder.

I furrow my brows in confusion as his question. “What do you mean?”

I can feel Matt staring at me from his spot across the other side of the couch.

“Well, Mark barely even mentioned you tonight and then he randomly left saying he had to finish up some stuff at work. And I’m guessing he didn’t even tell you because you keep checking your phone like you’re waiting for his call.” Nick says.

“Wow, you’re incredibly observant.” I respond and I hear Matt chuckle.

“I know. Also, that would explain why you’ve been MIA the past few weeks. Are you guys gonna break up or something?” He asks.

I shake my head. “No, it’s not that.”

He raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to elaborate.

“But something is going on with you two?” Nick questions.

I hesitate and look at Matt, an unreadable expression on his face. He’s leaning back on the couch with his arms crossed, his legs spread slightly in his sweatpants. “Please stop beating around the bush, Y/N. We just want to make sure you’re okay.” He speaks.

I sigh, throwing my head back and tucking my hair behind my ears. “Okay. Look, we’re not breaking up. But I’ve just felt different recently… like… I don’t know, like I don’t feel the same way about him like when we first met. Maybe we rushed into things too quickly. He has been working a lot lately and I just feel… lonely.” Empty. Bored. Unsatisfied.

Nick hums in understanding, tilting his head. “See, that makes sense. You guys have zero chemistry. At least that’s what I’ve always thought. Right, Matt?” He says, looking to him.

“Zero.” He replies instantly. His eyes have not left me since we started this conversation, and it makes me want to melt into the couch.

Suddenly, Nick gets a face time call and jumps up. “Shit, I have to take this. But we’re not done with this conversation, okay?” He tells me and I smile at him as he walks off upstairs.

I look at Matt, who now stands up and walks over to me, sitting down and putting his arm on the back of the couch, the same spot Nick had it in just moments earlier.

The way they switched places so quickly had my head spinning and the closeness of him next to me made my heart skip a beat.

“You know, you can sleep here if you want. I’m sure Nick won’t mind if you stay in his room.” He said politely. I smile at him, shaking my head. “It’s okay. I prefer my bed much better, no offense.” I reply and he laughs. “I won’t tell Nick you said that.”

“I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring your calls Matt… I guess my head’s just been a mess.” I tell him, looking to my lap, playing with a loose string on the rip in my jeans.

“It’s cool. You can talk to me anytime you need to though, you know. About anything.” He says ducking his head to try and make eye contact again. I give in, looking at him and his soft expression tugs at my heart strings like I’m a lovesick puppet.

“Thank you.” I reply. “But I don’t know if you wanna get caught up in that. I’ve been a little… frustrated, to say the least.”

His arm flexes behind me, and I see his jaw clench, a curious look now in his eyes.

“Frustrated?” He says and I realize I might have implied something with that statement.

“Uh, I mean, stressed, you know? Like I have all these pent-up emotions.”

Shit. What the fuck was I saying?

Matt is silent, and the way he’s looking at me has my heart beating a million miles a minute, my palms feeling sweaty and my head spinning.

Finally, he says, “Like you need a release, right?” My eyes are still locked on his, floating in a never-ending pool of icy cold blue that makes me feel warm in the palpable tension now filling the room.

“Mhm.” I say, afraid to speak, because I might continue to say incredibly stupid things I’ll regret.

I feel his hand ghost over the back of my neck, which causes chills to run down my spine.

He tilts his head slightly, his eyes travelling down my face, pausing at my lips. “I could help you with that too. If you asked.” He said quietly, almost whispering and looks me in the eyes again, a playful fire burning there and a sly smirk on his lips.

Before I can even process what he said, the next second, Nick comes bounding down the stairs from his room and Matt removes his arm from behind me, clearing his throat.

I jumped up, causing a weird look from Nick. “I-I need to go home. I forgot I have some things to do.” I blurt, going to grab my purse and keys from the table.

He looks back and forth from me to Matt, one eyebrow raised in confusion. “Okay… I guess I’ll see you later?” He asks and I give him a hug before walking to the front door past Matt, avoiding eye contact with him. “For sure. Later!” I say, trying to rush out the door as fast as I can.

Once I open the door and step out, I hear Matt run to catch up and I turn around while he shuts the door behind him.

“Y/N. Wait.” He says.

“Yes?” I ask, my breath coming out in short puffs.

The cool air of spring is blowing, leaves falling from the trees and flowers starting to bloom in the grass.

Matt looks at me in the same way he has all night and I notice he’s hesitating, his mouth opening but no words coming out.

“What?” I say, wondering what he could’ve possibly followed me out of his house for.

“Tell me you don’t feel what I feel.”

“What?” I say again, sounding like a broken record.

He moves closer to me, his body now a few inches from mine and I see his chest rise and fall quickly, his next words coming out breathlessly.

“Tell me you don’t feel something between us. I need to know the real reason why you’ve been ignoring me.”

My heart is pounding at his boldness, and I clutch to the keys in my hand so hard my skin stings with pain. I was not ready to have this conversation and all I could do is freeze as he waits for my response.

“Y/N, tell me you feel nothing. That I’m just a friend to you and nothing more.” He says softly now, reaching his hand out to brush his fingers against my jaw with the lightest touch.

I want to tell him that yes, you’re just a friend and nothing more. That I don’t have any feelings for you and I don’t think about you every moment I wake up and every moment before I go to sleep. That I feel nothing.

But I just can’t. I can’t say or do anything but stare back at him, my eyes surely saying the complete opposite of what I’m thinking.

He closes the gap between us, now grabbing both sides of my face in his hands, brushing his lips against mine. “Tell me you don’t want me.” He breaths, and my knees feel weak as I clutch onto his shirt. “Matt…” Is all I can manage and I’m not doing a very good job of convincing him that I don’t.

He groans at the needy sound in my voice, and I can’t take the tension anymore as I press my lips to his, kissing him. He instantly kisses me back, his grip tightening on my jaw and I’m not even sure how I’m still standing.

He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, our mouths moving in sync and it’s electric. His lips are so soft but firm in the way he leads, and when his tongue glides against mine, I moan lightly from the feeling. His hands now slip to my waist, mine still on his chest.

The kiss is becoming heated as we pant against each other, his fingertips digging into my hips and pulling me even closer to him. I feel his heart racing, the world slipping away like nothing else matters.

He kissed me like he couldn’t breathe, and I was his oxygen.

I wanted more and more, unsure that I will ever stop before a little voice in my head tells me that this is wrong, wrong, wrong. But it feels so fucking good.

No. This is bad.

“No-“ I say, suddenly pushing him away from me, catching my breath.

I shake my head, backing away from him now. “This is bad.”

His cheeks are tinted pink, lips swollen and red, his hair a mess.

“Y/N.” He says, taking a step towards me.

“I can’t, I’m sorry. This shouldn’t have happened.” I responded, stepping further from him. “I have to go.” And I turn away, practically running to my car and slamming the door, taking off before I can change my mind.

As I drive home, the look on Matt’s face replays in my head, and I touch my lips, the feeling of his kiss still there.

I’ve never felt this strongly before, and as I drive further and further from him, I feel an invisible string tugging on me, willing me to turn around.

It’s a dangerous game to play, whatever we’ve started.

a/n: matts pov and disgusting smut in part two 😁

feedback and thoughts appreciated 💕

taglist:

@sturniolopepsi @tillies33ssss @whicked-hazlatwhore @riasturns @christhopersturniolo

#Spotify #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo smut

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tokoyamisstuff · 2 years

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Multifandom - Types of Yandere

Look up -> this <- post if you want closer information about the respective Type!

Fandoms: AoT, SAW, Marvel, HxH, Hellsing, Soul Eater, DC, HtGAwM, TLotR

Warnings: Probably every Red Flag you can imagine.

A/N: Obviously the alignment is purely subjective and many of the characters fit more than one profile.

Missing your Favourite? Tell me which Type they are!

Reiner Braun - Clingy:

After so many of his comrades have fallen in battle, it's not surprising that Reiner is terribly afraid of losing his s/o as well. This is also the reason why it's impossible for your relationship to make any progress, since he sees any change as potential danger.

At first you'll be very persistent in your attempt to get him to open up, but as soon as you're aware of his past, you're basically being held an emotional hostage. Whatever you might do that doesn't please him, he'll guilt trip you into behaving just the way he expects you to.

Since he is already burdened with a huge load of different types of trauma, most likely the relationship the two of you have will be a trauma bond as well. So you'll most likely have close to nothing in common other than the fact that you understand each other's pain.

Reiner is delusioned when it comes to seeing you as his ideal partner, just because of the fact that you can endure the burden of his mental state. He rather loves the idea of being loved by you instead of seeing you as an actual person.

With you constantly having to care for Reiner as some kind of moral support, this relationship leaves you overwhelmed and exhausted most of the time - while at the same time you feel guilty for feeling this way. Most likely your private life will have to suffer for it, leaving you with no real perspective for the future.

"W-What do you mean you need space? Y/N, I-I can't- I don't know what I'd do if you don't stay with me tonight! What can I do to make you stay? I'd do anything! Please, remember what we've been through. You can't leave me just like that!"

Detective Mark Hoffman - Obsessive:

After having met you, the very little humanity Mark had buried deep inside of him would resurface - but with the person he had become, there's no way that this would lead to anything good.

It might just be a small act of kindness you've shown him in this otherwise cruel world that had broken this man, which made him ultimatively obsessed with you. He'll fight those feelings at the beginning, knowing he's undeserving and being with him would put you in danger, since there's no going back from how deep he was already in Jigsaw's schemes.

His fantasies with you will soon develop into detailed plans, all of in which he ends up being your knight in a shining armor. The most likely being him putting you into a self-made Jigsaw trap just to safe you shortly after, or even kidnapping you with the thought of 'protecting' you and hoping that you'll fall for him eventually.

So before you even remotely consider him an option, Mark already knows every single detail about you. From your point of view, your relationship will develop so easy and naturally, yet little did you know that it's solely due to his manipulation.

"Shh...keep your sweet little mouth shut. No one can hear you anyway. You have no idea yet how much you mean to me. I promise, you'll soon beg me to kiss you."

Frank Delfino - Possessive:

While Frank may appear distanced and afraid of commitment at first, as soon as you'd break the walls he had built around him there's no going back for any of you.

There's two different sides to his personality, one being the perfectly calm and composed man that'd get the job done - whatever you'd ask from him, he'd go to any lenght to fullfill your wish. On the other hand he is a very sensitive person that easily becomes overly dependant.

Frank craves a deep and intimate relationship with his s/o and wants that person to know him inside and out. However, that dream of starting a normal life seems almost impossible with his kind of background.

He has a very traditional view of himself as your caregiver and tries to support you while simultaneously manipulating your life in a way that benefits your shared future, including getting certain people out of your way.

With a life as chaotic as his, you'll get pulled right into his criminal schemes, even though he'd do anything to prevent it. And while he certainly wants to become a better person and would never harm you in any way, there's a sinister side to him that destroys everything and everyone that might threaten your relationship.

"Please, Y/N. You need to understand! There was no other way! All I did was only for our sake! I'd never willingly put you in danger! I'd make the whole world my enemy just to know you safe!"

Illumi Zoldyck - Manipulative:

The thing with Illumi is that he will have this ideal image of you in mind that you will never be able to catch up to - which carrys a heavy penalty whenever he is especially disappointed in your behavior.

You won't even be able to notice how heavy his influence on you was from the very first second, for he'll be starting off very subtle. The range goes from sabotaging your work over threatening your family to ultimatively getting rid of every person he deemed bothersome.

In the end, the life you had built will completely collapse - except for Illumi, who remains as your only companion.

The man has a very narrowminded idea as how your shared life will proceed, and gets easily irritated with every aberration. And being an assassin with an extremely background, his ways of making you obey will be especially ruthless. Abduction, complete isolation, even diverse methods of torture, nothing is off limits.

At the end you'd be so lonely and broken that you crave for the breadcrumbs of affection he might give you if you behave.

I'm certain that at some point, because it's simply impossible to please him, Illumi will not hesitate to put a needle in your brain to achieve his goal of total subservience.

"C'mon. Crying because of your family again? Pathetic. You don't need anyone else but me, right? Everyone will leave you eventually, but I stayed. That's more than enough. I thought my teachings have opened your eyes - you could be so much more than that."

Thranduil- Overprotective:

Due to his long life, Thranduil has made quite his own fair share of negative experiences - pain and loss being his steady companions. Though he might appear cold on the outside, the deep love he holds for his s/o easily overpowers his usual rationality.

With his charming demeanor as well as his calculating intelligence, it is easy for him to control every single aspect of your life - and while you probably realize the changes, you don't mind them at all, maybe even thinking that it was your own wish.

In the end, you're basically never allowed to leave the Woodland Realm, being provided with everything you need by Thranduil first hand. Even the servants assisting you he'd pick with the utmost criticism, and they're constantly supervising you, leaving you without any ounce of privacy.

He'll never leave your side, thinking you to be way more fragile than you actually are and always downplaying your achievements, fearing it might lead to you wanting more freedom.

"You're my empress, Y/N, and everyone shall treat you accordingly. There's no need to prove your worth. We'll rule together and achieve eternal peace in our kingdom. Give in to me completely, and you get whatever you desire."

Franken Stein - Sadistic:

Being a man of science makes Stein's ways of tormenting you more sophisticated than the others, yet not less terrifying.

What's worst about his abuse however is that afterwards he instantly shifts back to his calm and collected self. He might not regret it either way, but it's heartbreaking to watch the man that had made you endure so much pain is now tending to your wounds, whispering sweet affirmations.

He tries to keep it together for your sake, he really does. It's just that his madness amplifies exponentially with his love for you - his sweet little lab rat.

How can he hold back when curiosity gets the better of him? After all, you're his biggest secret yet to unveil, and he wants to know you inside and out.

Stein wants to know literally everything about you, even the worst parts. He'll thankfully accept every reaction your mind and body will show him, amazed to see you surpass your limits over and over again. And oh, he would lie if he'd say that this tear-stained face of you doesn't incite something deep inside of him.

Don't worry, he can fix this - like he always does.

Sinister Strange - Delusional:

"Shit...I might've went too far this time. But oh, you outdid yourself once again! Taking everything so bravely for me...You're simply amazing to break."

After having spent an agonizing eternity in this collapsed universe he himself had caused and was never able to leave, all there was left for Strange was to reminisce in the little pleasant memories of you.

Even resorting to forbidden magic, the only thing left for Strange is dwelling in the brief moments of dreamwalking into different universes where the two of you lead the life he could never have - which only further feeds his irrational desire to regain what he had lost.

Against all laws of nature and moral, Stephen will spend every single second of his existence to cross those borders. If he cannot leave, then he at least made a variant of you stay - no matter the consequences.

To him, it doesn't matter that you're not his original Y/N. The borders between realities dissipate in his broken mind, all that's left being his irrational fixation. Whether you're leaving a perfect old life behind, if you had a past with the Stephen of your universe, or how you'd react to having to spend the rest of your life alone with your abductor, he'll overcome any obstactle just to have you close - may you love him or not.

"No no no, Y/N, don't cry! It's me, Stephen! Don't you remember me? It's okay, I know this is much. But we'll work this out together! From now on, I won't let anyone take you from me again..."

