#girl i thought i was going to collapse from the way my chest was burning and my heart was pounding

[littlelou22]

pretend | joel miller x fem!reader

summary: joel ends things with you, leaving you in the dark as to why. will the two of you get back together or stay apart?

warnings: angst, hurt, mean!joel, insecure!joel, eventual fluff, age gap (reader in undefined age but young, joel’s canon age), language, men being TRASH, violence, y/n used like twice, probs shitty writing, idk let me know if I miss any

divider credit: @saradika

word count: 6.2k

author's note: my first post, let me know what you think :)

requests open!

The two of you stood on opposite sides of the bed in your – his – room, chest heaving as you stare at Joel. You didn’t know what had gotten into him, the two of you were fine when you returned from patrol a few hours earlier. Joel had gone to help Tommy with something and you had taken Ellie to see whatever movie was playing tonight.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so cold with me,” you spoke, shaking your head. 

And you truly didn’t. You and Ellie had stopped at the Tipsy Bison to pick up dinner for the three of you after Joel was helping Tommy. Ellie had run off while you waited for the food, seeing Dina stationed at one of the tables. You passed the time at the bar, occasionally making forced small talk with the other patrons. Even though you had been in Jackson for a few months, you still didn’t feel quite at ease with most of the people here.

After you got the food, you ventured off home with Ellie to wait until Joel was done. But he never showed, not until after you and Ellie had eaten and the younger girl had gone off to bed. Joel had stormed in, kicked off his boots, and immediately went upstairs, not sparing you a single glance. Obviously, you had followed him, but you have no idea how you ended up here.

“I’m done with this,” Joel says, eyes everywhere except on you. “I’m done with you.”

“What?” You take a step back as if his words had physically pushed you.

“I needed you for her. That’s it,” Joel snapped at you. “Now that it’s over, I don’t see a reason to pretend anymore. Understand?”

You felt as if the air had been sucked out of you, as if Joel had kicked you right in the stomach. You thought you finally had a grasp on Joel, that you could finally read how he was feeling. But as you stared at him from across the room, he felt more like a stranger than the man you fell in love with.

You wanted to scream, to cry, to plead with him to not do this. To not leave you like everyone else did. But you didn’t – you couldn’t. Before you could even process what was happening, you were nodding.

“Okay,” you breathed, nodding your head. You felt the tears burning behind your eyes, begging to be released, but you refused to crack in front of him. Refused to let him see how much his words had made your heart ache. “If that’s how you feel, then okay.”

So, you left. Out of his bedroom and down the hall, passing Ellie’s door where you knew she was inevitably listening to the fight. Down the stairs and out the front door, letting it swing closed behind you. Your feet carried you down the dark street until you couldn’t go any further. The tears burned behind your eyes, a sob escaping you as you stumbled into the stables, barely making it to one of the hay bales before collapsing in on yourself.

You didn’t understand what happened, what had changed since you got back from Salt Lake City. Since the three of you tried to integrate into the community. Since Ellie started at school. Since you and Joel started to patrol and help wherever you could in Jackson. 

Did you do something that upset Joel? That made him rethink whatever it was between the two of you? The two of you weren’t officially together but your relationship wasn’t nothing. At least, you didn’t think you were nothing.

Clearly, you were wrong. What you thought was a relationship was actually just a means to get by, a way to pass time for Joel. You get it, you really try to. The road was long, it was tough, and it was lonely. The three of you had seen, and done, unthinkable things to get Ellie to the Fireflies. Obviously, that didn’t go as planned, landing the three of you back in Jackson. Where it felt impossible to return to some semblance of normalcy. So, how could you blame him for using you as an escape?

You just wish he would’ve told you from the beginning what it actually was.

It was morning by the time you dragged yourself out of the stables. Thanking whatever higher power there was that you didn’t have morning patrol, you made your way to Tommy and Maria’s. If Joel didn’t want to pretend, then neither could you. You couldn’t pretend to be okay with being around him after what had happened, so you decided to avoid him at all costs. But, you couldn’t abandon Ellie, not after everything the young girl had been through. Even if she was more distant after Salt Lake, you couldn’t bring yourself to up and leave her. You wouldn’t.

With a deep breath, your knuckles rapped against Tommy and Maria’s front door. You knew it was early, the sun barely just peeking over the horizon but you couldn’t wait. You and Joel were assigned second patrol, and you’d rather not be subjected to that after last night.

“You look like shit,” Tommy said after answering the door. You knew you did, sleeping on a rectangular stack of hay could only offer so much.

“Good morning to you too,” you force a smile at him. You liked Tommy, you had become close with him and his wife after settling in Jackson but you didn’t want to see the younger Miller brother right now. You knew it wasn’t his fault, but you couldn’t help the deepening pit in your stomach at the sight of him. “Is Maria up yet?”

“She’s out back, hanging laundry on the line,” he answers, eyes scanning over your puffy eyes and pale face. “You okay, bug?”

“M’fine Tommy, thank you” you grimace at the nickname. Joel had gifted you the name when the two of you met and upon arriving in Jackson, Tommy took up to calling you that as well. You make your way to the back of the house where you found Maria, true to Tommy’s word. Sighing, you grab one of the shirts in the basket, joining her at the laundry line.

“Good morning,” Maria muses, a playful smile on her face as she turns to you, wiping her hands on her jeans before resting them on her hips. “What can I do for you?”

“What makes you think I need something?” You can’t help but respond. Maria was the closest thing to a friend you had in Jackson, it was hard not to feel as though you could be yourself around her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up and out this early in the morning,” she says, glancing back at the house to see Tommy in the window, watching the women through the glass. He shrugs, answering her silent query. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh heavily, pinching your nose between your fingers after hanging the shirt on the line. “I need you to switch my patrol partner.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Maria asks, voice gentle as if you were a frightened deer.

“No paradise to have troubles in,” you mutter, shaking your head. “I don’t want to talk about it. It didn’t work out, I just need you to switch my partner.”

Maria stared at you, narrowing her eyes as she, like Tommy, surveyed your condition. You knew she saw right through you. Knew there was more to the story than you were letting on to.

“Okay,” she nodded after a minute, looking at the watch on her wrist. “There’s still fifteen minutes before first patrol, go let Alexander know he’s with Miller now. You can patrol with Marcus now.”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, relief filling you to the thought of not being around Joel. The relief soon left at the mention of your new partner, but you couldn’t be picky here. “Thank you Maria, I won’t let you down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replies, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You better get going if you want to make it.”

“Right,” you say, turning on your heels to start the walk back to the stables, knowing the morning patrol people would be there by now.

Maria watches you leave, only making her way inside once you are out of her sight. As she enters the kitchen, Tommy appears before her with raised eyebrows.

“What was that about?” He asks, passing her a cup of warm tea.

Maria sighs, shaking her head. “I’m not sure, but your dumbass brother might.”

“Joel?” Tommy questions, confused as to what might’ve happened between his brother and the woman he is obviously infatuated with.

“Do you have another brother that I don’t know about?” she raises her eyes at her husband, shaking her head. “She wanted to switch patrol partners, wouldn’t tell me why or what happened.”

“Shit,” Tommy sighs, leaning back against the counter before muttering. “What did you do, Joel?”

“I have no idea,” Maria shrugs before setting her mug in the sink. She pats Tommy’s shoulder before making her way towards the stairs, turning to face her husband before she climbs them. “But have fun letting him know!”

“That was fun,” Marcus smiled at you as the two of you rode your horses through the front gates after patrol. Eyes zeroing in on your hips as they rise and fall with each step of your horse.

You force a smile at him, half listening to him as your eyes dart back and forth in search of Joel. You knew he was due to head on second patrol and the last thing you wanted to do was see him. “It sure was.”

“Alex never looked that pretty when taking down Infected,” Marcus continues, not picking up on your disinterest in him. “Glad there was a change up, I was beginning to get bored of watching him.”

You don’t offer him a response as you continue towards the stables, preoccupied with hoping and praying that Joel and his new partner had already left for patrol. For once, whatever higher power out there was on your side as you find the stables vacant.

“Thank God,” you mutter to yourself, sliding off your horse, Luna, to guide her towards her stall which was thankfully far away from Marcus’. Once you got her in her stall, you began to take off her saddle and get her ready for the night. As you did so, your mind wandered to your new patrol partner. 

You weren’t oblivious, you knew what Marcus was doing. It wouldn’t be the first time that he tried to sweet talk you. The man had been adamant to gain your attention since you stepped foot in Jackson after the Firefly incident. Whether it was at the stables, the Tipsy Bison, or at movie night, Marcus tried everything to engage you in a conversation.

Any chance he got, Marcus would try his best to make an impression on you. To ask you out on a date. None of his advances ever made it far, you weren’t interested in the men of Jackson and had made it clear. At least, you thought you did, especially after yesterday’s event at the Tipsy Bison.

While you were waiting for the food, Marcus and his friends were putting the ‘tipsy’ in Tipsy Bison. When drinking, Marcus liked to get a little handsy and his previous rejected advances did not seem to deter him trying again. In good Marcus fashion, he attempted, again, to get you to go out with him. You rejected him, as you had many times before, by sliding his arm off your shoulders before moving to a different part of the bar. Luckily, your food was ready soon after so you didn’t have to endure his stares any longer.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A voice rang out in the stall, causing you to whip around to find the intruder.

Ellie leaned against the opening, arms crossed over her chest as she watched you catch your breath, clearly you had not heard her enter the stables.

“Jesus, Els, you can’t sneak up on people like that,” you breathe, shaking your head at the young girl. You eye the backpack she throws onto the ground before she flops down onto the stool you had brought in earlier. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school right now?”

“It’s boring,” she answers as if it was an acceptable reason. “You gonna tell Joel I’m skipping?”

You stiffen at the mention of his name, glancing at Ellie before answering. “Nope.”

“You want to talk about what happened last night?” She presses, confirming your previous suspicions of her eavesdropping tendencies.

“Nope.” Exiting the stall, you make yourself appear busy to avoid further questioning from the girl.

Ellie follows, picking at the end of her sleeves, shifting from foot to foot as she watches you flit around the stable. You spare a glance at her, knowing that her mind is running a mile a minute as it gears up before speaking.

“You okay, Bellie?” You ask, halting your work.

“You aren’t gonna leave, right?” Ellie asks after a moment, eyes avoiding your face.

You sigh, setting down the pail of food you gathered before walking up to the girl. You place your hands on her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake. “Of course not, I promised you that I would never leave you, remember?”

The girl nods, “I remember.”

“Good,” you smile at her, ruffling up her hair before giving her a gentle push towards the stable doors. “Go back to school before you get us both in trouble.”

After Ellie leaves, you putter around the stables for a few hours before you hear the clopping of horses approaching the stables. Peeking out of the window, you see Joel and his new patrol partner.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You think, immediately running back to Luna’s stall. You frantically grab your things and hightail it out of the back entrance of the stables. Leaning against the back of the barn, you wait until you hear the men enter before making your way back to town. You had no idea how you were going to avoid Joel for the foreseeable future, but there was no way you were ready to face him.

The next few weeks went by similarly. You left the house before the sun rose, before anyone in the house was awake. You would go on patrol, endure several hours of the torture that is Marcus and his antics before returning to the town. You’d wait to watch Joel leave for patrol before going to the house you shared or going into town. Once he was back home, you’d return to the stables where you would spend your evenings, only returning home in the late hours of the night. One day while he was on patrol, you had moved all of your things into the third bedroom that was now your own. It worked, you rarely ran into Joel. When you did, you would turn and go the opposite direction or retreat back to your room. 

It worked until it didn’t.

You were at the Tipsy Bison, leaned against the bar with a drink in your hand as you listened to Maria. She had to practically drag you out here after days of begging for you to socialize. To be a part of the community. You partly did it to get her off your back, but as you listened to the conversation around you, you felt happy that she managed to get you to come out. It had been a long time since you stayed in one place for longer than ten minutes without constantly checking over your shoulder.

Maria had been recounting a story about Tommy from early on in their relationship when you felt it. Felt eyes burning into your back. Stares that felt like ice water spilling down your shirt, sending vicious shivers up your spine. It felt uneasy, putting you on edge. The longer it lingered, the more uncomfortable you grew.

Turning to give the establishment a once over, you noticed two things. One, Joel was in the corner with his brother, hands full with glasses of neat whiskey as they conversed with one another. Eyes on Tommy, not on you. And two, your oh so lovely patrol partner making his way over towards your group.

“Maria,” you start, turning to your friend, attempting to say your goodbyes before booking it out of the bar when a rather large and heavy arm is slung around your shoulders.

Marcus steadies himself on your shoulder, the smell of alcohol seeping from his pores as he surveys your group, eyes lingering on you for too long. “Ladies! Looking fantastic tonight!”

“Why thank you, Marcus,” one of the women, Fiona, in your group respond, smirking at the obviously drunk man. She bats her eyelashes at him and you feel sick. “How can we help you?”

“Just wanted to talk to my patrol partner here,” Marcus turns to peer down at you, offering you a smile as he squeezes you to his side. “Tommy told me we are patrolling a new area tomorrow, so I figured the two of us could talk strategy. Maybe over a drink or two.”

You grimace, trying to shrug his arm off your shoulder but he is gripping onto you impeccably tight. “It’s late, Marcus, and I was just about to leave. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“How about he walks you home?” Maria suggests, raising her eyebrows at you. You throw her a look, hoping she picks up on the obvious disapprovement you have over this idea. But she doesn’t, the other women in the group joining in on the idea. “The two of you can discuss it on the way back.”

“It’s the least you can do,” Fiona nods at you, cutting you off when you go to protest. “You did force him to change partners, you can’t blame the man for wanting to make sure he’s safe tomorrow.”

Sending Fiona a hard glare, you push Marcus’ arm off of your shoulder to slip on your coat. “Fine, let’s go.”

You wave off the group’s goodbyes before beelining for the door. The faster you get out of here, the faster you can get home and away from Marcus. On the way out, you glance at the table that Tommy and Joel were residing at, finding it vacant. At this point, you didn’t care if you would run into Joel at the house. Anything was preferable to spending any more time than necessary with your insufferable patrol partner. 

After exiting the building, you start towards home at a quick pace, hoping to shorten the usual ten minute walk into a five minute walk. You don’t feel Marcus at your side, hoping that you lost him in your haste out of the bar. Your thoughts are silenced when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, yanking you to a halt and into one of the allies in the town square.

“What’s the rush, sweetheart?” Marcus smirks, pulling closer to you as his grip on your wrist tightens.

“Got the kid waiting up for me back home,” you quickly lie, tugging your wrist back in an attempt to free yourself. “QZ schools weren’t the best, she needs help with her homework.”

He chuckles, shaking his head at you before backing you into the brick wall of the alley behind you. “I’m sure her dad can help her with that. We have some things to discuss.”

“It would be best to discuss whatever it is in the morning,” you gulp, pressing closer to the wall to create more space between the two of you. “When we both haven’t been at a bar for the night. With clearer minds.”

“Baby,” Marcus breathes, “My mind has never been more clear.”

He ducks his head, pressing his lips forcefully against yours. His hands move to your hips, pressing himself into you. You desperately try pulling your head back to avoid him, but the brick wall behind you prevents you from moving away. Panicking, you sink your teeth into his lip, biting down until you taste the metallic tang of blood. Your hands move to his chest, pushing him off with all your strength. Marcus stumbles back, hands dabbing at his lip to feel the damage. 

“What the actual fuck are you thinking?” You seeth, wiping the taste of him away with the back of your hand. You stare at him for a beat, bewildered, before pushing off the wall to make your escape.

You make it a few steps before Marcus surges forward, arms encircling your waist to pull you off the ground. All attempts of your struggle are thwarted when he throws you onto the pavement, hands wrapping around your throat as he straddles your stomach, your arms pinned to his thighs.

“You disrespectful, little bitch,” he spits, hands tightening at your throat. “Your daddy ever teach you manners as a young girl? Like all girls need to be taught?”

You gasp at the lack of oxygen as you try to squirm your way out of his grasp. Your constant struggle only seems to agitate Marcus more as he pulls you off the ground before slamming you back down. The back of your head bounces off the hard pavement beneath the two of you. All efforts to fight cease as dots begin to swarm your vision. 

“You respect men that want to talk to you,” Marcus growls, smirking at your dazed face. His hands continue to tighten around your throat. “You’re lucky to even have my attention.”

Your vision is starting to go dark when his weight is suddenly pulled off of you. Coughing, you roll onto your stomach, attempting to gain your bearings. You hear fighting next to you, propping yourself on your hands and knees to try to see what’s going on.

“So help me god,” Joel practically snarls, one hand gripping Marcus’ collar while the other delivers a nose shattering punch. 

“If you ever go near her again, I will kill you.” Punch.

“If you look at her again, I will kill you.” Punch.

“If you even so much as breathe in her direction, I will kill you.” Punch.

“Do I make myself clear?”

You watch from your hands and knees as Joel delivers punch after punch until Marcus is whimpering under him, gasping for air like you were only moments earlier. Once he believes the message has been received, Joel drops his hold on Marcus and backs away, chest heaving.

You must make a noise as he turns to you, eyes quickly scanning your face before his gaze settles on the hand prints adoring your throat. He’s rushing to you before you know it, gentle hands helping raise you to your feet.

“Can you stand, bug?” Joel whispers, softly turning to check the spot where your head had kissed the payment. Today must be your lucky day, no blood appearing on his fingers after he gently ran them through your hair.

“M’fine, Joel,” you rasp, embarrassment pooling in your stomach. While you were thankful that he came by when he did, you couldn’t help but wish it happened to be anyone else. 

Joel sighs, running his hand down his face. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I said I’m fine Joel,” you pull yourself out of his gentle grasp, wrapping your arms around your midsection tightly. You take a few cautious steps back, stumbling but steady enough to walk.

“Let me get you home, angel,” Joel steps forward, hands reaching out to help you. “Ellie’s been askin’ bout you.”

Shaking your head, you continue to take tentative steps away from him. “I can take care of myself, Joel. You don’t have to pretend anymore, remember?”

And with that, you turned on your heels and began to make your way back to the house. You knew he was trailing some feet behind you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment. All you wanted to do was crawl into your bed and forget that the night ever even happened.

“It looks like the bruising should heal in a few weeks,” Rick, Jackson’s one and only doctor, assesses, fingers gently pressing against the prominent hand marks on your neck. “The petechiae should clear up within the next few days.”

You nod, readjusting your collar whenever the doctor leans back to scribble down some notes. In the corner of your eye, you see Tommy and Maria share a glance before whispering, as if you weren’t even in the room.

“Any new loss of consciousness? Confusion? Dizzy spells?” Rick asks, pen pausing on the paper.

“Nope,” voice still scratchy but nowhere near as bad as it was a few days ago. “Can I go back on patrol now?”

With a sigh, Rick sets his clipboard down. “Sweetheart, what you went through was a traumatic event. You need to let yourself have time to recuperate mentally too, not just physically.”

“I take that as a no then,” you deflate when the doctor nods.

After answering the rest of Rick’s questions, you’re finally able to leave the infirmary. It seemed like you were there for hours, so to feel the sun on your face whenever you exited felt like sweet relief.

“Y/N,” Maria starts, guilt practically dripping from her.

“Maria, if you apologize one more time, I think I might implode,” you interrupt her, turning to face her. “You didn’t know, I didn’t tell you what he had been saying on patrol. This isn’t your fault.”

“But –”

“No buts,” groaning, you grab her shoulders, giving her a playful shake. “Some drunk asshole’s actions are not your fault. There was no way you could’ve known what would happen.”

“Darlin’, she’s right,” Tommy intervenes. “It’s no one’s fault but the man that did it.”

You hum in agreement, rolling your eyes at the way Maria practically pouts. “Just don’t give me another shitty patrol partner and we can call it even. Okay?”

Maria nods, pulling you into a tight hug. You gently pat her back, knowing the hug is more for her sake than yours, so you allow yourself to enjoy it, just this once.

