#and. than moon gets better. really fast. he IS better at it than her now

[sunnydayaoe]

cutie patooties

[faeriekit]

Health and Hybrids (XXV)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters  for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

🖤Chapter navigation can be found here🖤 Click to browse previous updates.

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts 💚 (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Tim pulls a fast one on Batman for their mutual benefit. Everybody giggles. Danny goggles.

Trigger warnings for this story:  body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) |  my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

(Additional TW: I think this counts as a panic attack ngl)

On the one hand. The room Danny’s in has a killer view of the earth from the moon.

The wall is basically just one big window. Danny is also apparently permitted to mash his face into the glass and ogle the Earth from Space for as long as he wants until the stinky dad, whoever he is, finally emerges from the depths of the building.

Diana’s the only one beside him today. She looks nice—nicer than usual, in her armor and bright clothing rather than soft scrubs and hair net. She can push his chair without getting tired—she could probably fly and carry him too, if she had to, so. Danny’s maybe counting on her liking him if this stinky dad tries to be mean.

So. Diana (nice lady) and Danny (half-dead ghost boy) are quietly seated in a dim, peaceful board room, absorbing the early morning (?) space radiation when the door hisses open across the room.

In the doorway is a long, dark, shadow of a man.

…And the green guy!!

Okay, if the stinky dad man brought a friend to this meeting the same way Diana’s meant to supervise him, Danny feels like he’s been lawyered up for the sake of some kind of court trial. This is not fair. Danny wasn’t able to review his case with his legal representation before this.

Well. Danny fumes. Whatever. His lawyer is Diana, the most powerful living being he’s seen ever in his life, and she can totally kick the green guy’s ass. Hell, Danny could probably kick the green guy’s ass.

...You know. If he wasn’t. Sick.

The stinky dad guy looks a lot like the blob his kid drew him as. That’s kind of neat—his suit is all black with little to no variation, which sort of just washes out the colors Danny might have been able to see if his eyes were still good. He’s very quiet, which is nice, and he’s very not-trying-to-read-Danny’s-mind, which is even better.

The two sit. Danny’s already in a wheelchair, so he just lets Diana wheel him to the table. The lady sits beside him in the spinny office chair.

Hello, the green guy opens with, already toying with the edges of Danny’s aura.

Danny sends back an abundance of ass-kicking emotions.

…Alright then, the green man capitulates, the barest hint of bemusement quickly stifled.

Good. Danny is mean. He’s awake enough to be mad about other people touching his aura from any end of his personal bubble.

But then the green guy…says stuff to the dad guy? And it’s very? Quiet?

Explanations, the green guy says. The image of a sign language translator at a baseball game floats over to him, and—

…Oh. He’s translating. For Danny.

That’s…nice? Nicer than Danny expected, honestly? Most of the time, people are perfectly happy to misinterpret him. It was kind of the way of the world at this point. Getting blamed for stuff, getting accused of stuff…

Man. If they turn out to be indoctrinating him for secret war purposes, at least they’re going all in. Danny might actually. You know. Like it here. A little.

He squirms in his chair, and tries not to look at anyone in particular. Diana—the lady who’s been nice to him—makes as if to straighten his hair for him, and remembers at the last second that he doesn’t like to be touched.

And sure. Danny doesn’t want to be touched. By bad guys.

…But Diana’s been really nice to him, so. Maybe. He scratches at the back of his neck, and ducks his head down—and remembers to use his words. “Yes,” he consents verbally. He can’t make eye contact. But he can…let her. Brush his hair back. A little.

Diana asks something long and complicated—and the green guy presses an image of Wonder Woman asking permission, being kind, being gentle­—up against the edges of Danny’s awareness.

Danny nods at the floor instead of at the lady. It’s fine. She’s fine. It’s fine.

And her fingers carefully brush through the front end of his fringe, and Danny. Danny is so normal about it. He doesn’t even cry or anything. Not even in front of his friend’s stinky dad.

And she doesn’t do it like Mom did it. And she doesn’t ruffle his hair like Dad did.

But it’s. Nice. And she doesn’t pull.

…And she doesn’t hit.

Danny eventually leans back into his wheelchair. It��s a little bit embarrassing to be halfway in and halfway out, but. Whatever. The scary-looking-dad with the earsies on his helmet has his own teenager. He should understand what it feels like to get emotionally weird with your teen in a public place. If he doesn’t, well...he wouldn’t be a great dad, then, and his opinion would suck anyway.

Based on what Danny knows about the masked kid, Danny isn’t sure the guy would tolerate a bad dad. The teen seems kinda unhinged.

The man says something, and the green guy presses a number of translated feelings against Danny’s awareness: Greetings. Questions about Danny’s wellbeing. Curiosity, but not demanding.

“…Hello,” Danny says back, and. Waves.

The man waves back. He’s got little claws on his gloves.

…Like a cat? Is it to go with his ears? Danny wonders about the possibilities of the guy being cat themed. It’s possible, presumably.

So…they want to know how Danny’s doing? Danny shrugs, and he glances at Diana, since, you know, she could probably fill them in? She does speak their language. And she’s been here the whole time.

The lady leans in close to him, black hair falling out from behind her ear. “What do you want to say?” she whispers into her ear, hand covering her mouth from their watchers.

Uh. It’s up to…Danny?? Somehow??

Danny winces. “…Good?” he tries, unsure if the word he uses means okay or fine or well. “…Not…hungry?”

“Very good,” Diana agrees, a little louder. She looks proud. Being not hungry must mean a lot to her, then. It means a lot to Danny too—he can remember the sensation of his stomach rubbing against itself, friction pulling raw at his insides as acid ate at him.

It was. Bad.

It was bad.

Danny’s glad he’s not there anymore. Anyway, there’s a guy in the room who reads minds, and Danny doesn’t really want to share that memory with anyone ever; especially someone who could turn it back on him.

The stinky dad says something else, but he uses words too thick and long for Danny to understand. The green guy translates, pure conceptual recall brushing against Danny’s outer aura—Needs? Wants?

…Danny frowns.

Danny looks at Diana, who looks back at him. Wants, needs…? What?

“Do you need aniþing?” Diana whispers to him, which. You know. Mostly makes sense.

Does Danny…need anything? He has medical care, he has food, he has water, he has toys and brain teasers, even…he has people to hang out with, he has people who stretch his legs with him so that he can go back to normal…heck, he doesn’t even have to clean his own waste bag. There’s people who do that for him.

Like. What more could Danny ask for?

Danny shrugs. He just wants to heal up and run away. Maybe…maybe, if Diana is real and not just pretending to like him to keep an eye on him, she’d let him visit her later or something. Danny would do what Dani doe—did. What Dani…did. And he’d just go a bunch of places and come back when he wants to.

But. No. There’s nothing he really needs right now.

The pointy-eared guy and the green guy share a look and a couple quiet words. Danny flares his annoyance into the silence, but all he gets is a silent Apology/Apology, which isn’t answers.

Ugh. Danny leans over the arm of his wheelchair. This is kind of super boring; it’s more boring than it is frustrating, even.

The stinky dad guy says something else, and Danny feels the push and pull of something double ended tugging on the outer edge of his aura. Additional/information, giving/take?

Danny really wishes he’d brought a fidget toy or something. His nerves are ramping up but all he can do is contort his fingers together, feeling the strain in and the joints click as he pushes them together and twists them apart. They want…to ask him questions? No, they’re already asking him questions. They want Danny to…give them questions??

…Danny doesn’t really want to. Still, he probably…should.

“The…space station,” he says, using the wrong word for their big space building but not knowing the better one; “Is this…where…why is it?”

The black-caped dad grumbles something vaguely approving. A tablet pops out of the table—spooky—and the guy starts drawing on it, explaining all the way. The green guy simplifies more of the verbally complicated concepts for Danny as they go.

Anyway. So they’re in space because it’s their…job? Danny thinks? They do…fighting stuff. Which Danny knew. Because he’d seen them on the news.

But it looks like they do a lot of things—they clean up after storms, and chase regular bad guys and super-bad-guys instead of just big ones. And they stop bad aliens from hurting people on Earth.

The green guy shifts from a green-looking, pointy-headed, red-eyed form to a warm, brown, human skin tone. And even. Like. Human clothing.

Danny stares.

…And the guy immediately takes back his natural form, his body physically shifting and morphing, which, fair, but holy crap. He’s living, on Earth. He passes as normal, on Earth. No one snitches on him. No one’s selling him to the government for parts. No one’s trapping him in a cage and not feeding him.

This guy works here, and everyone lets him.

Danny shifts in his chair. He…he wants that. He wants that. He wants to pass as human and not have to worry about…about anyone getting rid of him. He wants to go back to school. He wants to hide, and never ever not ever be found by anyone or anything when he does.

“I want that,” Danny says. There’s no inflection. He feels dead. He is dead, but usually he doesn’t feel it. “What do I do for…that.”

Help/Searching/Finding? the green—alien—questions, but there’s nothing for Danny to find. He knows exactly where everyone he loves is—and unless they’re already fully formed in the ghost zone…

…Well. Danny has forever to wait and see if he’ll see his friends and sister again. Maybe he’ll find them again one day, in a world purely green and glowing.

He shakes his head.

The next question comes…softer. Gentler. The mental push feels more like a breeze than a gale. Friends…Home/family?

The question comes tinged with all sorts of sensations that Danny’s suppressed—warmth, security, happiness, oxytocin, fondness, pride and being the source thereof, warmth and love, love, love—

Danny’s sweating. He can’t stop. His hands are shaking faster than usual—he kicks the brakes off his chair with the heels of his palms, and jerks the wheels back, pulling away from the desk—

He’s halfway across the room before he hears the noise. It’s just. Noise. It’s Diana, carefully shushing the loud heartbeat churning in his ears, hands on his hand, trying not to cage him but trying to keep skin on skin contact. Her hand is on the back of his hand, and on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Diana whispers. Danny’s shaking. His whole body is shaking. “Shhh, sh sh sh. It’s alright, it’s okay.”

It’s not it’s not it’snoit’snotit’sNOT. His sister is dead. His friends are dead. His parents sold his captors the equipment to catch him and they didn’t care if he got hurt doing it and now they’re DEAD. They tore open his hometown down the middle just to catch him, they stole him—they took his dead parent’s things as tools to hurt him—they HURT HIM and there isn’t—he can’t—he can’t—

Something is holding him down, and Danny thrashes. He has arms, but they’re injured—he has legs but he needs a tail and he—and—

He cries into Diana’s arms, sobbing and wailing. It’s a miracle that the building stays together. She holds him tighter, and he cries even harder into her soft under-layers.

He wants to run away. He needs to run away. Someone is holding him, and he can’t even flicker through her the way he wants to; his core is already too strained just from talking.

Danny’s sick. He’s dying. He’s—

“Take a breath,” Diana whispers, calm and sure. She models it for him. Danny gasps in air. “Good. Lete it out slow. As bobbels in a straw.”

He tries to copy her he does and she’ll be so angry if he can’t do it right on the first try but she lets him try, over and over again, until Danny’s able to stop hiccupping and leaking tears and ectoplasm all over her and realize that she’s holding him like a baby. Like. Actually cradling him against his body armor.

…You know what. He’s too tired to even be embarrassed. Screw that. Danny leans all the way over her and goes completely limp. Someone else can deal with his him for a little bit.

She does. Diana just…holds him.

It’s nice. Mom and Dad used to do that for him, when Danny was still…more human, he supposed. More than he is right now.

Something else touches his hand. Danny looks blearily downwards.

The teenager’s dad gets to his knees and takes Danny’s hand—and he doesn’t need the translation to understand.

“I’m sorry,” the man says, over and over again. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Danny blinks sleepily. What does his friend’s stinky dad have to be sorry for? He didn’t even do anything to Danny in the first place.

Danny won’t remember, afterwards, being wheeled back to his room for a nap. They must have wheeled him back, though, because the alternative is that Diana tucked him into bed like a baby, and that’s just kind of embarrassing to even think about for too long.

[strawberrypoundtown]

Bullheaded

Bruce Soli x Witch!Reader

Your best friend talks to you about an issue he's been dealing with, hoping to maybe get some magical assistance from you. However, his issue evolves into something much bigger when he asks for some physical help too...

(This was technically supposed to be finished in time for 400 followers, but you guys are way too fast for me 🥲 we're already past 450 and I couldn't be more grateful 😭 i hope you guys enjoy this! This guy is part of a collaboration project between me, @the-witches-creatures (Ari and Bloom belong to her) and @silken-moonlight and I hope you enjoy! This took a lot longer than I wanted it to, and once again, I made it way too long lol I apologize for such a large gap between my posts, as I am currently still a busy college student, but I'm trying my best! I hope the quality makes up for it lol enjoy the show!)

Contains: size kink, weed use, oral sex, fingering, unprotected sex, boob job, loss of virginity, breeding kink, pregnancy risk, bulging, a lot of cum

"SON OF A BITCH!!" You heard Bruce suddenly bellow from his room angrily, followed by a loud crash. A long sigh escaped your lips as you broke your meditation and got up. It was a full moon. He knew not to disturb you when you were meditating, especially during the full moon. You got up with a huff and stomped over to his bedroom, throwing the huge heavy door open with the assistance of your magic.

"What the fuck do you want?! You know I need SILENCE during a full moon, you fucking dickhead!" You yelled at him. You were the only one that could talk to him like that without getting put in the hospital. You crossed your arms and furrowed your brow, ensuring he knew how pissed off you were. This shit always happened during the full moon. You saw him with his phone in pieces on the floor between his legs. He was sitting on the edge of his giant bed, tugging on his ears as he groaned in anger.

"Fuck you, bitch! I don't need your fucking attitude right now!" He yelled as he turned to you. Getting a better look at his eyes, they looked red and the fur under his eyes were wet from tears. However, the strange thing was that it didn't look like it was because he took too hard of a rip like you usually found him. In fact, his bong was completely untouched so far tonight from the looks of it. Your anger dissipated slightly as you looked at him. Sure he was a dickhead, but if something was really wrong, you did want to help.

"What's going on then? Why are you being an asshole?" You ask, scoffing a bit as you rolled your eyes. You knew jumping into feelings right away in conversations would go nowhere. You learned from experience.

"I'm not fucking trying to be!" He tugs at his ears again before burying his face in his hands. He grunts softly with each breath as he tries to calm down. He didn't want to be the cause of another noise complaint if he wasn't already. "Go back to your shit. I want to be alone and smoke." He grumbled as he went to open his stash box next to his bong on his bedside table. You let out a long sigh before walking over, literally jumping onto his bed because it's much taller than yours. He scoffs as he watches you in the corner of his eye, but doesn't tell you to leave. You liked to think that he liked having you around. At least a little bit.

As he absent-mindedly packed a bowl, his mind wandered. He had planned on going out to meet with a lady werewolf who needed help during the full moon, but he had gotten ghosted once again. As soon as he told her how big he was, she said she couldn't do it and didn't respond to his texts after that. That's why his phone was broken. He was so frustrated with this happening and had no idea what to do. Even other minotaurs didn't want him. Because of his temper and his size, most people couldn't handle him.

You could, though. A human witch. Although he found your presence annoying at the beginning of your friendship, he had grown to deeply care for you. You were always there, whether he wanted you there or not.

"Hey idiot." You say as you waved your hand in front of him to get his attention. He snaps back from his thoughts and looks down at you. "What's going on?" You ask with genuine concern. Concern for him. Concern you had shown him whenever he opened up to you. But he was frustrated that he had distracted you from what you were doing and didn't want to bother you. He stayed silent as he just stared at you for a moment, internally screaming out of guilt.

He didn't really understand much about your practice, but he knew the full moon was important for you, and you needed it to be as quiet as possible in the apartment. Usually, he'd be able to go out and practice with the band, but they were all busy. He figured that going out and hopefully getting laid for real for the first time would kill two birds with one stone.

That's right, folks, Bruce is a virgin. It wasn't from lack of trying, but everyone he had tried to sleep with found him to be way too big. No matter the monster, he was always left blue-balled and frustrated in more ways than one. It didn't help that you were always around. You always smelled so good. Poor guy couldn't even get any peace in his own room. The whole apartment smelled like you, even when you weren't around. It drove him crazy.

All of a sudden, his phone, now intact, plopped into his lap, and he once again snapped back to reality. He picked it up and looked it over before staring back at you. Why were you so nice to him when he treated you like shit? You always called him your best friend, but that statement made him sad in many ways. You deserved someone better to hold that title. He also wished he had a different title, but knew he deserved that one even less.

"There. I can perform a durability spell on it tonight if you want? It'll be extra strong since it's a full moon. I don't want to have to keep repairing it all the time." You said with a soft laugh, and he just nodded in response with a faint grunt. He could listen to your laugh for hours. You leaned in close to him and placed a hand on his thigh as you reached over, grabbing his phone from his hand. You used his leg to help yourself hop off the bed, and you smiled up at him. "Go ahead and smoke a bowl while I go do this, drama queen. It won't take long. Make yourself useful and pack me a bowl for when I get back too." You pat his thigh before walking out of his room, leaving him alone to his thoughts. The sensation of your hand on his thigh lingered for a moment after you left and he gently put his hand over top of where yours was. As touch starved as he is, he never tried to touch you. He was too worried about hurting you, as he had been too rough with you early on in your friendship and caused some pretty bad bruises. God he wanted to hold you though. He wanted you all to himself.

He slammed his palm into his forehead with a grunt before angrily grabbing his bong and his torch lighter. He needed to smoke. He couldn't keep thinking like that. He knew you deserved a kind, gentle guy. He wasn't kind or gentle. He was harsh. Hurtful. Harmful. That's how you got stuck with him in the first place.

He had recently transferred to your school halfway through senior year of high school. He had been expelled from his last school, and his grandma had contacted the school to see if anyone could keep an eye on him. When they were briefed on his temper and his size, the school administrators invited you to take on the role.

You were a bit of an outcast in your school, despite being surrounded by odd, magical creatures and fellow magic users. You often studied alone and in silence. You would perform unauthorized spell experiments during class, damaging things so you could repair them, and didn't talk to people unless spoken to. This led to people avoiding you, finding you odd or creepy.

So when you said you'd keep an eye on Bruce, they were surprised how quickly you agreed. To say he was shocked at your immediate yes after meeting him was an understatement. He had point blank told you that there was no way he was going to have a babysitter at school, much less a tiny human. Without a word, you used your magic to turn him into a large frog and told the administrators you agreed. He turned back. Eventually.

After that, you two were basically glued together. You got good grades, so you went out of your way to make sure he was caught up with the material. You always tried to help him the best you could, even if he was abrasive towards you. You knew from his Nonna that he actually seemed to have a soft spot for you, despite his protesting. You learned from her how to handle a lot of his outbursts. How his tempermental ass was related to such a sweetheart was a mystery to you.

You also had never told Bruce, but you had a huge thing for big monster guys. It was a big reason why you had said yes to keeping an eye on him. Or at least a huge bonus. The main reason was when you saw all the scars on his arms and face. You wanted to find out more about him, and it seemed like if you didn't take him, nobody else would have.

You heard the bubbling of his bong and the lighting of his torch as you finished up the spell on his phone in your room. It shouldn't break now. At least you had hoped not. Durability spells worked better on larger objects. The bigger it was, the harder it was to break. He had broken a few phones and bongs despite them being protected by your magic. He hadn't typically broken anything bigger than one of his large plates after you put the spell on all his things. However, even though his phone was the size of a tablet for you, it was still too small to be fully protected by the spell.

You let out a soft sigh and thought about all the nights you had thought about casting it on yourself. It was just a simple sigil, followed by a phrase you had made shortly after you had met Bruce. Once you had it mastered and tailored it to Bruce's strength, you slapped that thing on everything he would come in contact with that he used everyday. You just had to draw it on his stuff or carve it in if you wanted it to be extra strong. You had even considered finding a fellow magic user to tattoo it on you due to your... romantic interests.

You would have never admitted it to his face, but from the moment you saw him, you thought he was cute. What can you say? You like a big guy you could tame. You like an experiment. He was a giant, angry bull, and you wanted to ride him. You still did. But you knew his reputation. He never showed any interest in you and only saw you as a friend from your perspective. He had been with a lot of other people over the years, always busy on the weekends and late at night. As you walked back into his room with his phone, he was in the middle of rolling one of his giant joints.

"Really? Those things are massive. They make me feel like I'm sucking on a tail pipe." You groaned as you jumped onto his bed and crawled over to him. He rolled his eyes and scoffed, trying not to let his eyes wander as he watched you out of the corner of his eyes. The sight of you crawling onto his bed was something he enjoyed a lot more than he should.

"You're so fucking dramatic. This is for me. I already packed you a bowl for your bong, princess." He said with a small smirk tugging at his lips. He brought joint up to his lips, lighting it and inhaling. You suddenly snatched the joint from his lips, smirking as you brought to your own. "You couldn't handle this stuff. It's a special strength for bigger monsters like me." He softly grumbles, exhaling the smoke through his nostrils and into your face, rattling his septum ring.

"Oh yeah?" You jumped up on his bed and grabbed one of his horns with a giggle. You use his horn to tug his head closer to yours, purring into his ear teasingly. "I can handle more than you think."

"Fuck... don't do that..." He hissed through grit teeth. His voice dripped in an unfamiliar tone as he spoke. You felt your face flush as you quickly let go of his horn. His eyes snapped to look at you, and you felt a bit of fear for a moment. But when you read the look in his eyes, your heart started to pound. You hadn't seen him make that look before.

Lust.

"I-I'm sorry." You stammered as your face burned from the rush of blood. "I forgot you don't like your horns touched... did I hurt you?" You actually were a bit worried that you just hurt him or he was upset. He hadn't actually gotten upset with you in a really long time, so it was possible you just mistook his anger for lust, right? There's no way he actually looked at you like that.

He suddenly coughed and snatched the joint away from you, avoiding eye contact as he took a long drag from it. He hunched over as one of his elbows rested on his knee, his hand holding the horn you tugged on. You felt guilt well up inside you as well as tears. You knew minotaurs horns were sensitive, but you didn't think a little tug would hurt so badly. Then again, you didn't have horns. You felt awful for causing him any pain.

However, he was actually trying to fight the urge to pin you down on his bed and finger you until you were screaming. He may still have his virginity, but he was pretty talented at fingering and oral from what he had been told. You tugging on his horn and blowing smoke in his face made him so hard he was surprised he didn't rip his pants. He was hunched over to try and hide the massive bulge that appeared. He was trying his best to calm down from your sudden touch by smoking, but unfortunately for him, it just made him hornier. He always wondered if you had cast a spell on yourself to make you so irresistible.

"I'm fine... just... didn't expect that." He grumbled under his breath. That was an understatement. He noticed the room beginning to fill with smoke and that he had burned through half the massive thing already. He coughed a bit and put the half burnt joint out on the ashtray to save for another time. He tried his best to use his arms to cover his dick while he looked over at you. His blood ran cold for a moment when he saw you... crying?

"I'm so sorry... I didn't mean to hurt you or anything." You cry softly, your eyes extremely red from both the smoke and your tears.

"What? That didn't hurt me." He scoffs as he looks away. He acts offended at the suggestion you could hurt him, but in reality, he actually felt bad that he was making you cry.

"Then... why are you so upset about me touching your horn?" You sniffled and wiped your eyes. He looked back at you with his piercing green eyes for a moment and sighed.

"I'm not... upset with you... ugh, I know this sounds stupid, but I had a date for the full moon tonight, but she chickened out before I even went over... so I'm pent up and you know my fucking horns are sensitive. I don't know why you fucking touched them... Ugh! You always make it so difficult!" He bellowed before punching his wall above his headboard. Thankfully, this wasn't uncommon, and the durability spell on the wall was effective.

"What do I make difficult?! I make sure you don't destroy half your shit when you get like this!" You snapped back angrily as you felt yourself getting a bit annoyed with his whining.

"You make everything difficult! Living with you, your stupid incense and herbs, just your fucking scent is so fucking overwhelming. I can't take it anymore!" He bellows, hunching over with his head in his hands. "You make me fucking ache."

"... Huh?" You squeaked, confused.