Joker -Self-indulgent:

The Joker sees himself as more than a person and wants to be treated accordingly. So no matter how much effort, even if you pour your whole heart and soul into pleasing him, it will never be enough.

He won't even try to hide the fact that your relationship is nothing more but an obstacle for his plans. In his eyes, those feelings for you make him weak, ordinary, human - unworthy for someone as great as him.

You're literally a ressource only of any worth if you provide for him, so you'll constantly be on edge because you need to perform accordingly. The few breadcrumbs of affection you're getting are leaving you so addicted that you'd even gladly accept punishment rather than those phases of being treated like nothing.

While as soon as you lack, the Joker might dispose of you, it'll never be for long. Everytime you're gone he realizes what he misses and get's you back to still those narcissistic desires.

"C'mon. It goes without saying that the Crimeprince of Gotham would only accept the most finest partner at his side. You know we're like a thunderstorm meeting a tornado, my love. Made for each other, and yet too strong not to clash."

Alucard - Impulsive:

As a basically invincible eldritch being, Alucard is used to getting whatever he wants, whenever he wants it - I mean, who would stop him?

Because his almost immortal existence can be excruciatingly boresome at times, he is certainly not the type to have a domestic relationship with, let alone stable in any way. Just as his mood, his desires and interests can change on a whim - so it's no wonder that he tends to drastic measures to keep the relationship alive.

While on rare occasions the vampire might show genuine romantical feelings towards you, most of the time his focus lies solely on entertainment purposes. May it be to kidnap you, purposefully getting you in danger or simply cut off all contact to see how you'd sink into despair, the list of possibilities is endless - but hey, at least you'll always get rewarded in the end.

You can't endure his erratic nature anymore, thinking it destroys you? Well, too bad for you: Leaving is no option. For the only thing that enrages him more than you being boring, is not having you around anymore.

At some point, may it be due to an outburst of his or when something not going according to plan, leaving you on the brink of death, Alucard is certain to turn you into a Ghoul - only afterwards realizing the consequences of what he had done.

"Oh, my dear, I almost felt tempted to congratulate you for the pityful scene. Did you really think I was leaving you this time? No. I was watching all this time, from the shadows. You're mine, I'm not going anywhere."

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hellolovers13 · 1 year

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Annual Writing Self-Evaluation 2022

Shamelessly stolen from @larrysballetslippers

1. Number of stories posted to AO3 this year: 10

2. Word count posted for the year: 83.245 (WTF??)

3. Fandoms I wrote for: One Direction

4. Pairings: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles/Niall Horan

5. Story with the most:

Kudos: I Hope We Never Change

Bookmarks: I Hope We Never Change

Comments: love drunk, waiting on a miracle

More under the cut.

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why):

I Hope We Never Change was my first story and I've put a lot of heart into it. But I also have to mention my advent fic love drunk, waiting on a miracle. Writing 30k words in just three weeks is something I could never have seen myself do. It has been a challenge but I am soo glad I did it.

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why):

I Hope We Never Change Yeah I'm really proud of this one, but I also know I could've done soo much better. As is often the case with your first work, I think.

8. Share or describe a favourite review you received:

This one, because I love when a comment reflects what I wanted to portray. Makes me feel like I've done a good job. Same with this one. And I loved this one, too.

I also received some video reaction from my lovely beta @liberty-barnes which is just something else I love that soo much. <3

But honestly, I cry about almost every comment. I'm just soo grateful people enjoy my silly lil writing.

9. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Finishing Every Snowflake Is Different (Just Like You) was really hard. I struggled with fitting the pieces together a lot

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

No really a scene, but then again REALLY a scene XD, but writing Slow Hands really wasn't on by bucket list. It was, if nothing else, a great writing exercise and I'm happy people liked it even tho it had Narry in it XD. (also, if anyone sees this as a kinda sequel to I Hope We Never Change, I will not disagree, although I didn't write it like that it might very well be)

11. A favourite excerpt of your writing:

"All that will ever matter to me is you. My sexuality could never be more important. I haven't figured out what I am yet, but I know I’m yours. And I want you to always be mine. Whether that be my boyfriend, girlfriend, my partner.” (I Hope We Never Change)

12. How did you grow as a writer this year:

When I started again in June after almost ten years of not writing anything, I didn't think I would ever post anything. And now here I am, with 10 stories and over 80k words and I can't quite believe that even happened and that people would enjoy my writing at all.

13. How do you hope to grow next year:

There are a lot of areas I struggle with. Writing a scene with lots of people for example. I hope to get out of my comfort zone a bit next year.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

@liberty-barnes Miah, you already know this, but none of these stories would exist without you. Thank you soo much ily<3

@footy-met-mussy Tricia, you were my first real "fan" (lol) and I'm soo happy every time you comment on my fics or leave a tag or anything. ily

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Definitely. Gender stuff is always very close to my heart, but I'm sure loads of my own insecurities blend into my stories as well

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

This will sounds like no advice at all, but just write. Doesn't matter if it's good, doesn't matter if it makes sense, doesn't matter if anything's missing. I have so many things marked as unfinished, so many half written sentences (mark those, otherwise your beta will be very confused XD sorry @liberty-barnes :*)

If I have a scene in my head I'll write it even if it's just a few sentences. I can always change it later if it doesn't quite fit anymore, but at least I have it written down.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

Yes, I have a pretty big project planned. Can't wait to start writing.

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

@liberty-barnes @neondiamond @harryslonecurl @bananaheathen @wabadabadaba @lunarheslwt @itsnotreal @disgruntledkittenface @alwaysxlarrie @tommokat and anyone else who wants to

#tag game #my writing

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wiltingdecay · 2 years

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he drank, but finally drowned in his sorrow

word count: 4179

pairing: rowan aisling x julian devorak

characters: rowan aisling, julian devorak, asra alnazar (mentioned briefly)

warnings: hurt no comfort, alcoholism, depiction of a toxic relationship, emotional manipulation, extreme self-hatred, implied/referenced self-harm, references to suicide and suicidal ideation, blood, injury

synopsis: life in the hanged raven is about as happy as you'd expect.

author's note: this may be the bleakest thing i've ever written. i had to take multiple breaks while writing it because it was depressing me. please for the love of god heed the provided warnings, proceed with caution, and let me know if you think there's any warnings i missed out on. i'll be happy to revise the list accordingly. that being said, i'm very proud of this fic, and i hope you'll enjoy.

Rowan's taken to sitting in front of the mirrors, recently.

Of course, the mirrors are unavoidable no matter where you sit. Julian had done a good job of smashing them sometime before Rowan ever came here, but they are many and they are everywhere - walls, ceilings, no matter where you look, there's your reflection staring back at you; shattered beyond repair, whole pieces missing, but inescapable and undying nevertheless.

They're oddly relatable, Rowan thinks.

In the position he's in now, lying on his side so close to the glass, Rowan doesn't have much difficulty making out his reflection, jagged and scattered as it is. He's not sure what exactly it is he's looking for. He's never been sure, but his body is laid out in front of him for his own inspection regardless.

He looks at his hollow cheeks, his pallid skin, his tired, unfocused eyes, his long and tangled hair, the frenzied claw marks where sharpened fingernails had torn his face open, and wonders, not for the first time and certainly not the last, where it all went wrong. What he could have done, short of doing the world a favour and killing himself before he ever got a chance to ruin it, to fix things.

But even if Rowan could turn back time, it's a useless question to ponder. Rowan doesn't fix things. He destroys them. He burns them into ash.

"My love... why are you on the floor?"

Rowan rolls onto their back, tipping their head towards Julian to look blankly up at him through the hazy fog in their mind that never seems to go away. They don't bother dignifying that question with a response. Why the floor? Why not the floor? What makes the floor any worse than any other place in this fucking shithole they're stuck in-?

Uh-oh. They're getting angry again, and even though they're so sure they didn't speak a word of their thoughts aloud, Julian looks upset. Then again, when doesn't he look upset?

Rowan will never begrudge him that, though. He has every right to be upset. Even if this is all his fault. It's all Rowan's fault, too. Fitting, then, that they should live out the rest of their days in this den of iniquity, this dank and vile prison of their own making.

At least they're together now.

Uncomfortable in the silence, Julian shifts his feet, talons clicking against the floor near Rowan's head. Rowan's not sure why he seems so uneasy. They've always been quiet. They think. Isn't he supposed to love them? He should know that already.

"It's just that," Julian begins again, his voice timid like it never was when he was human. "There's broken glass on the floor, love. From the... from the mirrors. I don't want you to get hurt."

A memory slowly swims through the murk to the forefront of Rowan's mind. Julian erratically pacing around him, feathers puffed up and wings spread out in an ultimately futile intimidation attempt, trying to scare him away. The distinct sound of sharp, painful crunches with every step, jagged shards of glass being crushed into splinters under his feet.

"Oh," Rowan says quietly. His voice sounds strange to his own ears. It almost hurts. Thinking on it, he can't quite remember when was the last time he spoke. He supposes he doesn't have all that much to say anymore.

(Well, there's plenty he could say. But nothing Julian would want to hear.)

Rowan's painfully aware of Julian's gaze, fraught with worry, on their back as they slowly push themself up into a seating position. They mentally curse themself when they hear the telltale tinkle-crunch of broken glass shifting underneath their body as they move. Their magic, influenced by the ever-constant presence of the arcane around them, is far stronger than it's ever been, but it's still not a miracle cure. If there's any glass stuck in them, their skin will just close over it and push it further into their flesh if they use any of their usual healing spells.

Craning their neck to have a proper look, they stare numbly at their thigh and hip for a long moment, where some of the bigger shards of glass have torn through their clothes and pierced what little remains of the soft flesh underneath. They hear Julian's breath catch in his throat behind them, knowing he's staring in transfixed horror as blood slowly blossoms outwards from the worst of them, and for the first time, the wounds begin to sting.

"Fuck." Rowan mutters.

Well, no sense in drawing it out. Sucking in a long breath through their clenched teeth, Rowan grips the worst-looking shard between forefinger and thumb and pulls. They hear Julian gasp, see the bloodstain quickly get larger, certainly feel the pain get worse, but they ignore all of it and just keep pulling until at last, the glass is out. A sharp, thick spliner about the size of their little finger, all but a few centimetres near the base coated in the warm, wet, bright red of Rowan's blood.

He flings it away from himself into a darkened corner of the tavern and gets to work pulling the rest of them out.

Behind him, Julian twitches. His wings flap, his talons tap, his hands clench and unclench. Rowan can hear it, and he knows it must be killing Julian, that he's only able to watch as the person he loves treats their own wounds, that the hands of a doctor were replaced with those of a monster, a demon; incapable of helping, only causing further harm.

Try as he might, Rowan finds he can't muster up any sympathy for Julian's predicament. He'd welcome his help if it was offered to him. Human or demon, he never stopped craving Julian's touch, his physical declarations of his love. Like most of Julian's many troubles, this is purely self-inflicted. He can't help Rowan because he won't allow himself to.

Still, though, Rowan knows all too well that Julian has his many weaknesses, and he knows exactly which ones to exploit in order to get what they both want. Namely that if Rowan directly asks him for something, no matter what it is, Julian is loathe to refuse them it. And so, once they've pulled out the worst of the glass, they turn back to him with the most pleading look in their eyes that they can muster, and extend a hand towards him. "Can you help me up, please?"

Julian freezes. Even his wings seem to stiffen as his eyes, wide with apprehension and painful hope, flit between Rowan's outstretched hand and beseeching expression. He's quiet for a long moment, biting his lip hard enough to break the skin, and Rowan can see in his mismatched eyes that he's fighting with himself, that all he wants to do is sweep them up in his arms, consequences be damned, and never let them go.

They wish he would. Even if it kills them. At least they'd die happy, never to be parted from him again.

But Julian knows his limitations, and his need to keep Rowan safe from harm (ha) will always outweigh any of his desires. Some time later, he swallows, closing his eyes briefly, and gives a tiny, jerky nod. "Of... of course, darling."

His hand is shaking when he reaches for theirs.

He must be sober, or at least as sober as he's capable of being, judging by the way he takes their hand. Or, rather, the way he doesn't take their hand - even as Rowan grips his wrist, he only rests his own hand ever so lightly on their forearm to help them balance, his talons barely brushing Rowan's skin. He's never this careful when he's been drinking, forgetting that it's no longer safe for him to touch them thoughtlessly.

Not that Rowan particularly minds. When it happens, when he touches them casually (forgetting that he thinks he's no longer allowed to) and it doesn't hurt, they're ecstatic. When he does hurt them, they know they deserve worse.

They don't even tell him when he hurts them anymore; thankfully he's wrapped up enough in himself that they have time to heal whatever he's done before he notices. The last time he found out, when Rowan had gone to console him after a nightmare and he'd hugged them so hard he snapped their ribs, he'd been so sick with guilt and shame that he hadn't touched them, hadn't even spoken to them, for what had felt like years. Even though they'd been able to heal themself within seconds, every time Julian caught a glimpse of the ugly scars where the jagged edges of bone had pierced through Rowan's skin, he'd retreat to his booth in the back of their prison and refuse to so much as look up from his tankard of bitters. The deprivation of any sort of contact had almost driven Rowan insane. Julian hadn't come back to them until they quite literally started banging their head against the walls and tearing their hair out. Best not to let such a thing happen again.

Rowan's slowly lifted back to his feet as Julian moves backwards. He stumbles when he tries to stand, the thick fog in his head almost feeling like it's alive, and he can't help but let out a little yelp of fear. Julian reacts without thinking, his free hand shooting out and cupping Rowan's elbow to steady him, helping him find his balance. He freezes up again when he realises and tries to move away, an apology for crossing a boundary that doesn't exist already on his stuttering lips, but Rowan silences him with a hand pressed to his cold, feathered cheek.

"You didn't hurt me, Julian. 's okay." He tries to make his voice sound reassuring, but it just comes out flat, his words slurring together. He supposes it can't be helped. Julian doesn't seem to mind, anyway. He relaxes, his eyes sliding shut, rubbing his cheek against Rowan's palm. Feeling almost warm, Rowan returns the caress, running his thumb along the jut of Julian's cheekbone, tenderly stroking the tiny, downy feathers under his eye.This is alright, he thinks. This can be nice. "Can we sit down, please? I'm tired."

They have to stretch up to do it, he's so tall now, but Rowan slings an arm across Julian's broad shoulders, and he wraps his own arm tentatively round their waist, supporting their weight as he leads them away from the mirrors. It's funny; they have their pick of all the booths in the tavern, but they somehow always end up in the back corner, as far away from the door as they can get. Julian seats himself against the wall, where the window would be if there were any. Rowan slides in beside him, their hip flush against his. Julian tenses, blushing at this chaste touch as if he's not already fucked them before, and Rowan wonders, dimly, if he might suggest they sit opposite him instead (he'd never move them by force); but after a moment or two, he relaxes, lifting his arm up before wrapping it gently around them. Rowan closes their eyes, letting out a sigh of contentment. Their wounds throb, but they ignore the pain for the time being. They won't heal themself until they're sure all the glass is gone, and they're not bothered digging around in their own skin right now. It'll be fine. It'll have to be.

"Are you alright, my dearest?" Julian eventually asks. "Does it... do the cuts hurt?"