You’re about to walk away but Tommy stops you, hand gently on your wrist. “Ellie wanted me to tell you to meet her at your house, said she needed help with somethin’.” 

“Little shit skipped school again?” You groan. “What would be so important that we have to do it now instead of after dinner?”

Tommy shrugs, smirk playing on his lips. “You really think I'm privy to how she operates?”

“I wish I was,” you mutter, waving your goodbyes before trudging back to your house.

You were going to have to talk to Joel about this. Ellie skipped at least twice a week and you thought the last discussion you had about it got through to her, but apparently not. You understood why she struggled with it, being one of the only outsiders in a building full of kids that had never been outside the walls of Jackson. People looked at you guys funny, you and Joel got it too. Even in the apocalypse, school was important.

After what seemed like an eternity, you crossed the threshold of your home. “Ellie?” you called.

No response.

“Ellie Bellie?” You called again, hanging your coat on the hooks by the door. You knew Joel was on patrol so you began to wander to find the girl.

After checking the entire upstairs, you began to worry.

“Ellie!” You yelled, thundering down the steps and into the kitchen.

“In the basement!” The girl finally responded.

With a breath of relief, you descended the basement steps and found the girl sorting through boxes, various tools of Joel’s spread around her.

“What did we talk about?” You approach, tugging on her ponytail. “No more skipping school, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she waves you off, pointing to the door behind her. “The water heater is in there, right?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You shrug. “The old man takes care of that stuff.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the door. “Well the stupid fuckin’ thing stopped working and I want Joel to be able to have a hot shower when he gets back from patrol.”

“So call Tommy, Els,” you resist her tugging. “I can’t fix it.”

Pouting, the young girl bats her eyelashes at you, putting on her best puppy dog face. “Please, please, please?”

After a few more seconds of her insistent begging, you cave in. “Fuck, fine. Just stop with the face. Promise you won’t skip school again and I’ll see what I can do?”

“Promise!” Ellie smiles in victory, holding out the worn owner’s manual to you.

You grab the dusty book from her before shouldering the door open, wandering into the room. It’s pitch black and you can’t seem to find the lightswitch.

“Els, where’s the light?” You ask, blinking to try to adjust to the lack of light.

“Don’t be mad, okay?” You hear the girl plead before the lights flicker on and the door slams shut, lock clicking.

A tired looking Joel sits in front of you, one hand handcuffed to the gas line of the water heater. You gape at him, part of you impressed that Ellie was able to get the one up on him.

But then the reality of the situation sets in and you start to bang on the door. “Ellie, open the damn door!”

“You can come out when the two of you work out whatever shit happened,” Ellie’s voice is muffled through the door but her message is loud and clear. A key slides in from under the door. “Unlock him if you want to.”

“Great, just great,” you mutter, forehead resting on the door. “Looks like we’re never going to get out of here.”

You can hear Ellie stomp up the basements and slam the door, off to do god knows what with both of her guardians locked in a room. Turning, you look to see Joel, his eyes watching your movements. You take in his appearance – right hand cuffed to the flimsy gas line of the water heater, left hand resting in his lap, both legs extended in front of him with crossed ankles. Under different circumstances, you would have laughed.

“Would you mind givin’ me that key?” Joel asks, motioning to the key resting on the ground by your feet.

Nodding, you kick the key to him, praising yourself that it slides within reach of him. You watch as he uncuffs himself, rubbing his skin where the cuff adored his wrist. Joel slowly stands, exhaling as he stretches himself up right. Once he’s upright, you take into account his bruised knuckles, undoubtedly from the other night.

The two of you are silent. The tension is palpable – too thick to cut with a knife, maybe even a chainsaw. You watch as Joel awkwardly shifts foot to foot. You can tell that he has a lot on his mind, but you aren’t sure if you want to know what he’s thinking.

You clear your throat, already regretting your next words. “Thank you, by the way.”

Joel nods, staying on his designated side of the small room. “I’d never just let that happen to you, y’know that.”

The awkward silence lasts a few more beats, neither of you know what to say to the other.

“You don’t have to avoid the house and town,” Joel breaks first, clearing his throat. “We can be friends, can’t we?”

“Speak for yourself,” you mutter, turning around to see if the door is actually locked. It is, to your dismay.

“Bug…” Joel starts but the nickname sets you off.

“Can you, like, not call me that?” You snap, whirling around to glare at him. “You lost any and all privilege to that the second you decided to use me for your own personal pleasure. Without regard to how I would feel, may I add?”

Joel scoffs, shaking his head, “I didn’t use you for my ‘own personal pleasure’.”

“Really?” Laughing, you feel insane with how worked up he has got you in one sentence. “Then what exactly did you mean by, and I quote, ‘pretend’.”

Joel opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off.

“Or what about ‘I’m done with you’?” You step into his space, practically chest to chest. “Because being done with someone doesn’t really leave room for friendship, now does it?”

“That’s not what I meant, y’know that!”

“Do I, Joel? Because it doesn’t feel like it!” You can feel your hands shaking as you shove him back. “You are so hot and cold. You give me fucking whiplash. I can’t stand it! You–”

His lips press against yours, hands settling on your waist to keep you in place. You freeze, the feeling of his mouth moving against yours is a foreign after not feeling it for so long. You feel yourself melting into his arms, your own wrapping around his neck as you kiss him back, lips fusing together as if they were made for each other.

Until you realize what’s happening.

“What’s wrong, bug?” Joel whispers after you throw yourself back, chest heaving.

“You can’t just do that,” your voice shakes and you feel small under his gaze. “You can’t fuck with my feelings like this.”

Joel lets out an aggravated sigh, hands running through his curly locks. “I’m not tryin’ to, sweetheart.”

“Then what are you trying to do, Joel? Because I can’t do the back and forth.” You desperately try to blink away the tears pooling at your eyes. “One minute you want me, the next you don’t. I don’t know what you want from me.”

A tear slips down your cheek.

And all of Joel’s resolve breaks.

“Baby,” he breathes, hands cupping your cheeks as he thumbs away your tears. “I…shit, hold on.”

You wait. You wait as his eyes squeeze closed. As he inhales and exhales deeply. As he shakes his head before looking at you again.

“I love you,” Joel admits. “But I’m no good for you.”

“Joel–”

“Please,” he begs. “I can’t protect you, or Ellie. You saw what happened with the raiders at the university, I almost got the two of you killed because I’m not as young as I once was. I’m not a good man, bug, I’ve done so many bad things that I will never deserve someone like you, no matter what I do now.”

You listen to all of his reasons why he doesn’t think he deserves you. You watch the pain of his past hold him back from ever realizing how much he is worth.

“Is that why you did that?” You ask quietly, hands coming to rest on his chest. “You pushed me away because you think you’re too old for me? Too much of a burden on me?”

Joel nods, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“But, Joel, those are your reasons,” you breathe. “Your thoughts, your opinions. Not mine.”

He shakes his head. “But–”

“But nothing,” you interrupt. “I love you because of all of that. I love everything about you, your past included, Joel. There is nothing that you could do or say that could ever possibly change that. Why do you think I avoided you for weeks?”

“Because you hated me?”

“Because I couldn’t be around you thinking that I loved you when you hated me.” You laugh, leaning up to briefly press your lips against his. “Next time, how about you talk to me before you make all the decisions?”

Nodding, Joel leans forward and slots his lips against yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, locking your hands together. You feel Joel smile against your lips, a feeling you had missed, before pressing yourself as close to him as possible. Your kisses become more feverish, Joel backing you up against the door as his hands run down your sides to your hips. His hands snake around your waist, lowering themselves to your butt, groaning at the way you react to him.

A loud bang on the door startles the two of you apart.

“As much as I love that the two of you figured it out,” Ellie yells through the door. “I don’t want to hear those noises. Ever.”

A giggle escapes your lips as you hide your face in Joel’s neck, a smile spreads across your lips when you feel his arms encompass your waist.

“Are you decent? Can I let you out now?”

“Yes, Ellie.”

“Thank god,” Ellie unlocks and swings the door open. She smiles seeing the two of you wrapped up together. “I was beginning to think you’d never figure it out.”

Joel shakes his head. “Shut up.”

“You mean ‘you’re welcome’,” Ellie teases before escaping up the stairs, pausing at the top. “Just don’t suck each other's faces around me, got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” you salute her goodbye before turning back to Joel, who is pretending to look annoyed at the teen.

“By the way, how did she manage to handcuff you?”

[makeyoumine69]

Call Me Babydoll

— PAIRING: DBF!Patrick Bateman x Innocent!Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: After eyeing Patrick Bateman — your dad's best friend — for so long, you finally have the opportunity to get him in your bed. But what are you going to do when you realize that Mr. Bateman is not as pure intentioned and chivalrous as you first thought?

— CONTAINS: Smut, Dom!Patrick, non-con that transforms into dub-con, light degradation (reader is called names), use of pet names (babydoll, little girl etc), Patrick is a fucking creep and goes down on her while her father is still inside the house, corruption kink, Daddy kink, oral (f receiving), nipple tugging/sucking/biting.

— WORDS: 2k

— SONG REC: Babydoll X The perfect girl (slowed & reverb)

— A/N: Well, I've been thinking a lot about returning to this concept, and the time has finally come. So, for now, I intend to make this a multi-chapters series, and I hope to bring all my ideas to life! Before you read this, I highly recommend you to read the intro (link below), please enjoy!

— LINKS: [INTRO]; [SERIES MASTERLIST]; [MASTERLIST]; [buy me a coffee]💓

Your heart was quivering in your chest like a caged bird, considering you had decided to take Bateman to your room while your father was still in the house doing something in his office.

As soon as you entered the room, Patrick hummed with amusement, hiding his hands in the pockets of his Armani pants. "Hmm, you like plushies, don't you?" He crooned, his voice filled with a strange excitement. 

"It's none of your business, Mr. Bateman." You tried to avoid his provocation, ignoring the way your face blazed from within.

"It's Patrick, Babydoll," the pet name sent shivers down your spine. "'C'mon, I thought you already got that."

Cautiously, almost like a cat, Patrick approached you, his expensive cologne enveloping you like an intoxicating mist, messing with your thoughts in your head. Bateman couldn't deny that the more you got embarrassed, the more it fed his ego, his need for power, his primal desire. 

"Why should I?" You rejoined him, pausing at your small bed, sensing his burning gaze between your shoulder blades.

He chuckled, so boyishly — you could even say it was quite cute, but this definition didn't really suit a man like him. 

"Oh, dear," Patrick made that cocky sound again, before closing the mere distance between the two of you. "You know, I really like this little game of... pretending to be so fucking innocent and untouchable," Bateman punctuated the last words with a low titter right into your ear — damn, he was so close to you that you could feel his hot breath fanning along your skin. "But right now it's unnecessary, since I know how much of a slut you are for me."

With that, he suddenly grabbed you from behind, yanking your hair back to bring you closer, grazing your neck with his sharp fangs, and you didn't even have a chance to make a sound as his big palm was already flat on your mouth.

"Now, now, little girl," he cooed in a husky voice, his heart about to burst through his chest from the sweet smell of your soft skin. "I'm sure you want this," his free hand ran shamelessly over your chest, teasing your already hard nipples, which only made him more cheeky as he mused. "Ah, Babydoll... you want to be corrupted, you want it so badly."

Hell no, you were not ready for this — Patrick's strong arms exploring your body once again, but this time more possessively since he was sure that no one could see you now. The way you shivered in his embrace made his cock twitch, and you could feel its hardness pressing against your lower back.

"Pat-Patrick," you managed to squeak softly before he pulled you into a hot, hungry kiss, his tongue sliding masterfully against yours, giving you no chance to resist, even though you were still trying. "My father—"

"Your dear father won't hear a thing if you keep quiet," he growled against your trembling lips, his self-control about to collapse at any moment as your taste drove him crazy. "You don't want to get caught, do you?"

A sharp, almost choked moan escaped your lips as his warm hand snaked under your top to play with your swollen peak, twisting and pinching it, your legs giving way almost instantly and if Bateman hadn't held you tight, you would have just fallen flat on the floor. Almost affectionately, Patrick made you sit on your bed, the surrounding air electric with the fluids of lust and desire between the two of you.

"Jesus Christ," he purred, kneeling down next to you, the cold metal of his gold Rolex brushing against the bare skin of your thigh, the brisk contrast in temperature forcing your toes to curl from your own arousal. "You're so sweet and cute," Patrick murmured briefly before planting a barely sensible kiss on your inner hip. "And so innocent."

"We.... We shouldn't be doing this," your breath hitched with the strange, tantalizing thrill. It was frightening, yet so fucking seductive that you were not sure whether you really wanted him to stop or never to stop. "My dad would be so mad!"

His sarcastic laugh bounced off the walls of your room. "(Y/n), you're a big girl now," he rubbed invisible circles into your tender skin, teasing you as skillfully as if he could read you like an open book. "You can make your own choices," Bateman's walnut eyes were so dark now, they glittered with undisguised lust and thirst — no one had ever looked at you like that before. "Besides, you don't have to be afraid, Babydoll. Daddy will just take a look."

"Daddy?" You asked, perplexed, but then you practically bit your tongue from the sudden burning sensation in your lower abdomen as his thumb reached your throbbing clit, rubbing it through the soft fabric of your panties. 

Your shy reaction elicited a mocking chuckle from his plump lips, now curled into a super-arrogant smirk. "Uh, you're shaking already, and I barely touched you," he parted your legs wider so that your skirt was now pulled up almost to your waist. "Fuck, I really like your skirt… did you buy it in a kid's store? It looks so girlish."

"Stop it!" You scolded and strove to close your legs, but his big palm wouldn't let you.

"Or what? You gonna cry and complain to your father?" Patrick leaned down to your mound, holding your thighs tightly, and without breaking eye contact, he swiped his tongue along your swollen lower lips, causing all your insides to cramp with unknown temptation. "I don't think he'd believe you, because you're just a little silly girl."

Enraged, you wanted to tell him to fuck off, but the tingling sensation of his hot tongue caught you off guard, your legs shaking uncontrollably as you found yourself as hypersensitive as you had ever been. Gently, Bateman stroked your inner thighs, never losing his grip as he expected you to try to fight again, but he knew how to make you surrender, because after all — sex was his territory and he was prepared to make you vulnerable and spread out for him.

"P-Patrick," you gasped as he did that motion again, this time more persistently, your lace panties already wet from both your juices and his spit. "I... I can't—"

"Can't form words?" He snickered against your flesh, sending vibrations right to your core. "That's okay, my dear," Bateman's silky voice only made the current situation worse, as you were on the verge of losing it now and then. "But believe me, this is just the beginning. And I'm curious, what would you say when I fuck you senseless, huh?" He paired his questions with a suck on your blushing bud, leaving the squelching sound behind. You had to tilt your head and grab the nearby pillow as you felt something pulsing in your womb, like a ticking bomb that was about to explode. "Fuck, if I keep going, I think I will get pussy addicted and your dad will really have to stop me."

With these words, Patrick stood up, only to throw away the pillow you were shielding yourself with, as he wanted to taste your hard nipples. Swiftly, he pulled up your top and growled as he saw your breasts popping out, his lips finding your little tip faster than you could even react. Whimpering softly, you grasped his head with how thirsty he latched onto your nipple, sucking it, trapping it between his sharp teeth, making you squeal every time he bit it, but as soon as he noticed your fingers tugging at his perfectly coiffed hair, Bateman finished his game with your tip, tugging it painfully before he mumbled: 

"Keep your hands to yourself, Babydoll," he brushed your hands away roughly, but then he gave you a warm smile. "You didn't deserve to touch Daddy's hair, not yet."

After admiring the result of his work, Patrick looked around for a mirror to check his hair and fix his red tie. He didn't even say a word to you before he left. The oppressive silence hung in the air, your lungs burning from the lack of oxygen as you found it hard to breathe. The only things you could feel were shame and disgust, but thank God that bastard decided to stop and you didn't have to tell him that you were a virgin, because you couldn't even imagine how cheeky and brazen he would get when he heard that information. Panting, you could still sense the heat of his tongue between your legs, and as soon as you tried to get up, you fell back from the strange, throbbing feeling in your core. Every single part of your body where he touched you burned as if you had been consumed by fire.

What did this devil, named Patrick Bateman, do to you? Did he just bless you with the curse of being possessed by him? What would you do now to save yourself? 

So many questions, so few answers.

It had been almost an hour since your father and Patrick had been drinking, discussing their business matters, and smoking their cigars in the living room of your not-so-fancy house. Embarrassed, you struggled to act natural whenever your dad asked you to bring him something, whether it was an ashtray or another bottle of whiskey, all the while keeping a straight face and ignoring all the playful glances Bateman was casting at you.

"You know, I'm so lucky to have a daughter like (y/n)," your dad suddenly declared as you handed him his favorite whiskey. "She's such a good girl, always so helpful and kind."

"Oh, I'm sure she is," Bateman murmured, grinning devilishly and scanning your trembling form with his dark eyes. "(Y/n), can you please do me a favor and bring me a glass of water?" He winked at you after puffing on his cigar.

Paralyzed for a second, you cleared your throat before answering. "Yes, of course, Patrick."

When you spoke his name, your father almost choked on his drink. "(Y/n)! Where are your manners? It's Mr. Bateman to you."

"Uh, sorry," you stammered as you watched Patrick's tongue swirl around the tip of his cigar in a way that only you could see it. "Just having a busy day… I'll bring you some water!"

With that, you stormed out of the living room faster than the speed of light, your heart pounding so rapidly that you could hear every beat in your ears. This man, oh fuck... this man made you feel so strange... so excited... so cursed. 

In the kitchen you grabbed the first glass you saw and with trembling hands you started to pour some water into it, splashing it around a bit as the only thing you could see behind your eyes was his fucking tongue flickering around his cigar. And worst of all, you found yourself thinking, if his mouth felt so good on you through your underwear, what would it feel like if you were naked?

A loud clatter of broken glass echoed around the house as you felt cramps in your lower abdomen, causing you to cling to the surface of the kitchen counter. Breathing heavily, you heard footsteps approaching, and you had no idea who they belonged to.

To your dad or to your 'Daddy'?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update! Chapter 2 is here!💗

[fairies-in-the-garden]

he holds me in his big arms, drunk and i am seeing stars

pedro pascal x reader | 1.3k words 

summary: after a night out, your best friend pedro accompanies you in a taxi to ensure you get home safely. but as things take a long-forbidden turn, your relationship may never be the same.

notes: best friend pedro!!! fluff. slight jealous pedro. secret mutual pining. idiots in love. neck kissing! mention of alcohol consumption.

a/n - i honestly hate this, it could have been so much better but i got stuck with it. maybe i'll rewrite it in the future... with smut mwahaha

--- --- ---

the cool city air turns dramatically stiff and warm against your burning skin as the door of the taxi is pulled shut. 

“do you have your house keys on you?” pedro asks with tenderness; hand going to your cheek to turn your face to him.

you grunt in response, completely unaware of what’s left his mouth, let alone anything that's going on. in your current state, everything is but a jumble of nonsense hitting wildly ringing ears. he knows that. it'd be an impossible task to quiz you further, so he doesn't.

you hear muffled conversation as he blurts out his own address. with hurried eagerness the taxi accelerates onward into the night.

your body is particularly numb, limbs wobbly and loose, as you struggle to remain upright in the backseat. for some time, with all your might, you try to fight the inevitable collapse of your upper body. but as the taxi takes a brisk turn, you're a goner. with a defeated sway you begin to fall forward, caught firmly by gentle hands around your waist.

"atta girl, i got you." that all too familiar voice rings sweetly in your ears. brought backward, pedro lays your upper body against his chest, steadying you with care in his hold.

you groan from the movement, though slow and brief. your head pounds at an extreme rate - no thanks to the alcohol, of course - but made no better by the tight pins holding up your once perfect updo. you groan again, this time more audible and with more distress in your tone.