"You cause me to act like this... I'm fucking pent up because of you. You're always around with your dumbass beautiful face and sexy body." He growls. "You have no idea how hard it is for me to keep my hands off of you all the time..."

"What if... I don't want you to?" You asked more as a question for yourself than for him. He rarely touched you, although you would touch him. You always wanted to know what his more gentle touch would feel like.

"What?" He asked, shocked at your suggestion. He stared at you, confused as you began to explain.

"Well, what if I don't want you to keep your hands to yourself?... what if I want you to touch me?" You had to look away as you spoke. You felt your face redden from embarrassment as you admitted what you really wanted.

"But... what if I hurt you again?" He grumbled lowly, clenching his fists in his lap as he sat up. Remembering the times he was too rough with you and hurt you was painful for him. You stuck by him through so much and still wanted to be around him to this day. He didn't want to cause you any pain.

"Oh, Brucie..." You began softly, resting a hand on his forearm. You were one of the few people that knew his real name, and you used it when you were more serious.

"Shut up." He snapped at the use of his real name as he rolled his eyes.

"You shut up." You retort as you look up at him and stand up on his bed. "Brucie, you won't hurt me."

"You don't know that. I've hurt you before." He says with a sad look in his eyes. The sight of the bruises he had given you back when you had first met were burned into his brain.

"There's only one way to find out." You gently take his giant hand in both of yours and look at him with a bashful smile. You felt his hand shaking as he tried to follow your lead, his other hand slowly reaching for you. He gently let's go of your hands and gingerly wraps his giant arms around you, pulling you into a tender embrace. His warmth surrounds you like a comforting blanket as you try your best to hug him back, wrapping your arms around his neck. You feel him let out a deep sigh and you do the same. One of your hands rubbed the back of his head, and the other rubbed between his shoulder blades. A deep rumble in his chest viberates through you as he relaxs at your touch. You can feel his tense muscles slowly relax through the fabric of his hoodie under your fingertips. He leans his wet nose into your neck and inhales deeply, making you shiver with a shakey breath.

"How do you smell so fucking good?" He groans, his hot breath bathing your neck. You have to hold your breath to ensure you don't moan. The way he was holding you made it impossible for you to move away due to his strength, but you also didn't want to. He suddenly snaps back to reality and pulls away from you, his large hands moving to gently hold your shoulders to keep you at arms length. "This is dangerous."

"What?"

"I can't stay gentle for long. I'll end up hurting you if we keep going..." He says with a hint of sadness in his voice. Your warmth felt so nice and he wanted more, but he knew holding back wasn't easy for him to manage long-term. He didn't want to put you at risk for his own selfish wants.

"Oh... um... I have an idea then, actually." You say while trying to avoid eye contact. You just needed to do the durability spell on yourself and grab that lube you have... but you didn't want to admit that you had special magic lube for fucking large monsters for when you used your toys. You didn't want to seem desperate, even if the puddle developing in your panties argued otherwise. "I-I can help with you being pent up..."

"What?" He asked, genuinely a bit confused. "Why?"

"I just want to help!" You lied. The truth was that you had wanted to fuck him for years. Longer than you guys had been living together, but it felt like when you guys moved in together that it would never happen. After you guys moved in together, when he wasn't with you at the studio or in the apartment, he was seemingly off getting his dick wet where-ever he could. It was frustrating, but you knew you probably wouldn't be able to handle him as a human anyways. However, you could experiment on your own. You had done research on how big an average minotaur dick was and had gotten a few different toys to work up to it, and a huge bottle of magic lube that was supposed to help humans accommodate larger monsters. Over the last couple of years, you were comfortably using the minotaur dildo without any issues as long as you used the lube. You would often have to buy more. A small smug smirk began to develop on his lips as he cocked an eyebrow.

"You want to help? What makes you think your tiny human body could handle helping me?" He said as he tilted your head up to look at him by using one of his fingers under your chin. He repeatedly looks down at your lips while staring into your eyes. He may have seemed confident in that moment, but he was actually trying to get you to back down. He thought you were joking about wanting to help to try and cheer him up. He thought playing along would make you chicken out.

"I, uhhhh... may or may not have magic lube in my room... and the durability spell should work if I cast it on myself, so theoretically I can help you... and you wouldn't have to hold back." You said with your resolve only wavering slightly. You couldn't look him in the eyes, and your face was beet red, but you didn't pull your head away from his hand. After a few moments of silence you looked up at him and you saw that his eyes were wide and his mouth was open like he wanted to say something, but nothing was coming out.

He was stunned that you actually had that stuff. Maybe you had been with more guys than he thought? No, he never smelled anyone coming over he didn't know about. Would have been nice to know you had magic lube. He could have been fucking you for weeks. Months? How long have you even had that lube for? Slowly, his resolve to hold back was dwindling at your words. He couldn't help but look you up and down, unintentionally undressing you with his eyes.

"Show me." Bruce commands with a deep growl, a dark look in his eyes as you slowly nod. You didn't want to argue with him if he looked like that. You jump off the bed and run over to his bedroom door, a bit wobbly from smoking. You hear him chuckle as you leave his room. "Hurry up, or I'll change my mind." You felt a bit dizzy from your high, but it could have been from all the blood in your cheeks.

As you got to your room, you walked over to your closet and sighed. You ended up with the smaller room in the apartment, of course. It still gave you more space compared to Bruce. You gently rubbed your cheeks as you tried to calm down and opened your closet. You had a large box on the top shelf that you kept everything in. As you were pulling it down, you heard familiar stomping coming towards your room. Shit. You dropped the box on the ground and quickly opened it, grabbing the lube before trying to close the box before he walked in. However, your timing wasn't good enough, and he walked in just as you had grabbed the lid to put it back on. You could have died right there on the spot as he stared at your collection of giant sex toys.

"Woah... I didn't think you were that much of a slut. Examples of real dicks you've taken?" He laughs as you felt extremely embarrassed, but still felt the need to defend yourself.

"Shut up! I'm a virgin, okay?! I haven't been with any other guys!" You blurt out without a second thought as you slam the lid back on the container. Your hands snap to cover your mouth as instant regret sets in. You didn't want him to know that. You didn't want him to know that you jerked off with those toys, hoping that he'd replace it. You let out a long sigh while you worked up the smokey courage to admit more. "I've only ever had an interest in a particular guy if I'm being completely honest..."

"Oh." He felt a pang of guilt as his heart sank. He felt awful for putting pressure on you. Why was he also upset that you were interested in someone else? "Who?"

"W-well, he's always near me... he's strong... makes me feel safe... he's, uh..." You glance down at the bulge in his jeans and swallow before looking up at him. "B-big..."

"Is it fucking Aram? That son of a bitch!" Bruce grumbled angrily, unable to hold back his temper and punching the wall. Thank god you made sure almost everything in your room had the durability spell too. He was frustrated that you wanted him as practice for his annoying manager. He wanted to kill him in that moment. "Fucking creep!"

"Wha- it's not Ari!" You yell in annoyance. Bruce was so dense. "It's you, dumbass! I'm interested in you! I wouldn't have wanted to fuck you for my first time if I wasn't!" You were fed up. You were done trying to throw hints around. He stood there for a moment, seemingly trying to process what you said.

"WHAT?!" He bellowed, shaking the walls of the penthouse before clearing his throat and trying again. "You're interested in me?"

"W-why do you think I have all those toys and that lube? I'm not stupid. I know minotaurs are big... I didn't want to be totally inexperienced..." You scoffed softly, trying to play it cool, but miserably failing with how you couldn't even look at him and your face being dark red.

"But why me?... I'm an arrogant asshole that takes up all your time and energy... you deserve better than me... I drive you crazy." He states gruffly, but you can still hear a hint of sadness despite his attitude.

"Yeah, but have you ever thought about how you make me crazy? You always try your best to be nice to me. You take care of me and protect me. I get to travel all over and smoke weed all day with you. I wouldn't have the life I have if it weren't for you." You say with a soft, genuine smile, approaching him as he backs up into the wall. His heart fluttered in his chest as he listened to you. "If all I have to do is make sure you don't break anything and repair a few things, I'm more than happy to take on more..." You hesitated for a moment, unable to stop yourself from looking over at his bulge before quickly looking away again. "Um, responsibility..." His breath catches in his throat as he looks at you. He stared down at you with wide eyes for a few moments before they narrow.

"I need you to do that fucking spell now." He says in a deeper voice than you're used to. It took you off guard.

"What? N-now?" You stammered softly. You worried you got him upset again.

"Just fucking do it." He growls in a more commanding tone. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, but also stirred your excitement. You didn't argue though, just quickly grabbing the closest marker and standing in front of your mirror as you tried to carefully draw the sigil on your lower abdomen under your belly button. It technically would work if you drew it anywhere, but you figured that you might as well have it close to what you wanted protected. You tried your best to stop your hands from shaking as you could see Bruce in the mirror, waiting. You could see the bulge in his pants grow bigger by the minute as you worked on getting the sigil drawn. Once it's done, you whisper your incantation, and a faint electric shock washes over your whole body out from where the sigil is.

"There. It should be ready- Ah!" You squealed as he suddenly grabbed you by the waist and threw you over his shoulder without a word. You brace yourself on his shoulder as he keeps one hand on your waist to keep you from falling.

"You're such a bitch. I can't believe you fucking hid this from me." He growls before delivering a swift smack to your ass, earning a screech from you. It was hard, but it didn't hurt other than a sting. Either he was still being gentle, or the spell worked. Thank god. You let out a moan involuntarily as his large hand rubbed and groped your ass through your shorts. What did you get yourself into? "How long have you wanted to do this?"

"A while..." You admit quietly as you watch his ass, a bit distracted by the view until his hand connects with your ass once again.

"How fucking long?" He growls, growing impatient.

"Y-years!" You admit, gripping the back of his sweater as you squeeze your thighs together tightly. You hoped he couldn't smell your arousal, but you could hear him sniff the air a bit as he started moving. He made his way back to his room and kicked the door closed. The door slammed on it's hinges, startling you for a moment before Bruce suddenly throws you onto his large bed and you land with a bounce. He tosses the lube onto the bed and it lands with a bounce a couple feet away from you.

"Really? Years?" He asks, pulling off his hoddie to reveal his muscular upper body. He had many large scars visible through the fur of his chest and arms, and many more you knew about that were hidden underneath. He had gotten a bit of soft belly over the years of being on the road and eating takeout, but you thought he was still hot. You always thought he was. You wanted to kiss every single scar on his body and tell him that. "Even now?"

"Yes." You admit with a sly smile. The haze of smoke that still lingered in the room made you feel warm, and maybe a bit overconfident. You're taken by surprise as he crawls over you on his hands and knees, a grin spreading across his face as his imposing form casts a shadow over yours.

"Shit... you made me wait so long... I'm gonna enjoy tasting you, princess." He presses his large wet nose against your neck and inhales softly. His tongue slides out and licks along your collarbone and up your neck. He pulls away just enough so his face is in front of yours. He can't help but stare into your eyes before crashing his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. Your hands quickly find his chest and run upwards, wrapping around his neck as you moan against his lips. His large tongue slides into your mouth as he moves one of his hands to pull your shorts off. He pulls off your shorts and panties in one smooth motion.

His tongue filled your mouth so much it made you gag, but you didn't care. You had craved him for so long. And after knowing the spell works, you couldn't wait for him to just fuck you, but feeling him finally touch you was more intoxicating than the smoke he smelled like. You felt him slowly pull his tongue out of your mouth and pull away from your lips. You gasp and pant as you realize you had forgotten to breathe the whole time.

"B-bruce-" you speak shakily as you stare up at him with your gorgeous, lust drunk eyes. He lets out a soft groan as he suddenly rips your shirt with the hand that was groping your boobs and throws the shreds off to the side.

"Say my fucking name, witch." He growled as he starts to move down. He positions himself so his head is between your legs, braced on his elbows with his hands holding your hips much gentler than you were expecting.

"Brucie... please." You were quickly silenced by a squeal as his large tongue slid between your wet folds, giving your pussy a long, teasing lick. His nose pushes against your clit as his hands grips your hips a bit tighter.

"Oh fuck... You taste so fucking good..." He moans softly against your pussy lips, making you involuntarily grind against his face. He grins and keeps lapping at your pussy.

"Shit." You moan as his tongue slides into your needy pussy. He knew he'd never be able to fit his dick inside you without stretching you first, even with the spell, so he was glad he was talented in other ways to help the process. His thick tongue fucked you as you threw your head back, moaning loudly. You kept trying to buck your hips, unsure if you were trying to get away or get more, but he kept you held firmly in place for him with his rough hands. He wasn't letting you go anywhere. And he was eating you out like he was starved.

You squirmed in his hands as his flat nose rubbed your clit. His tongue kept thrusting in and out of your wet pussy, curving to hit everything just right and listening to your moans to make sure you were enjoying yourself. Your thighs clamp down on the sides of his head as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. You suddenly grab his horns and he moans into your cunt, the vibration sending you into your first orgasm of the night.

"You're lucky you taste so good..." He chuckles as he pulls his mouth away from your drenched pussy, moving one of his hands from it's place on your hips to grab the lube. "Grabbing my horns made me real impatient now... but I need to make sure you're ready for me..." He sits back on his cloven feet as he squirts some lube onto his index finger. You take the opportunityto adjust yourself comfortably, biting your lip as you wait in anticipation of what he's doing. He puts the lube next to him as he moves his finger to press against your entrance. He rubs your outer lips with the lube, making you squirm as he teases you. He places his free hand gently on your lower abdomen to keep you still as he pushes his finger into your pussy. You stretch around him as his digit slowly fills you. It felt like the human sized toys you had tried before, but a lot better. A low grumble resonates from his throat as he looks down at you with a smile. "You're so tight... even with all that work you put in..." His voice and what he said made you clench around his finger, moaning as he slowly pumps his finger inside you.

The magic lube did have an odd side effect you had forgotten to mention. It used a mild aphrodisiac to help with the 'relaxing process' and because you were human, mild aphrodisiac mixed with smoking weed usually made your mind only think about him and what he'd do to you. It had just been fantasy for the longest time, but experiencing it now was making your brain melt. His hand on your abdomen gently pressed down as he started to move his hand a bit faster, earning plenty more desperate moans from you. A mix of your juices and the lube were dripping from your pussy and onto his sheets, but he didn't care. They were going to get a lot more messy soon enough.

"You seem eager... Ready for another one already?" He asks, slowing down for a moment as he teases your slick hole with another one of his thick fingers. You nod eagerly, opening your mouth to say yes, but only moans spilling out. A deep chuckle comes from him as he grins and eases another finger inside you, speeding up the pace again. You felt a sting for a brief moment before the lube helped you accommodate him. Two of his fingers was almost too much for you, but the lube was working wonders, just like his fingers. "I haven't had anyone take my fingers so well. Impressive for a human."

Bruce chuckled again as his fingers worked inside you, pressure building once again as you felt yourself close to your second release of the night. He can feel you getting close, so he adds a bit of extra pressure on your belly, and he curls his fingers to hit your g-spot. Your eyes roll back as he keeps up the pace, forcing your orgasm out of you as you scream out in pleasure. Your body shakes and your pussy twitches around his fingers as he grins and slows to a stop. Your sweaty, stunning body was tembling under him, and he was drinking up the sight.

"Fuck, you're so desperate for me baby. You already came twice." He moves his hand from your lower abdomen to place his hand next to head. He leans down and kisses you, groaning against your lips as he feels you buck your hips to try and get more friction inside you again. "You're always so fucking impatient." He whispers as he slowly pulls out his fingers and gets off the bed. You whine at the empty feeling, sitting up as you watched him take off his jeans. In the process, his phone fell out of his pocket. He grabs it and sees a text on his phone.

Bloom: close your fucking window Bruce. The whole city can hear you guys.

"Ah, shit." Still in his boxers, he walks over to close his window before walking back over to the bed with a sigh. "Where were we?" He says with a grin, making sure you were paying attention before he finally took off his boxers. You watch him closely as he reveals his dick, and your jaw drops slightly. It's bigger than your fucking arm. His thick, vieny cock bounces in front of you as you can see precum drip from his rounded tip and onto the edge of the bed. Thank god for magic lube, or you wouldn't have been able to fit him inside at all. You have to look away before you start drooling, and you look up at him. Upon looking at his face, he's avoiding eye contact and actually looks a bit nervous. An idea pops into your head based on the look on his face and how his dick is twitching, clearly eager for what's to come.

"Are you a virgin too?" You pipe up quietly. His eyes snapped to yours and he spots the shit eating grin spreading across your tired face.

"Excuse me, bitch?" He questions, annoyed that you had even suggested it. Sure, you were right, but how dare you? He's caught off guard by you getting on your hands and knees to crawl over to him. Your legs were still a bit unstable, so you were shaking a bit, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't love the sight of you crawling to him. His dick twitched more in response and you bit your lip.

"It's not a bad thing if you are, Brucie." You sat back on your heels at the edge of the bed and grasp his dick in both hands. You feel him tense under your touch. His dick is so heavy in your hands as you gently rub your hands along his length. He moans and shivers in response, his hands gripping his thighs as he tries his best not to grab you. "You seem happy to have my attention like this."

"F-fuck you." He grunts out between moans and closes his eyes for a moment. He sucks in a breath as he suddenly feels your tongue on him, his eyes snapping open to watch you lick and kiss all over his dick.

"That's exactly what I want. And I know this guy wants it too. Do you?" You giggled as you position yourself so his dick is resting between your boobs. You use your arms to squeeze them together around his cock the best you can while each of your hands grip his cock as well. You can't get your mouth around his tip, but you still lick and suck the tip the best you can as you use your upper body to jerk him.

He stares at you with wide eyes for a moment before cupping your face gently and watching you enthralled. He's never had anyoke try to do this for him before. It may not be a normal blow job, but the fact that you wanted to try and make him feel good too drove him crazy. He can't help but gently thrust against you as you try your best to jerk him. He didn't want to interrupt whatever you were doing, but it just felt so good...

"O-oh fuck-" He stammered out, trying to pull away, but you kept a surprisingly strong grip. He was twitching widely against you and you could tell he was close already. Poor guy must be so touch starved. After only a few more thrusts, he bellows and groans as one of his hands dig his blunt nails into his thigh. He cums hard, moaning as you continue to jerk him and lick him until the ropes of cum came to a stop. You latched your mouth onto his tip and you tried you best to swallow but he came so much and the rest spilled all over your chin and chest. He was shaking a bit, panting as his vision refocuses on you once again.

"I didn't expect you to cum so quickly." You said with a giggle, slowly pulling away and letting his dick fall. "Too bad. I wanted more still." He groans as he looks over you, messy with his cum. As he catches his breath, he suddenly pushes you back on his bed, grabbing your legs and pushing them back against your chest. His dick quickly springs back to life as he sees you under him, covered in his cum. It's all over you like you just stepped out of a gang bang, but it was just him. You were both loving it.

"I never said I was done... and after you came on my face and my fingers earlier, I deserve your hot pussy wrapped around my dick and ready to take everything I give you..." He growled, his eyes showing pure lust as he roughly pushes you back onto the bed. As you flopped onto your back, he was quick to spread your legs and position himself between them.

"Is that a threat or a promise?" You giggled softly before seeing him run his messy cock along your folds, your overstimulated clit throbbing. He grabs the lube once again and coats his cock in it while still grinding against your pussy. As he presses his thick tip against your entrance, you realize he's gonna fuck you without a condom. "W-wait, no condom? What about-"

"I'm not fucking wearing a condom when you've been teasing me for so fucking long..." He growled through grit teeth. You didn't even want to argue. You wanted to feel him. All of him. You didn't want a condom on him either. You weren't on birth control, and he knew that. "I'm gonna fuck you until you're fucking pregnant."

His words made you feel hotter than you cared to admit. Without another word, he starts to ease himself into you with a stiffled groan. You moan and shake as his cock stretches you with a slight sting before melting into pleasure. It takes a minute for you to adjust to just his head before he starts to thrust his hips, slowly pushing deeper and deeper. You were already on cloud 9, and so was he. It took some work, but once you took him all the way, he couldn't help but hold himself inside for a few moments. He was panting heavily as you felt every throb and twitch he made inside you, just like how he could feel every squeeze and flutter your walls made. Your stomach was bulging from his size, leaving you getting even more hot and bothered with every second he sent just having you cockwarm him.

"Fuck... you feel even better than I thought you would..." He groans as his massive hands grasp the back of your thighs, pushing your knees back against your chest. You gasp and don't have a chance to say anything before he suddenly starts to thrust like a wild animal. The sudden jolt of intense pleasure nearly blinds you, everything inside you that made you scream, being hit all at once. Your pussy squeezes his cock hard as only a few thrusts in you're already ready to burst and he moans at the sensation. "Already gonna cum? Such a slut. Be a good slut for me and cum on my fucking dick. I'm not fucking stopping."

You didn't need to be told twice, screaming out in pleasure as you came hard, your vision going white as he just continues to fuck you like nothing is happening. You can't think straight, just moaning and quivering as he continues to rail you through your most intense orgasm to date.

You finally start to come down from your high after what feels like hours, but in reality it was only a couple of minutes. You feel him start to throb once again, his thrusts getting more sloppy and his hands shaking as he keeps your legs held in place. It felt like he was going to break you in half, but you didn't care about anything, but your next rapidly approaching orgasm. He leans down and his large tongue licks the sweat from your neck, his hot breath bathing your neck and leaving goosebumps on your skin.

"F-fuck... I'm close already... what did you do to me? I think I'm fucking addicted to you..." He groans in your ear, his words turning you on even further as he drinks up your moans directly into his ear. "You want my cum baby? I can feel you getting close, too. I want you to beg for my cum baby. Fucking beg for me."

"F-fucking cum in me, please!" You moan out, his thrusts getting even rougher as he grunts. His last bit of restraint is gone as he fucks into you like a machine, unrelenting. You feel his cock throb wildly, his hips and heavy balls snapping against yours in a final rough thrust as he cums inside you. You cum with a screaming moan and clamp down on his dick, milking his cock as he bellows and dumps his load inside you.

You're both panting and trembling as he fills you up for what feels like forever, your belly bulging due to both his cock and his cum. You're both high on endorphins and super strong weed, so both of you have to take a pause before he attempts to pull out. He tries to go as slowly as possible, hissing with a grunt as the head of his dick pops out, his cum spilling out of you and onto his sheets. He groans at the sight before biting his lip and getting up.

"Fuck... you really are addicting..." He grins as he crawls over top of you, pressing his hand gently on your belly as the rest of his cum flows out of you. You moan softly, and he takes your lips in a tender kiss before picking you up and carrying you to his bathroom. He placed you down on the counter as he grabbed a face cloth and dampened it before carefully wiping you down. You can't help but moan as he rubs your sensitive body, shaking as he cleans up your pussy as well and avoids the sigil on your stomach. He watches your every move as he bites his lip hard, trying to keep himself from fucking you further. He kisses you once again before grabbing another face cloth and putting it in your hands.

"Finish cleaning yourself if there's anywhere I missed. I'll be back. I'm gonna go change my sheets." He says with a small grin as he turns to leave the bathroom. It's not like you could go anywhere if you wanted to. The durability spell and the lube worked great, but you were so sensitive and high that you would fall on your face if you even tried to walk. You cleaned your face and tried to clean your hair was best you could. You needed rest. You could shower in the morning.

Once he was done changing the sheets, he came back wearing boxers, with one of his shirts in his hands and puts it on you without asking. He then picks you up and carries you back to his bed, pulling back the covers and putting you down gently. You giggle, his bed nice and soft and his shirt nearly being a floor length dress for you. You stick your hands out the arm holes and smile up at him as he crawls into bed next to you.

"Thank you, Brucie." You say as he covers you both with his plush blanket and pulls you into his chest.

"Shut up. I wanted to make sure you were comfortable. You need to rest." He whispers gruffly as his arms surround you. "We have a long day tomorrow." You smile and nuzzle your face into his chest, letting your exhaustion take you after he kisses you goodnight.

As you're drifting off, you can swear he whispers, "I love you."