"No," Rowan replies, the lie sliding off their tongue as easily as a knife through softened butter. They can vaguely remember that they used to be a bad liar. Perhaps they still are; Julian may just be reluctant to call them out on it. They suppose they'll never know. "Don't worry about it."

It's not completely a lie, anyway. They didn't start to hurt until Julian pointed them out.

Whether he's bought it or not, the lie seems to relax Julian. He falls silent, and Rowan does too, resting their head in the crook of his shoulder. Soon, they feel Julian start to play with their hair, and they almost smile at the feeling, at the normalcy of the gesture. They know that Julian marvels over the fact that Rowan still has hair to be played with. After they'd decided to stay here with him, they know he'd fretted that the same fate that befell him might be waiting for Rowan; that they would become a twisted monster, a demon, just like him.

But despite his fears, Rowan remained human, their body only changing in ways that any human's would when living this way of life. Because unlike Julian, Rowan did not make any deals to be here. They did not trade their soul for something that could never in a thousand lifetimes be worth the price.

Knowing what they know now, knowing what they are, they have their doubts as to whether or not they even have a soul to sell.

Julian's thumb smooths across Rowan's bangs, and they relax, letting their thoughts go and allowing themself to enjoy the affection. He used to love their hair, they remember; always playing with it, always burying his hands in it when he kissed them fervently, always winding the curls around his fingers or affectionately rubbing them between his fingertips. Rowan used to take such pride in their hair, too. Julian always had a compliment about it - how soft it was, how nice the scent of it was.

Was. Of course, there is no space for trivial matters such as hair care in the Hanged Raven. Even though Julian doesn't seem to mind, Rowan knows it's tangled beyond repair and disgustingly greasy, and that the old them would weep if they saw it. They just can't bring themself to give a shit. In fact, thinking about it, Rowan's not sure if they've even seen water ever since they set foot in here, let alone anything else they might use to clean their hair.

They crack an eye open, glancing down at the tankard that's somehow appeared in their hand. It's full of straight whiskey, as it always is. He can vaguely remember a time when it would be filled with cider, fruity and sweet, once his favourite thing to drink before it was no longer enough to numb him. But there was never water.

Rowan misses water.

"Julian?"

"Yes, my angel?"

"D'you remember what water tastes like?"

Julian's hand stills in their hair. Rowan can almost hear him frowning as he ponders their question. "No," he replies eventually, after a pause that could have lasted a minute or a month. "I don't."

Rowan lets out a breath he forgot he was holding in a long sigh. "Me neither." He punctuates the statement with a shrug that shifts Julian's arm on his shoulders, prompting him to hold him just that little bit tighter. Rowan's tempted to move again, deliberately this time; just a little, just enough to make Julian increase his grip on them until they're satisfied, but they know they ought not to push their luck lest he release them entirely. "Nothing to be done about it now, I s'pose."

Well. Not quite nothing. He could get up from his seat, walk across the floor, ignore the crunch of glass under his feet. He could step out the door, out into the mangrove swamp, under the sky and the sun or the stars or the moon or whatever it is they've got now. He could walk until he finds water, clean the blood and filth from his body, drink deeply and experience the refreshing joy of having something that's not alcohol in his system. He could find other people. He could listen to birdsong. He could breathe fresh air. He could be free. He could live.

But he won't. Because he knows he no longer deserves these things, if he ever did in the first place.

And because he knows Julian's devotion only goes so far. He's not stupid. He knows Julian doesn't love him more than he hates himself. If he decides to leave the Hanged Raven, he knows Julian will not follow him. He will stay here, drinking himself into a death that will never come, and eventually forget that he was ever loved, that he was ever a human at all.

So Rowan stays.

It's better this way, he knows that. He almost killed himself time and time again trying to find Julian in the first damned place, and he's not going to have all of that be for naught.

Perhaps he really did kill himself back then, he muses as he lifts his drink and takes a sip, and the thing he's been reduced to now is nothing more than a ghost that just doesn't know when to quit. That seems fitting, considering what he is. What he's always been since the day Asra performed that god-forsaken ritual that only lead to ruin in the end. As if it could've ended any other way.

Asra. Now there's a name Rowan hasn't thought of in quite some time. But now, for the time being, they remember; fluffy white hair that always smelled of smoky tea and hibiscus, kind purple eyes with an underlying glint of mischief, lie after lie after lie falling from softly smiling lips. God, how they hope he'll never show his face around here. Rowan might just have to strangle him if he does, and there's still a long-buried part of him that would be upset about that.

No matter how hard Rowan's tried to drown it.

To distract himself, he takes another drink, enjoying the stinging burn as it washes down his throat and into his stomach. It almost makes him feel like himself again. Whoever that is.

With every sip, the smog in his mind becomes wonderfully thicker, and heavier, until it's blocked out... whatever it was he had been thinking about. It's funny to think about how much he used to yearn for a past to call his own, how he craved to remember. Now he sighs dreamily, content to have forgotten the things that once caused him such despair, leaning closer to Julian and cuddling into his side.

"I love you so much," Rowan tells him. And really, how could they not? He's the only thing that matters. The only thing that will ever matter.

Julian turns his head to look at them, and Rowan doesn't care that he's a demon (not that they ever did, not really); they only care about how he's looking at them with such fondness, such adoration, such need, like he's a man drowning and they're his first glimpse of the shore. They wish they could forever hold this feeling of being wanted and loved and craved, and lock it up tight in their heart, where nothing and nobody can take it away ever again.

"I love you too, my darling." Julian speaks slowly, so that Rowan can hear the sincerity in every word. "More than anything. More than life itself."

They know.

Rowan presses even closer to him, head lolling back on his shoulder, hooking one of their legs over his thigh. This is nice. What were they even upset about earlier? This is so nice. This is almost normal.

They take another drink.

And another.

But no matter how much he drinks, no matter how many times his tankard refills with whiskey and not water, there's something that won't stop nagging at Rowan from underneath the brain-fog he's trying to bury it in. He fidgets in his seat, tapping his fingers against his and Julian's thighs, face creasing in a frown as he tries in vain to smother the voice, or perhaps to uncover it. He's not quite sure.

Eventually, Julian notices that something's not quite right. "What's wrong, my love?"

His voice is gentle. Tender. And it cuts through the thick, muddled haze in Rowan's mind as if it were the sharpest knife.

Dearest. Angel. Darling. Love. Rowan has always adored these pet-names, these reminders of how much Julian still loves them despite everything. They especially love hearing a "my" in front of them, that little note of casual possessiveness that makes them feel positively treasured.

But come to think of it... when was the last time that Julian addressed Rowan by simply their name?

And so, the penny drops.

"You don't remember what my name is, do you?"

Julian doesn't need to answer for them to know it's the truth. If they didn't already know on some strange, fundamental level that they can't quite explain, his body language would be more than enough to give him away; out of the corner of their eye, they see his face fall, his eyes widening with sudden realisation and downright horror. His whole body tenses, arm tightening around their shoulders, and they hear the telltale tapping of his talons against the wooden floor, his legs shaking uncontrollably as he starts to panic, desperately clawing through what remains of his mind in an attempt to grasp the memory of their name. His mouth opens and closes like some kind of fish, choking on... what, exactly? A lie? An attempt at a guess? A stammered, pathetic apology?

They could alleviate this so easily. A simple "It's Rowan" would be more than enough to, not exactly fix things, but it would be enough to cut through Julian's mounting panic, calm him down enough for him to remember, to wonder how he even forgot, of course their name's Rowan, how could he not remember? He'd beg for their forgiveness, they'd readily hand it over, silencing his inevitable self-flagellation with a hug and a kiss and endless, endless coddling. Eventually, once Julian had gotten bored with metaphorically flogging himself, they'd both pretend it had never happened in the first place, and end up forgetting about it entirely until it happened all over again.

They feel drained all of a sudden, exhausted down to their bones, and far, far too tired to deal with this whole bullshit song and dance anymore. They find that they are in no mood to even attempt to lift Julian's spirits. Why should they? No matter how hard they try, it hardly ever works, and even when it does, it certainly never lasts.

He brought this on himself, anyway. He should be the one who has to deal with the consequences.

"I-I'm... I... n-no. No, I, I don't." Julian eventually forces his words out, every octave of his voice steeped in guilt and shame, eyes glistening with tears. Ah, so it's the apology, then. "I'm trying, my love, I promise I'm t-t-trying, I'm sorry, I c-can't believe I for-forgot, my darling, I'm so, so sorry, I-"

"It's fine." They cut him off mid-sentence.

Julian gapes at them, tears running freely down his cheeks, mouth hanging open like a baby bird looking for its next meal.

For their part, they're tired of being the meal.

"It's... fine?" Julian repeats hoarsely, voice hesitant with disbelief. "You... are you sure?"

They nod once, sharply. "It's fine." They repeat. "It doesn't matter. Not anymore."

Julian's staring at them like he's not sure if they're real. "You're not..." His voice is so small, so timid. At times like this it's hard to remember that he's almost a decade older than them. "You're not mad at me?"

"No." It's not even a lie.

I'm not mad at you. I just wish I'd never met you. We both would've been better off that way.

"Besides," they continue, reaching once more for their tankard, looking down into its depths to avoid Julian's gaze. It's refilled itself again. "It was never really my name, was it? Maybe you're better off forgetting it. Maybe we both are."

They know they're right, much as it hurts to admit. They aren't really Rowan. They never were. Rowan is just the name of the dead person whose face was forced onto them. Let it die with him. Perhaps it's the only way he'll be able to finally rest in peace.

He deserves at least that much.

They hear Julian swallow nervously, feel as he tentatively wraps his arm back around them, holding them tighter, pulling them closer. "If... if you're sure, my darling." He shakes his head slowly, casting off his thoughts as best he can, before picking up his own tankard and taking a swig of bitters. He doesn't even flinch when drinking them anymore. When he's done, he turns his head, pressing a soft and chaste kiss to their brow. They lean into it, closing their eyes.

"I love you," Julian says quietly against their skin. "So much."

Their throat hurts. The cuts on their leg and hip throb. There's tears in their eyes. Their mouth is dry. More than anything, they'd like a drink of water.

"I love you, too."

They tilt their head back, and drain their tankard once again.

#fern's writing #reversed!rowlian au #rowan aisling #julian devorak #the arcana #julian x oc #julian x apprentice #the arcana fanfic #bird julian devorak #julian devorak reversed ending #birblian #i refuse to put this into their main relationship tag

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risu5waffles · 1 year

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i have no Ten jokes today, sorry

So many things to do, v. busy squirrel, me. i suppose these will fall on Fridays every now and then, but, really...

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Bright and cheerfull, if maybe a bit on the kludgy side of things. i've always been a fan of chonky, sticker cut materials wiv a bit of wobble on them, which seems like a goofy, tiny thing to point out, but i feel like it really brings the vibe of LBP1. Like the level is actually put together from bits and bobs lying around. i almost prefer that that a more perfect "this is a place" environments.

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This level is really pretty in places, but gosh is it just all over the map. You can tell that it was updated wiv each new game, and additions were made wivout much consideration to how they would fit into the feel and flow of the existing level. Still, when a scene works, it really does work well.

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We talked about this one last week, and it is still so, so good. Right up there wiv Neon Dimension: Rush as one of my favourite racers.

youtube

i was listening to someone go through Saya No Uta's story while i was playing this, and wow, that game is sure a whole kind of mess. Also, that was an Urobuchi jam? i honestly had no idea. This level is... well, it's also a mess. Not in the same way Saya No Uta is; it's just early LBP1 kludgy. i do like it for that, but beyond that, there's not much to it. The multistage boss was a nice touch, tho'. i almost (almost) miss bosses in people's levels. When they were done right (which is not always the same as done well), they could have a lot of charm to them.

youtube

Ahhhhhhhhh! i fucked up the title card! And the overlay! It's Flourishing Islets, not Floating Islets. i am the worst archivist, and need to crawl into a very deep hole somewhere. Maybe if i could find a hole that had a whole hole inside of it, that would do. The level is actually pretty nice tho'. Good environment, decent gameplay. Level_Tester says it's unfinished, but honestly, it's a lot better done than any number of other levels i've played. It just needs a bit of falling action and a nice wrap-up.

youtube

i really couldn't bring myself to get into this one in the end. It's overlong and overstuffed, even if i did like the lumberjacks. i think a big part of it was the pseudo-Skulldozer bit at the end. Making the player re-do the entire sequence (wiv cutscene!) everytime they die is really asking a lot. Especially right at the end of such a chonky feeling level. i appreciate where the creator was going, but i feel no need to take the trip a second time.

youtube

This is another one that just feels like it goes on forever. Like, it's cute. Not, perhaps Miami, but very neon. It's definitely a level. But it feels more like a collection of poorly playtested bits?

youtube

i actually wound up mostly liking this one? The presentation is pretty pants, but it does a decent enough job getting the feel of the Canyons. The invisible walls in the Serpent Shrine sequence were pretty uncalled for, tho'. The cameras could have done wiv some tightening as well. It was really hard to tell where the hitboxes (hurboxes?) on the spikes were in relation to me, because of how the cameras were angled. It's why i ended up just stickering the walls in the end to mark out safe zones.

youtube

For all the goofiness here, this really is a nice level. i like how it builds itself out as you go along. That's always something i've liked seeing levels do, and is one of the things that really made me cotton to Chronos' levels before we really knew each other. Since this was done in LBP1, there're all kinds of wonky physics interactions, so the level can be broken pretty easily if you're not careful. It's funny, but the one i showed in that preview video the other week actually has a workaround, so it's pretty clear even the creator knew things could go sideways. i kinda love that?

youtube

Yooo... we just talked about this five minutes ago. Are you telling me you can't remember 5minutes ago? Are you me? Could you pay the rent this month?

----------------------------------

Right. That's another ten down, and i super have to run. Later Slaters! Love ya! Stay safe!

#littlebigplanet #little big planet #lbp #lbp1 #lbp2 #lbp3 #Youtube

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scarlettriot · 3 years

Text

Along for the Ride PT 1

Pairing: KirishimaxF!Reader

Summary: A drunken mistake had you marking the little Plus One box to your snobby cousin's wedding. Kirishima told you not to worry, if you couldn't find a date, he'd go with you. When the wedding gets moved up, there's absolutely no time to find a date and you're now about to be traveling to America with Kirishima on a private jet no less, dreading having him meet your rude and impossibly arrogant family.

Contains: Kirishima and Reader both come from very well-off families. Plus-Sized Reader. Fluff. Hurt/Comfort.

Warnings: Kinda smutty for a minute. Minors DNI. Drunken Sex. TW: Manipulative Family Relationships. TW: Body Image Issues

A/N: This story has been rolling around in my head for a while now. I might rewrite this and repost. Or I might just post the whole thing soon. I dunno yet. It does get smuttier.

Word Count: 4,974

"What's up with Y/N?"

Eijiro stepped out of the locker room with a towel slung over his shoulder and made his way into the kitchenette where Mina was chugging a bottle of water before getting back to her patrol. His eyes were trained on their mutual friend out on the patio, pacing.

You had your phone pressed to your ear, the high neck of your hero costume unzipped to your collarbone and he noticed your gloves discarded on a chair.

"No clue." Mina shrugged. "She got back from patrol and she noticed a bunch of missed calls from her mom. She's been out there, flailing on the phone for the last fifteen minutes now."