"what is it?" pedro asks, fearing the position he has you in is an uncomfortable one. "my head..." you say, trailing off at the end, unable to finish your thought. everything is too much.

as if a mind reader - although in actuality from knowing you better than you ever have yourself - pedro's hands make way to your head. carefully he removes pin by pin. as your hair falls to your shoulders, pedro's hands do not leave their place in it. in gentle circles, his fingers make way across your scalp, messaging it with care.

his touch so easily accepted makes pedro's mind wander; an all too common mix of anxiety and a bit of jealousy taking over him. how did you get to such a state? this isn't exactly like you. did someone coax you? he can't help his bothersome thoughts as he plays with your soft hair.

his blood boils at the thought of having not gotten to you when he did. of someone else getting to you first; someone with ill intent. he should have never left your side.

as pedro's mind continues to linger to dark places, his fingers tangle further into your hair, pressing harder right where you need him to most.

your eyes shut instinctively, head falling back onto his left shoulder. as your body melts into his, you're unable to stop what comes next - as your lips part in pure ecstasy, a soft moan falls from them.

your eyes shoot suddenly open. for a moment, it seems utter self-consciousness manages to sober you up. cheeks blushing instantly, you say a little prayer in hopes he somehow hadn't just heard that.

oh but he had. with that sweet little noise, all his worries leave him. you're here. you're with him. you're safe. the knot is his stomach settles, turning into something else...

against his own will, pedro's cheeks are a bright blushing red, his pants shamefully tighter than they'd been moments before. he wished it hadn't had such an affect on him. that you didn't have such an affect on him. oh but you always have.

the taxi is silent aside from blaring horns on the outside and nervously beating hearts on the inside. in an attempt to hide your flushed face, convinced he can see it from behind you, you tilt your head away from him. but that only makes him see you more.

the city lights twinkle on your face in a way he imagines it would only do to angels. your eyes flutter closed, lashes heavy yet somehow still so soft. he tries to stop himself, but he can't help but look to your lips; plump and pink from a night of bottles pressed sweetly to them.

against his better judgement, as though, rather, he is the drunk one, pedro lets his hands wander. trailing down from your hair, his hand moves loose strands away from your neck. eyes transfixed, his fingers linger on the soft, warm skin just below your ear.

"pedro," you whisper softly, a mess under his gentle, telling touch. the bashfulness you just felt, now softening.

swiftly, before reason can stop him, he buries his head in the crook of your neck. his lips, wet and hot, leave agonizing kisses along your burning skin. he remains there for a moment, lost in it.

leaning your head into his, your body can't help the way it reacts to him. it never can. you've always wondered how this would feel, you and him. and the feeling is one of overwhelming perfection. his hand trailing down to rest at the base of your neck is enough to make your legs shut eagerly tight - the need for friction harrowing.

pedro nips softly at your skin, earning another soft moan as your back arches against him.

as he raises himself from his place in your neck, there is a moment in which you think you should slide over, away from him. he thinks just the same. if you both were to shift apart, turn to look out your own windows, and not speak another word - all could be forgotten. yet neither one of you can bear the thought of it.

turning your head to face his, your eyes meet for the first time tonight. his are dark and sparkling, you imagine yours are as well.

you can't help but let your mind wander to the place in which you'd so often had to forbid it to go. flickering down to his lips, wet and rouged, you want to kiss him. it's not the first time you had wanted to. the only difference is that this time, you don't think you're going to stop yourself.

as you lean in closer, you watch his eyes fill with worry, with guilt. stopping halfway, you speak softly, longingly, "kiss me again... please..." you trail off, still regrettably a bit drunk. you breathe shallowly, trying to gain some soundness in your voice, "a real kiss."

he winces at the sound of your slurred voice, eyes like a puppy's. his hands come up to cup your fiery cheeks as he speaks affectionately, with caution, "i can't, honey. you're not sober. i shouldn't have even done that."

he is the most respectful person you know, always has been, but right now you wish he'd just take advantage of the moment - of you.

your lips fall into a pout, "i liked that you did. i've always..." you don't know how to make sense of how you're feeling, how you always have, or how to put it into words. but he understands you somehow.

"i've always wanted to kiss you too." he states, thumb rubbing circles on your cheek. you lean into his touch, eyes closing to take the moment in.

"you're so beautiful, y/n..." your eyes open, looking up to him shyly from his words. from the last time you'd seen yourself in a mirror earlier in the night, you knew you looked a mess.

"even like this?" you say, cracking an uneasy smile.

"even like this." he states, returning a smile bright as the stars.

"please kiss me..." you plead again, your eyes now the ones puppy-like. you don't want the opportunity to slip away. for him to slip away.

he slowly leans forward. happily, you close your eyes in long-awaited anticipation. lips ready for his, you're caught by torturous surprise when pedro's press tenderly to your forehead, instead.

pulling back, he tilts your head to look up at him once more. "we can talk more about it in the morning." he states with a kind grin. he's truthful, you know that, but you need to be sure.

"promise?" oh please don't let this be over.

"i promise."

leaning back into the seat, pedro opens his arms for you to sink into. as the ride continues, the streets outside become more and more familiar - a sign you're almost to his home. wrapped in his grasp, you already feel like you're there.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

@katkitkats is a mofo genius. I've said it before and you bet your ass Imma keep sayin' it.

MDNI UNDER THE CUT, PLEASE.

KAT'S HANMA NSFW HC ::: He smokes while having sex especially when doggy style fucking you.

"Fffffuuuhhhh - Shu - Han - hrmm oh god ... feels s'good!" You were face down, ass up on Hanma's bed, just the way he liked it. And you were so fucked out that you didn't know what the hell to call him so you just said everything you could think of.

There was a small collection of ash on your lower back that he hadn't noticed until now. He dusted them off of you without thinking and chuckled to himself wondering if you'd even felt the slight tingle of the heat as it landed on your soft skin.

"Yeah? You *thrust* fuckin' *thrust* like *thrust* when *thrust* I do you like this, princess? My baby girl, such a little cock whore f'me." He rolled his head back and let out a long moan. "OH GOD yesssss. Made just for me, this pussy was sent to me from Buddha-ahhh! Fuck fuck fuck."

He was slamming into you with an intense rhythm. You felt like you were going to lose your mind from how deep he was reaching inside of you. It was the kind of pleasure that made you feel like you were floating. The hand that wasn't holding his cigarette was squeezing the fat on your ass and it was the only thing grounding you to this earth.

"I'm gonna cum, baby. Fuck, I'm gonna cum inside you. Can I do that? Can I cum inside you? Please let me, please don't make me stop. Oh fuckkkk I'm so close. So fucking close." He was babbling incoherently and you couldn't stop the words from spilling out of you.

"Yes! Yes, please! I want you to cum in me, Hanma. Fuck me hard and cum deep inside me. Please, oh my god, please fill me up." You were desperate for it. You needed him to pump you full of his cum like he always did.

He leaned over and put his cigarette out and pressed his chest against your back. Reaching under you, he pinched your nipples and squeezed your tits.

"I'm gonna cum, baby girl. Oh my fuck, I'm gonna cum. Here it comes, I'm fucking cumming!" He shouted and slammed into you one last time, shooting his hot cum deep inside you.

You felt your body go limp as the pleasure washed over you. Hanma collapsed on top of you and rolled onto his back, panting and sweaty. You laid there, breathing heavily, feeling his cum drip out of you and onto his sheets.

Looking over at him, you saw his beautiful sweaty face was glowing. He lit another cigarette and rolled his head to the side, smiling at you.

"Shu?" you said quietly.

"Yeah, princess?"

"Did you flick your ashes on me? I felt like, little burns, I thought." Your brow was raised.

"Fuck, yeah, probably. Why? Did ya like it?"

You blushed, "Um, kinda."

"Say less, baby. Say less."

@kazutora-kurokawa @southside-otaku @viburnt @darkstarlight82 @arlerts-angel

[emmyrosee]

(hi hello don’t mind me coming back and doing the event right this time 😭 BUT FEEL FREE TO IGNORE!!!)

17 with shoko 👀🤲🏻

I adore her. my wife.

Dawg I literally love her so much-

17 with shoko… pet names 🥰

“How do you want your tea, doll?”

Immediately, ieiri’s head pops up from her phone perched on the counter, surprise in her eyes at first before it melts into amusement. “That’s a new one,” she purrs. “Never called me that one before.”

“What?” You chuckle, although your heart pounds as your mind finally catches up with the playful pet name that slipped off your tongue without permission. “Thought I might give it a go.”

She pushes herself up and off of her counter leaning, stalking towards you with a smile that can only mean trouble. “‘Give it a go’, you say?”

“Ieiri-“

“Oo, now we’re bringing out the government name, huh angel?” She smirks, relishing in the way you buckle just enough for her to notice. “What? What’s got you nervous, baby girl?”

“Oh my god-“

“What tea do you want to make me, princess? One with cream and sugar? Because I think you’re all the sugar I need-“

You shake your head, “I get it, doll isn’t a nickname you’re into, leave me alone!” You giggle.

She cards her hair back, revealing more of her nonchalance for the situation while you practically combust in front of her, “oh, I never said I wasn’t into it. Don’t put words in my mouth, schnookums.”

“EW!” You cackle, “I hated that!” You thunk your head against her chest while she continues to chuckle, her arms wrapping lowly around you and hugging you close, kissing the crown of your head repeatedly. “I’ll stick with babe and hun for now, I’ve learned my lesson.”

She shrugs, “you can call me whatever you want. You know that.”

“Well… can I call you mine?”

She offers you a dramatic, fake gag, collapsing you into a fit of giggles while the tea remains forgotten, but your love burns in its place.

[thatfandomslut]

Kissing It Better

Janis Imi'ike x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Trigger Warnings: r experiences her first panic attack over a failing grade

Request:

Hiya! I was wondering if you could write a Janis x reader! With maybe some hurt/comfort because I’m a sucker for that lol but anything that you’d like to do! You’re an amazing writer and I’m loving allllllll of your mean girls stuff!!!! <3333

Heavily inspired from that one Teen Wolf scene in season three where Lydia kissed Stiles.

Mean Girl Requests are open.

(Y/n)'s heartbeat hammered loudly in her chest, throbbing in her ears as she stared at the paper in front of her. Her vision began to blur when she saw an 'F' in bright red ink. She never earned a grade below an A- until today. Janis put a comforting hand on her knee, but it didn't seem to work as her breathing began to grow irregular at the thought of her parents discovering the grade she received. Her fingers twitched slightly as she stood up slowly, ignoring the eyes that set on her before she escaped the room that seemed to be closing around her.

It felt as though her lungs were going to collapse as she finally made her way to an empty classroom. Her hand flew on her chest as she struggled to breathe. This was going to affect her GPA and her class ranking. Her parents were going to be mad at her. Various thoughts flashed through her mind as she tried to swallow, hoping to help her breathe. She felt lightheaded as she slid down a wall, pulling her knees to her chest. She was startled when Janis made her way into her blurry vision, falling to her knees in front of (Y/n).

"You got to breathe, baby. Look at me, look at me. Let's try to breathe together." Janis tried to walk her through some breathing techniques, but nothing seemed to be working. She cupped her girlfriend's cheeks gently, wiping the tears from her face as she tried to think. She was growing increasingly worried as (Y/n)'s breathing grew more labored. She searched her eyes as she remembered a scene from a show she liked when she was younger. She shook her head before going for it, kissing her in an attempt to distract her. And it was successful as (Y/n) melted against Janis's lips, losing her initial shock. It was their first kiss as a couple and over a panic attack.

When Janis pulled away, (Y/n)'s chest heaved as she caught her breath. She was allowing her eyes to search all around Janis's face. "I learned from this show I used to like… Teen Wolf… I learned that sometimes, kissing it better might be an option. When I kissed you, you held your breath. Just like Stiles did when Lydia kissed him. I was surprised that it worked, but I'm glad it did." Janis explained her actions, her cheeks growing just as warm as the tips of (Y/n)'s ears began to feel.

Janis bit her bottom lip as she watched (Y/n) nod softly. There was a moment of silence as (Y/n)'s breathing returned to normal. "I'm sorry to have ruined our first kiss like that. I just saw that failing grade and I panicked. I could just see the disappointment on my parents' faces, and I somehow felt even more embarrassed with you there. I don't want to disappoint you, either. Then, I started thinking about my GPA and my class ranking… I haven't ever failed a test before." (Y/n) admitted shyly. She hated feeling so vulnerable, but she knew that Janis wasn't judging her.

Instead, Janis wrapped her arms around (Y/n), kissing her cheek when she pulled her in. (Y/n)'s tense shoulders relaxed in her girlfriend's hold as she closed her arms. They were burning from crying, the same reason her cheeks felt a bit sticky. She rested her forehead on Janis's shoulder as she allowed herself to be comforted by the girl. It was crazy how comfortable Janis made (Y/n) feel just by holding her.

"You don't ever have to feel embarrassed around me. I will never be disappointed in you. Especially not over your grades. You are so smart, and the night before the test, you stayed up helping your grandmother. Maybe, if you explained that to Ms. Norbury, she'd let you retake it." Janis offered a solution. Her solution wasn't bad. They both knew that Ms. Norbury was an amazing and kind teacher. She always wanted what was best for her students. "When you're ready, we'll go back in. I'll walk to her desk with you, if you need me to. I'm here for you, (Y/n)."

Janis's words brought a smile to her face as she inhaled. (Y/n) then pressed her lips onto Janis's again. She had to remind herself not to feel embarrassed over the fact that their kisses tasted like salt due to her crying. She knew not every kiss was going to be like that. For now, she focused on the fact that Janis had just made her feel good again. She knew that Janis was an amazing girlfriend. Though she was impulsive and loud, she was also very reasonable and always helped (Y/n) find a solution for everything. (Y/n) found herself lucky that the girl reciprocating her kiss was her girlfriend.

As they pulled away, (Y/n) gave her a nod that caused Janis to stand up and extend her hand out. (Y/n) took it, following suit as they left the classroom and journeyed back to their previous class. The classroom was now empty except for Ms. Norbury, whose lunchbox was opened. She set her sandwich down as she looked at (Y/n) in worry. "You ran off pretty quick, (Y/n). Is everything okay?" She inquired kindly, gesturing to the desks in front of her so they could sit.

(Y/n) declined the offer as she grabbed her bag from where she left it earlier, gathering her things. "I was actually going to ask you something." (Y/n) said, reapproaching Ms. Norbury. She seemed to know exactly what (Y/n) was going to ask for. "I am so much better than what I did on that test. The night before, I was up all night helping my grandma with something. I was wondering if there was a chance I could retest?" She asked, hope swimming in her eyes.

Ms. Norbury smiled as she looked at (Y/n). "Of course, if you want to swing by after school today or before school tomorrow, the test will be available if you're ready." She said, and (Y/n) grinned, swiftly hugging Ms. Norbury before hugging Janis. The feeling of accomplishment achieved thanks to Janis, who offered the solution she didn't even think about herself.

As they walked out and down the hallway, she proceeded to pull Janis in a hug once more. "Thank you for helping me and kissing it better." She whispered softly as Janis let out a small 'anything for you' that was muffled into her hair.

[wroteclassicaly]

A/N: There’s no point to this. I’m just feeling angsty and it came to mind…

Your fingers are cold, skin beginning to prickle with the burn of frost. You watch the digits grip the metal gate until your knuckles crack under pressure. You can’t see any of their stables, not with your blurred sclera. Your throat is confined to suffocation, body suffering trembles that aren’t a result of this brutal Midwestern winter. There’s a guilt burrowed deep within your chest cavity, twisting, knocking at your bones with an iron fist that demolishes your bones — dusts them to ash.

Would explain why you’re about to collapse.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay…” You’re using your spare hand to angrily wipe at your wind-kissed cheek, nose slick with snot.

But it’s not alright. You’re not alright.

Any normal human being could appreciate the happiness, the change in him that comes from finding what most of the world searches for. But you, the person who actually cared for him, watched out for, held all his secrets despite dangers to your own life — you’re the single soul that can’t find any joy in what he’d laid on you merely moments ago… You never anticipated seeing the day where your best-friend would give up his disconnected ways and find someone to share things with that isn’t you, that’s more than a quick fuck and forget. Sure he had girls, he had them a lot — various ones, never you. And that was okay, as long as it wasn’t serious.

Until he told you in his bedroom when you were dressing the healing dissolvables below his lower lids.

“Thinkin’ I might’ve found somethin’ good for my future with this one. Who would’ve thought, right? Especially after all this?” He didn’t mean for his fingers to graze your wrist when he motioned to his healing, slightly marred skin. It wasn’t unusual, but it stung this time, literally winding you.

In record time, you applied the cooling antiseptic and went to retrieve your purse. He’d frowned at this, looking at you with a tilted head full of messy, freshly grown out tresses. “I thought we were watching that stupid ass lifetime movie you wanted? Ya know… now that I can actually see it.” He’d winked your way, something your knees would’ve started shaking upon receiving. You were completely dead weighted in your legs and feather light in your guts.

In hindsight, it was a pathetic answer, but it left your lips before you could prevent it. “No thanks.”

You didn’t let him respond, just pulled on your coat, said you had to go, and made it halfway down the drive of Nadine’s new property, before you booked it to the stables and fell against the gate. And the fucking guilt is devouring you piece by piece.

How do you make peace with a future with someone that will never be what your soul has been primed for it to be? He’ll be in your life, sure, but you’ll have to be a dutiful friend and stuff everything down, knowing that you can’t involve yourself with another person, because they won’t be him. Your brain is a goddamned hamster wheel and you can’t get off, dizzy and nauseous. Your coat weighs too much, your clothing itches. Everything that you found right in this world is now wrong. A piling of packed snow crunches beneath leather combats.

Gator go away, go away, Gator.

You don’t look in his direction, his cedarwood cologne brimming your nostrils, the sound of his lips as they wrap around that dumb ass vape, causing a stirring hiss from the hit, and then he’s pocketing it, approaching you like every doe he used to (regretfully) hunt during season. On relaxed elbows, he plants his arms beside yours, his leather jacket flexing over defined muscles. You still pretend to be lost to the view, but by now, he knows you’re bullshitting him. A deep sigh escapes his mouth and he’s nudging you.

“You looked at me when my eyeballs looked like melted butter, so you’re not gonna give me common courtesy now? What’s wrong with you?” He tries to make light, but you know he’s worried about your rejection — his one solid person, his safe space. Or you were before her.

“I said I had to go.” You’re shocked that it comes out without the wavering that threatens to cave in on your throat muscles.

Gator is displeased by this answer. “Talk to me, please. You always talk to me. We tell each other everything, don’t we? I trust you, you trust me. Sort of our dynamic, ya know?”

“Not about this.” A quick glance to the left and you’re pretending to wipe your nose, but Gator knows better. You’ve been crying.

He tries to approach you carefully, in a way that regards your feelings before his own. You beat him to the invisible punch line, the smell of your shampoo and body wash invading his upped senses as you raise to press a chaste kiss with chapped lips to his pink dusted cheek. You don’t say anything more, simply leaving him behind like so many before…

He’ll be okay though. She’ll be around for their date tonight.

And you? You’ll be in the dark of your room, nursing a glass bottle that’s half full of amber liquid, staring at the bus ticket in your palm…

It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay…

// Eat me paragraph //

[voxofthevoid]

This is less WIP Wednesday and more Teaser Wednesday. I've gathered tiny snippets (150-200 words) from the 15 stories written for the April anniversary projects for this post.

Shibuya swap remains on hold until I finish #15, which may take longer than anticipated—still in time for the project, given that it's going to stretch across April and May owing to the total length.

Of the fifteen fics, eleven are solely Gojou/Yuuji; one is Higuruma/Yuuji; one is Sukuna/Yuuji; one is Kenjaku/Yuuji, and one is Gojou/Megumi/Yuuji (the excerpt is just Gojou/Megumi).