[your-nanas-house]

An idea: Tommy has one of his recurring nightmares and YN decides to help him sleep by giving him a blowjob

Dunno who this anon is but I love this kind of ideas so much!! 🙇🏼‍♀️ So thank youuuu 🤗

Just another nightmare

◇ Pairing: Thomas Shelby x wife!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, handjob, choking, Tommy is a whore here and a sub... so bit ooc!Thomas, nightmare and PTSD and bad writing.

◇ Summary: Tommy wakes up from a nightmare and Y/n helps him calm down.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

"Tommy... Tommy—" her soft tired voice called as her hand shook him awake, bringing him back to reality and out of Morpheus's arms so to escape one of his reccuring nightmares.

Thomas never really talked about them with Y/n, preferring to just ignore them or ponder in silence while lighting a cigarette, instead of wasting her time by keeping her up with past crude memories... even though she offered her ear him each time.

"I'm okay" his low voice grumbled out in a dismissing tone, his body still sweating probably in state of shock as it trembled softly, joined by his fast heartbeat.

He wasn't okay, not at all... his mind was playing twisted games on him again and the past was heavier than usual during the night.

And she knew... but there wasn't much she could do if he didn't allow her to enter his mind to try, so to understand the problem better. The young woman kind of lost her patience, adopting a different approach when something like that happened when she was around.

The questioning and the oral support wasn't accepted from Thomas usually... he searched a more physical one even when there was a bit of hesitation at the beginning. But that night... it didn't seem like he would have calmed down with just some cuddles.

Reason because Y/n decided to try with a different physical and oral help.

So her tender hand traveled from his sweaty chest down to his abs and lower before sneaking inside his underwear, earning a shaky breath from Tommy.

The poor man was still a bit under shock, his body sweating cold, his heart hammering against his chest as his jaw remained clenched. Y/n could see his muscles since the moon reflected its light on them in a lovely way, allowing her to start a path of wet kisses from there.

Her beautiful eyes remained closed as her hand lazily pulled slightly down the fabric so to ease the access. Feeling his pre-cum leak on her warm skin when she accidentally brushed his angry red tip.

"Shhhh, everything is okay, love. You are here... in bed with your wife" the young woman started as she pumped his now hard lenght, using her spit to lubricate the action

"At your house in Birmingham... safe and sound... it's just you and me, honey" she purred softly out attempting to calm him down while her hand kept working. Her free one slowly moved Tommy's sweaty palm towards her so that she could place a kiss on his knuckles before sneaking it in the neckline of her nightgown.

As if by reflex, his rough hand grabbed her left breast, kneading it flesh while he felt her heartbeat against his skin.

Her tactic was working, his body was reacting at her touch and his mind was turning off, letting lust take over him... making his heart still beat fast but not due to fear or adrenaline caused by something awful but because of her small hands working his cock.

The feeling was getting intense and Thomas' eyes shot open as he slowly approached his orgasm, his muscles tensed and his back slightly arched while his hand moved away the blanket so that his icy stare could watch his wife work her magic.

The man could see his dick throbbing thanks to the attention and the familiar pre-orgasm feeling was getting more and more noticable. He could feel her soft fingers giving some attention to his balls as well before black dots formed in his view, making him roll his eyes and arch his back even more.

A whoring moan escaped his lips while he shot his seed, dirtying her hand and the sheets. He never came that hard before.

He could hear a whistle in his ear that covered the background noises in the room but not the breathless and impressed curse that left his wife's mouth.

Thomas was about to say something when she shifted, now wide awake, shutting him with her warm tongue which began to clean up the mess he did.

"You should react at my touch like this more often, love" the young woman commented smugly, gagging when he thrusted up his hips with a fake annoyed expression, so that his cock would have shut her up and removed that shit eating grin off her face.

[kpop---scenarios]

Compromised (1)

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader

Warning: Smut [18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT READ]

Word Count: 2k

Everything Taglist: @wife2straykids @piscesrising01 @baby-stay92 @kisses-too-the-moon @dwaekkiiracha @rylea08 @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @satosugu4l @iovecb97 @lordmaahes-nsc @sailorkoss @minh0scat @pixie0627 @50-husbands @jinnies-muse @yaorzu-blog

@1810cl @gabriellamarie @tsunderelino @silly250

“You want a shot? Cause I want a shot.” Your friend Lisa grins, turning to the bartender. “Four shots of tequila please.” She smiles.

“Oh my god, Lisa.” You laugh. “Are you trying to kill us?” You ask.

“Nah, just trying to make sure we have a great time.” She laughs, grabbing the shots and heading back to the table with you.

The two of you sit there, each taking one shot as Lisa slinks back in her chair, crossing her arms and staring at you. “We need to get you laid.” She sighs. “It's been too long since you broke up with Felix.”

“It's only been a couple months.” You laugh, rolling your eyes.

“Exactly! You probably have some cobwebs down there.” She says, shuddering at the thought.

You can't not roll your eyes again and laugh. “You're so dramatic.”

“Not to be more dramatic.” She begins. “There's the hottest guy behind you. But don't look.. not yet.” She says, sitting up. “Not yet…now! Look now.”

You turn your head, and you see a man sitting with some friends, laughing, drinking, and he makes your heart flutter. You really wanted to look away, but fuck, his smile was captivating. The way his eyes scrunched, throwing his head back as he laughed made you smile. You still can't look away, not until he turns his head, looking at you. Your eyes lock with him, you watch as his smile drops, his eyes searching yours, analyzing your face, looking at your body before looking back up to your face, his smile returning, even bigger than before.

“Go talk to him.” Lisa urges.

You break away, turning around to look back at Lisa, your eyes wide. “Absolutely not. There's no way he could ever be interested in me.” You laugh. “He's like.. like a fucking god.. and I'm…me.”

“Fuck off, you're hot as fuck and he'd be lucky to bag you.” She yells, taking her other shot. “and now he's coming over here. Buckle up bitch.” She giggles.

You hesitantly look back, seeing him walking over to you with an almost empty drink. You quickly take your shot, adjusting yourself as he stands at the edge of the table. “Hi ladies.” He smiles, looking at both of you.

“Hi.” You smile, looking up at him. He looks even better up close than he did from afar.

“I'm Chan.” He says, holding out his hand to you.

“Hi Chan. I'm Y/N, and this is my friend, Lisa.” You say, motioning to her.

He smiles and waves at Lisa but turns back to look at you. “Can I buy you a drink?” He asks. You look at Lisa who eagerly nods her head, trying to shoo you away.

“Sure please.” You smile, standing up. You walk to the bar with Chan coming closely behind you.

“I'll have a beer and Y/N? What would you like?” He asks.

“I'll take a vodka cran please.” You smile, sitting on a stool.

“So Y/N.. what do you do?” He asks, also sitting on a stool, his eyes never leaving yours.

Hours.

You and Chan sat at the bar for hours, talking about absolutely everything. From both of your families, hobbies, likes, dislikes, and jokes. He made you laugh harder than anyone has in a very long time and you can feel yourself starting to like him. Which you knew you shouldn't do, he was still basically a stranger and you had a tendency to fall too fast and too hard.

“I really want to kiss you.” He whispers. You smile, leaning in closer to him.

“I dare you.” you whisper.

Chan stands up, towering over you as you remain in your seat. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss starts off soft and sweet, but quickly becomes needy and passionate as he slips his tongue into your mouth, you both deepening the kiss.

“Guys.” The bartender sighs, clearing his throat as he leans against the bar. “We're closed. You gotta go.”

You break the kiss, looking over at the bartender. “What?” You gasp, looking at your phone. 3am. “Oh my god, I didn't realize. I'm so sorry.” You say to the bartender, gathering your things. You look for Lisa but she's nowhere to be found, you hoped that she would be outside.

“Can I take you home?” Chan asks, stepping away from the stool.

“I have to find Lisa first.” You say, your head is still dizzy from that kiss.

“I'll help you.” He says. “Come, let's look outside.”

You follow behind him, leaving the bar, searching in the swarm of people for Lisa and you find her, standing around with a group of people talking.

“Lisa!” You yell. She shuffles towards you, wrapping her arms around you. “He wants to take me home.” You say to her.

She laughs.

“Let him take you home. And let him fuck you.” She whispers, giving you a small kiss on the cheek, going back to her new friends.

“If your offer still stands, I'd love for you to take me home.” You smile.

“It still stands. Wait here, I'll get us a cab.” He smiles, walking to the edge of the street with his hand in the air. A cab pulls over seconds later, he opens the back door for you to slide in and he gets in after you.

You tell the cab driver your address, your hands resting on your thighs. As the cab drives you're awfully aware of how close he sat to you, his thighs practically touching yours. His hands are mere inches away from yours. You glance over every so often, noticing his hands gradually getting closer to yours. You wanted nothing more than to kiss him again, it just felt so right. You look up at him, biting your lip, he smiles at you. His eyes dart between yours and your lips.

“Fuck it.” He smiles, leaning into you again, kissing you heavily in the back of the cab. Your tongues swirl around each other's, his hands roaming your body while you grab at his shirt.

“We're here.” the cab driver says, putting the car in park.

“Do you wanna come up for…coffee?” You ask, trying not to giggle. You'd never had a one night stand before, you weren't quite sure of the etiquette.

“I love coffee.” He says, paying the cab driver before you both get out of the car. Chan follows closely behind you, his hand resting on your lower back as you scan your key card to get in the front door of your building. Your breath hitches as you can feel him standing against you while you unlock the front door to your apartment. As soon as you open it and walk in, Chan shuts it behind the two of you. You take off your shoes, set your purse down and turn around to face him. Chan smiles at you before he walks towards you. He grabs you, picking you up, crashing his lips against yours once again. He walks around, your lips still attached to his as you murmur directions to your bedroom. He swiftly opens your bedroom door, effortlessly tossing you onto your bed. He crawls on, hovering over you, his hands roaming all over your body, placing sweet kisses over your jawline, moving down your neck and to your collarbone.

“Take it off.” You whisper, pulling at your shirt. Chan happily begins unbuttoning your shirt before giving up and ripping it open, buttons scattering around the room.

“Don't worry, I'll replace it.” He chuckles against your lips. He moves down, kissing your chest, down to your stomach, hovering above your waist where your pants began. Chan pulls down your pants, pulling your panties down as well, throwing them on the floor. He smirks as he licks his lips, sitting up to take off his shirt. You practically drool at the sight of him, fuck you wanted to lick his abs. He lays down, pulling you on top of him. “Ride my face.” He says.

You move yourself up hovering your cunt above his mouth. He grabs your hips, pulling you down where he begins to lick and suck on your clit while you ride his face, grinding yourself on his tongue.

“Oh my.. fuck.” You gasp, reaching behind you to unhook your bra, letting your tits out. Chan reaches up, grabbing them, pinching your nipples, rolling them between his fingers. You run your hands through your hair as you start grinding yourself a little harder against his mouth, moving your hands down to grip onto Chan’s hair now, pulling his head up deeper into you.

“just like that..” you gasp. “Please don't stop…don't… fuck.” You cry out as you cum, your body twitching as Chan still sucks your clit while you come down from your high.

You roll off his face, trying to catch your breath, as he stands up, taking his pants off. His hard cock strained against his jeans. He pulls them down, allowing it to spring free, his tip leaking precum. Before he can say anything, you crawl to the edge of the bed, taking him in your mouth. You swirl your mouth around his tip, licking his cum before you hollow out your cheeks, taking more of him in your mouth. He grabs a clump of your hair, thrusting his cock down your throat, making you gag.

“Christ.” He groans, throwing his head back. You wrap your hand around his shaft, pumping him while you suck, using your tongue to tease him, bringing him closer to the edge. “You gotta stop.” He gasps. “You're gonna make me cum before I get to fuck you.”

You let his cock go with a pop, smiling as you lick your lips, laying back down on the bed. You spread your legs, watching Chan crawl onto the bed, lifting your legs up over his shoulders while he lines himself up, pushing his cock deep inside you. You clench yourself around him, bucking your hips as he slides in and out of you, making you moan with each thrust.

“Mhm, fuck. You feel so good around my cock.” He groans, digging his fingers into your thighs as he holds on tightly to you, picking up his pace.

“Harder.. please Chan.” You whimper. He smirks as he thrusts faster, slamming his cock into you. You'd never been one to be loud, but fuck, with Chan you couldn't control it.

“Oh my god.” You moan, moving your fingers between your lips, rubbing your clit, desperately needing to cum again. Chan grunts, loving the sight of you playing with yourself while he rams his cock into you.

“Cum for me.. please.” Chan groans, his orgasm coming quickly. “Shit.”

You rub your clit a little faster, your second orgasm hitting you even harder than your first one. You cry out loudly as you cum over his cock, trembling beneath him as your chest heaves.

Chan pulls his cock out, wrapping his large hand around it as he pumps until he cums, shooting his warm cum all over your stomach. He groans loudly, collapsing his naked body beside you, as you both try and catch your breath.

Chan gets up first, wandering around, finding you a towel to clean yourself up with. “That was.. wow.” He laughs, slipping his clothes back on.

“It really was.” You smile, dropping your arm over your eyes. Before Chan can respond his phone starts to ring, making you wonder who was calling him at 5am?

“Hello?” He answers. “Now? Fuck okay, I'm on my way.” He says, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “I'm so sorry.” He sighs. “I have to go.” He pauses, putting on his shirt. “I'll call you.” He smiles, leaning down to kiss you.

“Wait!” You yell. “You don't even have my number…” Your voice fades. You lay there, hearing your door slam, sighing so loudly.

You were never going to see him again, were you?

[bamboobooshark]

MOON BOYS X READER

₊˚.⋆🕯️⋆⁺. FIRST NIGHT TOGETHER : 4.2K WRDS

A/N : Originally, my goal with these preferences was to try write more than 1k words. I ended up writing a lot more as you can tell by the word count! I’m really proud of myself for that to be honest. Anyway, here’s some preferences for staying at the Moon Boys’ flat for the first night after spending some time with them. Warning for a pinch of angst with Steven’s, anxiety with Marc’s, and badly written Spanish in Jake’s (sorry </3)

STEVEN GRANT .

You and Steven have been friends for a while now. Both of you moved into the same apartment building around the same week. With the agreement to make the most of it, the two of you decided you would meet up every evening after Steven’s shift to talk.

Sometimes you guys would simply talk and you’d give him a ride home since he didn’t have a license. Other times, you’d greet each other with the goofiest grins with the knowledge that you planned an outing or movie night together.

Earlier today, he came beaming to you at your guys’ usual hang-out spot about how a coworker of his asked him out. The stars were fresh in the sky, the sun only had set a little bit ago. The wind was getting his thick curls messier than they already had been from his long work day. He squinted while looking for you and immediately smiled when he found you. The last thing you would’ve expected was for him to tell you about going on a date with his coworker, let alone someone he barely knew.

He was doing his usual when he was excited; talking with his hands, exaggerating his facial expressions, changing his tone with each little word.

As much as you were admiring him at that moment, it did wring your heart dry. Hearing him ramble about how excited, happy, and confident he was about this date felt like a stab in the chest. You didn’t know why.

You had never felt the need to stop him from doing something. Hell, you always encouraged Steven to follow his heart and do what he desired. At that moment, you were regretting it heavily. All the encouragement. All the praising. All the pep talks. All of it led up to him accepting a date with one of his damn coworkers.

“You alright? Got something bothering you, mate? Hello,” he had asked with concern. He stopped with the exaggeration for a second to check up on you. You couldn’t convince yourself that man didn’t have feelings for you. Yet, you shook your head no and shrugged your shoulders. You hated having to lie to him or try to shove your feelings to the side. “It’s nothing. Just happy for you! I can’t believe someone finally asked you out,” you explained to him with your hand on his bicep. It lingered there for a moment before slowly sliding down to his forearm, and wrist, and settling on his hand. His pulse was a little fast as you had felt it throb under your thumb. Both of you gave each other an unnecessarily long but welcomed gaze. His pulse quickened.

Steven got a bit flushed and instinctively pulled his hand out from under your palm. The bench beneath your hand was cold and wet from the rain earlier today. You were already missing the warmth of his flesh, but he was right fucking in front of you.

“Why does this hurt so bad,” you ask yourself now as you sit on your bed. You’ve been asking yourself this since you got back to your flat. You’re beating yourself up for thinking about him so much. “That bitch doesn’t even know him! I don’t know why she thinks she deserves a second of his time. She’s not nearly enough for him. She’s not good enough for him,” you growl to yourself in anger. Out of your rage, you start to do something that you never do unless Steven’s over. You grab some popcorn, slam it in the microwave, and impatiently get your couch ready for a movie marathon.

“I bet he only gave her a chance because she’s so far out of his league that he would’ve felt bad about rejecting her. Maybe Donna treats her better than she treats Steven so she’s using him to get some praise and maybe a promotion,” you mutter through gritted teeth while walking around your flat, tossing pillows and throwing blankets onto your couch.

Then comes a knock. You and Steven’s knock. The one that lets you two know you’re the one who’s knocking. Your rage pauses as you stand there in silence. “Hiya… The date didn’t go too well, just letting you know. I’ll be in my flat if you need me,” he explains to you before you hear him walk off. Your heart that was previously wrung of all concern for him as he explained the situation to you earlier soaked up his words like a sponge.

You internally debated what the best thing to do would be. However, your brain interrupts itself when the microwave begins beeping. A groan leaves your lips as you shuffle over to grab the popcorn. You hold the bag in your hands before realizing that this is the solution. This was what would help Steven feel better. A movie marathon together. You and him alone, cuddled up on the couch, snacking on popcorn, making the dumbest comments as you both watch.

You take no time throwing on your pajamas, grabbing your phone, and getting anything else you need while the popcorn cools on the counter. It almost falls on the floor when you try to grab it the first time, but you thankfully catch it. You run out your door, walk a few feet, and knock on Steven’s. “Steven, can we have a movie night together? Please,” you plead. You know he can be a bit selfless sometimes, but you need him to know you’re concerned about him right now. No excuses, no lies. “I just wanna do something to cheer you up. You sounded so sad when you were at my door earlier. I’m sorry for not answering. I’m here for you now,” you anxiously ramble before his figure greets you. “Guess it wouldn’t hurt. Don’t have work tomorrow either,” he comments as the slightest smile begins to creep onto his face.

The two of you let out a deep sigh once you’re settled on his bed. He explained he didn’t want to sit on the couch because he wanted to be comfortable. Feeling pity for him, you quickly accepted his request for you guys to get cozy under his covers.

“There we go! Much better, yeah,” he asks while looking at you. Despite Steven’s flat being dark aside from his laptop screen, his eyes seem to be softer. His gaze reminds you of the moment you shared earlier. His flesh getting warmer. His pulse throbbed quicker under your touch.

“Now, let me just get my computer going,” he murmurs, pulling you out of your memories. You smile back at him and nod softly. A soft giggle leaves your lips as he awkwardly pushes it to you. As much as a nerd he is, he’s never been tech-savvy. You quickly start up the movie while Steven moves back and forth on his thighs. Once it loads, you push the computer in front of you two and pull the covers over your lap.

In due time, you and Steven finally cuddle against each other. Your knees are tucked up under your stomach with your shins pressed against his thighs. Your arms loosely circle his hips while one of his hands is settled on your waist. Your head rests against his bicep. The only sounds that fill his flat are the movie’s audio, sheets ruffling, wind whistling against the window and the sound of deep breathing.

“I wanna let you know I’m sorry for ignoring my feelings,” Steven starts. You don’t look up at him but still display a confused expression on your face. “I love you. I have loved you. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner,” he says. You can feel his skin begin to heat. Before he can start to verbally apologize and insist he didn’t mean it, you let him know what you’ve wanted to say for a while. “I love you too, Steven,” you assure him. You lean forward, pressing yourself against his thigh and torso to give his lips a soft and gentle kiss. He kisses you back with the same loving energy. It’s a back-and-forth of soft pecks and lingering kisses before both of you grow too tired to continue. You fall asleep with your limbs tangled with one another’s, finally at peace with your feelings for each other.

MARC SPECTOR .

Anxious. If there was one word to describe Marc Spector when he’s around you, it would be anxious. Sweaty palms, clammy hands, flickering gaze, and an inability to be still. He started acting this way when both of you had a conversation about your mutual feelings.

It’s been almost a month since that conversation. Now the two of you sat at the warm, homey restaurant that wasn’t too far from his flat. Marc’s gaze was pitiful. He looked at you with his big, brown eyes that were all glossy from the reflection of the light.

“You look amazing tonight, love,” he told you tenderly. Your cheeks warm before you attempt to return the compliment. “And I could say the same. You always look so good no matter what you wear,” you beamed.

He reached his hand on top of the table, beckoning your own to join his. You chuckle softly and put your palm against his. His fingers make their way under your hand until they meet his thumb to carefully wrap around yours. He slowly runs his thumb against the soft flesh between two of your fingers. You sigh at the gentle gesture. Even before the shared confession, Marc was always prone to being gentle with you, whether it was his words or his actions.

Both of your eyes shared the same sight. A warm meal in front of you, the light from the inside of the restaurant shining perfectly onto your lover’s face, and the most welcoming hand lovingly wrapped around your own. None of this felt real. This must’ve been what Marc felt like all the time; terrified that this was just a dream or a hallucination. Luckily both of those anxieties were false. Neither of you had anything to worry about. Both of you were real and both of you were here to stay with each other.

After a few minutes of admiration and silence, you slip your hand away from his so you can both begin to eat. Hums and quiet groans of satisfaction leave your lips. Despite the restaurant not being a main chain, it had some of the best damn food you’ve ever eaten. It doesn’t even take you two hours to finish your meals. You and Marc have decided that you’ll each pay half if the two of you plan a date together, rather than on your own. He holds your hand while you walk over to the side of the street, hailing a taxi for you two.

Now the two of you are at his apartment complex. You immediately notice his anxious mannerisms getting more apparent. “Is something wrong, Marc,” you ask sweetly, not wanting to assume anything. “Yeah. I’m fine, darling,” he assured you, nervously biting his bottom lip. You squeeze his hand a bit to remind him that you love him. He squeezes back with a bit more force.

The elevator takes you up to his floor. He fumbles with his keys as you guys make your way to his flat. “Give me a second,” he mutters while fumbling with his key ring. He gets the key in and takes a deep breath before turning it to open the door. His expression tells you that his mind is racing with unwelcome thoughts. “Come on in,” he says hesitantly while motioning you to go in as he takes the key from the lock.

You’re somewhat confused. Marc had never let you come over to his flat. You assumed that his mental illness caused his place to be a bit of a wreck, maybe he found the state of it embarrassing, or he simply liked being at your place more. Your brows furrow as you take in the area. It isn’t nearly as bad as you expected it to be. Sure the whole flat has papers and books scattered across it, but not in a way that makes it look like a mess. However, Marc quickly objects to your internal dialogue as if he could read your mind.

“Shit,” he muttered. “I know it’s a mess. I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to clean up before we just spontaneously planned our date tonight,” he groaned wearily, running a hand through his hair. “Marc, don’t say that. Your flat is just about as messy as mine. Plus, I don’t expect you to have a picture-perfect place! You live here. It’ll get a little messy from day-to-day life,” you told him with a soft smile. You set down the bag you’d brought to stay the night before walking over to him. Your arms encircled his waist and rested at the small of his back. His muscles tensed in response to your touch. You leaned your head to press your face against his chest. “I promise it’s fine. I already feel at home,” you hummed while adding a bit of pressure to your embrace. He sighed deeply before giving in to your reassurance. He nodded his head in agreement and returned the gentle gesture. His arms reached from his sides to your neck, one hand tracing circles on your shoulder blade while the other rubbed the back of your head. He tilted your head up from his chest and smiled. “There’s that stunning face I love so much,” he cooed softly before kissing your forehead. “Do you ever stop,” you tease while cocking your head to the side. “What? Loving you? Never,” he replied before giving you a quick squeeze.

The next few minutes are the most soothing and peaceful you’ve had in a long time. The way Marc holds you feels so protective and safe. Your shared body warmth helps both of you melt into each other. His heart beats heavily in his chest while you press your bodies together. A soft, slow sway is shared between you. Heavy breathing, quiet mumbles of only the most tender words, hands fiddling with the fabric of the other’s clothes.