The three of you had met in your second year at UA when you transferred into their class and were quickly accepted by their little squad of friends. You were a bit quiet at first but quickly found comfort in the group. Eijiro had grown especially close to you when you both interned with Fat Gum.

Late nights traveling on the train back to school, a few close calls while helping patrol, and days spent playing cards while you both healed up in the hospital left plenty of time for Eijiro to get to know you better than most. It was how he knew you had a pretty bad relationship with your family, why you hated returning home for the holidays almost as much as you hated any and all forms of tomatoes.

He considered going out there just to see if there was anything he could do but before he had the chance, you were sliding the glass door open. "Oh, good, you're back." He offered you a bottle of water for your throat that he assumed was sore after that argument. "I- um- can I borrow you for a second? Alone?"

Mina snorted a laugh. "If you guys wanna bang it out on the counter you can just say so. I gotta go to work anyways."

Eijiro threw the towel at her as she left the room leaving you two alone. "What's goin' on?"

You hoisted yourself up on the countertop while he leaned against the fridge. "You remember my cousin's wedding that's happening this winter?"

He nodded. He vividly remembered the both of you getting waste a few weeks ago when you were filling out the RSVP and accidentally marking 'plus one'. Then you ran around trying to find White Out but he'd told you if you didn't find a date or have a significant other by the time of the wedding, he'd just go with you.

You argued that your family was bat shit crazy, had more money than they could spend in their lifetime and because of that, they were among some of the rudest people you knew, and you didn't want Eijiro or anyone else around that.

The thing was, Eijiro already knew that and was still okay with going. He came from money too. A lot of it. His family was just more welcoming than yours, the wealth never really going to their heads. But, he reminded you that he'd ran into enough people like those in your family that he knew how to handle them. You finally agreed to let him accompany you, leaving the plus one box checked but the name line blank.

"Well, my cousin just found out that surprise, she's pregnant! And, obviously, she can't have a wedding while seven months along so they've decided to move the wedding up to this weekend."

He nearly choked on his own spit. "This weekend? As in four days from now?"

"Yup! Saturday at 4 in the evening. Oh! No one's supposed to know she's pregnant either. So, I'm just supposed to compliment her on how flattering her dress looks, how thin she is," Your hands strangled the water bottle between them, "And I have to find something flattering to my figure because my mother has seen me in my hero outfit and she's so glad I wear a mask because if anyone knew her daughter ran around looking like I do, well, it'd ruin her!"

You massaged your temples circling back to the actual point, "Anyways, I just wanted to bitch for a sec and let you know you're off the hook since four days is just a little short notice and I told her my plus one wouldn't be able to get the time off that fast."

He pushed off the fridge. "Well, wait, hang on! I'm not letting you go in alone to deal with them! Hell no! You need backup!" You looked almost taken aback by his abruptness, "Yeah. I can work this out. Is the wedding at the same place it was supposed to be or has it moved?"

"No, it's still that fancy lodge in California. I was planning on leaving Friday morning and then coming back either Sunday night or Monday morning since my mother insists I go to their brunch the following day. But, Eijiro, I already have this weekend off..."

"Denki owes me a favor or twelve. He's supposed to be off this weekend too, I'll just see if he can cover me."

"And if he can't?"

"Then..." He pressed the back of his hand to his forehead, "Y/N, am I feeling warm to you? I think I might be starting a fever!"

You folded your arms, shaking your head, "Thought you said lying isn't manly."

"Technically, correct. But, what would be real unmanly is for me to let you deal with your family's bullshit all alone." You watched him closely, "To be honest, I'm sure we could just explain you had a family thing come up and asked me to come along for moral support. I don't really think anyone would think twice about it. Hell, you took a few days off to console me when my turtle died suddenly!"

"Eiji, you refused to eat."

"And you brought me my favorite dumplings! Same thing!"

You might have shaken your head at him but your arms opened wide. The telltale sign you wanted affection. He walked forward, consuming you in a tight hug. Your arms latched around his neck, face buried in the hollow of his throat. "You're the best."

"I just do what I can."

>>><<<

You should have canceled. Instead of Eijiro faking sick to get out of work, you should have faked it with your mother so you didn't have to go in the first place. You crumpled to the floor of your bedroom in pure frustration amidst the twenty or so outfits and dozen pairs of shoes you'd thrown out of your closet trying to find something that your mother would deem appropriate.

It wasn't your fault you had a fuller figure. You worked out, ate right, not to mention your job kept you very active, and yet your, hips, ass, and breasts were by no means subtle.

Your mother had also insisted on the dress being floor-length and modern, "Do try not wearing all black. It's a wedding, not a funeral. And, get your hair looking natural, please." And, just like that, 70% of your wardrobe was out the window!

"It's open!" You called from the floor when the doorbell rang.

"You really should lock this." Mina tutted, walking through the door with a bag full of takeout.

"I do. At night."

"Honey, it's 9 PM."

"Night like bedtime."

Mina just rolled her eyes and walked into your tiny kitchen. "I see the dress hunt is going well."

"I actually figured it out!" You got off the floor, careful not to step on a heel as you made your way to the pink haired woman, "I'm just gonna go in my birthday suit. I figured, my mother made my body technically therefore she can't disapprove of it. Because, you know, she's never done anything wrong in her life!"

Your best friend snorted out a laugh and passed you the take-out container stuffed full of stir fry. "you're a wonderful person, you know that?" You loved the fact Mina didn't even have to ask what you wanted.

"If you'd just move closer to work then you could pick it up yourself and I wouldn't have to bring it to you."

"Too expensive." You declared after a mouthful. "You pay almost twice as much as I do per month and I just don't see the point. I have damn near the same amount of space you do for half the cost!"

You adored your small one-bedroom apartment. It was perfect. Right above a bakery that you visited each morning after your run and a little balcony that provided you with the most stunning view of the sunset.

"You and Kiri, I swear." Mina just shook her head and curled up with her food on the loveseat. "I thought he'd end up with the biggest house out of us all the moment we started making that real Pro money. You've seen his parent's house. It's massive! You could get lost in that place!"

Eijiro's place was barely bigger than your own. He lived in the same condo he had since you'd graduated UA, claiming it was perfect for him in each and every way. But, you knew that he donated a sizable amount of his paycheck every month to charities, the same as you. With savings to spare, neither of you saw the point in hoarding it and therefore the small condo was all he could afford with what he actually kept.

"Just don't understand how a guy that big can live in such a tiny little space. At least with you, it's you know, physically feasible."

Eijiro's bedroom was barely large enough to fit the king-sized bed the man needed to sleep comfortably and even then, his feet were dangerously close to dangling off the bed. And, as if the man's ears were burning, your cell phone went off under a pile of discarded shoes.

Shark-E: Figured out your dress situation? If not, I'm just gonna pack like ten different ties and hope for the best.

You: Yeah! I totally did! I'm just gonna wear this birthday suit I got and call it a night.

You chuckled at your own joke all over again. Watching the grey ellipses appear and then vanish, appear and vanish again. After a third time, you took pity on the man.

You: Joking, Ei. I still don't have it figured out but Mina's over so, hopefully, she can help.

Shark-E: Gonna give me a damn heart attack! Seriously, I wouldn't put it past you just to see the look on your mom's face. Tell Mina hi and good luck to you. I vote the dress from the Hero Gala two years ago.

You: Hi from Mina. Can't. Too much boobs.

Shark-E: You take that back right now! There is NEVER such a thing as too much boobs!

You chuckled to yourself, putting your phone down, and then finished off the last of your delicious dinner, thinking about the dress Eijiro mentioned.

You wondered if maybe there was a way you could make the thing work but it was so very low cut. So much tape had been used to make sure no slips happened but damn was it worth it! The beaded bodice with the sparkling long sleeves, gods, how you loved that dress.

"I'm inclined to agree with our shark boy. You're busty, who gives a damn. You looked hot as hell in that dress."

"My mother, that's who. As much as I'd like to not give a flying fuck what she thinks, for some dumb reason, I do. On top of her telling me that the amount of cleavage I would show would be vastly inappropriate for a wedding, she'd also say the way it hugs my hips makes them look too fat."

Mina rolled her eyes. "She's such a piece of work." Pushing herself up, she held her arms out to you, wiggling little pink fingers for you to take. "Come on then. Let's get you sorted."

"What about that one you wore to the charity art thingy with Kyoka last winter? The one with the silver top."

"Silver is too close to white." You called out from within your closet.

"What! Not true!"

"You know that. I know that. Every person with two brain cells knows that, which is why most of my family does not know that."

"Fine..." She whined and started sifting through the opposite end of your closet. "Oh, what about this?" Mina waved about the blue and green plaid skirt that made up your uniform from your middle school days when you lived in America. "Please try this on. I'm begging!"

You were pretty sure it wouldn't even go over your thighs anymore.

"It's got a better chance of fitting you!"

Mina threw it at you anyway. Slipping off the sweats you wore, somehow, someway, you were able to tug it on AND get it zipped, barely. It no longer covered your ass but you still enjoyed the way it swished around when you wiggled your hips.

"You could be fulfilling so many people's fantasies right now." Mina mused.

You pulled the skirt off and sweats back on, throwing the former back at her. "Yeah, you can take it and go fulfill Hanta's fantasies if you like. Not like I've got anyone to impress." You pulled down a dress you bought on sale a year ago but Mina was quick to dismiss it.

Too puffy, she said and then held up one that was from Momo. "I needed to get it shortened and I don't have time for that now."

"Wait..." She hummed and dropped the Momo dress. "I know what it should be!"

Mina hurried through the closet, grumbling about not finding it. "Just tell me which dress and I can tell you where it's at."

"It's that one you got for grad night and then you got sick and couldn't go!"

"Mina, Mina I can't wear that! That's actual vintage, not like, made-to-look-vintage!"

"But it's so elegant and has that off-the-shoulder sleeve thing. The wedding is at a damn sky lodge! It'll look so pretty in the snow! Ah! Found it!"

She yanked up the long, elegant gown from the garment bag you'd never removed it from. There wasn't a single wrinkle in the burgundy fabric. It looked just as beautiful as the day you found it in that second-hand store, on a mannequin with gaudy stage jewels that you just had to buy so the look was complete.

You ran the back of your hand over the velvety fabric, soft to the touch. "It'll be too tight now. If I was the same size I was at graduation-"

"Bullshit!" Mina cut you off with a dismissive hand, "You've got hips now. We aren't 18 anymore! It's not like it's some clubbing dress. And I bet no one would say a damn thing about your figure if they knew how easily you could crush them with those thighs!"

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. Without quirks, you gave every single one of your classmates a run for their money in hand to hand. Most were fairly easy to beat. You could usually take down Eijiro in about five or six minutes and Katsuki in half the time. Funny enough, it was Ochaco that gave you the hardest time.

"I'll consider it. But help me find something else just in case."

>>><<<

It was another two hours before you finally agreed on an a-line, empire waist green and gold number that had been the bridesmaid's dresses for Tetsutetsu's wedding. Mina thought they were a crime the first time they had to wear them, she had no idea what you were thinking.

That's why the moment you were preoccupied with trying to find yet another dress for the Sunday brunch, Mina pulled out her phone.

You: DO NOT, under any circumstances, allow Y/N to wear the green dress. She's bringing two because she can't decide. Red is the winner!

Jaws: Aw, come on. If she likes it, let her wear whatever she's comfortable in. She'll be under enough stress already.

You: Kirishima, it's the dress from Tetsu's wedding. The one that looks sparkly baby food.

It took him a second to respond.

Jaws: Alright. Understood. I thought you guys looked good but damn, she hated that dress.

You: We all did.

Mina looked at the message chain again and couldn't help but asked, "Are we just gonna ignore the fact that you and Eiji are flying all the way to America, last minute, to attend a wedding together, even though you're not together?"

"We've flown to the states before."

"For work!" She sat up eagerly. "This is different, Y/N! This is a date and not just a, like, casual date but a wedding date!"

You poked your head out of the closet. "No, it isn't. This is a friend helping another friend who stupidly mismarked an RSVP." You corrected very plainly but Mina wasn't one to give up so easily.

She whined, dragging out your name, "You guys have been doing this thing for ages. Why do you have to be so stubborn about it all!"

"What's that supposed to mean!"

Mina started ticking off points on her fingers. "He was the first person you opened up to at UA. You saved his life when he was busy saving Katsuki's life second year. You spent all that time interning together, became sidekicks together. Went to America together for three whole months, ALONE, and you honestly expect me to think there's nothing between the two of you!"

The truth of it all was simple really; 17 year old you had a massive crush on Eijiro Kirishima. He was sweet, always listening to you, providing comfort when you needed it, and always encouraging you to push your limits. He was bright and honest, a little slow in the head from time to time but that made him all the more endearing.

He was also head over heels in love with Katsuki Bakugo.

It was why you never made a move. Never spoke a word of the feelings you harbored. You didn't dare to cross that line with him because you couldn't ever hold a candle to the explosive man.

In the three years Eijiro and Katsuki spent together, your brain finally started registering Eijiro as just a friend, nothing more, and certainly nothing less. You thought your heart had followed suit but it was becoming more and more apparent that wasn't the case. Because the night he showed up at your door, tears in his ruby eyes, every lock you put on your heart broke open.

The same way you couldn't hold a candle to Katsuki, Eijiro couldn't hold one to Izuku. You knew exactly what he was feeling even if you never intended to tell him. Too overcome with fear. If Katsuki came back... that'd be it. Eijiro would go back and you wouldn't even blame him!

Still, the redhead consumed a decent chunk of your heart though, you couldn't deny that after the three months you spent together in America, gathering intel on a smuggling ring, living in the same apartment. The groggy, 'good mornings' when his voice was still scratchy with sleep, hair falling in his eyes. The late nights bandaging wounds and killing cheap bottles of wine while watching terrible American reality shows.

It was those bottles of wine that did you in on your second to last night in America. Supplying you with courage and draining your sense of reason, allowing you to crawl onto his lap, into his arms. You could still remember the pressure of his lips on yours, those sharp teeth gently dragging along your lower lip.

Scared hands tracing the curve of your ass before taking handfuls to squeeze. The laugh that came from you was unlike anything you heard before, something so genuine that you couldn't reproduce.

How it felt when he lifted you up and took you to his bed, laying you down taking his time removing your clothes, and watching with awe as you pulled away his own. The way he looked over top of you, his hair a curtain of red around you just before you closed your eyes, gasping while he filled you.

You also remembered the guilt that crept into your head during the wee hours of the morning, the doubt that was louder than the snores coming from behind you.

It made you slip from under his massive arm, gather up your clothes from his floor, you tucked the blanket around him, and pressed a kiss to his temple before padding out of the room.

You told yourself you'd talk to him about it if he brought it up, but he never did. Not the next morning, or night, not on the plane ride back home, nor anytime since. It was a memory you'd hold close to your heart, one you wouldn't let slip away or share.

"There's nothing there, Mina. We're just good friends is all." You lied with a smile on your face, something that had become surprisingly easy to do.

If only you knew that Mina saw right through it. That Mina already knew the truth of it all.

>>><<<

It was nearly one in the morning when your phone rang. The goofy picture of Eijiro with face half painted at a festival a few years back never failed to make you grin.