The list of the fics and premises can be found here, though I've given one-line summaries above the excerpts:

01. Gojou/Yuuji: An offhand comment leads to Yuuji discovering the dubious joys of pet ownership.

Yuuji’s sure by now that Gojou’s managing to breathe somehow, though he really can’t figure out how when he’s in the exact same position he settled into when he collapsed on Yuuji and burrowed into his chest like—

“Oh,” Yuuji says, realization dawning, “you’re like a puppy.”

Gojou stills. Slowly, with a strangely severe air, he raises his head. Heavy-lidded blue eyes blink up at Yuuji. “Does that mean I get treats?”

Yuuji blinks right back. “Treats?”

“Puppies need to be trained,” Gojou says sagely, lifting himself up on both arms to hover over Yuuji. “Positive reinforcement. Don’t you know that?”

“No?” Yuuji’s thought of raising puppies, who hasn’t, but it wasn’t ever really a serious thought. It was never an achievable dream anyway. Plus, Gojou’s not actually a puppy. He’s not even any good at making puppy dog eyes. They glow too much.

They’re glowing right now, twin pools of starfire made severe by the way he’s frowning. “You’re not a very responsible dog owner then. Puppies are a lot of work, you know.”

02. Gojou/Yuuji (fem!goyuu): Yuuji finds religion in her teacher’s tits, violently.

“There’s no need to be jealous, Yuuji. Some girls are just late bloomers.”

Gojou’s voice startles Yuuji, making her jump, but the doll in her hand remains peacefully asleep. She sighs, relieved, though not as surprised as she’d have been a week back. It’s not like she was actively focusing on her cursed energy anyway, the pulse and flow of it through her arms an afterthought while she focused on—

What Gojou actually said sinks in then, and Yuuji hurriedly drags her eyes away from Gojou’s chest area.

Her tits, says an unimpressed voice from some rotten corner of her soul. You were staring at her tits, you degenerate worm.

Shut, she tells Sukuna, the fuck up.

Yuuji shoves her down before she can retort, and Sukuna never goes quietly or calmly, but she does go, and Yuuji’s left staring into the too-amused eyes of her very adult, very well-developed teacher.

“Um,” Yuuji says intelligently.

03. Gojou/Yuuji: Yuuji acquires a doll that’s sympathetically connected to Satoru. It’s innocent until it isn’t.

“I’ll leave you to your quality time with this guy,” Satoru says, stepping away from Shouko and the examination table. “Don’t have too much—”

Satoru collapses with a strangled sound, his knees hitting the tile hard enough to send a bolt of pain all the way to his pelvis, except it’s nothing compared to the storm of sensation there, eating through him like someone’s shoved a fist into his asshole, without lube or ceremony.

“—toru! Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

Satoru raises his head and finds Shouko kneeling in front of him, her palms pressed to a wall of solid air—Limitless, expanded on blind instinct.

“Nothing,” he gasps, not needing her incredulous expression to know every inch of him is showing that it’s something. “I…”

…have a cock in my ass that I didn’t put there, Satoru completes inside his head, half a revelation even to himself. He knows this sensation, the stretch and burn of his body around another body, but he also knows why and how this is happening, and that’s where his brain sparks and stutters to a stop.

04. Gojou/Yuuji: Megumi finds out that Gojou’s been giving Yuuji some hands-on sex education.

“An hour? Both of you? Huh.” Itadori shakes his head. “What did he…do?”

“What do you think? It’s Gojou-sensei. He projected a bunch of way-too-explicit pictures, talked about STDs in gruesome detail, and asked if we were into BDSM.”

Itadori blinks slowly. “That’s it?”

“He also called us boring virgins,” Megumi says drily. “Then he ran off with Kugisaki chasing him.”

“Did she catch him?”

“Obviously not.”

“Huh,” Itadori says again. “He skipped all that for me. Got right into it.”

Megumi takes a moment to process that. At least he tries. It doesn’t make sense. Itadori said Gojou’s taking that class for him on Friday, so why’s he talking like it’s already happened? And what does he mean by—

“Right into what?” Megumi asks warily, straightening up from his huddle on the chair. There’s a weird feeling in his spine that’s got nothing to do with the position.

Itadori cocks his head, like he’s confused by Megumi’s confusion. “The sex part.”

05. Gojou/Yuuji: Satoru has a late-night philosophical discussion with the King of Curses.

“I am a pretty interesting guy. And it’s not that I’m complaining about my exalted company, but you know, don’t you, that you shouldn’t be here?”

“Shouldn’t I?” Yuuji asks mildly, now at the foot of Satoru’s bed.

“Sukuna’s been allowed to live because he’s the ideal vessel, capable of fully suppressing you.” Satoru eyes the hand now braced on his mattress, barely an inch away from his left foot. “You don’t look very suppressed to me.”

“Blood,” says Yuuji.

Satoru blinks at the non-sequitur. “Are you a vampire now?”

“What’s that?”

“Mythical creature that drinks the blood of humans.” Satoru bats his eyelashes at Yuuji. “I hear they prefer virgins.”

“Then you’re safe.”

“That’s a hell of an assumption to make about a guy you don’t even know.”

“I know your type.”

“Calling me a slut while climbing into my bed isn’t a good look, Yuuji.”

“I called you nothing,” Yuuji says, now looming over Satoru like a lover. “Only made an observation. And I do not want to drink your blood.”

06. Gojou/Yuuji: Satoru’s ward is in that peculiar purgatory between puberty and presentation. He tries to help.

Satoru rubs his palm in a slow circle against Yuuji’s stomach, trying for soothing but landing on something that makes Yuuji still and shudder against him. The reaction’s further incentive to slide his hands down, over the hairless skin under his navel and the sparse thatch at his groin, till his fingers find exactly what they expect to find.

Yuuji arches against him with a strangled shout as Satoru’s hand curls around his hard cock.

“Is this,” Satoru asks softly, “what Megumi’s been making you feel?”

“Satoru-san,” Yuuji whines. “That feels—”

“Weird?”

“Yes!”

“Good or bad weird?”

Yuuji’s quiet for a long few seconds. Then— “Not bad.”

“Was it ‘not bad’ with Megumi too?”

“…Kind of. It didn’t feel like this.”

“I’d hope not,” Satoru says, with a laugh that feels like something else in his throat. “If you make cute little Megumi touch you like this, his very scary dad will come for your head. Well, my head. And then I’d have to put him in his place, again, and the Zen'in will get involved, and it’ll be a whole mess. You wouldn’t want that, would you, Yuuji?”

07. Gojou/Yuuji: Satoru learns why most alphas don’t fuck other alphas.

Satoru exhales, shoving his forehead into the pillow to get himself some breathing room. He inhales, slow and deep, and unclenches his muscles in a rippling, gut-swooping wave, right in time for Yuuji to tear into him with the mindless fury of a beast.

His rim burns, a howling hot hurt—

Satoru gasps into the pillow, everything except the corner of his mind devoted to smothering every instinctive attempt at Limitless turning to white static for a brief, burning eternity.

—and gives, screaming the whole time.

Yuuji cleaves him in two, carving a red-hot path through clenching walls and steaming viscera to lodge himself in Satoru’s throat.

He hasn’t. Satoru knows this. It feels like it.

He can’t breathe with it.

Distantly, he’s aware of Yuuji coming inside him, the cock and knot not softening an iota in the process. It’s the size that’s eating him. Yuuji’s cock was big to start with, but his knot is monstrous—an obscene stretch that has set fire to Satoru’s muscles. They clench around it, helpless attempts at pushing it out of him, but his hole has closed up tight behind it, and if Yuuji tries to pull it out again, Satoru will kill him.

08. Higuruma/Yuuji: A wardrobe malfunction drastically alters the aftermath of Yuuji’s fight with Higuruma.

“Itadori,” Higuruma rasps, “put the shirt on.”

“I could.” Yuuji shrugs with a nonchalance he doesn’t feel, dropping the messy hood. “Do you really want me to though?”

Higuruma looks briefly pained. But he’s still looking. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Direct approach then. Not that Yuuji knows anything else, but he usually doesn’t have to use his words, just his body. “Do you want to have sex, Higuruma-san?”

Higuruma gets a little bug-eyed, almost as expressive as he was when yelling at Yuuji about darkness and light and people. “Itadori.”

“I don’t mind,” Yuuji assures him.

“That’s not the—” Higuruma briefly closes his eyes, raising a hand to grind two knuckles into the space between his eyes. “How old are you?”

“Fifteen.”

There’s a low, strangled noise. “Do you usually go around propositioning men over twice your age?”

“Not really,” Yuuji says. It’s mostly true. Half true. “I don’t get it though.”

For a moment, Higuruma almost looks him in the eye. “You don’t get why I wouldn’t want to fuck a child?”

“When you put it like that…” Yuuji takes a testing step forward, and Higuruma tenses but doesn’t move. “You were ready to kill me earlier, right? This can’t be worse.”

09. Gojou/Yuuji: When Yuuji’s fifteen, Gojou Satoru dies; when Yuuji’s seventeen, Gojou Satoru is born.

“Satoru-kun, wake up.”

The tiny lump on the bed doesn’t stir. Yuuji huffs, more amused than anything. Satoru’s antics haven’t really changed over the last four years. He’s gotten less subtle, really. Yuuji knows what he’s like when he’s really asleep—a messy splay of limbs, the thick covers somehow dominated by a body that should be drowning under them instead. Satoru only vanishes under them when he’s trying to lure Yuuji in.

And Yuuji keeps getting lured, so it’s technically his own fault.

“It’s ten in the morning,” he tells the approximate shape of a head. “Last time you messed up your sleep cycle, you were grouchy for a week. C’mon, Satoru-kun.”

Still nothing.

Yuuji sighs and grabs the top of the covers, yanking them down.

Radiant blue glowers at him. “You’re late.”

“Good morning to you too,” Yuuji greets. “And I’m not late. I’m early. I wasn’t due back for another week, remember?”

Satoru’s scowl deepens. On the sharp-faced, painfully pretty adult he’ll undoubtedly grow into, it’ll be a terrifying expression. On this tiny nine-year-old whose face is half white fluff and half curse blue, it’s just adorable. Yuuji wants to pinch his cheeks and coo at him.

10. Sukuna/Yuuji: A bad breakup isn’t a good excuse to fuck the monster rotting your soul, but Yuuji’s made worse decisions—probably.

There’s no change in Sukuna’s expression or posture while Yuuji climbs to him, but his gaze is unwavering, four eyes redder than the blood soaking this realm zeroed in on Yuuji with animal intensity. There’s an answering animal urge inside him—two of them.

Look down, show your belly.

Look back, bare your teeth.

Yuuji chooses the only one he ever could.

A foot stops him, slamming into his midsection before he can touch Sukuna.

“You’re an impertinent fool,” Sukuna drawls. “I should pluck out your eyes.”

“Try me, asshole.”

“And your tongue.” Sukuna’s still smiling, wide and lazy. There’s a terrible tenderness in his tone—hunger made sacred in the worse way Yuuji’s ever witnessed. “Might as well make it a whole feast—split you open from throat to gullet and slurp up your innards, break your bones with my teeth to suck out the marrow of your ribs. You’d make a half-decent meal now. And you’d thank me for it, wouldn’t you?”

“Like hell,” Yuuji snarls, grabbing Sukuna’s ankle.

It responds by sliding down, from his stomach to his groin.

Yuuji freezes.

“The infection just wouldn’t be worth it,” Sukuna says, the lower set of eyes resting on what his foot is touching. “After all, you’re so disgustingly human.”

11. Gojou/Yuuji: When a blip in time lands sixteen-year-old Satoru in the future, he finds himself in possession of a cursed object sporting his own eyes and a grieving boy who can’t look away from those eyes.

“I meant it by the way—you should just eat that box.”

Realization widens Itadori’s eyes, bleeding gracelessly across his scarred face. “What the hell, senpai!”

“What? It’s logical.” Satoru approaches the bed. Itadori’s eyes are fixed on him now, nothing hollow about them anymore. “That Angel person is dead, Tengen-sama’s gone, and none of you have found a way to bust this prison open. You might as well eat it.”

“It’s not a snack box!” Itadori says hotly. “It’s Gojou-sensei! It’s you.”

“Don’t compare me to that fossil. Besides, that’s more reason to do it. You already have one Gojou Satoru, here in the flesh. We might as well get some use out of the box, and it’d be interesting, don’t you think, to see what would become of you if you ate me?”

For a moment, Itadori just stares at him, nearly vibrating with…something. Not anger, not any kind of straightforward upset. But he’s pure emotion from the fire in his eyes to the strength in his fingers.

Then he sucks in a deep breath, slumping in place. “That was a terrible joke, Satoru-senpai.”

“Was it?” Satoru asks mildly. “You could’ve at least laughed. Spare my feelings.”

12. Kenjaku/Yuuji: Yuuji makes reasonable assumptions about the handsome man stalking him. Kenjaku gets to enjoy the fruits of their labor.

Getou’s changed into a thin, loose t-shirt and sweatpants. He’s still toweling his hair, the ends of it dripping wet. That looks like a lot of work.

Yuuji can’t help staring. Getou has such an interesting face. He tries not to focus on the scar stretching across his forehead because he doesn’t want to be rude, but the rest of his features are fair game, right? Especially the hair. It looks different all loose like this, framing Getou’s face in new and striking ways. There are more loose strands, probably the bits usually pulled into the top knot. And it’s still damp, plus mussed from the towel, leaving bits of it clinging to the sides of Getou’s face.

“Do you like the view?” Getou asks.

Yuuji jumps a little, looking back at the city and then at Getou again. “Y-yeah. It’s great.”

A faint smile, very sharp for something that looks so soft. “Come inside and close the door. You’re letting the AC out.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“I was thinking about what to do with you,” Getou says while Yuuji closes the balcony doors, and when he turns around, Getou’s seated on the bed, one leg folded under him so that he’s half turned toward Yuuji. “And then I realized I should just ask you. What do you want, Yuuji?”

13. Gojou/Yuuji: In a faraway forest enclosed in Brahmic barriers, there’s a boy who loves and hates the world in equal measure.

“You’ve grown so demanding,” Satoru says, keeping his hands firmly tucked in his pockets despite the siren call of Yuuji’s wet skin. The eyes are a better deterrent than his own self-restraint. Mismatched from all angles—the primary pair red on the left and brown on the right, the secondary pair brown on the left and red on the right. It’s as if they decided during their unholy apotheosis that no one would have the luxury of pretense.

“Satoru,” says the mouth that once called him Gojou-sensei, called him Six Eyes, “I missed you.”

Something inside Satoru shudders, a prickling disruption like ice melting. His hands twitch free of the pockets, and his body sways forward, melting into an embrace that’s returned with possessive fervor, four palms sliding over him with enough fervid force to brand him through the thick layers of his uniform before settling on his back, clasping him close to a body that seems to burn with its own inner fire.

“Yuuji,” Satoru murmurs, a question and an invitation.

Yuuji leans in with heavy-lidded eyes and sinks his teeth into Satoru’s throat.

14. Gojou/Yuuji: Yuuji’s hormones battle his morals while his half-naked teacher sleeps on his lap.

All Gojou’s got on is a pair of boxers, and they’re loose enough that they’ve slid down to bunch up at the crease of his thighs.

You’d think it’s getting hotter, not colder, but Yuuji can’t exactly complain. He’s the one trespassing on Gojou’s time and home, and it’s none of his business how Gojou dresses in his downtime. It’s not like he isn’t enjoying the view either. It’s just very hard not to touch sometimes. Yuuji keeps catching himself staring at pink nipples and shapely pecs and chiseled abs and even at places further down, like the telltale bulge between his legs and the obscene thickness of his thighs.

He won’t do anything though. He wouldn’t betray Gojou’s trust like that. It’s flattering, really, that Gojou’s so comfortable with him. Yuuji wouldn’t ever—

Gojou makes a soft, huffing noise and rolls over, curling his very long body into a fetal position—

“Shit,” Yuuji rasps.

—and pushing his face into Yuuji’s dick.

It throbs, ten times more vicious than the dull ache till now.

This can’t be happening.

Gojou breathes out, hot air skewering Yuuji’s cock through his sweats.

It’s absolutely happening.

15. Gojou/Megumi/Yuuji: Satoru crashes his student’s private time, and then the number of students in the equation doubles.

“Are you going to fight?”

“Stop it.” This can’t be happening. “You can’t do this, stop it—”

“Or scream,” Gojou suggests, brightening perversely. “Yuuji would run to your rescue. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Megumi opens his mouth, and then those words slam into him.

Itadori would come running. He’d break through that door like it’s made of straw and see this grotesque tableau. And Itadori’s a noble fool; he wouldn’t run from Gojou, only to him, and nothing about Gojou’s serrated smile says that will end well for Itadori.

Gojou likes Itadori. Megumi knows that. Everyone in the school, even the higher-ups, knows that. But that doesn’t mean Itadori’s safe. Gojou caring hasn’t made anyone safe, ever. Megumi would know.

“Don’t,” he says; it comes out soft, barely a breath. “Don’t you dare touch him.”

“That’s a hefty demand,” Gojou says, cocking his head to the side. “What should I touch instead? You?”

Megumi screws his eyes shut. “Don’t.”

The hand on his wrist loosens, a thumb stroking over his pulse. “Don’t be so scared. It’s not like I’ll do anything you don’t want. I did interrupt, didn’t I? I’ll make it up to you.”

[sadboyeddie]

Taking Care Of You

October 9th: Massage

Kinktober 2022

Summary: Eddie is very sweet and we don’t deserve him

Warnings: (Minors DNI 18+ only) smut

A/N: woo that’s three fics in a day

2.4k Words

Masterlist

You stomp your way up the steps to Eddie’s trailer, letting out a bit of your anger by slamming the front door.

Eddie shoots up from the couch where he was lounging casually, wide eyes looking in your direction as he enters fight or flight mode. Well, actually it was flight mode, he lowkey thought it was the cops.

“What the hell,” he gives you a look that screams ‘really?!’ as he clutches his chest dramatically like an old woman who just saw two girls kissing for the first time.

“Sorry,” you mumble, you head to the small kitchen and hold a glass under the tap until it’s half full.

Eddie is worried more by your silence then your furious entrance, fully used to you coming home in a huff over something that happened at work but you were usually very vocal about it.

But with your silence cutting the air he can’t help but feel personally affected by this. Did he do something? Forget something?

“Princess,” he’s cautious as he walks up behind you, trying to make heads or tails of the situation.

“Eddie,” you whimper and spin around before collapsing into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist in a tight hug.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he rests his cheek against the top of your head allowing you to soak in his warmth.

After a few minutes of still silence your muffled voice fills the small area, “I work with dickheads.”

He lets out a snort and holds you closer, unable to hold back the smile. There’s his girl.

“Yeah?” He rubs his large hands up your back and you melt into the feeling.

“Yeah,” you nod, “should’ve burned the place down when I had the chance.”

Eddie is full blown laughing now, the sound relaxing and the gentle rumble from his chest makes you nuzzle closer.

“My little arsonist,” he slightly pulls back and you whine.

“Noooo, come back,” you try to pull him closer but he just leans down to kiss away your pout.

Okay, you’ll allow it.

“C’mon, baby,” he slides his hands down the length of your arms until he entwines his fingers with yours, leading you to his bedroom.

You let out a sigh of content as the familiar scent of Eddie fills your nostrils.

“Lay down, princess,” he kisses your forehead and pushes you gently towards the bed. You go to lay on your back but he softly corrects you, “no, no, baby, on your stomach.”

You let out a soft ‘oh’ as you follow instructions, shedding your coat and shoes as you go.

When you’re comfortable you watch as Eddie turns the bedroom light off and ignites the candles around his room, originally you had brought them when you started staying over more, enjoying the soft scent, Eddie clearly enjoyed it too because when the first couple burned out he replaced them straight away. His room now never without candles.