“You ready for bed yet, baby,” he asks softly, leaning forward to whisper to you. He gently kisses your neck while awaiting your answer. Your hand reaches up to play with his dark curls and you begin to hum with satisfaction from the kisses. “Mm. I guess,” you drag out in a sigh. “Let’s get you to bed then,” he mumbles. Before leading you to his bed, Marc smiles against your neck, giving the soft skin a small nip.

You manage to maneuver over to his bed as he continues to stay glued to you. He turns you around and flops back on his bed, pulling you on top of him securely. You let out a bit of a yell when he does that. He pulls his arms tighter around your waist and kisses the nape of your neck. “Fuck. That feels so good,” he groans. This man loves having you close, having you lay on him, smelling you, sweet things like that. However, they all came from a deep-rooted fear of losing you or that you’re simply a hallucination. So any time he convinces, or forces, you to lay on top of him, he is in utter bliss.

You start to get a little antsy in his grasp. His arms hold you tightly, but you still tilt side to side. “Marc! You can let me go now,” you exclaim playfully. He grunts in disagreement. “I’m not letting you go.” You sigh softly before moving all of your weight to one side. As expected his arms stay around your waist. He was insistent on not letting you go.

“You win,” you groan softly. He moves his body so he can rest his head on the crook of your neck. “I know, darling. Now we can go to sleep since we have that settled,” he hums against your skin. Both of you fall asleep entangled with each other. His arms stay around your waist like a harness as your hands lay on top of his.

JAKE LOCKLEY .

You and Jake had a date arranged. It was more of him planning a surprise for you and you agreeing to it. Nonetheless, you were intensely excited.

As he requested, you packed a bag to stay the night at his place and had your pajamas on. It was a bit suspicious. You had high hopes that he wasn’t going to attempt to take you somewhere in the state you're in right now. You’ve continually had a habit of doing one or two little things just to make sure you felt attractive. As you thought about how Jake loved to fuck around with you, he never did it in a publicly humiliating way. The idea was swift to flee your mind as briefly as it came.

You hear a hard and heavy knock on your door that made you gasp. That was definitely him. The way he’d knock so harshly never failed to get a reaction out of you. You shake your head in disapproval while moving to grab your bag. “I’ll be there in a second, Jake,” you shout to him. “Hurry up, precioso! I want to see that face I’ve missed so much,” he weeps almost childishly. You roll your eyes at his pouting while hauling your bag to your door. You open it and snicker to yourself. He was wearing his pajama just like you were. He definitely had a good plan for the two of you.

“There’s my favorite cabbie,” you beam, your hands quickly reaching to his face. His stubble prickles your hand and presses harder against it when he smiles lovingly at you, his teeth displayed just for his lover. You cant help but smile back at him with the same amount of love on your lips. Your thumbs rub along his cheekbone before you lean forward to kiss him. He hums against your lips before both of you pull back. You move your hands from his stubble inhabited face, down to his chest. His own hand move to rest on your hips, treating them like handles for his hands to hold on to. “I guess you beat me to our little kiss this time. I bet you a back rub that I’ll get you first next time, cariño,” he promised you playfully. You knew he would because he stayed true to his word when it came to you. That didn’t mean you wouldn’t challenge his words. “Sure you will,” you replied.

He led you to his taxi, smiling and rambling about his little surprise the whole way there. You loved the way the would talk to you when you didn’t give him any feedback. You could swear on your life that if you never spoke again, he would still find some way to keep talking to you. Once the two of you reached his taxi, he dramatically cleared his throat. “Don’t even try, ángel,” he quips with the assumption that you would try to open the door for yourself like you did last time, which ended in a horribly long lecture about how you deserve to be treated like royalty. You feign disappointment as he politely walks you to the passenger side of the car. Before your hand can even reach the handle in attempts to mess with him, he grabs your hand and clicks his tongue at you. “Dios mío,” he mutters before opening the door for you. “Now you can get in,” he says while motioning for you to enter the car. Just to make Jake sure that you won’t keep playing with him, you gently hold his free hand so you can safely step into the vehicle without tripping. “Safety first,” he hums before grabbing the seatbelt and buckling you in. He leans down to kiss your cheek before shutting the door. He enters the driver’s side rather quickly as if he’s in a rush. “Let’s get going,” he says happily as he begins driving his taxi.

During the drive to wherever Jake is taking you, he keeps asking you question after question. “How was your day?” “Did work go well for you?” “You remember that I love you, right, mi vida?” You groan, chuckle, sigh, give any reaction you can to his questions. “Jake! Enough with the questions,” you tease as you softly nudge his arm. “I’ve told you anything you could ask about me. I swear you’ve got enough information to write a biography on me,” you continue with a playful smile. “Okay, okay, my apologies, precioso,” he chuckles in response to your teasing before he parks in front of a tall building. “But there’s one more question I have to ask you. I promise it’s the last one for now,” he swears while holding your hand for a genuine effect. “Wanna have a sleepover,” he asks with that same goofy grin on his face from earlier. He smiles so hard and hopefully that his mustache pushes up against his nose. “Please,” he asks sweetly while squeezing your hand. You return the happy expression and nod in agreement. That was his plan this whole time. Get you dressed up nice and cozy in your pajamas, drive you to his apartment at night on a route you haven’t been through before, and invite you to have a damn sleepover. God, you couldn’t get enough of this man and his stupidly tender ideas. “Yeah, we can have a sleepover,” you chuckle softly.

Once you two reach his flat he opens the door, like a gentleman of course, for you. You thank him with a kiss on the cheek that earns you a soft smile and a thanks of his own. “Where should I set my stuff,” you ask him awkwardly. “Give it here, hermoso,” he says, practically beaming at the idea of helping you once more. Without hesitation you hand the bag over to him. He takes it and sets it under his desk before sitting on his bed and waving you over with his arms. “Come on, doll. I’m not going to bite you,” he pouts before he begins to grasp the air like you’re just out of reach. You sigh at his whining and walk over to his bed with a smile.

He doesn’t even let you sit down before he clings to you. He pulls you between his legs by the waist as you stand in front of him, letting out a soft gasp when he does so. He slightly lifts your shirt up, just enough so your stomach is exposed. He sighs softly before leaning forward to press his face against it. “Muy bueno,” he purrs as he feels the warmth of your stomach heat his face. He hums with his cheek pressed to your stomach as his hands slide up and down the back of your thighs. You can’t do anything except bite the inside of your cheek and blush as he continues. “Tan bueno para mí,” he praises, emphasizing that it’s for him. “Jake,” you whine softly. He lets out a soft grunt in response. “I’d prefer if you let me lay down before I faint from how affectionate you’re being,” you plead to him. Out of respect for you, he sighs and releases you from his grasp. You ruffle his hair a bit before crawling under the covers and awaiting for him to do the same. He follows soon after, now looking at you with those gorgeous brown eyes of his. He pulls you flush against him with his arms crossed behind your back. “You never said anything about not giving you affection while you lay down,” he says playfully while smiling. You’re already flushed again just by the idea. He shifts a bit further up along the bed so he can begin to shower you with love.

He starts at your forehead, pecking every inch of skin he can get. His hands crawl up from your shoulder blades to the back of your head so he can caress you loving and hold you in place. He moves to your cheeks and nose, hands coming to cup your face. He kisses from your left cheek, kisses your nose once before pausing for a moment to make some savory eye contact, then moves on to your right cheek. He pulls back for a second and you give each other a knowing look. “Please,” you whisper to him in a gentle tone. “Anything for you, mi corazón,” he mutters back. His hands come to cup your jaw on either side, thumbs brushing your cheeks as his other fingers lightly grasp the area behind your ears. He kisses your lips softly before pulling back. You give him a pitiful look before kissing him back. You keep going at it with each other, eventually letting the kisses linger for a few seconds, then adding your tongues into the mix. It’s a little messy, but it’s so tender. “I love you more than anything, mi vida. Anything,” he says to you before kissing you one last time, lips pressed to yours as if they’re a lifeline for him. You hum softly in satisfaction as he shifts your body for you, pressing your head to his chest and resting his chin on top of your head. He traces shapes with his fingers and scratches your back gently until you’re asleep in his secure embrace.

[toxicanonymity]

The dirty ground. Left in Lincoln, pt. 2

5k | dark dads' best friend!Joel x virgin f!Reader

story master list / joel miller master list

He was always so neat and clean. How despeate he must have been to kneel down right there. He really couldn't help himself. You sighed and he tore his mouth away. He looked up at you, captivated. "You're so beautiful, peaches."

WARNINGS/NOTES: NSFW 18+, creepy perv Joel, big girthy age gap, inexperienced but legal reader, angst, masturbation, fingering, dry humping, pressure, alcohol, pining, graphic descriptions of produce, playing fast and loose with how fruits and vegetables work. Slow-burn horror, you may have disturbing thoughts. Reader can sit on Joel and he can put his arms around her.

You were one big knot of tension after Joel left that night - the first night he kissed you.  After showering and getting ready for bed, you laid on top of your comforter, fantasizing and eventually touching yourself.  You thought about his hardness pressed against you and his lips on yours.  You imagined what his dick was like, what it would feel like against your naked front, and what he looked like with his own hand wrapped around it.  You had to assume he was pleasuring himself at the same time you were, and the thought of that had you closer than you’d ever been before to making yourself come.

Until a thump outside cruelly interrupted you, followed by frantic rustling and a muffled screech.  Your skin erupted in the wrong kind of goosebumps.  You stayed as still as you could.  The rustling continued but became erratic.  You couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but it was closer than the noises before. Eventually, you crept to your window and peeked outside, carefully nudging the curtain open just a smidgen to remain hidden. The moon was big and white, but you saw nothing.  

You began to wish you asked Joel to stay over, but your independence meant something to you.  You also weren’t quite ready for what might happen if he did. The rustling became less frequent and tapered off to blend in with the night.  You slowed your breath and stared at a spot on your ceiling.  Soon you were back to thinking about Joel massaging his hard bulge behind you.  You closed your eyes and rubbed your clit, replaying it all. You were so, so close.  Feelin’ this against you, knowin’ it’s there.  You took a deep breath - you were on the very edge when a loud rustling jerked you back to reality.  

You gave up, more frustrated than scared this time.  You didn’t bother going to the window.  You took some deep breaths, stared at the spot on the ceiling, and prayed for a sex dream.  They brought you occasional relief in a world where you didn’t seem to have the confidence or attention span to do it yourself.  Until now - you were so close, you were positive you could have. 

-

In the following days, as you did chores and took care of the property, you thought about little else but Joel and his body against yours. You had never seen a hard dick in person.  You tried to push away thoughts of how many women had probably seen and felt him.  You had to be the least capable of any of them.  The way things were going, and the way you kind of wanted things to go, you wanted to be more prepared, but there wasn’t much you could do about that.  You dug out an old filthy magazine from the garage and studied it.  The guys were so . . . naked.  You liked Joel in his jeans and flannel.  You wondered what he looked like under all that, but you were satisfied with his clothes being on.

You slept better the second night. The next day, you went for a walk.  The community was so dead, it made the fresh air feel stale.  The sun blazed and you wished you brought a hat.  The crunch of dead leaves and broken asphalt under your feet was all you heard for a while.  You walked past Joel’s property and thought about stopping but were too embarrassed.  Maybe on the way back, you thought.  You walked all the way to Abe’s place toward the back but didn’t see his truck.  It was about time for him to come by the house to check the perimeter surveillance, but you hadn’t seen him yet.  Sometimes you could hear the radio from there, but not today.  He had invited you to come over and see the radio station some time, but you hadn’t yet.  

You didn’t stop by Joel’s on the way back either.  You slowed down a little, thinking maybe he’d come outside, but you were relieved he didn’t.  You didn’t see him in the windows, but you felt watched.  You felt naked.  Your cheeks burned and you quickened your pace.  

-

When you got home, you went out back to pick vegetables.  You got on your knees and inhaled the dirt.  It reminded you of gardening with Bill and Frank and you got your first rush of optimism about their return.  You remembered how Frank and you tried to surprise Bill with a Strawberry patch for fathers’ day.  The patch didn’t last - Bill was the gardener among you, and trying to hide the patch didn’t give it the sun it needed.  But Bill loved it and had a good laugh about you and Frank bumbling around behind his back.  Bill didn’t laugh often and you savored every time he did.  They would come back, they had to - You still had to plant a new Strawberry patch.  

You picked some carrots, then found yourself choosing an oblong eggplant for dinner.  You ran your hand over it and felt a pang between your legs.  You felt bad for not stopping at Joel’s house on your walk.  You thought about going back and asking him to join you for dinner.

You started to stand up to go back inside, then the cucumber vine caught your eye and your heart rate quickened.  You knelt down again.  You looked at their sizes and shapes and stroked them, followed their pale stripes and little ridges.  You squeezed them, first with your fingertips, then with your fist.   You were embarrassed you didn't know how to do anything.   You found one that felt right, and you plucked it off the vine.  You held it in one hand and made a loose fist with the other.  You ran your fist up and down the cucumber before tightening your grip around it again.  You studied it and almost put it in your mouth, despite hating cucumbers.  Your cheeks burned at your next thought about what to do with it. 

“Aren’t you always pickin’ the cucumbers off your salad?” 

You jumped when Joel's low voice startled you from your filthy thoughts. 

“Didn’t mean to scare ya, darlin’ . . .” 

Your heart was racing.  You wanted to die. You had no idea how long he was standing there.  You also didn't know he noticed these things about you - that you picked the cucumbers out of your salad. 

You caught your breath and turned to face him.  He was standing with his hands casually on his hips, shirt tucked in, hair neatly combed as usual.  Your face gave you away, and a look of concern spread across his face.  

“You okay, peaches?” He stepped forward and put his hand on your back, his first touch giving you butterflies as usual. 

"Sorry, um." Your face was on fire.  "Yeah. . .I’ve been hearing things at night. . .Guess that’s why I’m jumpy.” 

“What kinda things?”

“I dunno, rustling, screeching. . .” 

He reassured you it was probably just the house.  

“Thumping.  Scratching one night.  I know it’s probably just animals. . .” 

Joel squinted at the cucumber in your hand. 

You panicked and explained the despised produce. “I was gonna see if you wanted to come for dinner."  

He smiled kindly and looked you up and down.  "Count me in," he said with a wink.  "Here, I'll take those." He extended his hands for the basket and cucumber.  Your ears tingled, and as you handed him the cucumber, you couldn't meet his eyes. You watched his hand.  The way he gripped it with his thumb near the tip reminded you of the dirty magazines.  If that weren’t enough, he slowly brushed it with his thumb. Your whole body got hot and you finally looked up at him.  He raised an eyebrow that made you think he must have been watching you for a while before he approached.  You looked away. 

-

Joel brought the produce inside. “Wanna come over and go for a walk? Pick some apples, make some juice to have with dinner?”

“Sure.”  You went upstairs to get a hat.  You had been wanting to go to the orchard.  

When you came back down the stairs, Joel’s face darkened as he looked at you.  It caught you off guard and you said, “what?”

He brushed it off, mustering a quick smile. “Nothin’, peaches.  Ready to go?”

You set off together toward Joel’s house and walked mostly in silence.  That look of his when you came down the stairs bothered you.  It was like you did something wrong.  You couldn’t put it out of your mind, so you wracked your brain.  It was a Red Sox hat - surely Joel wasn’t a Yankees fan.  No, he wasn’t the type to care about sports at all.  You could only come up with one theory.  Jesse had a Red Sox hat, too.  Joel would have seen it when Jesse was helping him in the orchard.  It wasn’t exactly the same.  Jesse’s was worse for the wear.  But maybe Joel thought this was Jesse’s? A parting gift? 

It would be a silly assumption.  There were plenty of Red Sox hats in Massachusetts. If the outbreak hadn’t happened, the post season would have started the next week. You always heard the Sox would have won the World Series.

But just in case it was about Jesse, you tried to smooth it over. 

“Papa gave me this when he started teaching me about the garden,” you said, adjusting the brim of the cap.  

"Bill's a good gardener," Joel responded flatly. 

You thought you saw a hint of relief on his face, but it was hard to tell because he was squinting. You wondered why Joel never wore a hat even when the sun was so high. You didn’t mind his squinting though. It looked good on him like everything else.

The rest of the walk, you talked about the Boston QZ.   You asked why Tommy stayed there and didn’t come to Lincoln.  Joel said not everybody liked the farm life.  You said you often wondered what life was like in the QZ and that you’d love to try it.  Joel assured you that you weren’t missing out on anything. 

-

Once you got to his house, Joel grabbed an apple basket from inside.  You walked through the orchard in silence.  Everything felt too still, and you were glad to have Joel by your side.  He started telling you about the different trees and how picking apples differs from peaches. 

Your eyes fell on the corner of a garden bed near the back fence.  “What’d you end up planting back there?” you asked and noticed the mess of dirt next to it. “Are you doin’ it now?”

“What?”

“The new garden beds?”  You realized your mistake when it was too late.  Joel stopped walking. 

“How do you. . .” He trailed off, then sighed.  “Hurts my feelin’s, peaches.  When you come by and don’t even bother sayin’ hi.” 

“Oh, I didn’t – Jesse mentioned–when y’all were digging–”  You weren’t sure which was worse in his eyes, talking to Jesse or coming over without seeing him.  

Joel clenched his jaw.  It turned out Jesse was worse.  “Heh,” he looked down and laughed in bad humor, as though Jesse should obviously be a sore subject.  Maybe he ghosted Joel, too.  Joel smoothed his hair and answered you.  “Haven’t planted anything yet.” 

You stared at the ground for a beat of tense silence, then Joel tried to get things back on track. “Why, got a request? Maybe some squash, watermelon?”

“Strawberries?”

“Strawberries. . .” he smiled.  “Alright, peaches.  We’ll plant you some strawberries.” He cupped your cheek and looked at you affectionately.  

“C’mon, let’s find our tree.”  

Our tree.  

-

Joel touched your hand, then interlaced his fingers with yours, leading you off the path and through the trees, back toward the street.  His thumb gently stroked yours and your chest felt light.  At the tree of his choice, he let go of your hand and put the basket down.  The leaves crunched under your shoes as you carefully stepped around fallen apples.  You crouched down to pick one up, then Joel said, “better from the tree.”  

“What do you do with the ones on the ground?” 

“Perfect for cider.” Joel found a good looking apple on a branch.  “For apple juice, you want one that comes off after a quarter turn.” 

He was about to turn the apple, but something caught his eye on the tree.

“Would ya look at that. . .”  He let go of the apple and grabbed your hand.  “C’mon,” he said excitedly and pulled you to the other side of the tree.  He pulled down a branch that didn’t have any apples and you followed his eyes to a flower. 

“Li’l apple blossom,” he muttered. “Gorgeous.” 

“Is it rare?” you asked.

“This time of year? On a tree with ripe apples? It sure is.” He reached for the flower. 

“Why’s it there?” 

“Well, I reckon sometimes they bloom late.” He stroked the petals, entranced.  “And sometimes, it turns out that’s for a reason.” He plucked the flower and closed his eyes as he brought it to his nose, his chest expanding with a long, deep breath through his nostrils.  “I think this one’s just for you.” 

He stepped closer, offering it for you to smell.  The velvet petals brushed your nose as you breathed in the sweetest, most beautiful scent.  Joel watched you enjoy the fragrance, then gently nudged the cap off your head and it landed softly behind you. You looked into his eyes and saw a world of affection.  

He tucked the flower behind your ear, then cradled your head and wrapped his other arm around you, bringing your body into his.  You were anxious for him to kiss you again, unsure if you were doing it right.  He was so good at it.  His lips tenderly met yours, and your nerves washed away.  After a few seconds, he pulled away to look you in the eyes.  He kissed you again and his lips became greedier.  His arm tightened around you, and his tongue slowly claimed every part of your mouth.  He softly moaned into you as his hand drifted from your back to your ass, pulling your pelvis into him.  You felt him harden against your body, sending a swarm of butterflies to your core.

He broke away from your lips to kiss the hollow of your neck, then your neckline.  He nuzzled his nose between your breasts, overwhelming your body with desire.  His hands scanned your back and sides as he began to crouch down.  He kissed you through your shirt, between your breasts.  He kissed you over your belly button, then just above your pants.  He held onto your ass and knelt down on the ground to kiss the front of your pants, making you weak in the knees.  

He was always so neatly dressed.  How desperate he must have been to get his jeans dirty.  He really couldn’t help himself, and that turned you on. He laid open mouth kisses all around your zipper, his nose and strong lips nudging your special place through the denim.  You could even feel his tongue.  A pool was forming in your panties.  You sighed and he tore his head away.  He looked up at you, captivated. “You’re so beautiful, peaches.”  

He curled the fingers of each hand into your waistband and slowly started to unbutton your pants. 

You had been so busy preparing to see Joel’s privates that you forgot to worry about showing your own.  The way he looked up at you so hungrily, you hated to stop him, but he recognized the hesitation in your face. 

“What’s the matter, baby?”

“I’ve never–no one’s ever–”

“No one’s ever seen you?”

You swallowed and looked down and away. 

“You’re beautiful, peaches. . . every part of you.”  He unzipped your pants slowly and his thumb dragged lightly over your panties as he pulled it down.  “Every part.” 

“I, um.”  He froze and moved his hands to your sides, listening.  You continued, “I never saw— I guess I don’t know if I’m . . . normal.”

He planted a kiss on the exposed sliver of your panties. 

“There’s no normal, darlin’. . .I promise.  They’re all different, very different. . . Different and beautiful. But especially yours, I just know it.” 

“Plus. . .” You looked away again. “I don’t shave.”

“I know, darlin’,” he said. “And I’m glad. . . ‘cause I want every part of you just how you are.” 

With that, you were convinced. He began to gently take down your pants, being careful not to bring your panties with them.  

But then you both heard the unmistakeable sound of a vehicle coming down the street.  It was such a rare occurrence that Joel stopped what he was doing and you both looked in that direction.  Joel stood up and you watched him adjust the bulge in his jeans while his eyes narrowed toward the street. 

-

“Damnit,” he whispered as Abe’s truck came into view.  Your face lit up. You hadn’t seen anyone besides Joel since Bill and Frank left.  Joel didn’t seem as happy about the visitor, but it was understandable given the interruption. “Do you wanna wait,”  he started to ask you, but you were already zipping up and ready to walk with him.

“I wanna say hi,” you said. 

“Okay, darlin’.”  He kissed your head.  As you and Joel walked toward the house, Abe came around back.  Abe called out your name in surprise.  

“Abe!” you called back.  

When you got close, he opened his arms for a hug and you gave him one.  You didn’t even know Abe that well, but you were so happy to see anyone.  When you looked back at Joel, he was scowling.  You swallowed, wondering if the hug bothered him.  

But, did Joel ever look happy? Only when you were in his arms or about to be.  Your heart fluttered as you realized it. 

Abe talked to you for a minute.  He asked how you were holding up and if it was spooky being alone.  You admitted the noises at night were bothering you.  Abe said it was probably raccoons and that he could swing by with some traps the next day. He was supposed to come by and check the security footage anyway.  He promised Bill he’d look at the perimeter footage to make sure no one dangerous was showing up to the compound.  You could have done it yourself, too, but Bill didn’t want to overwhelm you.  

Joel shifted uncomfortably on his feet and Abe turned his attention to him. “How’s the harvest this year?”

“One of the best, I reckon.” 

“That so? Got any cobbler for me?” 

“Not today.  Got some juice and cider, though.”

“Ooh, cider.” 

“You got it.”  Joel went inside and came back out with a jar. “C’mon, I’ll walk you to your truck.” 

You said goodbye to Abe and he said “See ya soon.”

-

After a couple of minutes, you heard a car door open and shut.  When Joel came back, he was quiet.  Abe’s truck started and drove away.  Joel put his hands on his hips and looked down at the dirt on his knee.  “I’ve got some traps too, ya know. . .” He seemed wounded.  

“Of course you do,” you said. “I bet you have everything I need.” It was sweet how he wanted you to need him, not Abe.  

You wrapped your arms around him and watched the hurt leave his face.  

“Tell ya what,” he said.  “Why don’t we both get cleaned up and I’ll come over.  We can make dinner together and do the juice another day.”