"It's a little late." You answered by way of greeting.

"Don't pretend like you were anywhere close to sleeping, you little night owl."

Chuckling at the nickname that had followed you since high school, "What's up, Eiji?"

"I was going over flights. You said in the office that you wanted to leave on Friday?"

"Yeah. I have patrol tomorrow and I didn't find any flights after 6 PM so, Friday is the earliest."

He was quiet on the other line for a moment. "Yeah, you don't have patrol tomorrow, or work at all for that matter."

You sat up a bit straighter in bed. "Um, yes I do."

"No, you don't. I called Mina, asked her if you'd mind taking that shift for you and, since she knows what's happening, she agreed the extra day for travel would do you some good. So, she's covering you tomorrow then you're off work until next Wednesday. As for me, thanks to all that overtime I put in when Denki, Kyoka, and Hitoshi got married, the three of them are splitting up my days so I have until Wednesday too."

Eijiro sounded impossibly proud on the other line, you could almost see the smirk on his face. "You've got this all planned out, don't you?"

"And a bag nearly packed. Just need you to tell me what ties to bring."

"Gold, burgundy, and black."

"Thought your mom said no black for you?"

"She said no black for the wedding. She said nothing about black at the brunch!"

You couldn't wait to put on the tea-length dress that had been a favorite for years. Satin with a lacy top and, best of all, pockets.

He let out a rumbling laugh that fell off into comfortable silence as you laid back in your bed, lights still on, the room still a mess. You tapped the speaker icon and laid the phone on the pillow right beside your head, listing to the various sounds of Eijiro moving around.

A door creaking open, a hanger clattering against another, and a zipper. "And just like that, I'm all set."

"Don't forget your passport or hero license."

"I have one in my wallet and the other in my backpack."

You swiped up on your iPad, off Netflix, and going to google, lazily searching through flights. "So, did you find any good flights since you've clearly been looking?"

Another chuckle, "Eijiro, why are you laughing?" More stifled giggles had you sitting up in bed again. "Just tell me a site you were on. They're just flights, what's so funny?"

"There isn't a site."

"You said you were checking flights."

"And I was... on my family's jet."

"Eiji! No! No, no, no! That is supposed to be for their business or hero things! My stupid cousin's wedding is neither of those things!"

"Relax, Y/N. My family has multiple and they don't have any business trips planned right now anyways. I already cleared it with my mom. Seriously, I just mention your name and she's likely to let me have it for a whole year at least. Plus Todoroki's is back up in working order so the agency is covered too."

Damn, why'd he have to be so good at planning from time to time! You'd completely forgotten about the second jet his family had. Always opting for the larger one since the few missions they needed it for required them to bring fifty or so heroes along.

"Besides, if we fly private, we can land at an airstrip closer to the venue and won't need to drive four hours on top of a ten-hour flight."

"Alright, okay, thank you but, let me take care of the rental car, please. It's the least you can let me do."

"Deal. I just have one more question for ya."

"What's that?"

"Wanna leave tonight?"

You nearly dropped your damn iPad in shock. "Eijiro! What the fuck has gotten into you! It's the middle of the night!"

"I'm excited!" He boomed, "I haven't had a vacation in months!"

"I hate to break this to you, buddy, but this isn't going to be a vacation. You really shouldn't get your hopes up. This isn't going to be a good time with laughs and fun memories... my family, they just, they aren't those kinds of people."

"But we are." He stated matter-of-factly. "If they want to have sticks up their asses then let them! We'll have a good time on our own, laugh and make fun memories! So, what do you say, Y/N? I can be at your place in fifteen. I just gotta put shoes on and grab my keys..."

"Wait, hang on. Are you forgetting that we need someone to, oh, I dunno, FLY THE PLANE! Actually, we need two someone's, can't forget about a co-pilot!"

He hummed happily and you rubbed your temples. "You, you have a pilot and a co, don't you, Eiji?"

"Mhm! There is a company we use. Two can be at the hanger in an hour and every hour after that. I just have to make the call and get the flight plan approved which will be done before I even get to your house."

There was literally no reason to say no. You had mostly everything packed, nothing you needed to get from the store, all you had to do was put on pants and pack up your hygiene bag and you were ready too. Maybe getting there quicker and getting the whole thing over with would be better than staying home dwelling on everything.

"Better put your shoes on."

The glee in his voice, that was enough to make this whole thing worth it, "I'll see you soon."

>>><<<

Eijiro reached into the backseat and plopped a bag down on your lap the very moment you were buckled in. "Had to make a pit stop." He explained.

"It's after two in the morning, where'd you have to..."

"Just open the bag and don't complain."

You found it filled to the brim with all your favorite snacks.

"I'm sure the plane will have a bunch of snacks we can raid but I know for a fact they don't have these." He held up a pack of cookies and creme flavored pocky that had been his favorite for as long as you'd known him, quickly followed by your favorite flavor too. You also found a massive bag of gummy worms and jolly ranchers.

"So, what you're telling me is our teeth are going to rot by the time we land? Not that I'm complaining."

You ripped open the bag of ranchers knowing that was what he'd go for first and sure enough his hand dove inside just as he pulled away from the curb. You could hear his dangerously sharp teeth biting through the rock candy like it was nothing while you still rolled one around your mouth.

Eijiro asked you about the resort you'd be going to, wondering if you'd been there before or what other stuff you guys could do when you weren't dealing with your family. "I figured we could fly back Monday night or Tuesday morning, you know, just play it by ear in case there was anything else we wanted to do."

More than anything, you wished you could just leech a little bit of that excitement from him. The glimpses of his smile you caught as you drove under the street lights made your heart ache.

"What?" He asked with that wide smile of his. You'd been caught staring, red-handed.

"I, uh, I just don't know what to tell you."

You could see the subtle change of his grin, watch as it softened and his hand came to rest on your thigh. "Hey, it's gonna be fine! And if we run into them while out doing stuff, you can just avoid them or hide behind me!" At least hiding behind Eijiro is an easy thing to do, damn mountain of a man.

His thumb slowly brushed back and forth. "'S gonna be okay. I'll beat 'em up if they're assholes!"

You snickered at his Katsuki impression and let the drone of the radio fill the air around you both. Enjoying the silence the rest of the way to the hanger with Eijiro's hand atop your leg.

#mha #bnha #kirishima x reader #kirishima x y/n #eijiro kirishima #kirishima smut #mha x reader #mha x y/n

485 notes · View notes

i-need-air · 3 years

Text

Hybrid!AU Wolf!Bakugou Katsuki HCs Part 2.

Summary: Part 2 is here! While in part 1 it was mostly adoption and how he'd behave with you as a roommate, part two is him ✨ realizing things ✨ followed by how he'd be in a romantic relationship.

Word Count: 2k words [ oops, I did it again ]

Notes: So I said it'll be out in a few days but three [3] people asked me for part 2 and I'm a sucker soooooooo!! I could've just written a long ass fic but whatever, I thought I'd make it shorter in headcanons... hah lol right. Enjoy!

Part 1 here!

× he's a wild wolf so he's very active; like you need to understand he needs to go outside if not he'd get impatient, more aggressive, snappy, so once you took him on an easy hiking trail near your house and he loved it so once or twice a month you both go together to different places [ he demands it ]

× it's hard to keep up with him bc he's literally genetically engineered to be better than any very fit human being but he slows down for you

× morning runs at 5 a.m. bc he's insane

× is also a grandpa

× watched all documentaries on any streaming platform you could provide to him, also loves reading

× as months pass and you start to have your routine in order, word comes to you that an acquaintance is looking for a security guard at his mechanical shop two streets away from your house

× you casually mentioned it to Bakugou because he was starting to act anxious whenever you'd leave the house, so you assumed he was extra bored

× seriously, the house was spotlessly cleaned, he cooked amazingly and was occupied with your old laptop and going around the city to explore, but you guessed he wanted more independence?

× little did you know you were right but so wrong lol

× so Bakugou stared at you intensely and asked "Where?"

× it was as easy as telling him the location, him nodding and you thought he'd consider it; you didn't put any pressure on him because he already did so much to help around anyway

× well guess what bitch, next day he comes up to you saying you gotta co-sign his contract [cuz fuck society] meaning he got the job

× he was perfect for it because tall, intimidating, muscular wolf guy? who'd even mess with him? do they have a death wish?

× well, even before this he started to be... soft

× but once you really did show him you support whatever he wants to do, you give him his freedom and liberty of choice, he just reaaally changes, man

× he gets touchy, like his hands stay one second longer on your skin, he uses any excuse to have them on you, even his eyes follow you everywhere

× like c'mon, it's obvious but you didn't wanna put too much thought into it because we're respectful here

× not like you had a big fat crush on him and slowly started to realize it too

× sike bitch he knows

× you think his super-hearing didn't catch the way your heartbeat spikes up every single time he touches you? *please*

× i think he knows before you know

× meanwhile he is working to discover his feelings too

× so your relationship slowly turns into a couple's like relationship but without anything official and of course no kissing or such [ sadly ]

× would get jealous easily

× basically because nothing is talked between you two and deep down is insecure

× why the hell do you smell like other people? was it just a hug or something else? hell, why would you even hug people when he's right there??? just ask and don't touch some extras????

× another thing he does is getting very close to you while you talk to somebody else; scoffs and glares at them too

× ok so!! gifts! he really appreciates any gift you give him but scolds you if you do because you genuinely don't need to do that

× of course he just scolds you and calls you an idiot so I do hope you already learned his language

× it basically means that you shouldn't have done it, he's really grateful but seriously you shouldn't have

× like that one time you saved up money to get him a good computer and he forgot how to speak for like an hour

× the softest thank you ever afterwards

× still sounded rough but he was shocked as fuck

× one thing that remained in your brain were his friends, as sometimes he'd mention them

× so you took it upon yourself to find them, of course with his permission

× gets genuinely overwhelmed and plays it off saying he wouldn't mind knowing where those idiots ended but you didn't miss the way his voice trembled

× for you to find them you needed names and any information he could provide so that's when he, after a long silence and a mesmerized look on his face, started really talking about his life

× which was fucked; won't get much into detail but he was indeed in a fighting ring, people came and bet on whoever was stronger, he even had to fight his friends, everything was filled with abuse and their conditions were subhuman...

× just overall awful

× you couldn't help but hug him tight, feeling him shake in your arms

× with a hesitant voice he asked if you really did think there was a chance to find them

× just couldn't believe how amazing he felt in your arms

× or how your determination that night made his heart clench and took a big weight off his shoulders

× anywho;;;; after his first paycheck he takes you out on cute dates

× never calls them that, just demands you dress up [helps you out cuz boy got style] and takes you to a nice coffee shop or something

× AND on your fifth not date cuz you're not official but there's this weird tension between you date he finally kinda s n a p s

× you honestly didn't expect the waiter to flirt with you, he came out as very pushy and even if you were a lil uncomfortable you smiled and brushed it off

× when the waiter suggested giving you his number the sandy blond hybrid growled

× which i shit you not made the whole coffee shop freeze

× and you froze too

× but neither of you could say anything because the oblivious fuck kept talking

× basically joking about how you should keep your pet in a leash, to which you got up, threw some money on the table, grabbed Bakugou by the hand and leave before he'd rip someone's head off

× it only took you to touch Bakugou's arm to calm him down as he followed behind you wordlessly

× so you stood outside, angry, deep red eyes on your figure

× and silence

× his hand still in yours

× it was warm and amazing and you felt angry but your heart was beating loudly; angry at the waiter that you wanted to go full Karen on and get fired but excited because that growl shook you to the core, as if you could tell it was territorial and it was because of that pig flirting with you and did Bakugou Katsuki just lace his fingers with you?!

× "Oi." he interrupted your thoughts

× he turned your frame towards him and pulled you [kinda harshly] into him

× you'd make a comment about it but brain empty, just Bakugou Katsuki blushing

× "You're mine, you get it?"

× skdjflglykshs

× it sounded like he asked but it was a demand so oops you're his now ok bye

× like I said, boy isn't dumb so he lowkey knew you felt something too

× legit from there on he's just soft as fuck

× has a hard time opening up but visibly tries for you

× still continues to be a pain in the ass, Bakugou Style, but with a loving teasing attitude behind it

× his eyes give him away all the time

× they shine whenever you're in his field of view so congrats because, and this is the best part:

× WOLVES MATE FOREVER 💕💓💞💗💝💟

× oh yeah, he's yours, no takebacks

× he isn't one to half-ass the relationship; you're his now and he'll do anything for you

× big time touch starved it hurts

× because he is shy

× so whenever you introduce him to hand holding and cuddles, he can't get enough

× not big on PDA [ and not recommended since human-hybrid relationships are kiiiinda frowned upon but it's getting better ]

× although at home it's another deal

× seriously cuddle him; he's big into the protector vibe so he's a big spoon almost exclusively unless it's to sleep on top of you

× speaking of! accept that even if your relationship isn't that intimate, he'd still hint about sleeping together in the same bed

× so you better catch on when he does because he'll just click his tongue and call you needy

× while dragging you to bed

× sleeps holding you, his nose in your hair or in the crook of your neck

× unless it's summer then stay on your side 💅

× you know those kisses that just scream "I can't get enough of you"? that's his whole kissing vibe in a sentence

× hell, even the gentlest kiss gives that vibe away and it'll 100% leave you breathless

× doesn't have experience but is a very fast learner

× pays very close attention to your body language

× really into biting your skin enough to leave marks

× wear his hoodies

× no, I'm fucking serious, wear them now

× his chest puffs and he turns into a blushing mess when you do it the first times because his scent is on you

× scenting is a big thing for him so of course he's gonna love it

× 10x more territorial because now he has a mate to protect

× jealous but trusts you

× still very jealous though

× let's all pretend he is definitely not scenting you before you go out because it's in his nature and it is embarrassing

× the first time he tells you he loves you it's when he's feeling vulnerable

× the search for his friends is still on-going, he feels less than adequate as a providing mate, is pissed at the world for treating him like an inferior animal when they created him, everything is piled on his shoulders and whenever than happens he closes off

× you notice immediately

× will not tell you at first

× it's only when you go to bed and he turns his back to you when you really know it's bad

× even if you fought before, he'd angrily snuggle you at night-time

× now it's so different

× hug him, whisper sweet nothings in his ear, pull a blanket all over you both and big spoon him, he'd start shaking and talking in no time

× will hide his tears from you but you'd know

× "You're the best fucking thing that happened to me, [Y/N]... I—... Shit... I love you so much."

× neither of you slept that night

× excuse you? drink some water and pray to jesus;;; you talked about feelings, ok? communication is key in a relationship, puh-lease

× [ i have this whole nsfw hcs post already cookin in my brain so maybe I'll make it happen cuz y'all know he has a mating season and all that comes with it 👀 ]

× back to being children of jesus here

× thanks the moon, the heavens and all the gods for putting you in his life; boy didn't believe in destiny but deep down he thinks you were meant to be

× you still better wash the dishes or you'll get your ass kicked.