The room fills with a soft warm glow as he strips down to his boxers before reaching down to his bed table and pulling the baby oil from the drawer, turning and smiling to you every few seconds.

The baby oil is almost empty and you hide a smirk in your arms knowing full well that he uses it to slick up his cock when he’s alone. You’ve caught him a few times and each one of those times Eddie babbled out excuses about how you make he so hard and he hasn’t cum this much since he hit puberty and found one of Wayne’s dirty mags under the couch cushion.

When he realised you liked the idea of coming home and watching him touch himself he made it his personal goal to achieve whenever he knew you were coming over.

He walks over to his boom box and slips in a mixed tape of your favourite metal songs, when you started dating you’d spend hours on his bed listening to music and he was thrilled to share the experience with you, he turned the volume knob until the voices of Iron Maiden sounded like a gentle lullaby.

He comes over to the bed and straddles your waist, his lower half resting comfortably on yours. He drops the oil on the bed and presses his hands on your clothed shoulder blades before adding a bit of pressure.

Your eyes slip closed as you let out a grateful sigh and start to feel your body relaxing.

“Feel good, baby?” His voice matches the ambiance of the room and you melt further into the soft comforter below you.

“So good, Eds,” you words are slow.

He pushes the palms of his hands into the knots around you shoulders, knowing exactly how to touch you to loosen them. You suck in a sharp breath as he pushes down on a particularly tight knot but when the tension ebbs away moans slip past your lips.

“There we go, sweet girl,” he leans down and kisses your shoulder before lowering his hands to the hem of your shirt and slipping them underneath, you moan at the skin-to-skin contact and arch your back slightly

He rubs circles into your lower back while being gentle around your spine and you all but purr at his affections.

He’s fully hard in his boxers and every time he leans forward he presses his bulge further into the curve of your ass, if he looks hard enough he can see a wet patch where his precum has stained, but his arousal is an afterthought at the moment.

He lifts your shirt from your body and unclasps your bra before dropping it onto the slowly forming pile of clothes besides the bed. He readjusts his cock, grunting at the touch, before grabbing the baby oil.

He rubs the slick liquid between his hands to warm it up before starting at your waist, he massages the skin with expert fingers, he’s always been good with his hands and he’s a quick learner so he knows exactly where to touch to get a reaction.

He presses his fingers deep into the knots on your back, soaking in every moan, gasp and intake of breath you make, his cock starting to ache more and more as time goes on.

When he’s reached the upper half of your back he slides his hands down and rubs some oil into the side of your breasts, his touch starting out innocent enough but quickly changing into something more.

He brings his hands underneath your form, you lift up a tad so its easier for him, and he cups your tits, his chest flush against your back as he massages the soft skin.

“Want me to turn over?” you bite your lip and clench your thighs, a movement that doesn’t go unnoticed by Eddie.

He presses his forehead against your spine, just below your neck, and kisses the warm skin, “no, baby,” he licks up to the nape of your neck and places a gentle kiss, the action causing a shudder to wrack your body, before pulling back.

He pinches your nipples, making sure to graze his nails over the nubs as he brings his hands out from under you.

You let out a small sigh, laced with disappointment but that doesn’t last long, he slides lower before kneeling over your legs and removing your jeans, it’s a little bit of a tug-o-war with the material but eventually they, along with your panties, join the rest of your clothes on the floor.

He squirts more oil onto his palms before grabbing two big handfuls of your ass, you let out a shocked cry, slightly muffled by your head buried in your arms, which makes Eddie huff out a laugh.

He massages lower taking care not to tickle you too much, the temptation is there but he doesn’t want to change the mood, enjoying the sensuality of the evening, and digs his fingers into the meat of your thighs, presses down and pulling until you’re nothing but a moaning mess.

He slides his hands upwards and continues the action on your asscheeks, unable to resist leaning down a planting a kiss on each one, you smile into you arm at the feeling.

When he takes note of the small movements of your hips grinding down against the mattress he takes that as an invitation to move this to the next part.

He presses his clothes cock against the curve of your ass and slowly pumps his length, a breathily sigh of his name escapes your lips as your movements become a little more noticeable.

He spreads your cheeks apart and gets an eyeful of your puckered hole before looking further down and seeing your pussy, arousal coating your folds and making your thighs sticky.

He pulls your ass up and leans over to grab a pillow, his pillow, and places it under your hips as he moves his hands down and spreads your pussy lips with his thumb until your hole is in full view, he leans over and dribbles his spit, it landing more on your back entrance before sliding down into your exposed pussy.

You let out an obscene moan and Eddie blows cold air over your fluttering hole, making you grind down against the pillow.

“Such a pretty pussy,” he moans as he spreads your slick around and fingers your clit.

“Eddie,” you whine, desperate for something inside you, slightly grinding back against his hand. 

“My cock is the only thing going in this pussy tonight, princess,” he promises, accentuating his words with a thrust of his length against your ass.

“Fuck me then,” you groan, starting to get impatient.

“Don’t be a brat,” he brings his hand down on your left asscheek, watching as the flesh jiggles slightly.

You cry out and drive your hips forward against the pillow, “sorry, daddy,” you moan, “just want you inside me.”

“I know, sweetheart,” he leans in and kisses your lower back before slipping his cock out of his boxers.

He uses the hand that’s coated in both your arousal and the baby oil to slick up his cock before he fucks his hard length deep into your pussy.

“Ah, fuck!” The burn from the stretch doesn’t even come close to the overwhelming sense of pleasure, in fact the sting only adds to it.

He sets a brutal pace, hands holding your hips in a grip that’s likely to bruise as he snaps your hips back to meet his thrusts.

Eddie is so in tune with your body that he knows it’s wants and needs better then you do, he knows all you need now is to be fuck like a whore.

You squeeze the pillow below your head between your hands, stuttering out curses and whimpers as you fight to catch your breath, Eddie lands another slap to your ass before leaning forward and pushing all his weight into you.

The air leaves your lungs and with Eddie fully on top of you you’re momentarily unable to suck air back into your body, your clit starts to throb as your chest tightens and grey spots dance along your vision, but they’re gone as quickly as they appear when Eddie sits back, taking up his previous position.

You cough and splutter as you lungs work in overdrive to refill your body with air, Eddie’s hand rubbing soothing circles on your upper back is a stark contrast to the harsh pace of he’s created.

“There you go,” he encourages, sounding breathless himself, “good girl.”

He slows down but fucks into you harder, your eyes roll into the back of your head at the squelching sound your pussy makes everytime he bottoms out.

“Almost there, daddy,” you mewl, body exhausted.

“Me too, princess,” he confirms, “gonna fill this pussy up, make you full with my cum.”

You nod and clench around his length, the movement causing his pace to stutter slightly before he recovers.

He leans over you again but doesn’t push too hard and wraps a hand around your chest, pulling you more into him as he takes a handful of your tit and squeezes, he slides his other hand beneath you and pinches your clit, the motion causing you to cry out as you’re caught off guard by your climax.

You shake in his hold, your body slightly thrashing against his as the world goes slightly dark and silent around you.

You can still hear Eddie as he fucks into you but it’s like you’re under water, the sounds seeming distant and muffled.

You didn’t know how long you lay there in a foggy haze but you’re brought back to your senses as you’re gently turned on your back, a whimper leaving your lips at the movement.

“Come back to me, princess,” his voice is getting closer and you subconsciously reach out for him, “I’m right here, sweetheart.”

His voice is no longer distant and you fight to pry your eyes open so you can see the handsome boy you’ve fallen in love with, overcome with a sense of neediness.

“Ed-die,” your voice cracks but a look of relief washes over his face.

“There you are,” he smiles and places a quick kiss to each cheek, “how are you feeling?”

That’s a good question really, you’re feeling weightless, like if Eddie let go you’d float away but your head isn’t working well enough for you to say that so you settle with, “light,” a smile gracing your face.

“Good,” he nuzzles his nose against yours and starts to press soft kisses all over your face.

Within minutes you feel gravity doing it’s job as the heaviness returns, not a bad heavy but heavy.

You let out a small giggle and gently push at Eddie’s face and he takes that reaction as a good sign as he starts to press kisses against your neck. He’s only seen you fall into subspace on two other occasions so it’s still new to him, but it’s not unwelcome.

When he pulls back you realise that he’s no longer inside you and his cock is softening against his thigh.

You look at the muscle with a small frown and he chuckles as he pokes your cheeks, “why so sad, baby?”

“Did I ruin it for you?” You can’t help the little sniffle you let out, feeling unbelievable selfish that you ruined his climax.

He huffs a laugh and reaches down to run his fingers between your folds, you let out a hiss as he scoops the sticky substance onto his fingers and brings them up so you can see. His fingers glisten with his cum and he smiles at your blush.

You lean forward and suck his fingers into your mouth, cleaning the digits thoroughly with your tongue.

Eddie kisses your forehead and cuddles you to his chest, allowing you to rest for a moment before trying to corral you into a shower.

[obwjam]

i humbly present: giant!spider-noir and tiny!peni parker

anons, i am sure you are THRILLED that i am FINALLY getting around to your asks after a... decent amount of time lol and i still dont feel like i'm fully out of my g/t writers block but we take what we can get. everyone please enjoy some long-overdue peni and noir content 🫶

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

“Oh, no… kiddo…”

Peni didn’t know what to do. It was like all the air had been sucked from her lungs and her ears were ringing and her brain was going a mile a minute. The tiny girl continued to sob, head in hands, and the imposing figure of Noir could only look down in discomfort, for so many reasons.

First of all, he hated the way Peni looked so helpless and fragile as she simply sat on a tabletop. It was some experiment gone wrong, she told him – as she tried to find a way to retrofit the dimension-hopping bracelets without having to go through HQ, a calculation must have been off, or she just didn’t account for dimensional differences, because she landed right where she wanted to – in Noir’s world – but when she came to, everything was gigantic and she couldn’t handle it.

“I don’t… I don’t believe it… Peni…?”

It was starting to get dark out, but even in the middle of the day, there was no mistaking the flashing colors of the portal ripping open. Noir had sensed it and positioned himself right next to it, but… nobody emerged.

At least that’s what he thought. As he glanced down in deep thought after the portal collapsed in on itself and disappeared, something was nagging at the back of his brain.

Something familiar… intertwined with burning fear.

Peni, for her part, didn’t even know what was going on. Her bracelet showed that she was exactly where she wanted to be – Earth 90214.

So why did everything feel so… heavy?

Maybe it’s because this place was devoid of any color, and that always threw her for a loop. No, no, that’s not it. She’s been here before, and that never truly bothered her beyond the cosmetics. Maybe her calculations were slightly off, and the inter-dimensional journey was particularly taxing this time.

She got to her feet and immediately wobbled, blinking rapidly as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. This is weird… I can’t see a thing.

The first footstep was like thunder. Peni winced, shutting her eyes on instinct as she staggered backwards. The subsequent footsteps were no better, and she soon found herself dizzy as she spun around trying to figure out what was happening.

Noir’s heart lurched at the tiny girl’s reaction. He hated the way she looked so helpless on the ground, and his chest suddenly filled with a cocktail of stress, anger and the pure urge to protect.

Through her disorientation, Peni was able to discern that the dark shadow that was cast over her was suddenly getting darker. The sinking feeling of being loomed over was almost overwhelming her spidey senses, but something told her she had to look up.

She didn’t expect the massive, imposing figure of Spider-Noir to be right in front of her.

Her eyes widened as she realized what was going on. No – no – this can’t be happening – how did this happen! – I – I can’t let him see me like this!

“Peni, wait!” Noir cried as the tiny girl took off, forgetting how loud his voice was to her now. “It’s me, it’s Noir! Wait!”

Peni sprinted as fast as her little legs would take her. No time to look back, she thought. I’ve got to get out of here.

Noir’s heart sank. Peni was clearly desperate to escape. He just couldn’t let her do that. The world was dangerous enough for a normal spider person, but now that one of them could fit in the palm of his hand? It was a disaster waiting to happen.

Peni was so focused on getting out of there that she didn’t notice Noir bending down to snatch her up. It wasn’t until his fingertips practically brushed her back did she notice, and by then, it was too late.

A piercing scream echoed up from Peni, causing Noir to wince as he slowly lifted his tiny friend up from the ground. He cringed at the way she kicked and screamed and punched to try and escape, but he knew he had to do this. He did his best to ignore her protests, plopping her in his palm as gently as he could before curling his fingers over her, shrouding her in darkness.

Inside, Peni was panicking. Logically, being with Noir while she was now tiny was the best possible outcome, but everything about her current situation defied all logic. She desperately hurled her fist at the walls of her new prison, but she simply bounced backwards every time. She wasn’t even sure Noir could feel anything, considering he was wearing thick gloves.

Oh, Noir could feel it. Every small impact against his gloved hand sent a shiver down his spine as he ran back to his hideout. There were so many questions swirling around in his brain – questions he knew Peni would have the answer to… if she could work up the courage to talk.

After what felt like hours of movement, Peni felt Noir lurch to a stop. She swallowed and closed her eyes as light flooded her vision. Once she adjusted, her trembling eyes scanned her surroundings and horror filled her senses. She knew this place, but almost none of it was recognizable. Various weapons and pieces of technology looked positively alien, and almost everything looked like it was capable of killing her in an instant.

Thoroughly terrified and definitely embarrassed, she refused to meet Noir’s gaze as he took a seat and kept his hand hovering above the tabletop. Underneath his mask, Noir’s eyes were flickering to a new thing every few seconds – her panicked eyes, her heavy breathing, the small cuts and bruises she sustained in the crash landing.

“Peni… are… are you okay?” he finally asked. He didn’t want to startle her more than he already had, but even the rumbling of his voice made her cower. She crossed her arms and kept her gaze forward.

He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to feel when he held her, but now that he had a moment to process the situation, he felt… protective. This was a tiny life he was holding, and he had all the power in this situation. His stomach jumped when he felt her start to tremble. She was at his disposal, and that was terrifying to Noir. He didn’t like thinking of her as helpless, and it was all exacerbated by the fact that she wouldn’t even look at him.

“Peni… please… I need you to talk to me.” He tried to conceal his own shaking voice. “Tell me what happened.”

Eventually, she did, but it took a lot of coaxing and a lot of waiting. Peni tried her best to repair her watch, but she was trying to exhaust every single option at her disposal to avoid having to admit what she did to Miguel. Noir did what he could to help, but mostly, he would just keep Peni company and reassure her that everything was going to be fine.

Today, things were not fine.

It had been nearly a month that Peni had been stuck like this, and it was starting to weigh down on her. She lay awake on the makeshift bed that Noir had made for her, staring up at the ceiling that was impossibly far away. Noir was off on a mission, and he insisted that she wasn’t allowed to come with him. It was too dangerous.

So she was alone.

For some reason, it felt worse today than any other day. She was tired – tired from working nonstop, tired at having to look up at everything, tired from trying to keep it together. She didn’t even get a good night’s sleep last night because, as much as he hates to admit it, Noir snores.

That, and she just had another nightmare.

She was in distress, couldn’t Noir see that? She thought it was obvious. Maybe he really didn’t notice, or he pretended not to because it made him uncomfortable. Like this whole thing didn’t make Peni uncomfortable! Why did he have to go on that stupid mission? She needed him here.

For the next hour, with her hands folded on top of her stomach, Peni lay there, staring, thinking. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see Noir’s gloved hand completely encompassing her vision and she grew smaller and smaller in its presence. The one person she felt that she could count on was a hundred times her size and could kill her in an instant. As much as she tried to take her mind off of everything, the same thing kept echoing in her head: My dad would know what to do.

She barely noticed when Noir returned, twisting gracefully down the pole from above ground and landing with a thud that normally would have made her jump. The spider giant brushed off his coat and glanced over at the tabletop, dismayed to see Peni still laying in bed.

He padded over and bent down to her height, squinting to see if she was awake or asleep.

“Hey, kiddo…” he said softly, afraid of startling her. “You, uh… you alright?”

To Noir’s surprise, Peni rolled over and glared at him before emphatically flipping around so her back was now facing him.

Noir’s eyes widened. It was moments like these that reminded him that she was just a teenager.

“Is... something bothering you?”

Peni didn’t answer, which was effectively an answer.

Noir racked his brain. It wasn’t like he had extensive experience dealing with teenage girls at a normal height. “Do you, uh… do you want to… talk about it?”

Peni let out a small humph, which just made Noir’s heart leap.

“Come on, kid, you can talk to me, you know that.”

Peni was utterly embarrassed, but she had no choice. It wasn’t like she could walk away. Slowly, she turned back toward Noir, whose expression brightened underneath his mask when her tiny, delicate eyes met his. Peni’s cheeks flushed red as she sat up and crossed her arms in protest.

“There. You happy now?”

“Hey, what’s gotten into you?” Noir asked, trying to sound genuine but instead sounding accusatory. A full day out in the field certainly wasn’t helping.

Peni was dumbfounded. “Oh, nothing, I’m just stuck like this and I don’t know how to fix it and I’m – I’m all alone!”

Noir felt a pang in his heart. “Alone? You… you have me.”

“You’re off on missions all the time, though!”

“Well, yeah! I have a job to do! I’m sorry, Peni, I… I can’t just stay home all the time because you want me to!”

Tears began to prick the corner of Peni’s eyes. Why was she so angry?

“It–it doesn’t matter, okay? Forget I said anything! You’re – you’re not my father, and you never will be!”

Both spider people gasped. Noir never thought of himself as her father – after all, he was only 19 years old, so he was more like an older brother. But he always felt this connection to Peni, however inexplicable, given the respective dimensions they each come from. He had this… insatiable need to protect her from the inherent trauma that all spider people experienced. Like he could shield her from all the pain he once went through. He almost forgot that he really couldn’t do that.

Once the first tear fell, the floodgates burst open. She could barely hear Noir go “Oh, no… kiddo…” from high above her, watching helplessly as the girl he saw as family was breaking down because of him.

“Peni, I…” Noir was at a loss for words. Consoling people was not really his strong suit. But something told him that right now, she didn’t need to be lectured at or reprimanded. She needed comfort.

Peni let out a small gasp when she suddenly felt herself being lifted. Noir had gently cupped his hands around her shaking form and, ever so slowly, brought her over to his chest and held her close.

The low drumming of Noir’s heartbeat was enough to snap Peni back to reality. She looked around to confirm that yes, she was being cupped in his hands and yes, he was holding her by his heart.

“It’s okay, kiddo. I gotcha,” his deep voice rumbled from above. The sound waves traveled with ease though his body and into hers, giving her a sense of grounding and warmth that enveloped her like a blanket.

With shaking hands, she was able to wipe the tears from her face until they no longer fell. She allowed the rhythm of his heartbeat to calm her down, and she felt her trembling begin to subside, too. Soon, she had brought her legs up to her chest and curled into Noir’s fingers, allowing herself to melt into his palms.

Noir had to bite his tongue to keep from awwwing.

They sat in silence for a while, with Peni focusing on her breathing and Noir trying his best not to move. Eventually, he felt her stretch out and twist up to look at him.

“Thanks, Noir,” she squeaked, barely audible even to him. “For being here for me.”

“Anytime, kid,” he said back lowly. “Look, uh. I know I’m not the best with… uh…”

“Feelings?”

Noir chuckled. “Yeah. Those. But, you know, you can come to me anytime… about anything. And you don’t have to talk, if you want, but –”

“–Noir,” she cut him off with a chuckle of her own. “I get it.”

“Oh. Good, good.” He fell into a comfortable silence. “Would you, uh, would you like to go lay down? On the couch?”

“I’d… I’d love to,” Peni replied between yawns.

Peni lightly bounced to the rhythm of Noir’s footsteps until the two were settled on the couch with no more words to be said. It was hard for her to realize but Peni wasn’t alone – she had Noir. Sure, she was somehow four inches tall in this universe, and the sheer darkness and drab of his dimension was in stark contrast to her entire existence… but she had someone to care for her, even if it wasn’t the exact way her dad did it.