“Okay.” You were a little disappointed. 

“We can drink wine instead tonight, how’s that?”  You liked that idea.  He didn’t drink with you the first time. 

-

You put on a soft, roomy knee length skirt and pretty top before Joel came over.  He had on a new pair of jeans.  You made dinner together.  He helped pick out a wine, and for the first time, you took a full glass.  Maybe more than a full glass, based on the pours you normally saw from Bill and Frank.  When you finished eating and were sipping on the rest of your wine, Joel reached out and touched your hand.  You smiled shyly at him.  The sun was going down outside.

You couldn’t put your finger on the way he was looking at you.  It wasn’t the affection you saw earlier.  It was something more.  Like he wanted to consume you, make you part of him.  And every sip of wine, you could feel it happening.  You saw little molecules of yourself drifting over, getting sucked into the black holes of his eyes or caught in the flannel of his shirt.  It was preferable to being consumed by grief or fear.   

-

Joel built a fire while you cleaned the dishes.  Then, you met him in the living room.  Before you could sit down on the sofa, he intercepted you, wrapping his arms lazily under yours.  He crossed his wrists at your lower back for a close hug that turned into his hands on your ass.  His hands felt even better through the thin fabric of your skirt.  He held your ass cheeks in the palms of his hand and a soft grunt escaped him as he pulled you into his body.  You felt his cock harden in his pants, bringing with it a pool in your panties. 

He inhaled your scent.  He let go of your ass and took both your hands in his.  He wet his lips as he looked at you and walked backwards slowly, bringing you with him, until he reached the sofa and sat down. 

“‘C’mere, gorgeous," he said, lightly brushing your hands with his thumbs. 

It dawned on you that you were supposed to sit in his lap. 

“Oh, Joel, I dunno  . . .” Your face got hot and you looked down and away as he shamelessly adjusted himself.

“It's okay, baby.  C’mere just a minute. . .  Let’s just see if we like what we feel. . . that’s all.  Whatever you want ‘n that’s all.”  

Whatever he had in mind, if you could stop at any moment, it was hard to argue with that.  He let go of you then hooked his hands around the backs of your knees, lightly skimming up your hamstrings, then gently pulled and you stepped forward.  At his urging, you hesitantly straddled him, staying back toward his knees at first,  your skirt  spread over both of you. 

He took a deep breath and his rough, massive hands slid under your skirt and up your naked thighs as he sat up to meet your face with his.  He kissed you softly at first, then began to slowly devour your mouth with his.  He held the back of your head as one hand found your ass again and kneaded a cheek.  As the kiss heated up, he gently pulled you down all the way into his lap.  You came to rest on his hard package, greeted by a lift of his hips and a stab of desire.

He rolled his hips rhythmically as he kissed you, lifting you an inch or two each time, like riding a wave.  He steered your ass and hips, guiding you to grind back against him.  Ohh, it felt good. 

You did that for a while, not talking, and at some point, your hips began to move a little on their own, seeking that delicious pressure.

“That’s it, baby.  Just like that.” 

You felt something begin to build inside you.  He studied your face, and he saw it too. 

“You feel that, baby?”

Oh, you felt it.  Joel latched onto your neck.  A moan fell out of your mouth and into his hair while his beard tickled you and the suction made your whole body weak.

“Ever had an orgasm, darlin'?” he asked over your shoulder.  

He slowed his hips to talk, but never stopped them completely.  He pulled back to look at your face.  

“I –” you started to say. 

“I reckon not, then. That's ok, darlin', it'll happen."

“Only in my sleep.” 

“Good, good.”  You kept riding the wave of his hips.  “That’s your body takin’ care of you.  It’s good for you."  He looked at you like he was starving.  He breathed heavily.   "Gonna take this belt off, k?”

He reached under your skirt to his belt.  He unbuckled and swiftly removed it, then his hands found your hips and he resumed his rhythm. “That better, baby?”

You nodded, captivated by the lust in his eyes.  You could feel it gathering in your core like a storm.

“Wanna feel me without my pants?”

“I dunno,” you hesitated. Your clit throbbed. 

“I got shorts on,” he reassured you, but you didn't come around yet.

“That’s okay darlin', we'll do whatever you want,” he said.  He looked into your eyes and kissed you deeply, one hand guiding your hips.  As his lips released your mouth,  you felt a rush of need.  “Whatever you want, baby,” he said. 

"Okay, your shorts" you said, and dismounted him.  You put your elbow against the back of the sofa and rested your head in your hand, admiring him. The way his biceps stretched his flannel.  His muscular neck.  His hair falling out of place.  His patchy beard and the flecks of silver caught by the fire light. His thighs as his jeans came down. 

"C'mere darlin'," he said and helped you back onto him.  Your moist panties met the stiffness in his boxers and your mouth fell open. The tension thundered in your core. 

"Yeah, that's it, baby," he said.  He gradually sped up the rhythm of his hips.  "Go on, let your hips go." 

You throbbed madly and your arousal began to take over. "It's ok, go on," he said.  "s'posed to let'em move."   You rolled your hips down for more contact and were rewarded with an immediate rush of pleasure. "Mmmm, just like that, baby." 

He let you drive the rhythm for a little bit, and you felt it getting closer and closer, that release that evaded you all your waking life.  He saw it on your face, too.

"Ok baby, trust me for a minute." 

You nodded.  He slipped a thumb inside your panties.  He took a deep breath, then exhaled, "yeah," when he felt your ample wetness.  He began to stroke your clit. 

Then he took out his stiff cock, and the sight alone almost sent you.  The sight of his hand around it took your breath away.  Then, under your skirt, he nestled it against your panties, right up against your clit, and you rolled into him and felt yourself twitch and throb. 

"That's it, baby, c'mon."  

You were so close, then you started having doubts. You didn't want to fail in front of him.  

"I can't," you whined. 

"Yeah you can, darlin'," he said. "Stay with me, it's okay, you're okay." 

He lifted his hips in short, fast bursts, bouncing you on his cock. "I got you, baby."  Ohh, he was hard.  

Your face screwed up and you felt like you might burst.   

“Good girl,” he said.  

Finally, the tension burst and seized your whole body before it released.  “I got you, baby.”  You clenched around nothing, and your poor neglected clit pulsed against his hard cock as you rode massive waves. “Doing great, baby.”  Your body jerked, and he wrapped his arms around you and slowed his rhythm, “Doing great.”  Your eyes welled up in tears and you gasped for breath as your climax waned and you collapsed into him.  

"You're okay, baby.  You're okay." He slowly rolled his hips while you caught your breath.  Then he gently nudged you back, making space to slip his flattened fingers into your panties to gather some lube for himself.  He vocally exhaled as his digits gently dragged along your seam. He brought your slick to his cock and began to stroke himself.  

As he pleasured himself, his other hand went into your panties, then he sucked his fingers.  "Mmm," he said, still stroking himself. 

Your eyes were wide as you looked down at his cock. 

"First one you've seen?" 

You swallowed and nodded almost imperceptibly. 

"Like it?"

One side of your mouth crept up as you looked at him.  

"It's ok, darlin, you're s'posed to."  His breath deepened.  “And I know I’ll like what you’ve got, too.  Show me, darlin’.” 

His free hand moved your skirt out of the way and he looked at your panties hungrily. 

“Just a peek, baby.” His thumb tugged at the soaked crotch of your panties.  

“Okay,” you said and tilted your hips. He pulled it to the side.  He inhaled sharply through his nose, and stared at your pussy, hypnotized.  He ran his thumb up and down your slick folds.  “You’re perfect. . .so perfect. . .” 

You felt like you could cry at those words. 

He looked you in the eyes, then let your panties go.  

"I wanna be inside you so bad, baby'," he groaned. And you wanted him inside you, too. 

The pace of his strokes quickened.  "It's okay, baby, we'll get there."  Agony spread across his face, then he leaned back and erupted with a groan. You watched his cum spill into his hand.   

He caught his breath, then after he was cleaned up, he came back and took you in his arms.  

-

You both fell asleep, and when you woke up, you sat up to look at the clock, which woke Joel up, too.  The fire had burned out.  

“It’s after midnight,” you said.  

He yawned and stretched, then asked, "want me to tuck you in?"

You felt a little bad having him walk home at that hour.  If it were you, you’d be terrified.  But you still told him, "Not tonight."  

He picked up his jeans and started pulling them on.  He tucked in his shirt before zipping up.  "Not tonight. . . alright, darlin'."  He smiled as he put his belt back on. Then he kissed you good night.  

As soon as Joel left, a heaviness fell over the house.  You became so aware of the space around you, the space around the house, around the community.  The emptiness that was too empty to truly be empty.  There was something else there.  You peeked outside and watched the shadows of branches sway under the white moon.  You regretted letting him go.  You still could have gone out to catch him if you wanted, but something held you back.  “Not tonight.”

-

I'd guess 1-2 weeks for the next one.

Main tag list is full but you can comment to get on the reblog tag list.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging!

Ty @dark-scape for letting me talk about him all the time and test out my plans

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Lincoln: @fan-fiction-floozy @ivyblxnde @lhymer1995 @sugarspiceanthrax @isimpforfictionalmen @zynbsblogg @swedishscumfuck @sadgirlstoohightocare @steveharringtonswh0re @skythighs @aoziety @leeeesahhh @jupitersmoon-cal @peekymoon @dtfawn @pedrosbabygirl @shotgun-shelby @reader-without-a-story @shewantstoknow @jaxxiepup @yvonneeeee @elvinaa @internetobssesed1234-blog @jbcalway @afterglowsb-tch13 @kamcrazy123

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Hi Alex!

I don’t think it’s stupid or cheesy to miss someone, I miss you too! Going back to normal after being on holiday is always horrible, especially after this one, and especially having to go back to school, I’m not a big fan! Do you go to school too? I wanted to ask if you did but I couldn’t… it’s nothing personal, by the way, sometimes I just can’t speak to people and I don’t really know why. I thought it was my decision if I did or didn’t before I met you but maybe not. My parents n’ the teachers at school call it selective mutism but I won’t bore you with all that crap.

I can’t see your new teeth but they grow fast so maybe next time! If they don’t maybe you could get some gold one’s like your dad has, unless you don’t wanna look like a pirate lol.. my littlest sister has four teeth now, and I have all my big teeth! I haven’t counted the twins though cos they’d probably bite me if I tried haha!!

Ava is the tiny one with the blonde pigtails! She’s cute but she still sleeps and poops a lot haha, she’s sorta chill though and definitely doesn’t cry as much as Wren and Byrd used to (have you noticed we’re all named after birds yet? I guess my parents thought it was cute since our last name is Finch) Wren’s the ginger one with plaits! She’s pretty funny but she’s super grumpy sometimes and likes to bite and kick (not me though, she loves me) I think it’s cos she’s tired a lot cos she never sleeps at night, kinda like dad.. they’re twins but Byrd is way different, I couldn’t get a picture of him cos he kept running off, he’s crazy like that but he’s super snuggly and loves playing doctor! He likes to pretend to break my legs so I can’t go anywhere then fix them for me haha. Brothers and sisters are fun but they can be a pain in the butt sometimes! We have a cat called Lou too, his full name is Toulouse and he likes to bring us leaves from the garden and scream about ‘em, and he loves stealing food when you’re not looking.

Dad’s been teaching mom how to cook cos she sucks at it (don’t tell her I said that though cos I always pretend it’s not THAT bad) she’s sorta getting better though so I suppose the whole practice makes perfect thing pays off eventually. I got a school project to make a lame volcano that I didn’t wanna do as well, but my parents made me do it anyway.. we all know that real volcanoes aren’t full of baking powder and vinegar though so I dunno if there was much point to it but they seemed to think it was important so I did it anyway, at least I got a picture of it “going off” I guess. No one likes homework, even if it’s supposed to be fun, right?!

It’s cool you set Amber free!! I’m sure she’s happier wherever she is now so I guess you could just think of that when you miss her? The rocks are way cooler anyway! My aunt Aspen has loads of crystals too, sometimes she even charges them in the sun or the full moon.. I keep forgetting to ask her why but I’ll try and remember so I can tell you next time!

Hahaa your poor dad with those birds! I’ll definitely keep the picture cos it’s hilarious, Wren found it the funniest but don’t worry, I’ll keep the picture safe from her sticky hands! I have a hiding spot in the attic for all the stuff I don’t want them touching. I guess birdwatching is sorta fun sometimes but you’ve gotta be quiet (easy for me I guess.. hah!) I’m not sure there’s any other birds round here other than seagulls since we live right next to the sea, those are the ones you can hear the most anyway cos they never shut up! My dad jokes that he used to be a seagull in a past life cos he’s loud and greedy like they are lol.. he’s been building me a treehouse too, I bet that’d be good for birdwatching!! It’ll be super cool once he’s finished but it’s taking ages cos he mostly does it all by himself, I try n’ help sometimes but I’m still too small to carry or lift most things.. I wanna be as strong as him one day, he can build and fix almost anything (he swears a lot during it though haha!) Do you ever think about what you wanna be when you grow up? I don’t really think about that sorta stuff cos working sounds boring, especially if it’s as lame as school!!

I’m ten, by the way! How old are you and when’s your birthday? Mine’s February 22nd. I don’t think I have a favourite food, anything my dad makes is amazing cos he’s a good cook and my mom makes the BEST pancakes! We’re always stuffed after dinner but dad says (lies) that pudding goes in a different part of your stomach so there’s always room for cake haha.. I think I like it best when he makes spicy food but Wren and Byrd hate it so he doesn’t make stuff like that too often. It’s fun to see how much you can eat before your mouth feels like it’s on fire and I’ve decided I’m gonna beat him one day so he better watch out!!!

I didn’t know what to write at first but I guess I sorta ended up writing quite a lot since I had some catching up to do! Are you and your dad on holiday in the tower or are you living there for now? It sorta sounded like you’ve been there a long time, where do you usually live? What kinda stuff does your dad dig up for work? It’d be cool if he dug up dinosaur bones!! I watched something like that recently and they were HUGE!

It’s hard to think of questions on the spot but you can talk about anything you want too! I probably owe you a million answers as well so you can ask anything you want too! I had fun reading your letter and I’m glad we can be pen-pals even if we don’t get to see each other! Maybe next time we meet in person I’ll be able to say something, but writing would still be fun too so I guess it doesn’t really matter, right?

Love Robin c:

ps. I’m keeping the funny photo of you yelling at your dad and there’s nothing you can do about it!!

pps!! I don’t have a way to print out photos yet otherwise I’d have sent some new ones. Dad gave me an old polaroid ages ago but it’s still broken, his friend said he might be able to fix it though so hopefully I can use that next time. Mom said you can have some of our old ones and the ones from her disposable camera whilst we were on holiday for now though so I’ll send those to you as soon as they come back!

[octopiys]

Okay I just saw someone’s Olympic x cod au (and it was so cool) so now I’m asking everyone what their Olympic x cod head canons are.

OOOO HI ANON

Okay this is actually really cool

First thought was that Soap and Gaz would be synchronized divers. (I love diving, I did it as a kid but couldn't afford to keep doing it) I think they're built properly to do it, and I think when they win their first gold they'd be over the moon, cheering and shaking each other desperately because they can't believe the news. Yes, they'd be on the same team, as Scotland is a part of the GB team.

I honestly feel like Ghost would do rings acrobatics (I think it's acrobatic gymnastics or artistic gymnastics?) He's got wide enough shoulders, and what he struggles in is his weight class and his height that work against him, but his muscles make up for it. (HAVE YOU SEEN THEIR ARMS AND BACKS??? WILD)

Price is a bit interesting. I'll say he coaches Ghost in rings, because that's what I think he'd do if he wasn't competing. He's also got ties with both the Russian team, and the US team, but one of the Russian coaches dropped the Olympics before Russia was no longer allowed to compete, and is frequently spotted on the sidelines near Coach Price. There were rumors in the early 2000s, when both John and Nikolai were competitors, that they would trade each other's team plans and secrets due to their.... ehem, close companionship.

Alternatively, I think Gaz could be on the cricket team. Idk he probably played it as a kid, and would just end up sword fighting his cousin with the bats, and he's not actually really sure how he got on the team, in all actuality, but he's one of the best by far.

Alternatively, Soap might do volleyball. He just seems like he'd play volleyball. Didn't even realize he qualified for the Olympics until he got back home and saw it on the news: "Local Glasgow teen qualifies for the 2024 Paris Olympics" followed by "Unable to reach for comment". He's in the Olympics quite a few times, one of the youngest qualifying volleyball players in Europe when he first started off.

Alternatively, Ghost might do archery, get famous for splitting his arrows twice in a row one game. He gets made fun of, afterwards, by a mohawked Scot on his team just a few years younger than him, who repeatedly calls him Merida. It... doesn't really help that the stadium fluorescents make his hair look more ginger than usual.

Price and Nikolai do shooting. I feel like Price will be that Turkey guy who gets famous for being wildly comfortable (minimal gear, short sleeve, and kind of bored) during his competition, along with his god-given boonie hat. He's won gold every year since 2004. Nikolai sticks to his own challenge, coming in at a close silver, and ended up taking a break after 2016, when an accident on the range was the likely culprit to the abrupt pause in his career. But, he's still spotted like a celebrity at every Olympic games..... is that a Team GB shirt he's wearing?

I feel like Alex would do rowing (men's single scull), and not be terrible at it. He's got one gold and two silvers, before community work he did overseas took his leg. He then keeps it up, if possible, and joins the paralympic rowing (para-rowing) team. He does significantly better in this category, and gets gold 3 paralympics in a row. He still does charity work in the middle east with his wife,

Farah, who either does fencing, or boxing. I can't decide. She would be incredibly powerful in fencing, deadly accurate, and makes Alex thank God that she doesn't have actual access to swords. Her rounds are extremely fast, but she's amazingly skilled, having been placed on the team when she was just fourteen.

Roach would do water polo, or maybe rings with Ghost. That's how they meet each other, and theres no malice in their relationship at all. The media loves it, especially after his wipeout in 2016 because there was an unforseen obstacle (bug) on his ring, thus giving him the nickname Roach.

Rodolfo would be a gymnast too, either pommel horse or parallel bars. He's one of the tallest competitors in that category, at a shocking 5'8 (173cm) and is beloved by every Olympic fan in Mexico. (his job is pommel horse. his job is parallel bar)

Alejandro would also do gymnastics, but he'd probably do pommel horse or the horizontal bar. He's known for his fiery attitude, once making world news for almost fucking up an American competitor from Texas when he made a few comments after Rodolfo suffered a bad case of the twisties two seasons ago.

Graves is a newer competitor, the same one from Texas. He's not as well known, been around since the last Olympics, but he's got an interesting floor routine that will earn him a gold this year. However, he doesn't place in the all around competition, just falling short of the Mexican team, and one guy from GB. Better luck next year, Phillip.

[leighbaylee]

— TRANCE

written by mina leigh 𝜗᭪ , nate jacobs 𝔁 f! reader | wc 2500

summary. nate realizes he is the luckiest guy ever. fuck maddy, fuck cassie, he was plotting for you. you’re the most perfect girl that he could’ve ever asked for.

labels. y/n is used , she her pronouns used. nate fantasizes about you innocently and quite naughty, hyper feminine reader, pet names used, mentions of obsession, praise, & stalking, VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED.

‧₊˚ ୨୧ mina speaks. i really recommend reading @annwrites multi - part fic ❝ exactly what he needs ,❞ paired with, yours truly, nate jacobs. as it was inspired by the masterpiece.

nate is in bed, staring blankly at the glow of his phone. it was some mindless scroll through his socials, yet it all felt dull. nothing grabbed his attention the way it used to. not the countless selfies of maddy’s perfectly angled poses, or cassie’s desperate attempts to catch his eye with the glossy smiles she plastered all over the screen.

he let out a breath, locking his phone and placing it face down on the bedside table. his hand trailed absentmindedly toward the blanket, pulling it up a bit to tuck you in, careful not to disturb you.

you were fast asleep beside him, your soft breaths falling into a steady rhythm. nate’s gaze lingered on you longer than it probably should’ve, his eyes tracing the delicate lines of your face. fuck, you were perfect. it was almost criminal how effortlessly beautiful you looked, even now. no makeup, no posing, no pretending. just you.

he leaned his head back into the pillow, the warmth of your presence next to him soothing yet electrifying at the same time. it wasn’t like when he was with maddy or cassie. there wasn’t that constant tension, that need to control, to manipulate. well, maybe a little. but with you, it felt… different. not better, but more intoxicating.

❝ fuck ,❞ nate muttered under his breath, staring up at the ceiling, the faint glow from the moon seeping through the curtains.

he didn’t know how he’d gotten this lucky. not that it was entirely luck. it took planning, scheming. nate wasn’t a man who left things to chance. no, if he wanted something, he took it. he figured out how to make it his, even if it meant crushing a few people along the way.

and you? you were the one thing he hadn’t let slip through his fingers.

the day nate first really noticed you, like really noticed you, something shifted in him. it wasn’t like with cassie, where she was a fleeting obsession, someone he could toy with to get under maddy’s skin. no, you were something else. something more.

it had been a regular day, or at least it was supposed to be. cassie had brushed past him in the hall, giving him a sad, hopeful glance after their situationship had gone up in flames. she didn’t matter anymore, not really. nate had already set his sights elsewhere.

and then, there you were.

you didn’t even notice him at first, just standing there with a few friends, laughing at something dumb, probably something insignificant, but to nate, it was like the world had tilted. your hair caught the light just right, that glossy sheen making him want to reach out, run his fingers through it. and your face —fuck, your face was everything. perfect lips, perfect eyes, the kind of face nate could stare at for hours and never get bored. you had that thing about you, that girl - next - door vibe mixed with something else, something unattainable.

you weren’t loud, weren’t trying to get attention like maddy or cassie always did. you didn’t need to. you had a natural confidence, something soft but undeniable. your style was all femme, skirts and cute tops, nails always done, everything just ... neat. clean. controlled. nate liked that. he loved that.

it was like the universe had handed him exactly what he’d been looking for.

but getting you? that was going to take work. although not that he ever had any difficulty getting what he desired.

nate spent weeks figuring you out. watching. waiting. it wasn’t stalking, not really, he told himself. he was just making sure he knew everything he needed to. where you liked to hang out, who your friends were, what kind of guys caught your eye. every detail mattered.

he’d show up where you’d be, casually at first, nothing too obvious. he made sure to talk to the right people, make himself seem approachable, even charming, though that part came naturally. girls liked nate. it wasn’t hard to use that to his advantage.

he noticed how your eyes would flick toward him sometimes, just a quick glance before you looked away, trying not to let it linger. it was subtle, but nate knew what it meant. you were interested. maybe you didn’t realize it yet, but you were. and he was going to make sure you realized it soon enough.

a few weeks in, he made his move. a simple conversation, nothing too forward. just enough to get you thinking. he complimented your shoes, your nails, shit like that. small things, things other guys wouldn’t notice but nate did. he saw everything about you.

he could tell you liked the attention. your smile was shy, a little flustered even, and that’s how he knew he had you. it was only a matter of time now.

the days passed, and nate played his cards perfectly. you’d started to trust him, let your guard down around him. you laughed at his jokes, blushed when he teased you, and nate reveled in it. every little thing you did only made him want you more.

he liked how soft you were. how feminine. it wasn’t just your looks, though those were enough to drive him crazy on their own. it was the way you carried yourself, the way you made him feel needed, wanted, like he was the only guy who could make you happy.

he’d make sure you never wanted anyone else.

nate was careful, though. he didn’t rush things. he let the tension build, let you get used to the idea of him being around. he didn’t want to scare you off, not like he’d done with cassie. this time, it had to be perfect.

and it worked.

the night he finally confessed, nate couldn’t hold back anymore. it had been driving him insane, keeping it all bottled up, the way he felt about you. it wasn’t just lust, though that was a big part of it. it was deeper than that, more intense. he wanted you in every way, needed you.

he cornered you after a party, pulling you aside when no one was looking. your eyes widened in surprise, but there was a hint of excitement there too. nate could see it.