Extra:

× you did find some of his friends, little by little, and even if he acted nonchalant, like k das cool, it was obvious he was extremely happy

× so they did get adopted too

× you got in contact with them on social media and they were all very excited about meeting

× so it was a chaotic meeting with a dog hybrid called Kirishima and a mouse like vibrat yellow guy called Kaminari

× they all were looking for Bakugou too since they were very worried about where he ended

× Kirishima shed manly tears when seeing Bakugou

× as they instantly welcomed you in their small group, they informed you both that the majority of the squad was adopted and they're in contact, while they're still actively looking for the others

× cue to the softest expression you've seen on Bakugou in public followed by "That's good"

× silence

× shock and silence

× Kaminari turning to you and whispering "You did this" with a hand on his heart, lips trembling as he wiped an imaginary tear

× insert instantly snappy Bakugou

× when everyone laughed and continued to make plans to meet up with the others, he just looked at you conversing with them, soft expression again on his features and his chest warming

× "Oh! Look, he's doing it again! Quick, take a pictur—"

× "SHINE!"

#bakugou katsuki x reader #noirewrites #hybrid!bakugou #hybrid!au #bakugou x reader #bakugou headcanons #bnha x reader

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tippytopdays · 3 years

Text

Reason

-sips tea-

I wrote this instead of working on other things solely because i had an idea.

The thrilling third part to these two

Weak Tenacity

_____________________________________________________________

The metal bits between his fingers were so small he wasn’t really sure why he was trying. They clanged about whenever he made even the slightest twitch let alone actually pick them up to fiddle with them, to clean them like he was intending to.

He didn’t know why you’d remained. Why you hadn’t just bolted when the opportunity presented itself. You were just so damn weak, it was hilarious honestly. He could probably knock you over with a stiff breath on your neck. Yet here you were, resilient as a tumor.

And they said he was insane.

He wasn’t an idiot, nor so up himself that he wouldn’t hear what the other mercs would say behind his back. The rumors that would whisper down the halls about what he’d done, the acts of violence so petty and levels of brutality so intense that they’d send a seasoned MAG running.

They weren’t exactly wrong, per say, but he didn’t enjoy having others speak about him without his knowledge. Not that they’d ever know he was there, just outside the doors listening to their every word. He knew everything that went down in this base, after all. From the muttered rantings of that doctor to the sarcastic quips of the mildly entertaining smoker; there wasn’t a damn thing that went down in that base that he wasn’t at least aware about.

And then there was you. Simple, meek, pathetic you.

Why had he gone out of his way to just, bring you here? To save you? To help you? Maybe you just looked particularly pathetic that day and it was getting on his nerves?

The tool flipped in his hands, metal clinking as it loosened another screw.

No, he knew why. He just hated it.

Because you just had to be in that alley, just had to hold him, to comfort him when he was the weakest he’d been in years. Damn Agents got lucky.

A piece clicked free, the screws clattering on the table.

Never again.

After he’d hauled you in like the fresh corpse you were mere days from he’d gotten a rather nasty glare from the good doctor. Once he was satisfied you weren’t actually dead he’d turned on him, ready to snap at him for something or another but he’d simply turned his back, tromping up the stairs to his room.

Like Hell was he going to sit through another lecture. Or anything else he wanted to do to him. The blood wasn’t his anyway; or yours.

More screws undone, more pieces pulled apart. It was already quite a mess but he still had a lot to take out and separate before he could get to the meat of the matter.

Visiting Doc became your norm for several days. With how weak and malnourished you were the man didn’t seem to like the idea of you wandering around without some weight on your bones to steady you. Not to mention the mess you’d been made into from living in what he could only assume was an actual dumpster from how nasty you looked.

Now that he thought about it why did he carry you? You could walk, couldn’t you?

Whatever, he probably would have done it regardless of how bad you smelled. Not like he could trust you to actually be unarmed

The doctor’s plan to get your appearance into some kind of order wasn’t something he’d been privy to at the time. It was certainly something to get accustomed to at first. He didn’t even recognize you once Doc had finished cutting your hair, nearly slicing your throat the second he’d seen you again.

A twitch, the tool missed the mark and scraped across the metal. His brow twitched; odd, but nothing serious. No scratches at least.

He continued.

It only took a snippet of your voice to bring him to his senses. Granted it was also because he’d taken the time to actually look at you. Staring into his prey’s eyes as the life faded from them was something he’d relish, the fear and terror coating their black pits made it all the more satisfying to dispose of the freaks. But with yours it didn’t look right, didn’t sit well.

He’d stepped a bit too far away from you after that.

You’d been stuck wandering the base to pass the time once you’d been cleared, since there wasn’t anything that you could do anyways. No job was simple enough for your weak hands and nothing within the computers was for your eyes to see; you were completely useless to them honestly. Just another mouth to feed. More supplies to waste.

And yet, you were allowed to stay despite that.

The grip popped open along the seam, allowing better access to the mechanisms inside.

He hadn’t done much after dropping your ass off with Doc. There were better, more interesting things than some random woman he’d hauled off after all. However he’d still run across you on occasion. Sometimes you’d be in his presence, sometimes he’d be in yours. But there was no real interaction, not since he’d brought you here. Hell he’d never even spoken to you; not like you were worth the time of course but, it was something he’d noticed.

But he didn’t have any reason, no answer as to why he’d even brought you here. You were just some stray, a useless pain in the ass that he’d have to deal with.

More screws, more bits. He’d never really dug into one of these things but now that he had he could understand some of the mercs appall at how he treated them. It wasn’t enough to make him care, sure, but he could at least see why.

Maybe it was how your voice was soft enough he’d almost missed it.

“….Can I….ask you s-something…?”

Just the sound of your voice had snapped him out of whatever thoughts he’d had, the lenses of his goggles turning to face you.

You were shuffling on your sock clad feet, nearly shivering on the spot once his eyes landed on you standing there with the door at your back. Your hands fiddled with something, some small bit of rubbish you’d probably had on your person as you made to speak again, “…W-Why…Why did y-you bring me here?”

He’d sat there, staring at you for a good few moments while you shuddered under his gaze. And for the first time since he’d met you, he spoke.

“I have no fucking idea.”

It definitely wasn’t what you wanted to hear, if he wanted to judge from the furrow in your brow, but it was the truth. No point in lying about it anyways, not like you were worth it. What were you going to do anyways, stare at him disappointedly? No thanks, there was already enough slots taken in that thank you very much.

He couldn’t for the life of him remember what he’d been thinking about once you’d left, even if he’d thought it was important to ruminate on it for the past half hour.

Maybe it was because after that conversation you seemed more, prominent. For whatever personal reason you’d come up with.

Usually you ended up appearing somewhere nearby or at least entering the room at some point. For a few days he’d believed you were stalking him, until of course he’d payed slightly more attention to notice the way you jumped whenever you spotted him. How you flinched away each time he even did so much as glance in your direction. With how pathetic you were, of course it made little sense to stalk anyone, let alone him of all people.

He would have chased you off if you were, however. Stormed up to you and scared the living Hell out of you to keep you off his case.

The crunch between his fingers brought him out of his thoughts. It had snapped quite easily, the end of the tool hanging limply from the handle. Unusual but it didn’t hinder him much, he had extras; the mercs were good at one thing at least.

Not a good idea. Doc would have his balls again if he could judge by the sudden irritation in the man’s face—or whatever he could see of it—when he even mentioned you. He wanted to stay a man for a bit longer; not because he was scared of the doctor but because then he couldn’t piss off the grunts anymore.

Maybe it was the weakness in your hands. The tiny, useless little mitts that you had were so pathetically small that nothing could stay in them normally let alone any weapon you might have found. You couldn’t even grip a railing without slipping, which he found utterly hilarious.

He hadn’t moved so fast without intent to kill until you’d nearly fallen off the second story.

A sharp squeal broke that train of thought. The nice jagged scratch across the black steel glinted in the light. Hope that wasn’t too important.

Maybe it was how small you were. Granted, everyone was ridiculously dwarfed the second he entered a room. It was a habit now, to stare at them from so high above their heads. So small, so weak.

Easy prey.

But you were particularly tiny, almost mockingly so. Most of the mercs at least had some muscle to them but you still remained so fucking pathetic even after Doc’s so-called therapy. You’re shoulders were thin, your limbs even more so. Not even your face was spared by the lack of mass in your cheeks. You were just, far too small.

You wouldn’t survive at all if he’d left you out there by yourself for any longer.

Another click, the firing pin popping out with a clatter. He carefully scooted it to the side.

Maybe, when he thought about it, it was because you were nice.

Nice was the best way to put whatever it was you would do when others would be upset over something. It was odd how you would fret over Doc’s muttering fits, how you’d clutch at his arm and drag him back to his office. Just bizarre how the smoker would relax when you’d enter one of the training decks, water in hand and a smile on your face despite his presence there watching from the more obscured corners during the mandatory breaks he had to take. Unreal even when the arsonist would offer a friendly wave as you’d enter the cafeteria with your own lunch and offer a seat with you.

The solution stung his nose but he’d have to deal with it. So long as it cleaned, it was necessary. He just hoped he wasn’t cleaning the wrong thing.

He didn’t want to even start with why he’d allowed you into his room. It was inane, if he looked back on it; you’d just find something and get yourself hurt. Or worse, try to betray them—that is if you could even hold onto the weapon in the first place. He had plenty in there, sure, but most of them were supposed to be for someone his size, not a dainty little clump of flesh he’d dragged in.

It was also a mess so that probably had something to do with why you’d reacted the way you did. He had an order for things but you just had to put your own tiny mitts onto everything and make an even bigger mess out of it; organization may not be his style but it wasn’t like he didn’t know where everything was at the least. If he were honest he probably would have chased you out the moment he’d caught you organizing things.

The rag squeaked, nearly tearing when it ran over a particularly sharp bit of metal. Too much force, simple enough. Adjust and clean the parts that looked bad enough.

Maybe it was because when he’d entered again he found you there, face first into a pillow he’d snatched.

Another squeak was followed by a soft rip. Yep, that tore it. No matter, he had another.

You were small, it was hard to miss.

But there, in his room, on his bed, you were positively tiny. A mere fleck of meat on the massive slab that was the bed he’d pilfered at some point or another. It seemed at some point during your attempt at cleaning his room you’d tried to reach behind the head of his bedframe for something, your arm jammed down the crevice between the wall and mattress. How weak you were, then, to fall asleep in the middle of it.

Within the room of the worst predator of all, none the less.

He’d stalked up to you, making no effort to hide his steps and yet you resolutely slumbered on, unaware of his pursuit. Not even a twitch within your sleep as he stood over your body, the lenses of his goggles tinting your form in red.

How dare you, sleep in his bed? Treat his space like it wasn’t inhabited by a living killing machine? Act all nice and forgiving, despite everything? He’d tainted himself, killed thousands; just because he’d spared you didn’t mean you could just do whatever you wanted. He wasn’t your friend; he was barely teammates with anyone.

Slowly, he reached for you.

He’d toss you out, not even flinch if you cried. Threaten to strangle the life out of you the next time you met. Torment you if you kept it up.

Soft strands of your hair tangled in his fingers firmly.

He didn’t care about you. You were just some wretch he’d found, nothing more. He didn’t have friends. He had nobody.

Your head was still just as small in his hand as it was that day.

Yet another rip. Being careful was not his forte.

He should have woken you up, yanked you by your hair and dragged your miserable body off his bed.

But the longer he stared, the longer he let his hand soak in the sheer hear you were giving off, the weaker that desire became. More muddied and unclear.

What was he doing? Why did he come here?

The grip on your hair loosened, the strands trailing down his fingers like water. Heat radiated off of your skull, scorching the palm of his hand.

It was too much.

The cushion of his mattress was blissfully cold, a respite from the heat you’d given. A soft sigh rasped through his teeth.

It was sucked back in again as you shuffled with a soft moan, directly beneath him.

He was never one to startle, nothing surprised him. Freezing was another feeling he wasn’t accustomed to. In combat it was life or death, and while he didn’t fear death nor the Hell that awaited, he couldn’t fathom the idea of something being so terrifying that others would rather do nothing than act.

But when he found himself leaned over, hand braced into the padding of his mattress, towering over you, he had indeed frozen on the spot. If he’d thought you were small before, nothing could even prepare him for the image of you resting cozily on the blankets underneath his bulk. You were so meek, so utterly encompassed that he could simply lean over the bedside and cover you in just his shadow.

You’d vanish completely if he mounted you.

A particularly loud clang was surprising enough to refocus him on the piece he’d been scrubbing at. For far too long, apparently, if the abruptly dismantled barrel said anything.

Maybe it was something he’d done, some form of shuffle or further indenting of the mattress with how heavily he’d started to lean onto it. Whatever he or some other power committed had brought you to stir, a soft breath of air breaking your silence. It didn’t really matter why you were awake, only that you were shuffling as if to move.

There was no thought as he pounced on top of you.

Immediately you’d yelped, scrambling in his hold as he wrangled your limbs into order. What order didn’t matter as long as you stayed still. He’d wrapped his arms around your waist, your squirming body back against his stomach. Once he was hunched over gripping onto you like you were a prize, he stopped.

It burned. Any flicker of movement along his skin was like fire and if he didn’t know any better he’d assume you were some live grenade he’d caught in his hands, ready to explode at any moment from just how hot you were.

Not to mention the scent smothered against his sheets that could only be described as something purely you being smashed into his nose as he’d braced against the pillow you were just laying on.

You whimpered in his hold. He’d gripped harder.

Crushing you in his hands would be easy. Just a twist of a wrist and a pull on an arm and you’d crumple in his hold, spine shattered to bits. You’d die, you’d suffer.

You held onto his hands, your mitts barely able to wrap around his arms to reach them.

You’d leave. And take the heat with you.

Reassembling would be a pain he noticed. The pieces were everywhere, and half of them he’d completely forgotten where he’d even pulled them out from. But he’d figure it out, it’s what he did.

He’d barely noticed when you muttered, voice muffled under his chest. Nothing you said would matter even if you did, he wasn’t letting go. Wasn’t letting you leave.

It didn’t matter if it burned.

Somehow you’d found a footing from his grip on you. In your attempt to find stability or possibly escape you shuffled upwards, ass grinding against his crotch. But he shoved you right back down with a tight snarl forced out of his throat, hips snapping. Finally he’d taken a look, annoyed you’d even considered moving.

He had imagined you’d disappear under him, but the image he was granted was something else entirely. Your face was practically stuffed into the blankets with your ass held up high by his hold. All of your limbs had vanished without any hint that you were there at all aside from your wide eyes; even the edges of his coat had draped over you, free of the confines the harness he normally wore had. You had completely and utterly vanished; if anyone even dared to enter they wouldn’t be able to see a lick of your skin.

This sight, this heat, was his and his alone. A scorching treat for a cold beast.

A sharp huff hissed between his teeth as he ground against you.

What was he doing then?

A soft rumble rasped in his throat when his hold on you loosened.

Why did he let it happen?

Your gasp was so sweet, so delectable. And the heat rising to your cheeks was even more so.

There was nothing to gain from this. You had nothing he wanted. He should have just killed you. Punished you.

The softest of whimpers graced his ears as your head pushed against his chest in attempt to hide. It was so feeble it could have made him coo like you were an animal to tame. Another sharp hump to your backside pulled a squeal, to which he’d laughed. He couldn’t help it.

The slightest of grins tugged on his jaw.

There were many ways to punish. So many delightful and even more delicious ways. Maybe he could show you, teach you.

A dark rumble from his chest had you jolting in his hold, looking up at him. His jaws parted, mask stretching.