That was new for her. But she could get used to that.

[sweetlittlegingy]

In The Mood For Chaos

"He knew her in a way no one else ever could."

“You corrupted her soul, what else did you expect”

🍒 Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | Callsign Cherry Masterlist

🍒 Pairing: Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Y/N 'Cherry' Bishop, Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Y/n 'Cherry' Bishop

🍒 Word Count: 7.3k

🍒 Warnings: Parental death, angst, POW and very sensitive topics, Bradley... idk what he's doing today lol, swearing, breach of trust, loss of friendship (and love...), protective Jake, protective Bob, mourning, a lot of crying, drinking, dark headspace

🍒 A/n: I would like to note that I know how sensitive this topic is and I want to caution anyone that is reading this. I could never know or capture all of the feelings that families go through, and if you have been through this situation or lost anyone while they were in the military, I'm sending you my deepest condolences and am sending you all the love.

🍒 A/n pt 2: I just wrote this in the last five hours and cried a lot. It wasn't supposed to be an angsty story, but we've got multi-layered characters here.

🍒 Library (Follow for updates! I no longer have a taglist.)

Your chest heaves as the sweat drips between the swell of your breasts, and the sound of your shoes hitting the packed sand keeps a steady tempo for you to run to. The sound of waves crashing barely reaches your ears, as you push yourself harder. You catch sight of the sun starting to peak up over the horizon, which causes you to check your watch.

4:45

4 miles in 45 minutes wasn’t horrible, but it was nowhere close to your best. You had woken up at 3, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. It was the same reaction every time you came back to San Diego, maybe it was how abruptly your grandparents took you away, maybe it was a visceral reaction that you had no control over, or maybe you were still that broken little girl.

It was most likely the latter, though you don’t allow the thought to float around long in your head. It’s how you had ended up running, any way to get away from the reality of the situation. Quiet literally running away from your problems. 

The bay curves around, low tide with an expanse of sand that led right up to the house you rented. Your eyes cast across the bay and find the small white house, placed perfectly on the beach and close to the base, with a small dock off the back that connects directly to the harbor.

You only let yourself look at it momentarily as the sunrise lights up the expanse of sand, before focusing back on the path in front of you. A harsh breath pushes from your chest as you break out into a sprint, a gasp toeing the line of a cry. Your chest burns and you relish in the pain, anything to take away how your heart hurts.

You reach the pavement of the street that’s a straight stretch to the bungalow, 1 more mile. You had been pacing yourself, but as memories flash across your mind you could care less. You needed, to feel something that was physical pain, to prove you were still breathing. A sharp ache settles in your side, but you can see the front porch from a distance and so you push harder.

A grimace crosses your face as a metallic taste settles in the back of your mouth, and your chest aches, but you can’t stop not when you were so close. Another gasp releases from your chest and causes you to push that final step more.

You don’t make it to the door, the moment your feet touch the grass, you collapse. Your chest heaves in pain and have to spit out the mucus coating your throat. Though the tint of red proves that it was more blood than spit. You roll on your back as your gasps, turn into silent sobs.

Your body aches and screams at you for your reckless behavior, though you settle in the pain. Letting it pull you down and consume you completely. Your therapist had once told you that pushing this hard, was a form of self-harm. You stopped seeing her after that appointment, it wasn’t that you couldn’t come to terms with your trauma. It was the fact that it was the only thing, other than flying, that could clear your mind.

Besides, it wasn’t the worst thing that you could do.

No, you’d gone down that road while in high school. Jake was the only one that knew just how far things had gone. As much as you despised him now, for a long time he was your only reason to keep breathing.

...

You wipe the steam from the mirror, before towel drying out your hair. The sound of a door closing is followed by a knock on the door.

“Hold on Bobby. Your coffee is in the kitchen too.”

You hear a small hum in reply, and you laugh lightly. Bob was never a morning person and in the last two weeks, you had made sure that you had his coffee ready before he got out of bed. It’s not that you liked waking up early, but more so that sleep escaped you regularly.

You grab the oversized tee shirt from the counter, before slipping it on your frame. For going shorts, the old Texas longhorn’s shirt covered enough and it wasn’t as if didn’t Bob hadn’t already seen everything. One of the perks of living with each other for 4 years, it had become such a regular occurrence that it no longer phased either of you. You were quite positive that you could walk around naked, and the only thing Bobby would comment on would be the set of tan lines that adorned your skin over the past two weeks.

You slip out of the bathroom and head toward the kitchen, wanting to make sure that he had indeed found his coffee, but also that he didn’t steal yours. You almost laugh at the sight of his half-naked form leaning over the kitchen table, while keeping his coffee tucked in close.

Though the cup of coffee sitting opposite of him, has you smiling as you slip into the seat across from him. You slip your cup silently waiting for Bobby to at least get half the cup in his system before you try and hold a conversation. You glance at the oven, it was only 6:30 and you didn’t have to be on base until 8 and the drive was only 15 minutes. Your eyes fall back to Bob as an empty cup now sits between the two of you. You snicker as he rakes a hand threw his hair, it causes his baby blues to settle on you.

“It’s Saturday tomorrow, Bobby. Two whole days for you to sleep in.”

“Yeah, as long as you don’t wake me up.” His tone is teasing though your smile falls into a frown.

“I didn’t mean to wake you; it’s just being back here.”

Your words have his sleep-deprived brain clearing and the apology is already sitting at the tip of his tongue. Though you stop him before he has the chance, by giving his hand a small squeeze. His hand settles in yours and gives you a squeeze in return. You had lost so many people throughout your life and couldn’t have been more thankful that you had him.

The pair of you sit in silence, enjoying the quiet morning before the chaos of your everyday life commences. The past two weeks had been relatively calm, other than the sublet jabs that Rooster and Hangman like to throw at you. It was funny, and it only got worse as you stayed slightly ahead of them in all of the exercises. It had gotten to the point that you were just taunting them; dogfights were your favorite. Maverick had switched to having someone from the class be the enemy target and somehow.... by some luck unbeknownst to you, the three of you always ended up in the air together.

The three of you had kept the jabs surface level, nothing digging too deep that would actually cause damage. You weren’t willing to risk losing your place on the detachment or let some feud put anyone else in the squadron at risk.

Your eyes shift back to Bobby as he rises from his chair and takes both of your cups to the sink. His hands settle on your shoulders as he stands behind you and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“You don’t have to go through it alone, Cher.”

Your hand reaches up to clasp one of his hands, giving it a squeeze and a small kiss. While Bobby knew everything, it didn’t make actually talking about it any easier.

“Thanks, B.”

The nickname slips from your lips and causes Bob's hands to tighten, as a full laugh falls from his lips. You rarely called him B, and when you did it was used to break the tension in the air. That first night that the pair of you tried to see if you could be anything more, you had made a point that you wouldn’t be moaning Robert or Bob. So, B became the given name, and well... it only landed you two in a fit of laughter. It was your own personal inside joke.

...

Your eyes scan the hanger as you and Bob make your way to your seats, though as your eyes settle on a familiar face a massive grin appears on your lips. Bob had already made it to your seats, and you give his shoulder a gentle squeeze to get his attention from Phoenix.

You nod to the front of the hanger, toward the group of older gentlemen talking before the day starts. His eyes find the dark head of hair that had been missing for the last two weeks and gives you an understanding smile, before pushing your hip forward lightly.

Your boots echo through the hanger, and you can feel the different sets of eyes find your passing figure, though you pay them no mind. You come to a stop just behind the three men, waiting for Maverick to finish his sentence. You see Warlock’s shift to see you and give you a small smile, which makes your own smile grow as their conversation ends.

“Admiral.” Your tone is steady as you say it, and you quickly wipe the smile from your face as he turns.

“Lieutenant.”

His face remains serious as the pair of you stare at one another. You can hear the rest of the pilots behind you quietly talking about the pair of you, though you pay them no mind. Slowly the stern look turns into a full smile, though yours stays in place waiting.

“Hey, kid.”

The nickname makes a full smile break across your lips and for a moment you’re a little girl again. His arms reach out to hug you, though you’re already throwing yourself into his arms and grasping on like you were worried he might slip away.

“Hi, Uncle Beau.”

Your throat catches as you say it and cause Cyclone’s arms to tighten around you before letting go. The both of you pull back and give each other one last smile, before falling back into line. You nod at the other two men who hadn’t moved, each of them giving you a small smile. You give the three of them one last smile, your heart already finding some form of peace over the fact of having your godfather close. 

Your smile falls as you turn and make direct eye contact with Hangman and Rooster, before brushing passed them to go sit with Bobby.

“Lieutenant Bishop,” Cyclone's voice echoes through the hanger and causes you to turn back around. “Come see me later, we’ve got a few things to talk about. One of them being Lieutenant Commander Adams.”

Your eyes widen slightly, the man might have only been your godfather, but he sure took the job of vexing any of your “friends” seriously. You can hear Bob laugh to the side of you and your arm punches out to hit him on the shoulder.

“Of course, Admiral.”

You sink down into the seat next to Bob who is still snickering beside you, “You think it’s about you and Adams in that f-18? What were you doing again?” Your face blanches slightly, though your eyes remain trained on the whiteboard. “Going over how well you could grip the yoke?”

You slowly turn to Bob, who has a cheeky smile taunting you. Your eyes find Payback, Fanboy, and Phoenix who are practically leaning over the back of your and Bob's chairs to hear. Each of them looks at you while trying not to smile, which they are failing phenomenally at.

“Fuck you, Robert.”

Your tone is anything but harsh, and a small chuckle breaks from your chest as you rest back in your chair.

...

Once again you had been chosen to be the enemy target for the dynamic idiot duo, by now you were sure that Maverick was doing it as a way of “therapy” for the three of you. The two of them stop at their own F-18s as you head farther down the tarmac, though Rooster’s voice yelling at you has you turning around to see what it was now that he was bitching at now.

“What do I have to do to get on the Cherry Popping List, Cherry?”

You almost let the words go over your head, though the small snicker at the in pulls you back. The comment and action not only affect you though, as you watch Jake tense up and glare at his wingman. If looks could kill, Rooster would be six feet under.

“Sorry, I’m not one to lower my standards.” A smile crosses your lips that has Rooster standing straighter. “Especially for pilots that can’t get into the Academy on the first go.”

You don’t wait to see his reaction, already knowing that Maverick holding his papers was a sore subject. You’d heard the rumor when the three of you were in the Academy, though hadn’t realized it was true until you heard Maverick and Rooster arguing last week.

It doesn’t take long for the three of you to get in the air, as you hear the pair chattering across the coms. You stay low level, just above the hard deck, waiting for them to get restless.

Rooster's voice cuts across the frequency again, “So Hangman, tell me, was she any good? Figure asking from someone with first-hand experience is better than nothing.”

Rooster's laugh echoes across the radio, and for the minute you give them, before you're officially pissed, Jake doesn’t say anything. You glance up and see their pair of F-18s right above you before you pop up. They’re separated just enough, and they have no clue that you’re just under them, soon to be on top.

“You should worry about your own sex life Rooster; I’ve heard quite a few underwhelming reviews.”

The sentence slips off your lips, though before either of them can reply you shoot up through the pair. Sending each of them off to the side in a barrel roll and now it’s your laugh that echoes across the coms.

“What the fuck was that.” Jake’s voice rings out and breaks up the laughing fit you were having due to them both gasping.

“It’s called, I’m about to kick your ass and win 50 bucks from Coyote.” They both go silent trying to figure out what you mean. You knew that the rest of the squad would be listening to the coms, specifically Javy. “Ain’t that right Javy? This will make ten-”

You're cut off before you can finish, “We’ve gotten tone on you six times.”

You roll your eyes at Rooster, as you bring the nose around and find the two of them.

“No, you’re right Rooster. You’ve done such a good job of coming in second, too bad there’s only one winner.”

You go silent after that, paying neither of them any mind. You need to focus and not worry about the birdbrains; you also knew that your silence unnerved them. Just another perk. It doesn’t take long for you to get behind the pair, though it’s Rooster who you have your eyes on.

He had constantly been trying to piss you off. While Jake made comments, dumb snappy comments, Rooster was like a lover scorned and picked at every little thing he could.

He’d almost brought up your dad the other day, after seeing a picture of your father and Cyclone standing side by side on a carrier. Both of them had been deployed and it was one that you personally had tucked away at home.

Though just as the words “Your father” slipped passed Rooster's lips, Hangman had thrown him a glare that silenced the man. For a minute you saw Jake, not Hangman, though the flash of his green eyes to you was quickly covered up and Jake was gone again.

You didn’t know if you could ever forgive either of them, you had never really thought about it until now, with every look that Jake gave you, you questioned yourself. Could you ever risk opening up like that again, giving someone that much power over you.

Sure, Bobby knew everything, though the “power” he had over you was different than Jake did. Jake held a power over you that terrified you, your bond ran deep and though it was broken, you had never been able you get rid of it wholly.

The pair of them split and you immediately follow Rooster, he’s just in front of you and with every second you’re gaining on him. You’d need to get tone soon; Hangman would be circling back around any moment and on your ass.

“Hey, Chicken” Your words cut through the radio before tone rings out alerting everyone. “Your dead.”

You hear Rooster swearing over the coms, though you're too focused on finding Hangman.

“Where’d you go Hangy.” Your voice is condensing and as it slips over your lips, you level out to find him directly in front of you. The pair of you heading directly for the other.

“Hey, Cher” His laugh has you gritting your teeth, though neither of you hit the button to get tone, even though you’re directly in line.

“You really wanna do this?”

“I missed our games, sweetheart.”

Every second brings you closer, and you can hear chatter echoing through the radio from the rest of the dagger squad.

“You should know better than to play this game, Jake.” The name slips out, though you don’t even realize you’ve said it.

“Just break off Cher, easy as that.”

“Then you do it.”

“Y/n Marie Bishop,” Bob's voice cuts through and gains your attention. “break off. Cher, you don’t need to do this.”

You don’t reply and Jake’s right in front of you now. He doesn’t say anything either and you silently wonder if still remembers how the pair of you played it in the Academy before he ruined everything. You’d gotten caught a couple times and had your fair share of ass chewings. Though if there was anything Jake was good at, was sweet talk his way out of anything. Even when a higher-up was threatening to ground you.

There’s a round of voices echoing through the coms, even Rooster freaking out slightly. Though they fall silent to your ears as one voice echoes out.

“Y/n” Your name falls from his lips so gently that it makes your heart ache. The last syllable of your name passes Jake’s lips and you both break hard right, just barely slipping passed the other.

You’re not sure how to feel knowing that Jake had remembered; did it mean anything or was it just a random fact he hadn’t forgotten?

...

Before you know it you're back on the tarmac, slipping your helmet off and tying your flight suit around your waist. The afternoon heat had become unbearable, and your sweat had made your damn shirt cling to you like a second skin.

You see Hangman and Rooster both climbing from their jets, chatting back and forth, though you can’t hear what they’re saying. Hangman catches your eye, though doesn’t say anything. Maybe he would have if the rest of the squadron wasn’t making their way across the tarmac, Bobby leading them as his lethal gaze settles on you, not wavering in the slightest.

You step toward Bobby, as his eyes asses your sweating form. His hands settle on your shoulders, and you give him a tiny smile, knowing that you were about to get your ass chewed.

“You’re, okay?” The question doesn’t surprise you; Bob had always made your health and safety his first priority when it came to ripping you a new one.

“Yes, Bobby. In one piece, and ready for the Floyd ‘I’m disappointed in you’ speech.”

The answer causes him to laugh, before pulling you in for a hug. A quiet whisper of comfort is muttered against your shoulder and has you tightening your hold before pulling away.

By now the rest of the group, as well as Rooster and Hangman had formed around the pair of you. Your eyes move around the group and each of them looks at you in stunned but apprehensive silence.

“Bob might not be ripping into you, but I sure as hell don’t wanna be there for when Cyclone gets ahold of you.” Fanboy’s comment has a smile breaking across your lips, as you pluck your sunglasses from Bob’s shirt pocket. Bobby clicks his teeth before a small chuckle pushes pasted his lips as he shakes his head at you. Your eyes leave Bob and you give the rest of the squad an award-winning smile.

“You would be surprised just how good I can sweet talk someone,” You move towards Fanboy, and pat his chest gently as you pass. “Especially when it comes to my godfather.” The words are thrown over your shoulder, though you keep walking as a round of questions breaks out.

“Seresin, let’s move it.”

Your tone is harsh, though has both you and Hangman questioning when he became Seresin to you again.

...

“What in the hell were the two of you dumbasses pulling out there?”

Cyclone paces behind the desk that both you and Jake stand at attention in front of. Though before you can answer, Jake speaks up.

“It was my idea, sir.” Both yours and Cyclone’s head whip to look at Jake in bewilderment. “I wanted to make a point that this mission was serious, that it is life or death.”

Cyclone hums though his eyes don’t leave your own, “and you thought playing chicken, with government property, was the proper motivation.”

A sharp nod comes from Jake while his eyes remain dialed in on the bookshelf behind Cyclone.

“First of all, even without hearing the audio from the coms, I would always know this was something Lieutenant Bishop orchestrated.” Cyclone’s eye glances at you, though you’re quick to move your center focal point to something behind him.  “Secondly, don’t think that I forgot about the shit you both pulled in the Academy.”

Your eyes follow Cyclone’s gaze to Jake as he mutters that last word. By the way, Jake’s eyes widen slightly and the harsh tone of your godfather, you know that your flight habits are no longer the topic at hand. The silent stare-down between them would be unsettling, if you didn’t know how big of softies, they both were. The clearing of your throat has them snapping out of the daze.

“I’m not grounding you, not when the mission is so close.” A sigh you didn’t realize you were holding leaves your body, you had yet to be grounded in your career, and the thought honestly scared you. The closest you fell to your parents was in the sky. “But I promise you, if either of you pulls that shit again, I’ll ground you the second the mission is finished.”

While you knew that Cyclone was being a hard ass, was because it was his job. On base, he would always be Admiral before Uncle, though the flash of worry in his eyes tells you that it wasn’t his only reason.

“Lieutenant Seresin, you’re dismissed.” Jake glances at you as he leaves though your focus remains forward, silently trying to figure out just how much Cyclone knew about yours and Lieutenant Commander Adams’ agreement. The clicks behind you and the sight of your uncle sighing so heavily does nothing to ease your worrying mind. A nod of the head to the chair directly across from his own causes you to sit.

“What did Adams tell you about the mission?” Your head cocks slightly, this was defiantly not the direction you thought and prepared yourself for.

“Only that Jake and Bradshaw were going to be here.” There you go again, how had he in such a short amount of time, have you back to using his first and last name. You had stopped using them after everything and started only calling him Hangman. He hated when you called him by his callsign, always said it was too impersonal.

Your uncle’s silence paired with the tick in his jaw, causes your chest to tighten. He was never this serious when it was just the two of you, that wasn’t the type of relationship you had. The last time you remember seeing him like this was the day your grandparents took you back to Texas, while you bawled and clutched onto him and your Aunt Julie begging them to change your grandparents’ mind.

“Y/n, Sweetheart, we need to have a talk.” You quietly suck your teeth, and your eyes instantly land on the file Beau sides across his desk. The bright red letters spelling out classified aren’t what catches your attention, it’s the black letter under it, in such blocky letters ‘BISHOP’ glares back at you.

“Honey,” your eyes leave the smile, and the small tremble in your bottom lip, confirms to Cyclone that you have an idea where the conversation is happening. “you were so young when everything happened. I didn’t have the clearance to tell you, even if I wanted to.”

You force a harsh breath through your nose, silently begging for whoever controlled the universe to not break you absolutely with whatever lies with those pages.

“But with you getting placed on this mission, Commander Kazansky, and I both agreed that you should know. That you had a right to know.” 

The words catch in your uncle’s throat and have your eyes flashing to him. You wish that you’d have stayed focused on the file because seeing the eyes of one of the strongest men you know lined with tears makes it all worse. Makes whatever you’re about to read more real.