❝ i can’t keep pretending, y/n, ❞ he started, his voice low, controlled. ❝ i’ve been thinking about you, about us. for weeks. ❞

you blinked, a soft flush spreading across your cheeks. ❝ nate ... ❞

❝ no, let me finish, ❞ he interrupted, stepping closer, his body just inches from yours. ❝ you’re perfect. everything about you. i can’t stop thinking about you, wanting you. ❞ his hand reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and he smirked when you shivered at his touch. ❝ you deserve someone who sees that. who sees you. ❞

you stared up at him, your breathing shallow, and nate knew he had you right where he wanted.

❝ i hope you understand what i am getting at, i’m that guy, y/n, ❞ he murmured, leaning in, his lips just barely brushing your ear. ❝ i’m the guy who’s going to make sure you’re happy. no one else. ❞

your eyes sparkled, a mix of excitement and disbelief.

❝ nate... i didn’t know you felt that way, ❞ you whispered, biting your lip. ❝ i always thought... ❞

❝ what? ❞ he asked, his voice dripping with possessiveness. ❝ you thought you weren’t good enough? ❞ he let out a dark chuckle, his hand sliding around your waist, pulling you closer. ❝ you’re more than good enough. you’re mine. ❞

you stared at him, wide-eyed, but then you smiled —this soft, sweet smile that made his chest tighten.

❝ i didn’t think i’d be good enough for you, ❞ you admitted softly, looking down for a moment.

nate’s grip tightened around your waist, his hand firm as he pulled you closer, his lips brushing your temple. ❝ fuck that, y/n, ❞ he whispered, his voice thick with a mixture of desire and triumph. ❝ you’re everything i’ve ever wanted. ❞

your arms wrapped around his neck as you hugged him, pressing your face into his chest, and nate let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

he buried his face into the curve of your neck, breathing you in, his hands gripping your waist as he smirked against your skin. you were his now. completely his.

and nate wasn’t letting you go. not ever.

© MINA LEIGH 2023 - 2024

[cipher-the-sidhe]

Hi! I just went through your entire WtTK AU and I have a (potentially sad) question :D

Has baby Eclipse ever accidentally hurt Y/N? Cause I noticed he's got some pretty big claws, and kids (especially young ones!) don't tend to have very good control of their strength and coordination when they're little

*grabbing you and shaking you*

Thank you for liking my au and for engaging! I love these fish a normal amount!!!!! As for your question~

———————🐠🐟🐠🐋🐳🦭🦈🪼🦐🐙

The first time it happens, Eclipse is too young to realize what he’s done. Tiny baby teeth are still sharp enough to pierce and tear, and when he mindlessly mouths at you a little too hard Moon is the first to notice the blood at your shoulder where your baby nestles his face. Sun is a mess of anxiety over the realization that your little guppy has teeth and claws sharp enough to hurt his mama now, and no will yet to prevent it. The bites don’t leave a visible scar, but the boys never forget.

It happens again, of course. Many times. Little nicks of careless baby claws and eager baby teeth. Nothing serious, and your mers are diligent in teaching Eclipse to be careful with his mama and her delicate body. Sun maybe goes to far with it really, and for a while your little boy handles you like you’re made of glass. Eventually you ease the anxiety he develops over hurting you into a more reasonable level of caution, but he’s always very careful.

But even the most careful, cautious people slip sometimes, and Eclipse is just a boy after all…

He hadn’t meant to. He swore up and down around hiccuping sobs over and over again how he hadn’t meant to and how he’s so so sorry. You coo and shush him, one hand pressed down firmly to stem the bleeding from your calf, and the other holding onto his hand (so much bigger than yours already, and covered in your blood) even as he tries to pull away.

“Clip, sweetie, look at me. I’m ok. It’s going to be ok. It was an accident. I’m not mad. It’s ok.” You talk to him as gently as you can, holding him as close as he‘ll let you. For a moment you resent how big he’s gotten so fast. Eleven years old and he’s already taller than you.

Moon doesn’t take it well, of course. Sun takes it worse. They get your injuries cleaned and stitched up, and they end up healing into four pale pink scars just a few inches above the first scratches Moon gave you on your ankle years and years ago. Eclipse doesn’t speak almost at all for weeks. He stays with Moon most of the time, and his nocturnal father uses the time to share whatever wisdom he earned from his own time as a sharp and dangerous creature on how to be gentle. Your son keeps his hands entirely to himself for that time, accepting hugs but not returning them. Your heart hurts far worse than your leg. Sun stays by your side while the other two are away, and his son won’t meet his eyes for days either.

Things get better. They heal, they scar, the marks fade and leave behind lessons for all four of you. Eclipse grows into a frighteningly deliberate predator, and those claws and teeth never do any harm that they don’t fully mean to do by the time he’s mature. Certainly after that, though he causes his fair share of carnage, he never hurts you.

[fandoms-bandoms-andmentalissues]

Scar’s win,,, oh I have been thinking about this-

Before I begin, y’all remember after Martyn’s win, how long it took us to decide for certain what his title (mars) should be? And now how people are just lumping Scar in as ‘the earth’ due to some (frankly fairly flimsy) foil-ing with Pearl without any further consideration? Well I have an alternative answer to our current dilemma:

Pluto

1. Pluto is another celestial body aside from earth, if you really wanted to then you could put any of the winners on the earth, but none of them have been, it’s off limits (not only because all of them—including Scar—have better choices) so it fits the theme better than this

2. Pluto is the Roman god of death/the dead, Scar is renowned even out of the life series for leaving a trail of death wherever he goes, his own especially, and if that doesn’t just scream pluto at you then I have even more-

3. Pluto is also the god of money and wealth. Scar’s common thread throughout the series is monopolies, resources, and greed; the desert and dark oak saplings, the magic crystals life trades and enchanting table, the Jellie panda ranch and looting the deep dark, his deals in Limited Life, trader Scar’s.. you get the idea

4. Pluto is not a planet. I know I know, I’ve just said that Pluto fits so well in the celestial imagery and now I’m saying pluto isn’t a planet? Well this is equally true, pluto isn’t large enough to be a planet, it isn’t fast enough in its orbit to be a planet, it isn’t enough, it’s rejected and isolated, just like it’s godly counterpart, just like it’s ally-less winner

5. Pluto is the most distant planet from our sun, and her still clings to its orbit faintly, distantly, representative of Scar’s slow, painful separation from Grian, his grief growing and then fading, finally content with their distance, as well as how Grian won the first game, and Scar the latest, five games later, they orbit one another and yet will never be close, not the same way

In summary, Scar is no healing, living earth, but rather the isolated, deathly pluto, hardly even visible to the naked eye, hardly even considered for his win, hardly even connected to the Watchers who trap them all. The earth? No, welcome pluto to the winners’ circle:

The Sun, The Stars, The Moon, Mars, and Pluto

[akingdomscrypt]

War is Over (and what have we done?)

Part Five

Paring; Graves x m!reader (slow burn)

WC; ~8.8k

Summary; where was Graves in all those months he was gone? What brought him back?

Warnings; just some general internal turmoil, brief imagery of death, implied human trafficking when including the context of past chapters, a lot of self doubt/feelings of betrayal. Tame compared to my usual stuff tbh

A/n; I hate dialogue. Also the moon phase mentioned in the beginning is what it would have been in-game for that mission too :3

---"And I'll crawl home to him"---

You arrive a few hours later, according to the ticking clock above the bed—knife still embedded into the plastic face and all, he hadn't bothered to remove it, even after all this time—and at that point Phil had started to believe Venn had chickened out. That, or she just didn't bother telling you.. perhaps she had forgotten. All were of an extremely low probability. He should know better by now than to doubt her.

Even now, only a few weeks later. You looked so.. so drastically different. Phil takes stock, compares your current form from when he had last seen you all those weeks ago—had it been weeks? Phil didn't even know what day it was.

Drifting. Up, down, and across every inch of your concealed form. Something foreign pulls at the hardened strings of his heart—strands of silk toughened up by years upon years of repressed emotion and poorly dealt hands—at the sight of you. Standing tall and confident, as if he can't see the strain buried in your shoulders from the effort of holding yourself up, keeping yourself from crumbling to dust right before his eyes. And he swears you've lost weight, a noticeable difference in the amount of muscle mass wrapped around your bones, even under all that clothing.

When his gaze meets yours, taking a peek into the torn and frayed patchwork of your soul, all he can feel is the stinging reminder of you wishing him dead. Telling him you'd hoped he'd died all those months back; suffocated by his own lungs.

And it's like the past decade of getting to know you, watching you open up, never happened. Wound so tightly, that all that progress is dumped right down the drain; he isn't sure if he'd ever be able to tear down those walls again. Not this time. He scrambles brick by brick to reach the top, but you're too fast, replacing those crumbling stacks with bolts and iron at an alarming rate.

He can't see over the wall anymore, it's too high to reach, too steep to climb. And he fears he may never have the honor of reaching that softer center ever again, barred by thick metal and scathing words.  

“You wanted to see me?” Hell… you even sound different. Cool and collected on the surface, but there's an edge there that tells Phil you're not as put together as you are trying to appear to be.

“I did.” But now that you're here, he can't remember the script he'd spent the last week constructing, so delicately, in his mind.

“Well,” you drawl, lifting your arms and gesturing widely. Dropping back down to your sides with a dull smack. “I'm here.”

Are you? Phil doesn't think so. Not really.

Your eyes are the only thing on display, and just a year ago Phil wouldn've prided himself in the fact that he could read you so well. But not anymore. 

He can't see that lighthouse shining through, guiding him through the night. There's nothing there. The lamp has run out of oil, and the keeper died months ago.

You're right here, and yet Phil has never found you to be so out of reach. 

Who would've thought; his savior, and the one who had damned him to the fiery pits of hell, were both the same man. It felt almost poetic.

Phil thinks he had made peace with his death. Sure, this hadn't been what his younger self had imagined when the topic of death was brought up; still bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, believing himself to be near invincible. 

He had never been particularly religious, even after being forced to sit in those church pews and listen to some old man drone on and on about shit his child brain didn't care to make sense of. Bored out of his mind, but only sitting still, behaving, because doing the opposite meant taking over his younger sister's chores for the rest of the day. 

Phil still couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was some sort of fucked-up retribution or some shit like that. Paying for the sins he'd committed within his lifespan, and so on.

And he wasn't just speaking of the blood that permanently stained his hands, no, he was thinking of you. Always you. 

You and those endless pools of warmth that made up your eyes, always a slight glimmer in them when you looked his way. You and those rough, work-hardened hands, always so soft and gentle when you handled him. Like he was something delicate, something to be cherished and protected. Him the altar and you the devoted worshiper knelt before him, praying for the mercy of a god who never answered your calls. 

And that laugh. Like nothing else he had experienced before, a blessed thing he was granted the honor of witnessing. Of having directed his way. So rare, but so carefully captured and sealed away in Phil's heart when he heard its boisterous sound. 

The main reason Phil had never really connected with the religion he was raised into was, even though they were the same people who preached about community and loving thy neighbor and whatever the hell, they were also the kind to shun and exile those they deemed unworthy. Those who didn't fit into the cookie cutter shapes chosen for them before they'd even taken their first breath. 

He had completely dismissed his family's religion entirely when, after one of the members of his church discovered him getting a bit too cuddly—nothing more than an innocent hug that lasted a few seconds longer than it should—with one of his male classmates, they were outcast from the very same church he'd practically grown up in. And Phil would forever be thankful for having parents who stuck up for him to the very end, he doesn't think he'd ever seen his dad so thoroughly pissed off than when going after a churchgoer who'd slung a few cruel choice words at a younger Phil. 

And Phil can't help but feel he knew this was how it would end when he made the decision; like some cruel method of justice.

So, while he no longer considered himself aligned with any specific religion, Phil still held onto that deep-rooted fear of something. Of damnation and redemption. And in that moment, as his heart began to slow and stutter in his chest, when his head felt too heavy to hold up, and the simple task of breathing caused his chest to burn, he did something he hadn't done since middle school. Something he never thought he'd do again.

He yearned for forgiveness; begged and pleaded until black swallowed up his vision whole.

Phil doesn't remember when the world had gone dark; doesn't think he had even fought against the pull. Willingly, had he responded to the siren's call through the waves crashing in his ear, a sound so alluring he would never even consider resisting, one that held a certain likeness to your voice. 

What he does remember is the sudden gulps of stinging ash in his lungs, shocking his system into alertness, and the touch of oddly cool hands pulling at his shoulders. Hard, sandy earth beneath him, but he can't look up, can't peel his eyelids open and take a glance at his savior when those hands disappear. Only to wrap a pair of arms snug around his waist and continue dragging him over jagged stones and bits of metal.

It's not until Phil abruptly feels a lot cooler than he did moments ago that he's finally able to force his eyes open, a gasping breath kick-starting his heart back into motion. 

And when he looks up, dazed and more than a little out of it, what he sees nearly steals his breath away once again. 

Smoke wafting off your uniform in waves, dancing with the remaining embers still shining bright in a sea of black like stars in a night sky. It should be terrifying, but it's not.

Because Phil cannot see how the material clings unnaturally to your body, his brain is too fogged up still to notice the torn patches in your clothing. Blood stains the dark fabric into a deeper shade, trickling from gouges in your skin and dripping onto his. 

All he sees is that perfect, unmarred face of yours. Mask pulled down and out of the way as you pant for breath; the flesh warmed a more intense reddish tone than usual, but Phil didn't register that, unable to yet comprehend that what was once untouched would soon become scarred and disfigured within the next few hours.

And with the setting sun positioned behind you, glowing almost like an angel's halo to frame your head, he had never been so enraptured by the sight of you as much as he was in that moment.

It's clumsy and uncoordinated, taking a few tries to even get the limb to function, but he manages. Reaching up to gently cup the jaw of his savior, his guardian angel, to feel that familiar warmth against his skin.

Only to have his wrist snatched out of the air by your still gloved hand, the hold a little tighter than normal, held for a second before being dropped carelessly onto his chest. And Phil doesn't have the energy to lift it again. 

“You breathin', sir?” Comes your once angelic voice, now sounding like someone had shoved a saw blade down your throat; scratchy and not at all the soothing rumble he was used to, a strange shiver alighting his nerves at the sound. 

All Phil can muster up is a strained, grunt-like sound in response. But that seems to be more than enough for you as you stand back up from your crouched position, sigh, and look over the ruined training grounds. 

There's a hard set to your jaw, and Phil begins to feel something akin to fear. An emotion he doesn't think he could recall ever feeling around you if he tried. 

“Good enough.” You huff, leaning back down to wrap your strong arms around his waist. Dragging him like a ragdoll to a more secluded, out-of-the-way spot just outside the remains of the designated training area. 

He can't fight it, can bring himself to move or speak or do much of anything, really. Laying limp in your hold and letting himself be hauled away.

Phil considers that whatever method of exfil you had prepared must be this way. He doesn't remember making any plans like that with you and the others. But why else would you take him here?

Those hopes are crushed when you prop him against a fallen log, the remains of Alejandro's base now just barely out of sight, then pull away.

“This should be fine,” you mumble to yourself, cold gaze studying him briefly before darting back to where you two had come from. “Mhm. They shouldn't patrol this far.”

“-nant?-” Crackles through your radio before Phil can muster the energy to ask you what you meant by that. The feed is distorted, the device had probably been damaged sometime during the fight, but it's clearly a panicked voice speaking on the other end. “-Lieu-en-t? Are- y- there? Pha-nt-m?-” 

“2-3,” you respond, voice level. “I'm here. Problem?” 

“-N-o, no problems, sir-” Kip, 2-3, says. A little calmer now that he has heard your voice. Phil watches the scene through blurry eyes. “-We got- he's- Viper is stable-”

“For now.” You mutter bitterly, switching the radio back on to reply with, “Give me a sit-rep, 2-3.” 

“-V-enn’s got ‘em lo-aded up-” a pause. “-a quarter left, sir.” 

A quarter left. Even in Phil’s muddled up state, he knows what that means. It meant three-quarters of the soldiers he had taken with him were dead. Too many to feasibly count. So many bodies left unidentified, in enemy territory. 

“-How-re yo-u and the- c-mander, Lt.?-” Phil would've said something if he could. But his vocal cords are paralyzed and his tongue feels like it's constructed of pure lead. 

“I’m breathing.” You joke, your slight amusement is obvious even in such a bland tone. At least to Phil it is. 

“A-nd,” if Kip notices, he doesn't mention it. “-and the commander?”

You spare one glance down at his slumped, barely breathing form, gaze shut-off and distant, and a cavernous pit of dread opens up in Phil's stomach.

“KIA.” You grunt, eyes narrowing down at Phil. And he may as well be, to have you look at him like that.

Kip doesn't respond and you click your radio off. And it's as easy as that, as if Phil, your co-founder, your friend, you lover, meant nothing to you. 

You turn and leave, and Phil doesn't even possess the ability to call your name.

The next time he wakes, Phil doesn't think he's been colder in his damn life. And he's done his time in deep dive operations in the frigid hellscape that is the wilderness of remote foreign bases just past the Bering Sea.

It's dark, stars and the illumination of the moons’ waxing gibbous all the man has to light his way. 

For a prolonged moment Phil doesn't even consider pushing himself up from his current pathetic, slumped over position against the decaying log. Would it even be worth it? He had nothing but the singed clothes on his back to call his own, not a weapon he can use in sight. Not even a pocket knife up his sleeve or a heart nestled in his ribcage. 

Phil has experienced his own fair share of betrayal within his lifetime; ranging from small, nonsense instances with his little sister, to slightly bigger ones like with the church; then there were the more prominent, glaring ones that stuck out like a sore thumb. From before he started this damn company, freshly enlisted, and only a year later when he met you.

With shitty, high ranked officers who didn't give a single fuck about what happened to him or his squad—not that that had changed much after being taken under the watchful eye of General Shepard. Freezing to death in bumfuck nowhere Russia, or nearly drowning in the middle of the goddamn Atlantic Ocean. 

You had been there for every single one. Such a constant in his life; a steady, unmovable force by Phil's side no matter what happened. Even before he'd fallen for you, before you became more than just a friend. Like two peas in a pod, you two.

There was no you without him, and vise versa, the soldiers you two worked with knew it too. They were always sure to throw in a teasing jab now and again, asking the typical “trouble in paradise?”, when you were spotted away from each other for more than a few hours.

So forgive Phil for being a bit melodramatic, because, out of all the people on this godforsaken planet, he never expected such a thing from you. 

Maybe he should have. He wouldn't be on the verge of catching fucking hypothermia in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country.

Phil tries to think back, to push past the pounding in his skull to recall even a moment that would have given away some sort of clue to your betrayal before it happened. Maybe he could've prevented it if he had just looked closer. 

But no. There's nothing. If anything, Phil recalls you being a bit more.. clingy, before this whole thing started. In your own way, of course; he's pretty sure you would rather be caught dead than let someone catch you hugging him or, heaven forbid, holding his hand. 

Your neediness manifested in standing just close enough to him that any shift in stance or movement caused your shoulders to brush together; getting up in his personal space and staying there. 

Maybe that was it? Maybe you had been so unusually affectionate because you'd planned on betraying him. And Phil was just too blinded by the sudden influx of your undivided attention to see it; he's starting to consider that that may have been your intention all along.

To distract him with your attention, to hide your true intentions under the guise of gentle words and adoring eyes. 

Phil gives it a few more minutes, shivering his ass off against that damn log, before he finally gives in and decides to stand. He wasn't dead—yet—and by staying he was nothing more than a sitting duck in shark infested waters—which was a weird saying, wasn't it; how could the waters be infested when that was a shark's natural habitat? 

Traveling under the blanket of night provided him with the highest chances of survival, even if it meant he was constantly on the verge of freezing to death. Under the dark, star speckled sky, he was, for the most part, safe from the prying eyes of enemy soldiers. It would be much more difficult for them to spot him under the protection of a waxing moon than, say, the full, all-encompassing concentrated power of the fucking sun. 

So he gets his hands under himself, weakened arms trying their damnedest to force him to his feet. Phil takes a moment, leaning against a strong, tall tree that was luckily rooted right beside its fallen brethren. 

The last time he had put anything in his stomach was yesterday (?) morning before they had been so rudely interrupted by the 141 boys knocking on their—or, really, not theirs at all—front door. And after an afternoon like that, all his energy was beyond drained. It's a surprise Phil was still standing—not that he was exactly doing a very good job at that—, though, to be fair, he wasn't new to going lengths of time without proper sustenance. It was a byproduct of the job, of the life he led, after all.

Phil can't do anything to rectify his current hunger right now, so he has no choice other than start getting some miles between himself and the wrecked base next door.

Signing, he looks down, spotting a small dagger lodged into the tree he'd been resting against before. Huh, at least you hadn't left him completely defenseless. 

Knife secured in his boot, Phil begins the long trek to who knows where. It's not like he could just make his way back to company HQ, now could he? Not when it was so damn clear he was an unwanted face there. 

The chipped watch on his wrist reads o-five-hundred, giving him about an hour until sunrise. Phil has already made pretty good progress, if he did say so himself. And the Vaqueros base has long since faded from his view; leaving Phil to now wander aimlessly through the harsh Mexican terrain; traversing over dry, crumbling rocks through a sparse forest, avoiding sudden drop offs and twisted roots on wobbly legs. 

Phil had detoured around the broken city of Las Almas, a certain brand of discomfort crawling up his spine and settling heavy across his shoulders at the mere thought of passing through the ruined city. The barest glimpses of it he'd gotten bore the harsh reality of cobblestone roads still bathed in watery crimson, the familiar color splattered over everything within reach; streaked over stone walls and staining the clothes of bodies still laying cold, face-down in the streets. 

One look at the carnage left behind and he'd nearly doubled over from the sheer force of the sudden churning of his stomach. Expelling the bile building at the back of his throat would only end in the burning of his esophagus from his empty, acid-filled belly. There were likely valuable resources left behind in the town, something to aid him in his solo travels, but he quickly dismissed the idea at the sight.

He'd rather skip this city and continue to walk with nothing to his name but the clothes on his body and the knife in his boot then be forced to face that massacre. 

Phil hopes, come morning, the very same people he'd stabbed in the back take the time to ghost over the town and dispose of the mess he'd left behind. To reap the souls of those innocent civilians and treat their bodies with much kinder hands than his own Shadows had. 

Phil was really getting tired of waking up to people dragging his ass around. 

Well, judging by the way, at least this time around, there were no sharp rocks digging into his spine and the fact that this ride was.. quite bumpy, it appeared Phil was being carried this time. What an improvement. 

And while he should probably be very concerned as to who, or what, exactly, is carrying him from point A—aka, where he'd likely had passed out again—to point B, the man can't bring himself to care. He doesn't have the energy for it.

Instead, he's in a bit of a daze. Wondering how in the everloving fuck this damn country jumped from near freezing in the night, to scorching hot temperatures that could rival the damn devil. All Phil remembers leading up to this is him cursing the damn sun with his whole chest, feeling like his freaking skin was melting off, then somehow finding himself face-down in the goddamn sand—when had he made it into the damn desert??

And now he was here. 

Being carried to God knows where, still sweating profusely under his clothes—how his body still had the capability to sweat when he was already so dehydrated, was beyond him—and too tired to do anything more than lay there. 

Phil must've drifted off again at some point, because when he wakes again he's no longer moving. Instead he's flat out on his back, a hard surface beneath him not unlike the old bunks he'd slept on when he was a newbie, and his entire body feels like one giant ass bruise. An all encompassing ache that traveled from the base of his skull to the tips of his toes—as if, now that he was finally resting, his entire body had collectively agreed to seek revenge on his overused muscles.

Distantly, he can hear the chatter of a man and a woman speaking in hushed voices, muttered Spanish drifting from somewhere to his left. 

Every instinct that had been ingrained into him screams at Phil to launch himself up and either attack or make a run for it. He does neither, too exhausted to even move or open his eyes, much less to try and stand. 

He ends up dancing on the fine line between consciousness and slumber while the two strangers talk, presumably, about him. Lingering in that peculiar space where you're not quite awake, but you're not sleeping either; able to hear and feel, but not aware enough to get up and move. 