Claim you.

The trigger was missing.

He could swear he’d put it together properly; he’d even test triggered a few mechanisms to make sure it would still function. And yet the one piece it needed to actually work was absent. It wasn't even on the table.

A huff whispered through his jaw. Great. And after all he’d done. What a waste of time.

It clattered to the table as he tossed it aside. He’d just use another, nothing lost.

He never cleaned his guns anyways.

#suggestive #madness combat x reader #madness combat #hank j. wimbleton x reader #hank j. wimbleton #my writing

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clareguilty · 3 years

Text

A Tainted Rescue Part 2

hello! i cannot escape my own terrible ideas! Have more Heisenberg porn! Karl Heisenberg/Maiden Rating: Explicit | WARNING: dark content, explicit smut, big sexy evil guy doing bad things Word Count: ~2500

Lord Heisenberg lifted the maiden into his carriage and pulled her onto his lap as the mechanical horse took off away from the castle. She shook and cried in his arms, whimpering with every rattle of the wheels on the unpaved path to the Lord's domain.

"You're safe now," he promised her. "I'm going to take good care of you."

She clung to him, face buried in his chest as he ran his hand up and down her back in a slow, steady rhythm. Her breathing began to even out and her sobs turned to sporadic hiccups the farther they traveled from that horrid castle.

Lord Heisenberg was extremely proud of himself. He had managed to pull one over on Alcina all while getting a delightful new toy to play with. She was so precious, so perfect. He would have to make sure to spoil her rotten.

Just outside of the factory grounds, covered in overgrown plants, a small stone staircase led up to Lord Heisenberg’s house. He helped the maiden up the worn steps, holding branches out of the way as they ducked through the overgrowth.

“I never actually use this place,” he explained. “I spend most of my time in the factory. But that’s no place for you. Now I finally have someone to come home to.” He kissed her knuckles as he led her across the threshold.

The lights were electric, and they turned on at a wave of the Lord’s hand. He chuckled at the maiden's awestruck expression.

The house was a mess, dusty and cluttered. It must have been months since the Lord actually stayed there. Narrow and tucked into the hillside, the two story was smaller than Lady Beneviento’s villa but still larger than almost any of the houses of the village.

“Heh,” he laughed wryly. “Looks like this place needs a lot of work.”

He led the maiden up the stairs and to the main chamber. The room was sparsely furnished with just a low double bed, a wardrobe, and a writing desk piled high with books and papers and the same scrap metal that seemed to appear throughout the Lord’s domain. It was nothing like the opulent and immaculate rooms of the castle.

The maiden let Lord Heisenberg push her to a seat on the bed. He knelt in front of her, squeezing her jaw in one hand and forcing her to look him in the eyes.

“I may not be as fucked as my witch of a sister, but let me make one thing clear. I am not above killing you. You will stay out of my factory. Understand?”

The maiden whimpered, tears once again threatening to spill over her cheeks. “Yes, My Lord.”

He released her jaw and patted her cheek lightly. “Good girl.” He shucked off his coat and draped it over the back of the desk chair. His hat and glasses were quick to follow. He sat beside her on the bed and unlaced his boots.

The maiden removed her own shoes -- the only things she wore that were intact. Her stockings were shredded, as were her skirts. She didn’t even have any drawers on anymore. The front of her dress was ripped down to her stomach, and she tugged the fabric over her shoulders and out from under her until it fell in a puddle on the floor. She was naked and bruised and marked. She felt filthy, used, ruined. But that was what the Lord said was needed to save her. If he hadn’t done what he had, she would be dead at the hands of the Mistress.

The Lord must have seen her numbness, her distress, because he pulled her into his chest and smoothed a hand over her hair. “Hey now,” he whispered. “She can’t touch you here. I’d like to see her try.” He sounded as if he would welcome the fight. “Let me make you feel good.”

He laid the maiden on her back and nudged her thighs apart so he could kneel between her legs. The sight of the damage he had done at the castle brought a smile to his face, and he pressed his fingers into the bruises that were blooming across her thighs.

With no preamble, he pressed two fingers inside of her, crooking them and stretching her open. The maiden whined and gripped the linens with white knuckles. The Lord was only spurred on by her reaction and added a third finger. He loved the way she tightened around him, and longed to feel it on his cock again.

Despite her inexperience, it was no time at all before she was dripping just from the motions of his fingers. He made sure to bring her right to the brink of pleasure, holding her just on that precipice as he pulled his cock from his pants and lined himself up.

He pressed into her slowly, lifting her hips to meet his and bracing himself over her on the bed. She was trapped beneath him, nearly bent in half as his cock split her open once more. It felt even deeper than before, and she couldn’t hold back her high, breathy whines as he began to move. He moaned as he drove his cock into her harder and harder on each stroke.

“You feel amazing. So soft. So tight. You’re all mine. Just for me.”

“All yours,” the maiden repeated. “Just for you.”

“Oh, you’re so perfect,” he groaned. “She didn’t deserve you. She could never have made you feel like this. Come for me. Come on my cock.”

He reached between them to rub her clit, determined to watch her eyes flutter shut and the moans that tumbled from her lips as she came undone around him.

And it was spectacular. She was so precious. To think she had never known pleasure like this before. He was going to be everything for her. Her saviour. Her king.

She clung to him as she came, shuddering and gasping as he forced her through the blinding orgasm. He continued to fuck her, determined to find his own end as well, but he noticed she was barely responsive. Poor thing, probably passed out from the pleasure.

The Lord didn’t let that stop him as he buried himself inside of her to the hilt. He loved watching his cock sink into her, splitting her open and twitching inside of her. He came to the sight of it, filling her as deeply as possible and rocking his hips as she tightened around him once more. Even unconscious, he was able to make her feel good.

Finally satisfied with his claim, he pulled out and arranged the maiden to lay beside him. “You need your rest. Tomorrow I’ll figure out what to do with you.”

Life with Lord Heisenberg was nothing like serving at Castle Dimitrescu. The Lord was crass and informal, just as quick tempered as his ‘sister’ but never directed at the maiden.

No. The maiden was given special privileges. She was his prized possession, swiped right out from under Alcina’s claws, and he loved to spoil her and dote on her.

He had never had a pet like her before. All of his own creations and gifts from Mother Miranda were mindless and bloodthirsty and horrific. But the maiden, she was beautiful and sweet. She was so devoted to him, her savior. He had freed her, given her everything, and now she lived to serve him.

Her new life was one of endless pleasure and indulgence. The Lord fucked her and filled her and marked her as his own. He loved to ruin her, to claim her. She was so precious, trapped in that castle and hidden away from the world. He wanted to show her every filthy experience she had missed.

She fit so perfectly around his cock, so warm and tight and responsive. He enjoyed her moans and gasps of pleasure just as much as he enjoyed finishing inside her.

He didn’t know he was capable of such softness. He was rough when he fucked her, sure to bite her and mark her. Bruising handprints blooming over her skin after he took her to bed. But he was also gentle with her at times. Praise and thanks and kisses to her hairline. There was a different kind of satisfaction to seeing her smile.

The maiden bowed her head as she offered Lord Heisenberg a glass of whiskey late one evening. He had been away at the factory for much of the previous days occupied by his work. The drink was a warm welcome. “Thank you, buttercup,” he pulled her into his lap. “I have something for you.”

He took a gulp from the glass before setting it aside and fishing around in his pockets.

“Aha! Here!” He procured two thick shining bands in his palms. They looked small in his grasp but were still a few inches in diameter.

The Lord grabbed the maiden’s hands. The metal rings levitated before closing around her wrists, fastening as though they were soldered together.

“They’re beautiful,” she breathed, twisting her wrists this way and that to admire the jewelry. “Thank you, My Lord.”

“Now everyone will know who you belong to,” he trailed kisses from her temple to her jaw.

The maiden giggled. “I don’t think there was any doubt of that before.” She was constantly covered in his marks, in his come. He loved to claim her as his in every possible way.

He would fill her until his seed was dripping down her thighs, smeared over her chest and her lips. Make her come until the only thing she knew was his name. He had found all her limits and he knew just how to push past them.

And now he had his steel on her.

She nuzzled against his chest, overwhelmed by the gift. No one at that wretched castle had ever shown her such kindness. Her lips peppered the skin where his shirt was unbuttoned, hands wandering over his chest and arms. She was still so uncertain about her desires. Alcina had certainly done a good job of brainwashing her.

But he had his own conditioning to do. So he whispered encouragement as she slipped between his knees and unfastened his belt. She was flushed and uncoordinated as she pulled his cock free from his pants. “Thank you,” she whispered again before wrapping her lips around him.

She was a good cocksucker, an eager learner and quick to respond to him. She had very quickly grown addicted to him, and he lived for it. Every time he would return from the depths of the factory, she was there craving his attention and his touch.

Now she was even more desperate. He had neglected her in favor of his work, and he regretted it when he saw how uncertain she had become. He would have to train her to handle his long absences. He certainly couldn’t trust anyone to watch over her while he was gone. She was too precious, they would corrupt her. Still, he enjoyed how she couldn’t seem to get enough of him, how dependent she was.

Lord Heisenberg relaxed and sipped his whiskey as she stroked and sucked his cock. He felt so powerful with the maiden on her knees before him. It made him crave more.

After several minutes, when his cock was shining from her lips and she was glassy eyed with lust between his knees, he cradled her head in one of his hands and pulled her onto his cock as deep as she could go. She submitted willingly, moaning at the way his fingers dug into her scalp.

He fucked her face, rough and deep, admiring the way tears spilled over her cheeks and spit dripped down her chin. Her obedience only turned him on more, and he came with a groan, pulling out before he could spill everything down her throat.

She was a filthy mess, come and spit smeared over her swollen lips. She cleaned his cock and blinked up at him expectantly.

“That’s a good girl.” He smiled as she melted at his words. One of her own hands had slipped beneath her skirts and she rocked down against it with a breathy moan. “Needy little thing, aren’t you? Can you wait for me? I promise I’ll give you a treat soon.”

The maiden immediately did as she was told, pulling her slick fingertips from beneath her dress.

“What do you say we wash up and call it a night?” He pulled her to her feet, leading her upstairs to the washroom.

The maiden had been delighted to find that the enormous bath upstairs -- though still smaller that Mistress Dimitrescu’s -- had taps that would run the water directly into the tub. A device of the Lord’s own creation heated the water along the way so that it steamed as it splashed into the porcelain basin. The maiden undressed the Lord with enthusiastic reverence, running her hands over his skin as she pulled his shirt from his broad shoulders. He slipped into the steaming water and sighed.

The maiden slipped out of her own clothes and climbed in as well. She lathered soap in her hands and set to work washing them both, massaging the tension from his muscles with her skilled fingers. What more could he possibly ask for?

He could tell how needy she was as she rinsed them clean. Her breaths were quick and short, skin flushed all the way down her chest and up to her ears. If they hadn’t already been in the water he was sure she would be dripping with arousal.

The Lord was tempted to try out his his new trick, but he wanted to wait for the perfect time. So instead he teased the poor girl with his fingers. She slumped against him, begging and pleading as he gave her everything just shy of what she needed.

He pulled her from the tub, drying both of them just enough before dragging her to bed. Laying back and pulling her on top of him, he grabbed her hips and ground her pussy against his length.

“Please,” she gasped. She looked so cute, begging for his cock. He lined himself up and pulled her all the way down until her hips met his. The shock of being filled so suddenly, stretched around him, made her scream.

He lifted her easily, using her like a doll for his pleasure. She slumped forward over his chest as he moved her hips however he liked. Her broken gasps and moans of pleasure were like music to his ears. He wanted to break her, to see her totally undone by his hand.

She came around his cock twice before he finally pulled her all the way onto him and pumped her full. Even though his body was exhausted from his orgasm, he wasn’t yet sated. Some strange desire still pulled at him. He had already gifted her with the bracelets he had yet to use, but maybe there were other toys to be made in his workshop.

She would be perfect for him.

#karl heisenberg #karl heisenburg x reader #karl heisenberg/reader #karl heisenberg x reader #heisenberg #heisenberg x maiden #karl heisenberg x maiden #re8 village #re8 #smut #lemons #a tainted rescue

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moxfirefly · 3 years

Note

How about #25: can you help me with the zipper? And #35 spanking with our favorite purple genius?? Spice things up lol

👁👄👁 I am-

Y’all heathens, I’m more than happy to.

Rated Explicit (18+ only)

Stepping into the Lair you took in the serene and quiet atmosphere. It was late, very late to be honest but work parties can get pretty crazy after all. Regardless it had been fun, tiresome but fun.

Originally you were going to go home and crawl under the duvet for about ten years if possible.

But you missed Donatello.

You couldn’t drag him anywhere and while sometimes you wish you could it wasn’t best to dwell on it. Heels in hand you patted through the living room area and into his lab where you could hear him speaking. Judging by the time you figured he was doing his part time job. He had picked up the thing out of pure boredom and to actually have some income for future supplies. It was child’s play for him, with nothing too above his skill set. Usually you sat and listened to the colorful array of clients and had a good laugh while doing so.

Most times you liked just hearing him giving the step by steps of things, or how he remotely accessed the person’s computer to fix the issue himself. His distaste over viruses and worms while he angrily typed away. So what? You were hella in love, the mutant terrapin had slithered his way into your heart.

But you kinda wanted him to slide in your pants, or well dress.

You entered his room with sly smile, Donnie was bouncing a little ball while he spoke in his best ‘customer service voice’ as you liked to joke about. He gave you a tired smile, bouncing the ball towards you which you caught. “Well sir, if you in the near future receive an email stating some prince from Asia is trying to protect his rubies it’s adviced that you don’t give out your social security number” He briefly muted the microphone. “Hey beautiful” He greeted you as you wrapped your arms around his waist.

“That ruby scam is honestly my favorite of this week” Came your muffled words, Donnie chuckled and rubbed your back. “He’s called me every name under the sun, brb” He clicked a button on his headset and kept up his polite tone. Reluctantly you let go of him and placed the little bouncy ball on his desk. “Can you help me with the zipper?” You whispered at him to which he happily obliged.

Giving a set of easy to follow steps to the nasty customer, Donnie gripped the delicate zipper and gently pulled it down. His gaze followed each patch of soft skin being reveleaed to him, which he couldn’t help himself but touch. You felt the palm of his hand on the middle of your back, the sweet gentle caress made you roll your neck until it popped a few times. As he continued his argument with the customer he let both hands wander, kneading the flesh presented to him, much to your delight.

“I’m more than happy to remove those viruses but the rest has to be solved with your bank, in the mean time I’ll email you a forum to fill out about the incident while I work on this” Donnie’s voice could be described as a verbal version of an eye roll, so much sass he possessed. Again he muted the microphone and sighed. “Men truly are stupid,” He gripped the straps of your dress and pushed them aside and down your body they slid. “I’m glad that even as a large mutant man you can accept that” The two of you chuckled.

You felt his lips on your exposed back and caught the small inhale he took of your scent. “Where’s your bra?” He peaked over your shoulder and made a soft surprise sound. “The lines ruin the dress so I put these nifty little cups on” You grabbed his mug of coffee and took a generous sip.

Then you felt him tap your rear.