“What part of the story wasn’t true? What’s it have to do with this mission?” you’re surprised that he can even hear you, with how quietly the words slipped passed your lips.

“We’ve been watching the location, where the Uranium plant is for a long time, honey. It wasn’t a plant back then, it was supposed to be some ragtag militia group that broke off Russia’s military.”

Your hands twist in your lap as you boot intently taps on the floor. You can’t bring yourself to grab the folder, too consumed with the voices bouncing around in your mind. They hadn’t told you much back then, just that it was supposed to be an in-and-out mission. Things went wrong, and they lost him. They’d given you minimal details, you were only seven and you’d never questioned what happened.

Because you knew what happened.

Didn’t you?

“We didn’t have the right intel and it wasn’t until we were right over them, that artillery that rivaled ours at the time, started going off.”

A harsh breath leaves your uncle as he turns and pulls a 5th of whiskey from a bottom drawer. The seal is still intact and the snap of it echoes threw your ears, as your eyes slightly blur in and out of focus. A glass is sat in front of you, though you can’t seem to make a move for it.

“Your dad’s plane went down in a clearing; it was the perfect spot. The safest crash site we could have asked for.”

The shake of your uncle’s hand as he downs the rest of his glass has your gaze, you’d never seen him so unkept. Beau Simpson was the top of the top, the United States Navy’s poster child for god’s sake.

“He was gonna be fine, we’d already called in e-vac.”

The shake of his voice as your eyes refocusing and the red-rimmed eye’s staring back at you aren’t one’s you’d ever seen before. Not in this capacity at least.

“They appeared out of nowhere,” your jaw clenches and it’s surprised your teeth haven’t cracked. “they had him out of his plane, before any of us to circle around and get a shot.”

Your body lurches forward slightly and it feels like all the air had been ripped from your chest and the ringing in your ear only gets louder as your uncle talks.

“We were able to bring him home, the week before your mom passed.”

You hadn’t had a panic attack since you were a teenager, though the way you gasp for breath as the words break from you. “That was three years later.”

How you ended up pacing is beyond you,

“don’–” your hands brace against the back of your chair as you rock back on your heels. “Don’t tell me that they had him for three years.”

“That they held him captive for three years before you could get him.”

Your legs fall out from under you and cause you to harshly crash to the floor. Your breath shutters, as you wrap your arms around your knees. Your eyes fall in and out of a hazy as flashbacks of his funeral filter through your mind. “He was alive for three more years, and you swept it under the rug. They had a funeral...”

Your eyes meet Cyclone’s as he watches you, and it breaks you even more. He was fully prepared for you to hate him. You can hold his gaze, instead, you find the folder that lies on the desk still. Without a second thought, you scramble up for it, you knew that whatever it was going to break you. But you had to know.

Cyclone's hand lands on it at the same time yours does, holding it firmly on the desk.

“Sweetheart, you know now. You don’t need to see; I shouldn’t have even gotten the folder out.”

“I need to. I need to see just exactly what I’m going up against, the reason that I’m going to fly this mission and kill every last one of them.”

Your throat is raw with pain, though the drip of hate that seeps from it echoes even after the words died out.

The folder slides from your uncle’s hold and you grasp it cowering back to the corner of the room settling against the wall. The file just sits in your lap, and your hands shake while they ghost over the top though you make no move to open it. Cyclone doesn’t move from his chair and by the time your fingers pry the file open, you don’t know how long you’ve been sitting in silence.

The top page is just logistics and a few photos of the landscape you’ve studied endlessly over the last two weeks. Even after 23 years much hadn’t changed, sure they had a runway and a couple more buildings now, but you and your father had studied the same location.

Your tears had stopped falling by now, the realization that your mother had only lived long enough to get buried with your dad settles in. She had been so numb and broken, but still holding it together for you. Nights that you cried yourself to sleep, yelling at the universe for taking him from you. And yet she knew.

She knew that he was somewhere, possibly dead, possibly captive...

Death would have been easier, clean-cut. Without the constant wondering.

Without the small piece of hope that you’re, she held until the very end.

The next page has your stomach turning, and your hands shaking as they ghost across the page. Tracing the fuzzy images, and even though your heart aches, you could feel that blank numb feeling settling in with each page you flip. It’s the last page that kills something within you, your body acting on its own accord as it starts to shake.

It was your father

the lacerations lining his back and chest

the caved in eye socket and broken jaw

the burns and carvings spread across every inch of skin

it was your dad

but the once bright blue eyes were dimmed

dead

he was dead

three years of mutilation

23 years later and now you finally know

but even still it didn’t change that he was gone.

And somehow it felt like a piece of you was too.

Your feet push up from the floor, though the shaking in your hands remains. Your foot sets are slow and careful as you place the folder back on your uncle’s desk. Though the last page remains in your hands, slightly crumped from the grip you have on it.

Those first years in Texas were hard, you missed your parents, but you knew they were together at peace. Now, there still together and at peace... but the truth tares into you in a way that their death hadn’t even been able to.

“Y/n, sweetheart?”

You can barely find the strength to lift your eyes, and the sight of heartbreak looking back at you is only worse. Your head shakes, though the words can’t seem to form. You knew that he would want you to talk about it, but you couldn’t. Not with so much more on the line with this mission. You could finish what your father started; you could do one last thing for him. You would let the pain consume you for the next two days, but when Monday came, you’d shut it down.

Your nose sniffles and your eyes ache. You were tired, so emotionally and physically tired. A knock at the door pulls Cyclone’s attention though your eyes stay settled on the folder. You hear the voice and while you would usually have some snip to say to him, you had nothing. The whiskey bottle sets on the edge of the desk and the hand gripping the god-forsaken page reaches out and grasps it. Your hand drifts off the side of the table, you can’t seem to find the strength to carry it and so it just hangs at your side.

You turn to find a silent Rooster staring at you, they had been talking but stopped at some point now both of them quietly watching you. Your eyes glance back to Cyclone and you can see that he wants to talk, to protest your leaving.

“Not today. Not tell I finish this fucking mission.” Your empty hand points at Cyclone, though your voice lacks your usual conviction.

You can hear him start to say your name, though before he can you sidestep passed Rooster and leave. Your shoulders brush and cause the pilot to turn and watch your disappearing figure. Rooster glances back to Cyclone, though he doesn’t meet Rooster's gaze. His eyes stay settled on the folder on the desk and just barely Rooster can make out your last name.

...

The sound of the Hard Deck door has Bob’s head snapping up in hopes to see you. Jake had shown up two hours ago and said that Cyclone kept you to talk. It didn’t seem like anything out of the normal, plus Cyclone had made the comment about Adams, Bob was sure that you both were just having a good catch-up and laugh.

Though the uneasy face of Rooster coming through the door gains his and everyone else’s attention. It’s a little busier tonight, but Rooster makes it through the crowd in record time and aims straight for Bob.

“Something happened.” The comment is aimed at Bob, though it gains the attention of the whole group and causes them to surround the pair.

“What are you talking about?” Bob was usually meek and mild around the group, though with you missing and Rooster now, his voice comes out hard and demanding.

“Cherry, Y/n.” The use of your name doesn’t go unnoticed and the sight of Rooster now racking a hand through his hair and pacing causes an uneasy feeling to settle over the group. Before Bob can reply, Hangman’s voice cuts in and if you’d have heard it, you would have known that it was Jake. At that moment he was your Jake again.

“Bradshaw, stop fucking pacing and talk.”

“I don’t know what happened. I had to talk to Cyclone about some paperwork, but when I got to his office Y/n was there. Just standing in the middle of the room, gripping onto some paper and not saying anything.” His pacing starts up again, though he keeps talking. “I was just going to ignore it; tell Cyclone I’d talk to him Monday. But the look in his eyes as he watched her, he was barely holding it together. Before I could leave Y/n grabbed the 5th of whiskey and went to leave, she was a shell, guys. Cyclone tried to stop her, and I don’t know what she meant, but I’d never heard her sound like that. Broken, completely vacant.”

“What the fuck did she say Rooster?” The curse word falls from Bob’s lip so naturally, it would call for some attention, though with the problem at hand, no one seemed to notice.

“She said ‘Not today. Not till I finish this fucking mission.’ The words were barely a whisper and then she was just gone. I caught sight of a file on Cyclone’s desk, was classified but it had Bishop blocked out across it.”

You and Bob had this location rule, that you would always keep it on for each in case something happened, and he had never been so thankful. He hears Hangman release a round of curse words as the group talk trying to figure out what to do.

The small dot that lights up Bob’s phone has him releasing a breath, though the location was on the edge of the water, and he didn’t have any idea where you would be around there.

“I’ve got her location, but I don’t ha–”

The phone is ripped from his hand by Jake and before Bob can say anything Jake shoves the phone back into Bob’s hand and turns to leave.

“You’re not going to see her, Hangman.” The comment halts Jake and causes him to slowly turn around and assess Bob. “You’ll just make it worse; you need to say here.”

Jake’s shoulders tense up and the five steps to Bob only take him two. The pair of them stand eye to eye and causes Javy to try and slip in between them.

“Floyd, don’t fucking test me right now.” Bob doesn’t falter at the words and instead steps that inch closer. “You might know a lot, but this, you don’t know fucking shit.”

Jake’s voice cracks slightly and Bob’s stance softens slightly.

“I know exactly where she’s at and I’ve got a pretty good idea of what it’s about. So, I’m gonna go and if you try and stop me, I’ll put you on your ass so fucking quick.”

“Thought she didn’t mean anything to you anymore?”

“She has and always will mean everything to me, Floyd. And right now, she isn’t Cherry. She’s the little ten-year-old that I hugged and held every day that first summer. That little girl needs me and I’ve fucked up a lot, but this. You would have to kill me, to stop me from helping Her.”

...

How you ended up back here, you’re not sure. Call it survival mode that took you back to your safe place. You hadn’t been here since you were fifteen, when you and Jake had flown in for your mother’s, and you guess your father’s, five years.

You’d stripped out of your flight suit after you finished 1/4th of the bottle, finding a pair of shorts in the back of your jeep. Then found your way out to the little cove, it was just off the trail you ran this morning and from it, you could watch the one place that should have been your forever home. But lost the glimmer and shine after they died.

You lift the bottle and the lightness of it has you looking at it in wonder of how you had already put over half the bottle away. Your toe’s dig deeper into the sand as you take another drink. The tears flow from your eyes freely and the burning sensation that should be in the back of your throat is missing.

The sound of feet walking across the slippery rock path, that’s slowly disappearing as the tide rises, gets your attention and you find the one face that you're surprised to see and yet not at all surprised. Jake was the only one you’d ever brought here, he was the only one you trusted enough once upon a time.

“Are you Hangman or Jake today?” Your eyes cloud over and cause you to look back out at the water as he stops just to the side of you. “Cause there’s only one of them that I’m gonna talk to.” You try to sound strong and sure of yourself, though the end breaks through with a small laughing cry.

“Hey, Darlin’.”

The name causes a sob to release from your chest and finally breaking down around the only person you’d ever let fully in. For this moment none of the bullshit matters, you’d need him. You needed your Jake, and he’d come.

His arms wrap around you as your chest heaves, and you can’t seem to catch your breath. Though the hand against the back of your head and the chest you rest against feels like home. He rocks you gently, whispering soothing words against the crown of your head, separated by a kiss every now and then.

Time seems to escape you, though you know it’s been a bit because the tide has risen, and yet Jake hasn’t let go of you once. Your breathing has finally slowed and matches his, grasping onto the one thing that has always grounded you. Even through the bullshit, the thought of Jake, not Hangman, but Jake always settled you.

“What happened, honey?”

Neither of you had talked, other than Jake’s quiet muttering, you had disconnected. You pull back from the warmth of his chest before your eyes then fall to the crinkled piece of paper sitting under the whisky bottle. You don’t make a move for it, you couldn’t look at it again. One of his arms slips from around you to grab the paper, and the small whimper that leaves your chest has Jake’s other hand tightening around you.

“I got you.” You cling to his shirt as another kiss is placed on the top of your head. The sudden tension that rips through Jake’s chest confirms that he’s finally looked and knows exactly who he’s looking at. Anyone could see the resemblance between you and your father, but Jake had come to know him on a deeper level. Through each picture, letter, and tearful night Jake knew him through your eyes. He knew what he meant to you.

Another shaky breath falls from your chest, at the thought of the image and Jake is quick to discard it. He leans back from you, to look at you, needing to see what was racing through your head. He lays a hand across your cheek and gently wipes the falling tears away.

“That was three years after his funeral.” He’d never seen you so broken, not even during the first years you lived in Texas. His brow creases in question and the words fall from your lips so vacantly. “They had him for three years, Jake. They... they... they”

The sentence doesn’t make it passed your lips, as another sob breaks from your chest. You fall back into his chest and the arms wrapped around you hold on to you a little tighter. You miss the shutter breath that matches your own, the harsh breath that shakes through his chest. The words try to break from your lips, but only quiet mutters bounce off of his chest.

“I know, darlin’.” You miss the tear that falls from him. “I’ve got you; I’m not going anywhere.”

You stay like that, curled up in Jake Serein’s lap. The home that you lost.  And somehow found again.

 He was your Jake again...  

[sidney-latrobe]

I am not the girl

Summary: You have a bad habit, and its name is Xavier.

Word Count: 692

Warning: kinda depressing, smut if you squint, toxic relationship vibes, short, midnight thoughts

I am not the girl

His hands on my waist, calloused fingertips from excessive painting roughly pushing my shirt up, his mouth against my neck, thin lips kissing and sucking at the skin, his warm breath fans against the wet pools where his tongue darted between his lips and when he breathes against them, it feels cold and electric like jumping into cold water. I chuckle as his fingers fumble with the buttons on my blouse. I suppose I could have dressed more simply. Despite his skill with his brushes and fingers, buttons appear to bother him, especially when his mind is otherwise occupied. Xavier growls in despair and pulls his lips away from my bruised neck to concentrate on my clothes. I bite my lower lip as I watch Xavier, shirtless, his chest glistening with sweat, struggle to free me from my garment, and when I chuckle again, he jerks at the white fabric until it rips and buttons fly across the room.

            “No bra,” hums Xavier, pleased, and lets his eyes roam over my exposed chest.

            “I didn’t want you to get frustrated again,” I grin.

            “I think you got excited sneaking to my room half-naked,” smirks Xavier before he connects our lips. I savour the taste of his mint toothpaste, the softness of his long hair, and the way he pushes his nose against mine to instruct me to move my head and give him better access. “You’re such a good kisser,” he praises and kisses me again. “And your lips are so fucking soft.”

            “It’s Vaseline.”

            “It’s heaven.”

             My heart swells, and I hate myself. No matter how many sweet nothings Xavier whispers in my ear when he is buried deep inside me or pulls me against his chest underneath the covers, they will always just be that; sweet little nothings.  

            Xavier wastes no time to free me of the rest of my clothing without ruining anything else, but I don’t care. He could tear my jeans and socks and underwear into shreds and burn them for all I care. I suppose there really isn’t anything I won’t forgive him. I moan and throw my head back, and Xavier smirks before he increases the strength of his grip on my thighs, pushing his shoulders between my trembling legs to keep them from collapsing and closing. If he thinks my lips are heaven, his tongue is hell.

            “Is it okay if we —”

            “Yes.”

            “You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

            “You sent me a text saying, “U up?” at 2 in the morning. I think we both knew how this was going to end. Can we skip the part where you pretend to have feelings for me and just have sex?” Xavier furrows his brows, and I sigh. “Look, if you’re not into this anymore, I can just go.”

            “No,” said Xavier too quickly, and I scold myself for the hope that somersaults in my stomach. “I don’t want you to go.”

            I don’t want to go either. I want to stay here, with you, in your arms, but I don’t say these things to him. I did once (maybe a couple of times), but Xavier always said the same things: “We’re just friends that fuck sometimes”, “You’ll feel different in the morning”, and “I don’t see you that way.”

            “I’m here,” I tell him and look at the long-memorized pattern of the few freckles across his nose and cheeks. “I’m not going anywhere.”

            I'll be stuck with him forever; I'll respond to his text in the middle of the night within minutes, but he can't even be bothered to answer when I call his name across the Quad. I'll always spread my legs and welcome his wicked tongue because I enjoy it. But I dread waking up before him in the morning because when I do, I see the person I absolutely despise because I fell for them, and I leave to save him the moment of realization when the spell of lust is broken, and he wants to kick me out of his room in the kindest way imaginable. It’s pathetic. And so am I.

[geraltofriviacollection]

Paring: Geralt x Reader

Summary: Reader is thrown into the Witchers world. Will she Survive?

A /N: This is the fifth part in the series. As usual I have not edited or proofread. Please do not repost, translate, or copy my work without my permission. Please leave comments! ❤️

Chapter Five

My eyes open and I see I’m in a smaller room. It takes me a second to realize that I have been covered in a blanket. Confused, I lift the blanket up to see that I am stark naked underneath. I look around and see Geralt standing a few feet away talking to Vesemir. I try to move to stand. My legs wobble and are about to Collapse when Geralt slips an arm under my arms.

“Do you ever just stay put?!” He growls and pulls me against him so I can stand.

“No.” I snap at him before trying to get my legs under me. Little leg control and trying to clutch this blanket has made things infinitely more complicated. “Where is Ciri?”

“Vesemir took her to the infirmary.” My frown is the only reason I think he continued. “She’s alright, just a small bump on her head.” I sigh and sag a little and Geralt pulls me a little closer to him. “Are you alright?” He asked me.

“I’d like to know why I’m naked. I’m also a little fuzzy on the details of what happened.” I slur, leaning my head to rest on his chest.

“You’re clothes burned off when you….when you killed Eskel.” He says lifting me into his arms. I choose to worry about the first part of that later.

“I’m sorry Geralt. I… Ciri was…..It was the only way to save everyone.”

“You knew he was going to die.” He looks down at me with a blank face as he lowers me back on the bed.

“Yes.” I said softly looking up at him. “I’m sorry, Geralt.” He moves to the door.

“Me too.” He says as he walks out closing the door behind him.

I lay back down on the bed and the full realization hit me of what I’ve done. Something happened for me to be able to change the story like that. The dread fills my stomach thinking about it.

Later I watch from a far as Geralt tells her to pack it in for the day. She stays frozen for just a moment before Geralt says something and she leaves him standing there. I walk over to him as he stares after her.

Something has changed in her. A fear driven intensity that I watch eat her slowly. I see it in the way she pushes herself. Knowing I can’t do anything about it. The only thing giving me comfort is knowing Geralt pulls her back from the edge.

“You know I don’t think it would kill you to hug her.” I say standing next to him watching her walk to the great hall. Geralt simply looks down at me and grunts before walking. “That’s what you do to people you care about when they’re scared or sad. Now look call me crazy-“

“You are crazy.” He growls lowly continuing on.

“Oh! Who would have thought the great Geralt would manage a joke.” I laugh and hear the faintest puff of a laugh come from him. “As I was saying she’s a teenage girl with no living family and hasn’t had a stable place to live since the fall of Cintra. You are all she has, a bit more emotional support would be good.” I explain to him. He turns to look at me with an eyebrow raised. “Jesus this fucking place..Just give her a fucking hug! Okay?” He pauses and looks down at me.

“I’ll try.” He says and then keeps walking leaving me to stand in the cold grinning like an idiot at my tiny win.

After lunch Vesemir and I begin working on helping me use the energy. The burnouts I feel from using that much always leaves me weak and light headed. He seems to think building up stamina by practicing will help. The old man is sadistic in his training even if it is effective.

“Keep the burn steady in your hands only.” He says walking around me. Using a stick he raises my arms that starts to slip. Sweat starts to slip down my spine as my arms begin to shake. I keep the energy pulsing in my hand, but something begins to change. He says.The energy in my hands flickers. “Hold it. Don’t let it slip.” He demands. The energy begins to burn into my hands and I start to feel dizzy. I try blinking it away but it only gets worse and I start to feel lunch wanting to make a reappearance. The energy goes out and I fall back against the table.