Phil chose to use that time to attempt to listen in, see what all, if any, of the words he could catch. He wasn't going to pretend to know more than he did, as Phil really only knew the more simple Spanish phrases from his time in highschool when it was a required course. He picks up the usual filler words, a few pronouns, something that sounds much like ‘the American’, and the suppressed voices briefly increasing in volume, rushed, before quieting. Then silence.  

With nothing to stimulate his brain, Phil once again falls into a fitful rest. 

Power? Is that what this had been about? In all the years Phil has known you, he never would've thought of you as the type. But could that have been what you were after the entire time? And all these years you were just biding your time, waiting for the best time to strike. 

How could he have been so blind, how did he not see this coming? The person closest to him, a man who knew more about Phil than any single other person to exist. He should've seen this miles away before it hit him like a fucking freight train.

This is why you had to turn on others before they had the chance to flip the blade on you first—a lesson Phil had learned oh-so long ago. After all this time, how the hell had he forgotten that?

Which is why, the second Phil has the capacity to, he bolts upright and does his best to regain his bearings. A little dizzy, body shaky, limbs trembling from a lack of nutrients, but no longer in the fetal position at least. As aware as he physically can be. 

Somewhere between blinking away the blur obscuring his vision and forcing himself into a fully seated position, Phil hears the two voices again

Faint at first. Then growing louder. Closer. 

Phil's eyes, still unfocused, dart around his surroundings.

A room. Closed off with only one door, and a window too small for his body. Below him is some sort of flimsy cot placed in the corner furthest from the exit, one that's metal frame squeals with the slightest movements.

Getting distinct now, one woman and one man, just as before. 

Phil's hand shoots down, patting his boot; heart rate skyrocketing when the man realizes the knife is missing. His crutch, the only thing he'd possessed to defend himself beyond his own bare hands. It was gone.

They'd taken it from him. 

Closer, closer, closer still. The door opens, hinges creaking as a tall, heavy set man walks in; black, cropped hair and a well kept mustache are the first things he notes. And Phil can immediately tell that, even if he were standing, there's no way this guy wouldn't tower over him. 

That is a problem. Not because Phil hasn't taken on much large men than himself, but because he usually managed such a feat when fully put together and decidedly not when half-starved, dehydrated, and barely conscious. 

While the man approaches Phil with a certain air of caution, the woman, on the other hand, stays behind. Leaning against the doorframe, watching.

But not afraid, no, there's nothing to hint at fear in her intense gaze. Long, dark hair pulled up and tied in loose updo, arms crossed tight over her chest, and mouth set into a firm line. And still she appears to be more curious, or concerned, than fearful; perhaps a bit heedful, but that's as far as it goes.

The man, surprisingly, seemed much more on guard than his counterpart. To be fair, and give the poor guy some credit, he was the one tasked with coming closer to Phil. And Phil, in all honesty, was not of the.. low-risk variety. 

Not that the two would know that, all identifying parts of his uniform were either torn or stained, but it's always safer to be wary of strangers. And given Phil's appearance—dirtied, bloody, and cowering like a caged animal ready to strike at any given moment—he obviously wasn't just some random guy who they'd stumbled upon.

Come to think of it, Phil wondered what they thought had happened to him, or why he was out there—wherever he was when they found him—in the first place. 

Beyond that, who were these people? Why did they bring him here, why not just leave him, a complete stranger and possible danger, where they'd found him instead of risking their lives carrying Phil to their home? At least they'd been smart enough to check him for weapons, for their sake.

Which begs the question; were these people just plain stupid, or did they trust enough in their own abilities to put him down if need be?

“So,” the man begins, now within a few feet of where Phil sits. Spine straight, chin lifted, and arms crossed much like his partner; posture firm, aiming to appear confident. “You military?”

Oh, what could have possibly given that away?

“Sorta.” Comes Phil's stilted reply. 

To Phil's great unsettlement, the man smiles. Only a tiny thing, a barely twitch at the corner of his mouth before it's gone. 

“Where am I?”

The man hesitates, and the woman chimes in with a few uttered words of Spanish again. 

“Not too far from the border, a few hours most.” when Phil doesn't respond, the man continues. “Name's Eric and this,” he tips his head slightly in the woman's direction. “Is my wife, Sofia. We have.. decided to help you back onto your feet.”

Another murmur, then Eric corrects with an, “if you want.” 

Lovely. Now it didn't sound as much like he was being held hostage.

“Y'all want to.. help me?” Phil asks, skeptical as he flicks his gaze between the two. Trying to decipher any double meaning, any sort of threat veiled under these too-good-to-be-true words. “...And why would you do that?” 

“My wife was a field medic, and me a soldier,” he begins. “We know what a person looks like wounded.. not only physically.” 

Oh, so they wanted to be some sort of great savior or some shit? Give Phil some weird form of therapy? He didn't need that, he didn't need anyone's pity. Especially not these strangers who knew absolutely nothing about him.

Eric must sense something off about him, because he immediately rushes to continue. “Like it or not, we are your best option. You go out there? Try to get home in the state you are in? You will die before the sun sets.” 

Phil wasn't quite sure he'd be opposed to that.. but the man had a point. He couldn't seek his revenge if he were dead, now could he?

“I won't stay long.” Phil asserts, sitting up a bit straighter with a challenging glint in his eye. 

“Of course not,” Eric agrees easily. “Just until you are better. Maybe a few days, yes?”

Phil shouldn't, he should get up, tell these people to go fuck themselves, and get as far away as he possibly can. Even if that means, come morning, he’ll have succumbed to the elements- “Okay.” 

“Okay.” Eric offers a smile and Phil isn't quite in his right mind, but he swears that man, this complete stranger, has some of the kindest eyes he's ever seen.

A few days turns into a month, and a single month becomes four. Phil learns a lot about the couple he's been staying with. 

Learns that Eric was telling the truth and that they both had met in the field; apparently the man had been outright refusing treatment so that his fellow soldiers could get it first, claiming it to be nothing more than a light scrap. According to Sofia—from what little Phil could gather with the language barrier; though narrowed eyes and flailing hands are pretty damn telling no matter the language, Phil supposed—it was most likely a lot worse than Eric let on. 

Only when Eric had conceded and pulled down the collar of his shirt to expose the long, jagged scar that began at just below his collar bones then traveled further, larger than the tugged down fabric could show, did Sophia give a satisfied hum. And Phil could tell from the gentle way she looked at Eric as he spoke, this woman wholeheartedly adored that man—he had to look away after a moment, feeling out of place, like Phil was intruding on something not meant for his eyes.

Phil also learns that the couple is very active in their little community, often volunteering for social events and making whatever donations they could to the local church, and more specifically the program involved directly in helping children in need. 

The two had discovered many years ago, after they left the service, that neither were capable of having children. And while it did put a strain on their relationship for some time, the couple loved each other too much to let that fact tear them apart. Instead, they dedicated their time and whatever leftover funds they had into helping provide for the few orphaned kids in the area. 

They even had some adopted children of their own, ones now grown and dispersed around the country; attending college and creating families of their own.

At some point, Phil had been baffled by how utterly good these people were, he couldn't believe how lucky he had been to be found by such genuinely kind people, ones who knew nothing of him or his crimes. They would hate him, surely, either cast him aside or turn him in to local authorities. Who would then hand him over to federal. 

He was a criminal on the run, something that had taken Phil a while to come to terms with. 

A thing he had realized on the very same porch steps he was setting on right now in month two. Eyes on the horizon as the hot, late spring sun faded in an array of nostalgic warm tones of red and orange, of yellow and pink. Dressed in clothing a few sizes too big; the ones he'd donned when he had arrived far beyond salvageable.

A small, child sized soccer ball rolls to his feet. Bumping against the toe of his boot, quickly followed by little feet stomping over to where Phil sat. Picking it up, Phil cradled the ball in his palm, offering it to the boy running over to him with a soft smile.

One of the orphaned kids; has a sister only a year younger than himself, something Phil knows not because the couple told him, but because he'd started doing some volunteer work himself—with Eric and Sophia’s encouragement. It helped keep his mind wonderfully empty, able to concentrate on the now rather than past or inevitable future. 

It also helped remind Phil why he'd even joined the military in the first place, what his younger self had aspired to be all those years ago. 

Phil had been able to reflect on a lot over these past seven months. Given the opportunity to think on why he did what he did, who he wanted to be. And, most importantly, you. 

After months upon months of denial, cursing your name before he went to bed each night. Reminded of you by the absence of a warm body curled up behind his own; the lack of a soft, rumbling voice murmuring a sleepy goodnight before you'd fall asleep with your face tucked away in the place between Phil's neck and shoulder. The gentle puffs of your breath ghosting over his skin and the secure weight of an arm draped over his waist, luring him to join you in the depths of dream land. 

Always making him feel so warm, so safe, in that perfect in between, just after the sun set and right before it rose again. For a few hours you were his. For a few fleeting hours he had you all to himself; he had someone. 

Someone more than the names of all the men he'd killed, ingrained permanently in his psyche no matter how hard he tried to ignore it; something more than a pen and himself up against stack after stack of paperwork containing nothing but political bullshit Phil couldn't care less about.

For that brief time Phil had belonged. 

But now.. now he had nothing. 

He wasn't a commander here, wasn't a soldier. Phil didn't have the responsibilities he'd had to manage back home at base anymore. He should probably be grateful, it was a stressful life.

But.. but he still wasn't quite.. anybody. He was nothing but the stranger who'd appeared in town out of nowhere. Who was silent and kept to himself, who barely even left the residence he'd been so lucky to be offered a place in. Not unless he was doing some volunteer work here and there.

He had nothing; he was nothing. Phil used to hold the reins of dozens who'd act solely with his interests at heart, and now he didn't even have an army to command. He wasn't anyone anymore. Not here.

At least, if he went back, he'd have something. Something more than this endless repetition of kindness he didn't deserve. You'd hate him, surely, after what he had done. 

To you, to your friends, family, fellow soldiers. Phil was supposed to be a leader, someone who those under his command looked to for guidance. Someone dependable, someone trustworthy.

It was, again, sometime ago on these same steps, where Phil had the grand revelation that maybe, just maybe, you hadn't betrayed him. You were just doing what you thought was best for yourself and the rest of the company. It was in everyone's best interest—except his. 

Phil had pushed you too far, stretched you too thin. Even though he knew how fragile delicate vulnerable-

Even though he knew damn well how you used to be, the cavernous depths of your own mind Phil had single-handedly had to drag you out of kicking and screaming several times over. 

Phil knew all of this, and yet he still did it. Never considered the consequences his actions would have on you—or the others, but you were more important—, never stopped to consider your own feelings on, well, anything. On what your opinions were for improving the company—even though you two had built it up from the ground up, together—, or what applications to accept, or whatever it was that you two had going on that was surely more than friends and co-founders did with each other.

He'd pushed and pushed and pushed- and Phil had broken you. 

Snapped you in two. 

So, at the very least, if he went back, Phil would have someone to hate him. Anything from you was better than being nothing. Even if it were hatred; he just needed to be someone again.

Just needed to belong.

“You can't stay here.”

Phil turns his head slowly, the sun now barely a sliver as darkness overtakes the sky. Stars begin to join the moon in illuminating the town.

“I'm sorry?” He asks, spotting Eric standing on the porch behind him. A somber sort of expression painting his features. 

Eric sighs, rocking on his feet briefly as his hands move to tuck into his pockets, seeking warmth as the lack of sunlight drops the temperature by several dozen degrees. 

“I don't mean- I am not kicking you out,” the man clarifies, looking off into the distance. A bittersweet smile gracing his lips. “But you are not happy here, are you?”

It's a rhetorical question, and Phil, too, turns away, looking back towards the sky, mouth pressed into a thin line. The sun had disappeared completely, and Phil instead looked to the moon.

Now a completely different phase from that fateful day where you'd abandoned left him against that log. So long ago, and yet Phil swore he could still smell the smoke burning his nostrils and scorching his throat. 

He was lucky to have not borne many scars from being trapped in that tank; he didn't want to know how you'd fared.

“You miss them.”

“What?” The words break Phil out of his trance, brows furrowing, but he doesn't turn back around.

“I don't know if it is a family or something else,” Eric continues. “But you miss them. This is not the life for you; you still carry that.. spirit I only remember having during my time in the army.”

“I can't go back.” 

“Because you think they will not take you?” 

“I,” Phil barks a hushed, humorless laugh. More of an exhale of air than everything, bitter and leaving a foul taste on his tongue. “I do not belong with them anymore, sir. They don't want me, I can promise you that.” 

“So grown,” Eric chides, coming to sit on the same step Phil was on. “And yet still so damn naive.” 

It's not cruel, but it does have Phil opening his mouth in protest, only to snap it back shut again with a huff.  

“You don't know what you're talking about.” He grits out, mouth forming a small pout, an ache of something opening up in his ribcage. A void, once full, overflowing, almost, but now so, so empty. Starving.

“Did you even consider, maybe,” Eric continues on with the same patience he'd had all those months ago. “..they miss you, too?”

Phil swears his heart stops just then, slow, stuttering to a halt before ba dum.. ba dum.. it gradually starts back up again. A frog leaped, lodging itself in his throat, suffocating him, echoing the beat of his heart. 

Eventually, he manages to croak out, “They don't.” 

“And how can you be so sure?” 

And Phil doesn't have anything to say to that, so he doesn't. Continuing to gaze up at the moon as if it held all the answers to his problems. Wondering if, maybe, you were looking up at it too.

“I will not pretend to know what you are going through,” Eric hesitates. “What you are running from. But.. but you cannot stay here, it's killing you. Sophia and I can both see it.” 

“With all due respect, sir,” Phil forces out. “you don't understand. He is stubborn, he is childish, and he is- he was. You wouldn't understand.”

“You are talking about this man like he's dead,” observant, are we? “And yet he is not, is he?”

You may as well be. “No.”

“Then maybe it's not too late.. maybe..”

Phil could feel hope sparking in his chest at the man's words, and he immediately crushed it between his fists. 

“It is.” Phil says, swallowing against the lump in his throat. “It is too late.”

A sigh. “But you're right. I can't stay.” 

The distant sound of a coyotes’ howl and the rustling of leaves fills the space between them as the conversation lulls to a stop. It's peaceful out here, much more so than any base Phil's stayed on, and even before that, far quieter than a house full of gentle chatter wafting in from the living room, or the sounds of childish glee from his sister's bedroom when she had a few friends over. Drifting down through thin but sturdy walls; both a perfect ambiance to listen to while he did his homework at the dining table. 

Nothing compared to the heartwarming sound of your laughter. Of your soft, rumbling voice; always so quiet, even when just chatting in his office or while overseeing the Shadows honing their skills in the courtyard. 

Quieter than his family, but louder than the silence between you two when you would give him the cold shoulder; a sea of rage hidden neatly within a show of blank stares and empty words.  

He misses you. 

You didn't do anything wrong. 

Why did he break you? When did he break you?

Was it just the incident all those months ago? When he'd forced you to shoot down people who, just the day before, Phil had told you to treat like family? Like brothers?

Or was it something far before that? Something you had been holding on to all this time; keeping caged within your heart instead of taking it out in him. 

He wishes you had taken it out on him. Maybe then he wouldn't be considered KIA by his own people, men and women and all alike, whom he—and you—had practically raised as his own?

Anyone who tried to proclaim that Phillip Graves didn't care about his soldiers, his Shadows, was just flat out wrong. A piece of his heart, of his soul, had been ripped out of him when one of his squads died in that botched mission Shepard had sent them on. Ambushed by Russian PMCs. Now that had been one very dreaded set of paperwork; writing down the names and cause of deaths for people who he knew, his friends. 

He hadn't even been able to tell their families what had happened to them when they came knocking on his door. No closure for any of those grieving relatives, phone calls day and night. Endless sobs and askings of why, why can't you? And my baby gave their life for your cause, but you can't even do me the honor of explaining why they're buried halfway across the world instead of with their family? 

“Where will you go?” Phil had been so lost in thought, he'd entirely forgotten Eric was still beside him. Five months ago and that would've never even been a possibility.

He was losing his touch. Would he even be useful back home? 

After all these months, surely not.

When the silence drags on a little too long to be comfortable, Phil murmurs a delicate, “I don't know..” then, “maybe I'll go back after all.” 

Phil does, in fact, not go back. 

Instead he finds himself staying at an apartment complex just a few cities away. Like a coward. 

Phil had left that night, before the sun rose again, and without saying goodbye to the couple who'd let him stay with them for a little over four months. He's only left a little note as thanks.

Also, like a coward. 

But Phil decided to embrace this sort of cowardice, at least for now. It's not that he couldn't just go over to the ol’ base, pop in and say hello to the people whose lives he had ruined- of course he could! 

He could do it right now if he wanted. He didn't want to. 

Phil could just pack up his shit—it had been fairly easy to retrieve his emergency fund, held in one of the many banks he had an account or two with; for security, of course—and skip over to that familiar town, take a few turns down some back roads and bam! Back home he would be.

Back home.

…

..would it still be home?

What if his Shadows hated him now? What if you'd turned them against him? Couldn't even stand the sight of him? Would they kill him then and there upon first sight? 

Or would they detain him, torture him maybe?

Either way, Phil couldn't risk it. It's been a few weeks since he left Sophia and Eric's residence, and he's no more motivated to go back to you his old stomping grounds today than he was all those months ago. 

He can't imagine which would be worse; seeing that look of disgust, of simmering hatred in the Shadows’ eyes or your own. 

Phil tries to keep his mind blissfully blank every moment of his waking hours. Preferring more to spend his time sleeping, but when he could not do so anymore, when his legs ached with the need to move and his stomach rioted in the name of it's hunger, he would have to get up. 

Reading, listening to a radio, sometimes even adding the background noise of the old TV in the corner of the living room whenever Phil needed to complete a simple task such as eating or another. 

As of right now, he was doing just that. Only this time.. this time it doesn't work. Swirling around the remaining bits of cereal in the now sweetened milk, gaze drifting up from the little floating pieces to the window before him instead. 

Thinking. Thinking of you. Because there wasn't any time where Phil wasn't thinking of you. Even with all these distracts, meant to keep his mind off his old life, off what he used to have, off you.

It didn't work. Not when it came to you. 

Wondering what you could be up to right now. How you were faring commanding an entire army of your own—or however many were left—, how you were handling all the politics that came with such a job.

When you two shared ownership, Phil was always the one to handle the people, scheduling meetings and dealing with generals and such.

It's been months, surely you were handling this fine on your own. You didn't need him, there was no reason for Phil to go back. Nothing more than his own selfish reasons. 

A little over ten months now, it has been. Phil shouldn't bother you. You were dealing with it perfectly fine, he'd bet. 

There was not a single excuse for him to assume you didn't have everything under control, for him to swoop in like some sort of savior. 

Sure, you'd always been a bit.. off kilter. But who wasn't in this line of work.. right? It was only to he expected after what you had been through, or what little you had told Phil.

He knew you didn't like crowds, didn't even like talking for that matter, hated interacting with the stuck up higher ups most of all, of course. Everyone did. But Phil knew you could also reign yourself in if need be.

Well, that was unless something threw you off center. It would have to be something huge, something life-changing for you to really-

Oh, fuck.

The metallic crash of his spoon bouncing off the ceramic bowl and clattering against the floor doesn't even register in Phil's mind. Not even the sweet milk that goes splattering everywhere pulls him away.

He'd broken you. He'd left you alone. Left you alone with her.

Fuck staying here, lying to himself and avoiding any and all subjects that reminded him of you. Reminded him of what he had lost.

Maybe if the event almost a year ago had never happened, and even if Phil had still been removed from your day to day, it wouldn't have been a possibility.

But you were broken. Shattered. Vulnerable. 

And for someone like you; that was a concoction that spelled nothing but bad decisions.

Phil left a few hours later. A single stuffed backpack and a rental car all he took with him in his haste. 

He hoped he wasn't too late. Hoped he hadn't broken you too much.

Maybe you were able to resist her offer.. maybe there was still a part of you left that knew it would bring nothing but your own destruction.

Maybe.

Standing before you now, with those empty eyes and stiff posture, Phil knew something was off. More than he had assumed before. Sure, he knew you were a bit fucked, had always been a bit fractured, but Phil had cared for you all the same. Knew there was something more to you beyond that rough, off-putting exterior.

But now, the way you covered yourself head to toe, the little twitches and fidgets you tried so hard to conceal—but Phil had been able to identify them then, and he still could now—, now it was obvious. There was no hiding it.

“You're..” Phil begins, hesitant. “Different.” 

You scoff, something in those clouded depths flickering. “You've said that before.”

“No, no, Phantom-” he winces, noting the way the name has your right hand—concealed in a glaringly different glove than the other—twitches, fingers curling slightly in one, quick movement, at the name. Your head ticking a bit to the left. 

“You are.. not yourself.” 

“Is that all you had to say?” You grit out, gaze narrowed, voice more a growl than the gentle rumble Phil was used to. “You called me down ‘ere again to tell me I'm “different”. As if it hasn't been almost an entire fucking year since you last saw me.” 

A step closer, another fidget. “People change, Graves. Just because you can't, too caught up in your own damn ego to care, doesn't mean others don't.” 

Phil can think back on that little insult later, pick another time to lick his wounds. Right now he needed to know. Needed a confirmation.

“Just tell me-” he doesn't care if he sounds like he's begging. He needs to know. “You told her no. Please, for Christ's sake, tell me you said no.”

Phil can hear the way your breathing hitches briefly, see the way you try to shift your posture impossibly straighter. “I don't know who you are referring to.” 

A part of Phil shrivels up and dies in that moment, frozen in time as you basically confirm what he already knew. What he knew and yet so desperately hoped he was wrong about. Hoped and prayed you'd be strong enough.

He was wrong.

“Oh, Phantom,” He breathes, right when his body kicks back into motion again. Unable to hide the pure, unfiltered grief in his croaked out words. “What.. what have you done?” 

Phil never gets to hear your reply, because right then there's a frantic knocking at the door. Panicked or enthused, Phil cannot decipher. 

It catches you both off guard, heads snapping to the person who hurts through the entrance. Not bothering to wait for an okay to come inside.

“Alik? What the fuck are you doing here?” You snap, glaring at the newcomer. 

1-5 comes to a halt right in front of you, breathing heavily from the exerting of running from wherever the hell he'd come from. Phil feels himself stiffening, waiting for something, anything to happen.

“Sorry, sir,” Alik pants. “But this couldn't wait.”

“Spit it out.” Phil cuts in, seeing how you tense and ready to go on one of your rare—or maybe not rare anymore—tangents. 

1-5 barely spares Phil a glance before locking eyes with you once more, unflinching.

“Viper,” he says, chest still heaving. A single word, a single word that bore so much weight within its five letters. “He is awake.”