“You gotta learn to share your coffee, babe” You smirked at his disapproving noise, he could be quite greedy with his caffeinated beverages. “I share, but I’ve seen you chug my coffee before” He sat back down on his swivel chair and shamelessly ogled you.

Donnie’s hand landed on your rear, palm caressing the left cleft of your cheek. “Shifts would be a lot more exciting if this is what I had to look at all night” He gripped the flesh, enjoying the silky material of your underwear. Looking over your shoulder you raised an eyebrow at him, not minding in the very least his ministrations.

Not even when he let go only to smack your bottom with a little more force, enough to make you grip the table for support. “Jerk, you get handsy when you’re running on three hours of sleep” You placed your palms on the table, leaning a somewhat forward and giving him a better view of your bottom. “Five actually, managed a nap” He pulled your underwear down to your surprise and leaned in to give the reddened flesh a soft kiss.

Then he gave a series of much harder taps, nothing to brash for it to be loud but enough to make you bite your lip. “You haven’t clocked out, you know?” You wiggled your rear to tease him, enjoying the happy content sigh that escaped him. “I’m supposedly fixing the mess this guy has on his computer,” He gave your rear two more hits before gripping the burning flesh. “But this is way more exciting” The outline of his hand on your bottom made him smile, job well done in his mind.

He pulled you back onto his lap, back to his plastron and used his own legs to keep yours spread. That delightfully merciless hand of his gripped your core, the warmth making him hungrier with anticipation. “Don,” You sighed his name enjoying the lazy outline he mapped out around your core.

Then he switched the mic back on, your eyes widened. He greeted a new customer with the usual name of the company and his name just as he spread your lips. “I’m sorry to hear you’re having difficulties with your new system ma’am” You wiggled in his grasp trying to glare at him but could only muffle your sounds when said digit dipped inside. Your back arched as he thrusted indolently, enjoying each squirm and quiet gasp. “I’m goin to walk you through some basic steps if it’s alright with you” He spoke dangerously close to your ear, tongue sneaking out to lick the shell of your ear.

You almost moaned right next to the mic of his headset.

It was torturous.

The call was reaching the half hour mark from what you could see on his computer and by now he was fully rubbing your clit. You prayed the wet noises couldn’t be heard through the call. Each swipe made your toes curl, sweat had already broken out on your skin and you had bitten down on the inside of your cheek with enough force for it to throb with pain. You knew you wouldn’t last long, and the feeling of Donnie’s hard on against your rear was driving you crazy. You smacked his thigh signaling him you weren’t going to make it.

“Ma’am Im going to be placing you on a brief hold, thank you and my apologies” He muted the mic quickly and grinned when your body went stiff. “OhFUCK!” You gave a loud and lengthy shakey moan as Donnie continued to rub you through your orgasm. He pressed his lips against your cheek, tapping your sensitive nub, clearly entertained with each tremble you gave. “I think you’re the happiest customer I’ve ever had while working” You chuckled breathless, smacking his leg again.

“God you’re such a jerk! They could’ve heard me” Your cheeks flushed embarrassed. “Half the fun if you ask me” He whispered it across your skin as you felt him shove his sweats away then lift you by your thighs. Your eyes nearly bugged out, he couldn’t possibly...?

He entered you, the position making it a tight fit and causing the two of you to moan.

“Can’t make a peep, darling” He thrusted lazily upwards. “Don- theresOH- don’t switch back to the ca-“ You covered your mouth when he unmuted the call.

“Sorry for the delay ma’am, as I was explaining” He cleared his throat, feeling the effects but recuperating quickly. His hips moved lazily, hands gripping the backs of your knees firmly. You caught a glimpse of his blissed out face through the monitor, god you bit down on your bottom lip and moved with him.

You were in for a long shift.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt donatello x female reader #donnie tmnt #donatello tmnt #tmnt donatello x reader #tmnt donnie x reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt donatello #donatello x reader #donnie x reader #Donatello #Donnie #smut prompt #ask #scholastic dragon #ns*w

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navalcriminalimagines · 3 years

Text

Every part of you

Request: Something just fluffy and domestic would be so nice...missing that old man. Maybe something like baking with him? Fluffy smut or just fluff, I would be really happy to see you write either. 💕

Warnings: Smut, blowjob, p in v, unprotected sex, kitchen sex

Words count: 2,4k

Joel Miller x Reader. Insecure Joel. No virus, no apocalypse. Divorced!Joel.

* * * * *

After his divorce with Sarah’s mother, Joel entered years of celibacy, except for the occasional hookups. He didn’t want to go down that road again, his marriage wasn’t the best one but he loved his wife and expected it to last forever, like they promised each other.

But things changed when he met you over a year ago.

It was one of those nights where his brother Tommy dragged him to a bar. You were there with some friends and the first thing he noticed about you was your smoking hot body. And before he knew it, Tommy brought you to their table to have a drink with them.

It was supposed to be one of those hookups. No strings attached. In the morning, he would’ve left and you probably wouldn’t have never met again.

But he broke rule number one on the first night anyway: never take someone home. He always found a way to go to his partner's place, or at least, found a place to do it, but never at his place. His home.

Until you.

Once you were done, he realized how young and innocent you looked. He could see the struggle on your face, as to whether you should leave or stay. He felt bad about himself and told you to stay. You warmly smiled and faxed yourself under the covers, your warm form curled up against him.

In the morning, he woke up to the smell of coffee and French toast. As you had breakfast together, you told him a bit about yourself and Joel found himself to be interested.

You left your phone number and two weekends later - he spends every two weekends with his daughter - Joel invited you for a drink. Which turned into a few ones. Which turned into taking you home again.

That was over a year ago. Now, you’re moving in with him.

He didn’t expect for it to happen. It’s just that when you mentioned wanting to move out from your crappy apartment, he simply told you to come live with him and Sarah. His teenage daughter is very fond of you, and Joel is deeply in love with you. There’s no reason this could go wrong, is there?

But somehow, it caused your first fight.

It was hard to fit two homes into one, and Joel wasn’t compromising at all. He didn’t want to get rid of anything.

“You have to meet halfway, Jo.” You told him, clearly annoyed.

“I am. I just don’t want to get rid of my couch. What’s wrong with that?”

“Well, for starters, mine is fairly new, bigger and way more comfortable. But it’s not just about the couch. It feels like you don’t want me to move in after all,” you said with such sadness in your voice, Joel felt horrible.

“I asked, didn't I?” He answered, defensively.

“Probably because you felt bad about my struggle to find a new place. Just like you felt bad after our first night together.”

“…What?”

“I’m not stupid, Joel. I know you didn’t want me to stay at first.”

“But you did.”

“Well, yeah. Because it was my first time hooking up with someone I just met. And—“ you took a deep breath. “I really don’t want to compliment you right now, but the sex was—mind blowing.”

You obviously were still pretty mad but Joel couldn’t help but smirk in his beard. Sex with you is indeed pretty mind blowing. There’s love, trust, passion, and you’re open-minded concerning his kinks. He never witnessed that before. Actually, he discovered new kinks with you, pretty much like if you were his very own kink.

“Take that smirk off your face. That’s unfair.” You breathed out.

Joel closed the distance between your bodies, and gently kissed your forehead. “Letting you stay that night was the best decision I’ve made in a very long time,” he kissed your nose. “I’ll get rid of the couch.” Then he kissed your lips and moved to your neck. “Let’s ruin it before.”

You chuckled and you did ruin his old couch.

A few weeks later, you were all moved in. Joel was exhausted, he fell asleep on your - extremely - comfortable couch. You covered him with a blanket and took care of the last details before cooking dinner.

Your parents had been owners of a restaurant for the past thirty years, your father being the chef and your mother doing pretty much the rest. You spent most of your time in the establishment as a child, and your father happily shared his know-how with you.

In the past year, Joel had barely spent time in the kitchen, as it became your space. Not that he minded.

He does mind the weight he’d been gaining though.

He woke up to the smell of one of your dishes, two hours after falling asleep. He could hear you doing your thing in the kitchen. He smiled, stretched himself and when his mind seemed awake enough, he joined you.

You felt his strong arms wrapping your middle, and took advantage of your messy bun to plant wet and sloppy kisses in your exposed neck. You felt shivers all the way through your body. “Hi handsome. Sleep well on the couch?”

“Bite me.” He growled against your skin and you chuckled.

“Did that last night.” You said, referring to the bite mark you left right on top of his shoulder. He had made you cum so hard, you didn’t control yourself.

“I love when you mark me.” He whispered in your ear, nipping your ear lobe.

“Good, I’m taking you for a scarification tomorrow. My name, right above your penis.”

“Hmm,” Joel was still planting kisses anywhere he could and you could feel his growing erection against your ass. It was getting really difficult to focus on the marinade in front of you. “I can meet you halfway and agree to get a tattoo.” You laughed but somehow imagined it. It would ruin any relationship for him if you two ever break up. “Only if you do the same, obviously.” He added.

“You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

He hummed in answer and you felt his hand playing with the waistband of your sweatpants. But you slapped his hand away before he could slide it in. “Put your hands to other use for now. Cut the onions for me,” you playfully rubbed your ass against his crotch but only to push him away.

Joel let go of you and looked around to find the onions. “Wow. I like punishment but only if I know what I did wrong.”

You laughed before throwing two onions at him, which he almost missed. As he began to peel them off, you gently grabbed the knife from his hands and squeezed a lemon on the blade. Joel looked at you, lovingly. “There. You won’t cry.” You said, handing him the knife.

“Huh, we’ve been dating for a year and you’re only telling this trick, now? I thought you loved me.” He used his best complaining voice, and he felt your hand slamming against his ass.

“What will we talk about in ten years if I tell you everything now?” You casually asked and it caught Joel off guard. He stayed silent while cutting the onions in small squares and you didn’t push it. You focused on your marinade and checked on the steamed vegetables.

“Are you picturing us still together in ten years?” He finally asked once he was done. He gave you the bowl with the onions in it.

“Well—yeah. Don’t you?” You took the bowl from his hand, preparing the pan in order to cook them.

Joel sighed. It had been a struggle since you two started to date. Your relationship had been so perfect, you had been an amazing partner, it almost feels surreal to me. “I guess my marriage broke a part of me.” He paused, staring at you cooking. “It’s like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

As you ditched the onions in a hot pan, a soft smile appeared across your face. “That will happen when your alien friends will come to pick you up, in order to bring you back to your home planet.”

Joel couldn’t help but laugh. He couldn’t believe you were real. He stared for a moment. You are so beautiful, young, funny and smart, with the biggest heart. How did he got so lucky?

He jumped on the part of the kitchen plan you weren’t using. “Or when I got so fat from your cooking, you’re not attracted to me anymore.” He finally said and you stopped everything you were doing.

“…what?”

“I gained a few pounds lately.” He confessed, avoiding your eyes this time.

“Yeah so?”

“Oh so you’re agreeing? Not even something like ‘honey that’s crazy, you haven’t changed a bit.’?”

"I'm sorry. Let me do this again.” You took a step back and got into character. “Joel! Are you crazy? You didn’t gain any pounds. Are those masculine magazines making you feel bad, again?”

“Wow. Don’t quit your day job to become an actress.”

You playfully punched his shoulder and he let out an “ouch!”. “But seriously love,” it was your loving and smoothing tone again. “Do you really feel bad about this?”

“Kinda. I’m already older than you, I can’t have that too.”

“Baby,” you settled between his legs and tiptoed to kiss him softly. “You’re perfect to me. I don’t care about your age, your weight, your height, the size of your—okay that, I do care but still.”

Never a woman made him laugh like you manage to. No matter the subject, the time of the day, his mood or your mood, you’re always able to bring a smile to his face. He’s so in love with you. “Do you get my point or do I have to take you upstairs to show it to you?” You stroked his beard and Joel leaned into your touch, humming in content.

“I won’t mind the show. But I’d rather have you showing me—here.”

“I better stop cooking and focus on my other hobby then.” You turned off everything and invited him to get down. “My favorite actually.” You whispered, before kissing him gently.

“Please do.” He pleaded, sticking out his tongue in order to meet yours.

As you kissed, you brought him against the wall of the kitchen. He moaned at your sudden dominance, and you felt his semi hard cock against your belly. Joel tried to travel under your tank top with his hands but you prevented him access. You quickly worked taking his tee-shirt off, throwing it on the floor. Your lips immediately crashed against his hairy chest, while your hands were softly caressing it. “I love you, Joel.” you whispered against his skin. “I love every part of you that you don’t.”

It was overwhelming. Never in his life has Joel felt this loved, this attractive. It was such a mix of feelings, he could have cried on the spot as well as fucked you senseless. But he only stood there, panting hard as you were taking his sweatpants and briefs off. He stepped out and you threw it away, next to his shirt. He was dying to undress you, to feel your smooth skin against his, but he knew better.

You kneeled in front of you, taking his hard member in your hand. You looked up to him with your big and loving E/C eyes. “You’re everything I’ve ever dreamt of,” you said. “Call me crazy but I’d follow you to your damn home planet.” you confess, referring to what you said a moment ago.

Joel intensely stared at your mouth when you gave him a first lick. This view was so damn perfect.

You teasingly played with your tongue against his cock before taking him in your mouth. Joel moaned, deeply and you sucked him for a moment, not taking all of his length yet. Your jaw needed to relax first. No matter the amount of time you’ve seen his cock, you’re always amazed about how thick and long he is.

Joel’s hand grabbed your hair bun into his fists, guiding you. When you were ready, you took all of him inside your mouth, your nose buried in his pubic hair. “Fuck, baby!” he growled as his cock hit the back of your throat. “God I love your mouth so much.”

You kept going for a moment until you felt his urge growing. Joel was basically facefucking you, thrusting his cock deep inside your mouth. But you weren’t done with him yet, so when only a trail of saliva was connecting you to his length, you took advantage and got back on your feet.

You passionately kissed him, allowing him to taste himself. “Sit on the chair.” You ordered him and Joel obeyed.

You striped in front of him as he was lazily stroking his painfully hard cock. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Y/N.” he said before you straddle his lap.

“So are you, Joel.” He almost didn’t catch that - maybe because a part of him didn’t want to - as you guided his cock into your wet cunt. He was stretching you open, it almost hurt but you kept going until he was fully inside you.

“So fucking tight.” he growled against your neck.

You settled for a slow pace at first. Joel’s face was buried in your chest, assaulting your rounded breasts. One of his hands was in the small of your back, following your hips movements. “You feel so good inside me.” you moaned, your hands buried in his hair. He was so deep inside you, you two almost could hear every time he reached your end. “I’ll never be able to be with anyone else but you.”

His urge was coming back and yours was building up. You quickened the pace, and Joel furiously rubbed your clit with his hand. “Yes Joel, right there!” he looked up at you and crashed his lips on yours. You could feel his fingers digging on your hip, while yours did the same on his scalp.

“I’m gonna cum.” he warned you, thrusting as fast as he could.

“Me, too. Don’t stop,”

“Never.”

It was a closed call but you came practically at the same time, both crying each other’s name.

You stayed in the same position as you and Joel came down from your high. You held him close against you, feeling his cock softening inside you. You were both panting. “Every part of me, huh?” he said.

“Every single one.”

#joel miller x y/n #joel miller imagine #joel miller x you #joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #the last of us #the last of us part 2

323 notes · View notes