__

Masterpost | One | Two | Three | Four | Next

__

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[doodoodinklefart]

okAYYYY so ive been planning this au for literally forever and i couldnt get white diamond satoru and black sapphire suguru out of my head... ive seen a couple other hnk x jjk aus floating around but i wanted to take a crack at it!! i'll just explain these three + the setting for now cuz theres a bunch of other shit brewing in my head LOLOL honestly hnk and jjk are pretty different themes-wise i feel so i couldnt rlly help changing a lot abt the world LMAO

in this au its not just a couple gems in the school, there's a bit more of a society and structure outside of it. there are still the three major "clans" though maybe more like major cliffs?? lol?? that the gems are formed in that produce a much higher frequency of strong, high quality gems. i imagine that before the idea of working together (modern jujutsu society) had come about, gems fought to have control of these spots to assure that they would have those to protect them from lunarians (aka curses we're playing a bit fast and loose here). while there were many attempts to merge the clans, the fighting was more a waste of time if anything, so they stayed separate. jujutsu high in this au would probably just be the school, a set of gems that are trained to always be ready to dispatch lunarians and protect tengen (who is the prayer machine here), who has basically been dormant.

and THATS where we get to white diamond. i wanna say while diamonds are p common irl, its rare here for there to be a fully formed diamond lustrous that actually has inclusions. while there have been extremely strong lustrous born from the gojo cliff, white diamond is the first diamond in several centuries, filling a vacancy after others had been taken away to the moon. not only that, he's got special eyes too!! im thinking he can see sunspots from far away, or maybe can tell artificial gems from real ones, like being able to see their inclusions or something. probably both!! either way he has to wear special blackout glasses during the day. his eyes are really reflective so he can work at night too, but that often leaves him restless.

white diamond—in his mind at least—is untouchable, and really it may as well be true. due to the combat training that he's gone through and his hardness of 10, he has never sustained so much as a scratch. he had a tendency to break all of his sparring partners back home, and thus he feels he's hit a brick wall with his training, and that the only things that will come close to putting up a challenge are likely lunarians. he doesn't really care much for weaker gems at this point, and is eager to finally fight lunarians for once. eventually, he is sent off to the school to begin what he would call "actually worthwhile" training.

black sapphire, on the other hand, was born practically from nowhere, in a unremarkable place with little more than himself and a few other older gems that were around to help shape him. with a hardness of 9, he was the strongest among them and—after his first dangerous encounter with lunarians—he realized he had an obligation to protect the rest of them. his strength often leaves him feelings alienated, as he normally ends up working alone for fear of other being taken away. i wanna figure out how to incorporate his ct better but for now ill just keep thinking about it. for now, it was probably his strength that got his scouted and sent to the school.

boulder opal, or just opal, is in training as a doctor at the school, and shows extreme promise. her lax attitude reveals none of her medical prowess, especially when it comes to gems with missing pieces. she has a particularly good eye for finding missing shards, or finding pieces that she can replace missing shards with. there's nothing she can do if their inclusions reject the replacement, however. maybe she has a way of resonating with the other's inclusions to speed healing up on bigger points of damage?? idk ill figure it out

ANYWAYYY this is getting super long so i'll end this shortly BUT!!! basically, white diamond, with black sapphire (who he calls saph), and opal are all training under yaga sensei (idk what kind of gem he would be yet LOL). diamond, at first, sees opal and saph as weak, but quickly realizes they have their own feats. saph in particular is the first lustrous that has ever made sparring fun, because while he's less durable his combat skills make up for it tenfold. maybe black sapphire is the first to ever leave a break on white diamond who knows... opal is probably always having to put the two back together. theyve never lost to a lunarian before, and have certainly never come close to being taken to the moon. these two are the strongest together, and each finally feel like they have a place to belong.

alsooo..... they do get a mission to escort a "star plasma vessel" of sorts. tengen slowly erodes over the years and needs a compatible lustrous to replace their missing pieces. boleite (riko) happens to be that gem, and diamond and saph need to escort her.... lmaoaoao now i have to design riko, toji and kuroi...

[mdmraz]

RED M꩜꩜N ☪︎ M.F⭑.ᐟ

CHAPTER ꩜3 — MISSION ONE;

PART TWO⭑.ᐟ

꩜2⭑.ᐟ Red Moon Index ⭑.ᐟ ꩜4⭑.ᐟ

⋆˖⁺‧₊☾. ◯ .☽₊‧⁺˖⋆

UNEDITED

"This is really fucking stupid, you know." Y/N voiced her concerns as she and Megumi ran through the Innate Domain, the ravenette, sending his Divine Dog to seek out Kugisaki.

"It's better than you taking that thing by yourself. Itadori has some control over Sukuna, I have faith in him."

The girl grumbled under her breath at the sorcerer's condemnation and lack of faith in her. She was the grade one here, not Itadori, "I can handle myself, thank you."

Fushiguro scoffed before he outstretched his arm, grabbing Y/Ns wrist and pulling her back against him, catching the clan member off guard as she looked back at him, startled, "Nue!"

A large bird erupted from his shadow, scooping the ravenette by his collar. Y/N let out a surprised squeak as Fushiguro hoisted her up by her torso, her arms unconsciously wrapped around his neck as she stared down with wide eyes, "I'm afraid of heights!"

"I know your face now. I swear I'll curse you!" Nobara exclaimed as she hung upside down in the grasp of a large curse, her finger pointed accusingly at it.

Her neat brows furrowed as the curse lowered her into its mouth, she was seconds away from getting eaten alive. A noisy yelp left her lips when a slimy, long tongue wrapped around her, pulling her from the curses grasp right before a harsh punch made it stumble back right into the upcoming attack of a large white snake.

"Ugh, Fushiguro! You said you'd let me kill them!" The ginger found herself inside the mouth of a frog, a fatigued expression finding its way onto her face as she peered out the shikigamis mouth. A slightly bloodied Y/N pouted, arms crossing over her chest as she looked over the slim worn-out face of the other sorceress.

"We don't have time. We're escaping."

"I hate frogs, you know..." An irk mark had formed on the man's forehead as he pondered on what exactly he did to get paired up with two unbelievable individuals...and not to forget Itadori, "Yeah, well, sorry!"

"Y/N, lets go. You're both injured—"

"Give me 15 seconds." Said girl stated, tone unwaivering, making it clear there was absolutely no room for interjections. It wasn't like she had even given the poor shikigami user a chance to even blink before appearing in front of the curses with immense speed, so fast the two other first years could hardly register her change in position.

He watched in awe for those full 15 seconds as the Tsukuyomi gracefully obliterated the four curses with swift and quick motions, not a drop of blood had gotten on her uniform, further spoiling it, and not a single scratch or mark had found itself on her delicate, [S/C] skin.

Not even a bead of sweat dripped down her forehead with each powerful punch and kick, further empowered by the moons lunar energy she sent the curses way. Her breathing never labored, footing never faltered, and she never hasitated. She made it seem...so easy.

"If I wasn't on the brink of passing out, I'd fangirl." Nobara weakly muttered, earning a chuckle from her classmate as she turned around, "I've got you." Were the last words the brown eyed girl heard before her consciousness finally slipped, alarming Megumi who was standing next to her, "Don't fret. I'm making it easier for her and me."

"What- What do you mean?"

"It's easier to use revere cursed technique on someone who's unconscious, they don't interrupt anything."

"Please expand the evacuation area to ten kilometers." Ijichi nodded at the 'Zenins' order, his hand shifting to start the car as Y/N got out of it, carefully laying Nobaras bandaged head on the makeshift cushion from the Tsukuyomis uniform jacket, "What about you two?"

"We'll wait here for Itadori to return." Dark eyes, covered by the thick glass of his bifocals scanned the two sorcerers, one payed him full attention as the other stared up into the sky, watching with interest as the veil Ijichi had put up shift. The elder man sighed, "After I take Kugisaki to the hospital, I'll return as quickly as possible."

"No, there wouldn't be much point in you staying here," Fushiguro countered, making his superior grimace at his brute bluntness, "If you want to do something, ask them to send over a sorcerer grade one or higher. Though I imagine none are around." He crossed his arms, green eyes glancing at the female next to him, Is she really a grade one sorcerer? I was too shocked to register her powers back then.

After Ijichi agreed to the first year's request he quickly drove off. The shikigami user turned around in the direction of the detention center, his gaze hard as it bore into the old building. If the worst happens...then it's my responsibility to end him.

A quiet, bored hum escaped Y/N, "Send a grade one or higher over? I'm hurt, Zenin." The girl feigned offense as a smug look graced her features.

"If you're a grade one then why didn't you excorsise it?" Fushiguro countered, his arms crossing over his chest as he sent a scowl her way.

"Like you and Itadori gave me the chance?" With the roll of his eyes, Megumi quickly dismissed the petty banter, already fed up with his classmates attitude. They really couldn't get along for even a second?

The girl shook her head with a bored sigh, gaze shifted upwards toward the moon, clouds and raindrops hiding its gleam. Green eyes found themselves on said girl, his gaze skimmed up and down before it landed on her side profile. He absolutely hated to admit that he admired the sight. The way her eyes reflected the lunar light, the way the drops of rain pattered onto her face before they slid down her jaw while some clung to her long, full lashes. The tip of her nose was rosy and lips puckered in a thoughtful way.

"You always stare at the moon." Fushiguro had to hold back from slapping himself when he realized he unconsciously commented.

"It's pretty, no?" The temptress answered, eyelashes bat softly as she turned to look at the man, "Yeah...it is..." He replied, almost sounding out of breath, a brow raised when Tsukuyomi acknowledged his uncharacteristic demeanour.

"You good—" The feeling of a weight being lifted off their shoulders graced the two, stopping Y/N mid sentence, both sorcerers returned their gazes to the building far away, "Oh? The Innate Domains out." Megumi nodded, "Seems the special grade's dead. Now we just need Itadori to return safely—"

A familiar feeling of fear quickly paralyzed the two, the moment they could finally relax had gotten spoiled by an unknown deep voice from behind them, "Sorry, but he's not coming back."

The Tsukuyomi was first to turn around, brows furrowed at the sigh of Yujis marked body. A feeling of familiarity washed over her, her heart stopping in her chest as crimson eyes met with hers, thick brows quirked upwards as Sukuna took notice of Y/Ns presence.

"Oh, don't be so frightened. I'm in a good mood right now. Let's chat for a bit." He nonchalantly stated, walking around from Megumis back as he stuffed his hands in his pockets, "This is what he gets for trying to use me without any of if pact. Feels like he's having some trouble switching back."

Sukuna's hands emerged from his pockets to grip onto Yujis school uniform, "Still though...it's only a matter of time." He stated before the sound of fabric ripping blended into the pattering of raindrops hitting the ground.

"So...I thought about what I can do right now." The pinkette lifted his marked hand, placing it near his chest. Audible gasps left the two sorcerers, Y/N had outstretched her hand to stop him but his long fingers had already collided within his chest, blood splurged out of the wound and escaping the smug smile on his lips.

"Wh-What are you..."

The crimson liquid puddled at the curses feet before he finally ripped his hand out of his chest to reveal the vital organ in his grasp, still pumping desperately, "Im taking this brat hostage."

The Tsukuyomi cringed in horror at the unpleasant sight, her trembling hand clasped over her mouth to suppress the gags that so desperately wanted to escape her.

"I can live without this, but that ain't true for the brat," Sukuna states, crimson irises met with green ones before they landed on a pair of [E/C] filled with disgust and terror, his smirk widened at the lovely sight he missed so much; it brought him back to the days of his reigning terror on Japan. He quickly threw the fragile heart to the side, "Switching out with me mean ge dies. Also...for good measures." Sukuna opened his fist to reveal the familiar pruny dark purple cursed object, he carefully placed it onto his tongue before eagerly swallowing, relishing in the taste and surge of power.

"With that, I'm free as a bird. You can be frightened now. I'll kill you!" He chimed in mocking excitement as the two high schoolers shifted their feet, widening their stances to prepare for any attack. Sukuna skimmed over the clan members, intrigued, his gaze finally stilled when he met the usual [E/C] irises, now glinting with an angry red.

"Interesting." He moved behind her in the blink of an eye, his bloodied hand had moved her hair out of the back of her neck to reveal exactly what he had expected, a red moon shaped marking.

[E/C] eyes went wide before quickly covering the sight of her neck with her hand, the other wrapping around Sukunas wrist, "The fuck do you think you're doing?" her voice was a breathy mutter, too many feelings and emotions stirred inside her to actually comprehend the overwhelming and sudden attachment she felt towards the curse.

Her eyes shone with an unfamiliar glint, almost as if they weren't her own, it seemed as though the moon had found its way to her large irises for a quick second, before vanishing, further confirming The King of Curses suspicion.

"So you were worthy..." his dark, velvety voice sent shivers through the two sorcerers. Sukuna changed his position at the same speed as last time, now fully facing the confused girl, with his wrist out of her grasp. He extended a long finger, its sharp nail traced the jaw that clenched with tension, "I'd be delighted to see what's so special about you."

The two sorcerers stood alarmed at his absurd way of speaking to Y/N, making absolutely no sense to them.

Megumi's hands slowly formed the sign of a shadow puppet, his stance widened as he was just about to unleash his shikigami until squinted red eyes met with his green ones.

"Too bad I won't be able to retrieve you, Kaguya. This vessel will die soon." Something stirred inside the [H/C]-nette at Sukunas odd words, why was be spewing nonsense upon nonsense, specifically directed toward her. Her gaze hardened as she slipped away from the curse with almost the equivalent speed as Sukunas. Y/N now stood right next to her defensive classmate.

"You just don't get it. Itadoris coming back. Even if it means he'll die. Thats just who he is."

Sukunas chest rumbled with a dark chuckle before taunting the ravenette about how he gave his friend too much credit; just a moment ago he had been scared out if his mind, on the verge of death, and prattling on about his regrets.

Narrowed eyes focused on the well built and marked man, he noted his wrist had been restored fully. Sukuna was incarnated — even if he can live without a heart, it should still be damaging. If Megumi wanted to somehow convince the cursed spirit to heal the organ before Yuji returned; he'd have to make Ryomen Sukuna believe he can't beat him without a heart in his body.

Can I do that...? The memory of freezing at the mere sight of the special grade replayed in his mind, if he couldn't move in its presence how could he possibly fight The King?

A dried, bloody  hand was placed reassuringly on his bicep, giving it a small squeeze as if to remind him that he, first; is not alone, and second; it's not a matter of whether he can do it, he has to do it! And since the warm gesture had come from someone that had despised him and he had despised, it gave him a bit of confidence.

His shaking hands form into the sign of a bird, a large gingery-brown feathered creature emerged from his shadow. Y/N followed with her own, the girl whispered under her breath, barely audible — to the point even Megumi couldn't hear, "Special Cursed Technique: Copy: "Infinity.""

TO BE CONTINUED...

⋆˖⁺‧₊☾. ◯ .☽₊‧⁺˖⋆

꩜2⭑.ᐟ Red Moon Index⭑.ᐟ ꩜4⭑.ᐟ

TL: @loveforlauf , @vicurious28 ♡

© mdmraz ༝༚༝༚

A/N: two chapters till the end of the week just like promised!!

yall might actually hate me for this one cuz they might never get out the drafts

[day-drawn-blog]

Part V: I feel your heart beat in my soul, our futures bound, our bodies known. - I want to live

Pairing: Astarion x Reader -- This is set in Act I

This is part 5. The rest are linked below.

Tags: angst, fluff, eventually smut because I do love that

Part I. Crowned light moon of mine - I found you too soon

Part II : Lace your heart with mine Let your sleeping soul take flight

Part III : maybe tonight I'll rest in peace

Part IV: There is more to do and I still want to live

Part VI: These ain't my sins, I broke my chains

Part VII: You are not mine and am I truly yours?

Part VIII: Your blood like wine, I wanted in.

Part IX: I'll welcome my sentence and give you my penance

Part X : I can't go yet...don't let me die

_____

The day after, you all wandered through the mountain road. You were feeling better. Halsin had ensured you were healing. So did Shadowheart. Laezel looked at you with pride in her eyes. You walked slower than the others. Supported by karlach sometimes. Sometimes Shadowheart. Sometimes carried by karlach. 

Astarion would turn to look at you every now and then. You would look away if he did. It made you blush. 

Did he really tell you those things?

You wanted to talk to him about last night. But there had been no opportunity yet. Everyone was wary. Everyone was tired. everyone was covered in dust and blood. Yesterday had taken a lot out of all of you. You all prayed for a safe journey and looked forward to setting camp. It felt like you had been walking for an eternity. 

So when you found a place at sunset next to a pool of water, everyone was collectively overjoyed. Not only could you all rest, you could all finally feel clean. Karlach and Wyll volunteered to clean everyone's clothes, you were all very grateful. Karlach said she he can dry them real fast. You were curious.

You were looking forward to getting into water.

At nightfall. Laezel dragged you to the pool. Halsin was already there. Everyone had stripped down to minimum inner wear. So you did too. Embarrassing at first but quickly you went in and all was okay. Laezel was very close to you. Lately she has been. It was both flattering and intimidating. But you didn't mind. You liked being liked. Maybe everyone was warming up to you. You enjoyed the feeling. 

Shadowheart appeared with Astarion. 

She was always beautiful. She looked like a goddess right now. Her long dark hair emphasized by her pale bare skin even more. Her body was immaculate. So was yours, you knew. You were all warriors after all. But something about being wanted, made her more attractive you thought. She was confident. She did not yearn. She had it.

Astarion got into the water as well. 

He went to the other side - a little away from you. To join Halsin. Gale joined them too. Shadowheart came next to you and La'ezhel and smiled. "I'm slightly afraid of water. Did you know". Her voice was so melodious. You thought. No wonder she is loved so much.

"Then shouldn't you not be here. I mean, what if you drowned?" Laezel joked or maybe not. You could never tell. "Oh come now. Waist deep water doesn't scare me". Everyone chuckled at the banter. 

You stole a glance at Astarion. 

He was looking at her, smiling, as if proud that she got in the water. Your mistake. What did you expect. Just like any of the other countless times. The only difference was that shadowheart was on your side of the party. She had her arms around you. Maybe they all, got worried yesterday. You appreciated the loving gesture. You felt included and wanted. 

You decided to be kind to her too. 

You would not take away, that which belonged to her. That would be cruel. She was your friend. And ally. And like the others on this journey to salvation, needed your help too. And so you would not turn your back to her. No matter how much it hurt. And it did. It hurt just thinking about it. Familiar pangs. Sharp. Cutting. 

You didn't realize how sad you looked right then. But Astarion did. And he frowned. 

Soon after, among the chatter, you decided it was time to leave. You needed rest. Your aching body was catching up. You expressed that, and got up to leave. Halsin called you out. "let me put the medicine on your wounds before you sleep. Let's get Karlach." You turned to look at him and noticed Astarion looking at you. What was that stare? It was not nonchalant. Searching... fixating.

Odd. 

You suddenly felt acutely aware of how little you were wearing. You felt really vulnerable, and you hurried away. To get Karlach. 

Back in your tent, after Halsin and Karlach had gone, you were finally able to take off your wet clothes. You decided it was a warm enough night to sleep with no clothes under the covers. So you did. 

No one in camp went in anyone's tents without knocking first so you were certain you could get away with such wanton abandon for one night. You could still feel the tingling from the cool waters. You were almost asleep. 

"I got your dry clothes karlach sent" 

Astarion came traipsing in carrying warm dry clothes that karlach had tasked him to take to you. You jolted up. You grabbed the covers and clutched them hard around you. How could you forget?! This guy comes and goes to your tent as he pleases. And that's your own doing! 

"Could - could you give me a moment!!"

He stopped, stared, shocked, blushed and turned around. "Oh yes! Terribly sorry! My apologies. That was very impolite of me" he stood with his back to you "where do you want these?" You gestured to next to him, he placed them down still looking away. You pulled the covers all around. 

"My apologies, again. I will see you later".

"Wait" 

"Hmm?"

"Last night... You said .... " 

He turned to look you in your eyes. Very solemn. You couldn't understand his piercing unwavering gaze. 

"I will.... I promise" 

"Are you really... That grateful to me ...?" 

"More than grateful." His voice was low. 

"You don't need to be. I... don't expect anything in return. I do it because I want to help, you. Everyone". 

"And I want is to repay your kindness." 

You looked down. And smiled a little. It was just that. You helped him. He returned the favor. It was sweet. You should be happy with this. Very happy. This is what you wanted after all. To be needed. To save someone. To help. 

There was silence. 

He approached. "How do you feel, today?" And he took your hand in both of his and kissed it. The way he usually does. A reminder. Of your unspoken contract. You thought. 

"Almost as good as new". 

He was waiting. You knew. You sat down. To get comfortable. He sat in front at the foot of your bed. He kissed your hand again as if he was impatient. Then he kissed the palm of your hand and looked at you. Straight in your eyes, with his lips on your palm. He will not wait anymore you thought. His stare was somewhat threatening. Or maybe you were timid. When he was concerned. 

You decided to tease him. 

You said nothing. He kissed a fingertip of yours and you bit your lip. Enough. You could feel yourself tense up. Down there. Throbbing and pulsating. Curse him. He is truly the devil. But you persevered. You wanted to test yourself. 

When it failed to get the permission he wanted, he decided to make a move. 

He leaned forward and moved closer to you. You were so startled you fell backwards. Down on your bed, propped up by your elbows. He put one arm next to your head and pinned you down while looking down at you. You stared at his beautiful face, blankly.

What is happening?

"You know", he smiled, seductively, "if you keep teasing me like this, I might want.... more ...". He said the last word very softly. But it rang through your body. You felt a pulsation. Another throb. You stared at him in your shock and surprise. Unsure what to do. This was not your plan. Who is this man.

Is this what he does to Shadowheart at night? 

"More?!" Your desire to play the game had heightened. 

He smiled again - a beautiful smile, charming and happy. 

"Why yes, darling. I'm talking about that lovely neck of yours, of course". 

What?! 

All this time, all he wanted...was to bite your neck?! Your neck.... His lips would be ....to your neck...you would feel...his face, next to yours.... It was very... frighteningly.....tempting....

What happened to your aversion of being bit in the neck? Why do you crave it now? What has this man done to you? Robbed you of yourself and your reason it seems. 

You stared at him in disbelief. 

"May I"? 

"I promise to be gentle. I promise....it will feel good." 

For you!!! You thought. What?!

But you were losing yourself in the honey from his words. He is too close. Breathing on you. You could smell him. Feel him. He was slowly getting closer and and closer. You may be getting used, but perhaps you may get something out of this after all! You bargained.

The opportunity to touch him. 

You could touch his hair, his face, maybe even his back.... You felt lust overtake every part of your body as you closed your eyes and looked away, exposing your lovely neck to him. Praying he wouldn't hurt you. 

He lowered himself. One leg between yours. His face fit closer to yours. And you felt his warm breath on your skin. The anticipation was painful. He touched your skin with his lips. You sucked in air and gasped. He kissed your neck lightly like he would your hand. Shivers ran down you. Was this really happening? Your pulse quickened. You were throbbing.

He kissed it a few more times. Soft, gentle, as if savoring it. You bit your lips to stop yourselves from moaning. Why is he doing this? You clutched the bed and the covers tight. You had stopped breathing.

Then he gently pierced his fangs in you. Very slowly. And settled in. You moaned. You knew it no longer matted - he would not notice anymore. Bliss. Because you could now let go of the covers. You grabbed him with both hands. Clutching the shirt on his back.

Fair exchange. You thought.

As he drained you, you let you several breathy quiet moans. And you arched your back. You so wished to be touched. But you knew, he was not making love to you. 

You lifted your leg at one point. And realized, as it grazed him. He was, very hard. He was a man after all, and this was very intimate. Or maybe, feeding made him so happy. You didn't care... your brain was fuzzy. It was pleasurable. You couldn't believe that it was him you were sharing such a pleasure with. You wished this would last a bit though not much because you did love your body. 

Eventually you tugged his hair sharply. And he finally stopped. He let out a sharp gasp of air. Then proceeded to lick the wound. Like he always did. It was not helping. Several times, your throbbing self, your leg brushed past he hard self. It only made you want him more. You tugged at his shirt with both your hands now. He kept kissing. 

His kisses got wetter, louder, till he was obviously just a man savoring his lover and no longer a vampire savoring his prey. He kissed and licked under your ears. Then kissed your ears. Too much. Too close. His face was too close. He kissed your cheek. And licked it once.

Stop. What are you doing. 

But he didn't. He held your face and licked the other side. Kissed your other cheek. It was as if he was so euphoric he had lost control. You moaned louder and louder. Stop. You begged him mentally.

But also, not to.

He continued to kiss your other neck, and ear, down to your collarbone now. And came back up to your chin. Your head was tilted all the way back. You dared not open your eyes lest you lose control too. You were in his complete embrace at this point.

But then, he finally did stop. 

He paused and looked at you. Searching for something in your eyes. You looked at him then his lips. Then his eyes again. He was so close. His nose was almost touching yours. You must be going crazy. You didn't want him to leave yet. And he was right there. You had to. You just did. 

You reached up and kissed him. 

Surprised at first, he kissed you back. Hard. Your head was back in the pillow. He took charge. Moved your hands away and dragged your cover away. Your nipples were probably very hard and visible you thought.

He paused. As if something had just brought him back to reality. He then looked at you. your uncovered half, your nipples. He looked at your naked half body for a second. Then sat back up. Covered his face in his hands for a few moments. Then he got up and ran out. 

Part VI: These ain't my sins, I broke my chains