“That was almost not terrible. You held on for a little over two hours.” He smiles. Handing me water. I shake my head at it. The thought of drinking it only makes me feel more nauseous.

“How many conversations will I have to have today about men being supportive.” I mumble. Vesemir holds back a chuckle.

“Lass my job is to make sure that when it comes time to kill monsters you don’t get yourself killed in the process.” He says cleaning up. He’s words only serve to remind me of Eskel.

“You mean like I did with Eskel?” I ask quietly. Vesemir pauses in what he’s doing to turn to me again.

“Eskel wasn’t your fault. He was…he was already gone. We couldn’t have done anything for him. You saved us.” He says placing a hand on my shoulder before. The guilt sill eats away at me even with Vesemirs words. No matter how justified I sill ended someone’s life. “Are you alright?” He says looking over me.

“I’m fine. I think I just need some air.” I say. He gives me a look of concern before I walk out to the great hall just as ciri takes her lunch and training sword out the room. Geralt standing near by fixing himself a bowl.

“You don’t belong here.” Lambert says to me as I start walking to the door. Coen tries to silence him. “She killed our brother.” He shouts I flinch at the sound. He stands making is way slowly to me.

“I’m sorry.” I tell him feeling my eyes begin to water. “It was the only wa-“ I attempt to explain.

“You could have done anything else and you chose to kill him!! That was our brother, but that didn’t matter to you.” He shouts coming closer.

“That’s enough.” Geralt’s voice calls out. “Eskel wasn’t our brother anymore. She didn’t have a choice.”

“You brought your whore here. This is your fault too!” He rages before turning back to me. “Tell me did you like it when he took his last breath?” He asks. “How about his screams when you actually killed him? Hmm? Tell me!” He screams.

“I said that’s enough.” Geralt say grabbing lambert by his collar and stepping in between us.” Anger won’t bring him back and bitterness won’t help is find what killed him.” Geralt tells him as he lets lambert go.

“Oh I know what killed him.” Lambert snarls finally his eyes glaring at me. Coen comes and pulls lambert away. I turn before anyone can see the tears in my eyes and run out the front door.

The immediate bite of the cold and stinging air helps. I leave the castle gates and walk along the wall. I slump against the side of a broken tower. The guilt of his death steals the breath from my lungs. The weight feeling unbearable, the weigh heavier than the bruxa. That was an accident of sorts. I didn’t remember that Nevillen was holding a spear. Killing Eskel was intentional. When I left Ciri I knew what I was going to do. I know he would have died anyway and things would have been worse had Geralt killed him. Knowing these things does nothing to ease the ache in my chest.

I could have tried harder to tell geralt. Warn them about Eskel and maybe given them time to find a cure of at least slow down the process. Knowing the terrible things to come and not being able to change that feel like a weight slowly crushing me. I can’t change anyone fate at the end. That makes my question if I really am here to save Ciri.

I don’t know how long I sit there in self hatred and pity. Long enough to loose what little warmth of sun there was. I make my way past the gate, seeing the fires have already been lit for the night. I stand in front of the door dreading to enter. I push the door open and enter to find the hall silent. My eyes turn to the large barrel of ale sitting there waiting for me.

The more I drink the less real this all feels. Each sip washing my guilt further me like the waves of the sea. Laying there looking at the shithole I’ve somehow called home makes a hysterical giggle burst from my lips.

“I’ve been looking for you.” A voice calls out and I hear footsteps coming closer. Soon I see geralt standing above me.

“Maybe I didn’t want to me found.” I smile lazily at him sitting up to bring the cup to my mouth. He pulls it from my hands before the cup touches my lips. I frown at him reaching for the cup as he pull it our of my reach. “I’d like that back.” I hiccup

“I think you’ve had enough.” He frowns back at me.

“Contrary to Lambert's fine opinion I am not your whore you do not pay me therefore you can’t tell me what to do. Now give that back to me.” I fumed Standing attempting to get the cup.

“No.” He replies. Gently pushing me back down.

“I could strangle you with your fucking one worded answers and all you’re stupid grunts.” I slur swaying as I stand. “I didn’t ask to be here! I was in my world comfortable not in constant fucking danger.” I ranted. “Do you know how useless I feel knowing what happens and not being able to change a fucking thing or worse changing something and then not knowing if I made something worse happen?” He never even flinches at my drunken shouts. “The only thing i did was get you and ciri hurt. I kept eskel’s death from your hands hoping I could help him and I killed him.” I choke back a sob. “He’s dead and I killed him.” I sob header as the words leave my mouth. When I start to turn away Geralt pulls me to him. In my drunken state it takes me a moment to realize what’s happening but once I do I sink into his embrace. Soon the tears stop and I feel drained and tired. I close my eyes promising to rest them for just a minute when I feel him pick me up.

“I can walk.” I say sleepily leaning my head against him. He simply grunts, except this time it brings a small smile to my face.

@sparks363 - Sorry I’m so late ❤️

[writingsofwesteros]

yandere larys x innocent wife reader, ( she is 2 months pregnant) who is upset with him because he does not let her go flying or see his dragon, the poor man got tired of his bratty attitude and decides to give it up an aphrodisiac to make it more pleasant 😏🔥.

CONGRATULATIONS ON 2K FOLLOWERS YOU ARE TRULY THE BEST WRITER I'VE READ I LOVE EVERYTHING YOU POST ♡ I HOPE YOU HAVE MUCH MORE FOLLOWERS AND RECOGNITION ♡♡♡♡♡

AN: Hi, I hope this is what you wanted and enjoy it xx

NSFW

You had not spoken to him all day. A soft pout had been on your pretty face every time he looked your way. Your stomach is too early to be swollen; something Larys hated more than he would ever admit. He wanted the whole world to see that you belonged to him. “Please..” You finally began to beg. 

A soft sigh escaped Larys as he tried to focus on the letters in front of him. The candles burning let out a glow as you moved to stand beside him. “Larys…” You pouted; annoyance dripping from your tone now as he finally lent back. He looked up at you as he pushed the goblet of water towards you.

“I do not want to drink..I want to see my dragon.” You babbled out; your voice only becoming louder whilst Larys only sighed. His hand moved over the table as he began to play with his fingers. The silence only began to annoy you once more as you continued. “She would not harm me.” “I worry for the babe, that is all..” Larys whispered as softly as he could. He gently moved to take your hand but your annoyance still existed and you tugged your hand away. “I do not need your permission.” You whispered out, turning your back on him as you moved your fingers through your locks.

You were far too out of it to care for your words as you softly shook your head. “I don’t need you.” You babbled nonsense whilst Larys only stared at you. You shook your head and fought against whining as you reached for the water. It was so unfair, you thought to yourself as you began to sip.

Larys slowly moved from his seat; the slight height difference had him towering over you as your bare feet were on the floor. A soft frown came over your pretty face as you hummed; your body doing the same. His hand gently moved to your side; but his grip was soon tightening. “You are being a brat.”

“No..n..i’m not.” You babbled out. Eyes locked onto him as you unknowingly moved closer to his chest. His hand moved to your face now; still so gently cupping you. He was always so gentle; even in his punishments. Somehow; that was worse. His hand slowly moved up your sides once more.

A pool of desire in your stomach was only growing as heat began to brush over you; not that you noticed any of this. Larys’ hand only moved up your sides till he gently cupped your face. His lips were soon on yours. His hand reached to the back of your neck and brought you impossibly closer.

You moaned as his tongue moved to meet your own. His fingers moving through your locks once more. The slip of a dress in his favourite colour was soon falling from your now bare body. A soft gasp escaped you at the movement. “Larys…” You whimpered out. His hand is slowly moving to your arse now.

His hand fell down on your arse again and again whilst you collapsed closer. Your soft, ample breasts pushed against him. “You have been such a naughty girl.” He purred into your ear and had you whimpering. Your body shaking against him as you felt your mind only softening even more.

“I am good.” You whimpered up at him; your body shaking as your heart began to skip a beat. “Turn around.” Your hands moved down his chest as the words fell from his lips. His stare was only fiery and your body could only hum some more as you turned around. Larys pushed you to be bent over the table.

His hand came down on your arse once more and had you whimpering out. Greedily, Larys moved to pull on your dress. The rip sounded out into the room as did the gasp that followed. His own chuckle echoed around the room as he harshly grabbed at your arse; palming you without care.

“Larys…” You whimpered; for a moment you wondered where the desire you did not have only moments ago was coming from. His hand slowly moved to your already weeping pussy; your inner thighs completely drenched. His slender fingers brushed through your folds; your clit captured between two knuckles.

You moaned out his name again as you fell forward onto the table. His fingers easily slick with your wetness. Your hair fell to one side and Larys leaned in; licking up your neck as you shivered. Without warning; Larys pushed two of his fingers inside your weeping pussy. He pushed deep and hard.

“Oh..gods…no..” You began to wiggle now; slowly coming around even as your mind was still so hazy. Larys only chuckled into your ear as his fingering only quickened. His palm hitting your clit each time. “Where did you want to go?” Larys purred down at you. Soft drool began to move from your mouth.

You moaned; hardly hearing his words as he curled his fingers. Larys softly pushed against your spongy spot each time. “Dr….” You babbled but the words were lost to you. His smirk only widened as he watched your mind fall away. His thrusting only quickened as his free hand moved into his pants.

You moved against the table; your soft breasts brushing against it as you felt your stomach tightening in pleasure. “Whore..such a pretty little whore.” Larys purred as your soaked walls clamped around him. With a dark smirk; Larys pulled his fingers from you before you enjoyed your climax.

“No..no..wanted…” You began to babble now; your eyes so wide as he forcibly turned you around. Your eyes were so wide as you were brought to your knees. “This was a punishment..do you not remember?” Larys purred; his hand moving up and down his hard cock. All you could do was moan. His free hand moved to the back of your neck and guided you.

“Open.” Larys ordered you…and you easily complied. A strong, Targaryen Princess on her knees in front of him nearly pushed him over the edge. Your mouth fell open; drooling now as your tongue slipped out. “Good girl.” He purred as his fat cock slipped inside your hot mouth; moaning instantly. 

He gave you no rest. Larys began to jerk his hips instantly. He pushed deeper inside your mouth whilst his hands rested behind you. He kept you steady; pushing you to his stomach as he face fucked you. All you could do was gag and moan around him; your drool dripping onto the floor as you stared hazily up at him.

[newtonsheffield]

Can we please get Kate and Anthony from the wimbleon au for spicy Sunday?! 🌶️

I know a couple of people asked for this but this is the only one I can find right now so um... yeah.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Kate could hear her mind screaming at her as the crowd roared and the ball flew past her, the indent in the clay mocking her, the line just clipped.

"Set to Goring, 6-4."

Fucking get it together!

Kate had been dreading this match going to three sets, and her legs were already aching. Kate collapsed into her seat relishing the chance to get out of the sun that was burning into her skin.

"Sorry, I had to push it."

Kate's head whipped to face Cressida, raising her eyebrow as she peered around the umpire's stand, "I don't believe that for a second."

Cressida chuckled, "I don't suppose you could just give me this one?"

Kate made a sympathetic noise taking a long drag from her water, "Probably not."

The annoying fucking thing is I don't even like The French Open. I hate that the clay is so sticky, and sometimes it gets in my mouth and I hate that! And here I am battling it out with this-

"You don't even like clay." Cressida sighed, adjusting her visor.

"Er, I love clay, thanks. Love never being able to get it out of my clothes."

"God, and here everyone thought Grandpa over there had made you soft."

Kate felt a flicker of anger spark in her chest and her eyes slid to the player's box unbidden. Anthony was leaning forward on the barrier, his linen suit still a crisp cream colour, his hair blowing slightly in the light breeze his sunglasses on. He leaned back to listen to whatever Mary was saying nodding in agreement. He caught her watching and his smile grew as he waved and her heart fluttered in her chest.

Kate scoffed, snatching her racquet back from her bag, "Well if he's such a grandpa, why did you try to fuck him last year?!"

People in the seats closest to the court murmured and she heard the umpire sigh, "Kate, please don't make me fine you."

Cressida flushed as she passed Kate and they made their way back onto the court. Kate glanced into the stands again, her mother and sister sitting forward clapping, but Anthony had stood, clapping as she bounced the ball on her racquet. Once, twice, three times. He cupped his hands to his mouth.

"You've got this, Kate, Babe!"

"Quiet on the court please."

Kate felt her lips quirk upwards as she bounced the extra balls back to the ball girl behind her. She took the ball and took a deep breath, staring across the court before she bounced it twice, tossed it in the air and-

"Point Sharma, 15-Love."

Yes!

She was exhausted, by the time she held her hands up in the middle of the court while the crowd roared and Cressida rolled her eyes as they shook hands.

"That wasn't even the final."

"Yeah, Guess I won't be seeing you there. Should I say hi to Anthony for you?"

Kate could see Anthony on his feet, clapping wildly as she did her interview then walked off the court, and she honestly could have collapsed by the time she hit the locker room.

"Incredible, incredible, incredible." Anthony crowed as she pushed through the door of the locker room when she'd changed, her muscles still protesting. He held his hand out for her bag, "6-0. Very dominant."

Kate winked as she relaxed into his arms, "Well I know how you appreciate my dominance."

"Spicy." Anthony chuckled, kissing her gently, "Seriously though, you're taking all of them this year. Complete Grand Slam."

"You better not jinx me." She hummed, "Fuck, I'm so tired."

"Let's go to bed then." He smiled at her and her heart fluttered in her chest at the sight of him.

"Ugh, I love you."

"I know you do." Anthony sighed, sliding his sunglasses back on as they made their way out of the tunnel and the clamouring of the crowd reaching out things for her to sign.

"Anthony! Can you sign my cap as well?"

Kate nearly laughed at the stunned look on his face as he took the Sharpie from Kate's hand, raising his eyebrow at the girl, "Are you sure? You realise you're ruining the value of this cap right?"

The girl laughed, "Eh, gotta have Mr Kate Sharma on there as well."

So many other men would have bristled at it, had bristled at the idea of living their life in her shadow but Anthony barked out a laugh and leaned in, "I like the sound of that."

Kate smirked, stopping his hand before he could give the pen back, "Anthony would you sign my shirt?"

He rolled his eyes as the crowd cheered as she tugged her jacket aside, exposing her shirt. Anthony's eyes darkened and her breath caught as his finger tugged at the neckline of her tank top and exposed her collarbone, giving her a wink as he scrawled his name over her skin.

Mr Kate Sharma

"We need to go." Kate said quickly, suddenly nowhere near as tired as she had been. She took his hand and tugged him into the waiting car.

_____

"You said you were tired." Anthony groaned as they burst through the door of the hotel room, Kate's assistant long since waved off.

Kate chuckled, tugging the buttons free on the open collar of his crisp shirt, letting her teeth nip at the soft skin she uncovered, "Guess I'm a fucking liar."

Anthony moaned and his eyes flickered closed, his hands already sliding down her body, gripping her arse a little roughly. "Kate."

"kate." She chuckled, mimicking his voice, "Don't use that voice and pretend you aren't trying to get me into bed."

Anthony stepped back, his hair already sticking up in a hundred different directions from the way her hands had threaded through it in the car as their lips had met again and again. His smile became a smug little thing as she shrugged out of his jacket, not caring if it crumpled on the ground. He slowly untucked his shirt, his huge rough fingers tugging at the buttons, revealing more and more of his toned chest before it joined his jacket and his trousers followed soon after. She was standing in the middle of the room in nothing but his boxer briefs, his hands on his hips, grinning at her.

Kate felt her stomach dropped as his voice did as well, "Maybe I was trying to seduce you a little bit."

"Finish the job then."

Anthony reached forward, tugging her own clothes from her and his lips were urgent on her neck, his hands roaming over her body but his arms held her against him. Anthony bent, faster than she could catch and lifted her onto his shoulders, his nose pressed against the waistband of her underwear.

Kate felt her breath hitch and she felt his own breath fan over her. He had a dark look in his eyes as he stared up at her through his eyelashes. He let out a moan as he ducked his head and pressed his tongue against her through the thin fabric of her underwear.

"Fuck, Ant."

kate felt her eyes slip closed and his hands tightened around her as his tongue moved more urgently and vaguely she thought of the shoulder that ended his career but she couldn't bring the thought to the surface. All she could do was shift her hips helplessly, chasing the gentle pressure of his tongue.

The summer heat had followed them inside, and the humidity swirled around the room as it settled into her bones. She felt her breath coming in sharp gasps as his teeth grazed her through the fabric, barely there and his eyes rolled back in his head and the vibrations of the satisfied noises he made pushed her even closer to the edge until she was dangling by her fingernails.

"Come."

She did, her spine shivered as she fell over the edge and the air rushed around her and- wait. She was actually falling. Anthony flopped back against the bed and they landed with an oomph against the mattress.

Anthony's hands pulled at the underwear, tearing it off her unapologetically and Kate's lungs were already burning, fighting for air as his hands tugged her firmly down against him. He was relentless, he always was when they were like this and his hands encouraged her rough rhythm against him. The stubble on his cheeks was creating so much friction against her and his eyes burned into hers as her hands tugged roughly at his hair, holding him in place. She could feel the desperate moans and gasps tearing at her chest as they ripped their way free of her and praise fell from her lips with his name again and again and again until they were a sharp croak.

Kate could see her vision starting to blur at the edges and her thighs started to shake and Anthony grinned against her and she couldn't hold on, falling over the edge with a sharp shout and her entire body seemed to contort and finally they went still.

"Well, congratulations on making it to the final of the french open."

"Don't look so smug." Kate gasped as she rolled off him, finding his lips with hers, moaning as she tasted herself on his tongue.

"Well, when you're Mr Kate Sharma, there's plenty to be smug about."

"Shut up and take off your underwear."

[angelasscribbles]

The Dark Kingdom Chapter 1: Escape

Series: The Dark Kingdom

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: None yet.

Word Count: 1,053

Rating: MA for series just because themes could get darker

Warnings for this chapter: vague mention of abuse

A/N: Esseri is a catch-all term for all humanoid creatures that aren't human (vampires, shifters, demons, etc)

A/N2: Well I was going to wait for Tumblr to unmark my blog as explicit to post but as it turns out, I don't have that kind of patience. I'm really, really annoyed about it, but it doesn't keep me from posting so I'm doing it.

I thought about waiting until I finish Dark Elf but again, ADHD and no patience. Hopefully no one is confused by two different paranormal fics going on at the same time.

My other stuff: Master List.

The girl ran through the night, heedless of her torn gown and bare feet. She was fleeing for her life and there was only one place she could go, only one place no one would dare follow. One place she could disappear into.

The Black Spire Mountains.

The sounds of pursuit faded behind her as she climbed. Jagged shards of rock pierced her hands and feet as she hauled herself painstakingly, but determinedly up the side of the cliff face.

The sound of the royal hounds baying as they gave chase transformed into yelps and whimpers as the dogs drew close to the foothills.

The horses stopped of their own accord, refusing to cross the invisible barrier between the world ruled by men and the one ruled by monsters.

“She couldn’t have gone in there!” The captain of the King’s Guard spat, “No one is that stupid! Fan out! Search the riverbank, the woods, and the old ruins! Find her! Go!”

Hooves clattered as riders scattered in different directions to do their leader’s bidding.

Riley had no idea how long she climbed but finally, she pulled herself over a ledge and collapsed onto the ground, heaving the cool night air into her burning lungs as she gasped for breath.

Something howled in the distance. Werewolves? Dragons? She didn’t know and she didn’t care. The real monsters were down below. She would take her chances with the Esseri.  

When she could draw breath comfortably again, she rose to her feet and took in the sights. The darkness coalesced around her, and thick tendrils of fog obscured her vision. She glanced behind her, shuddering at the steepness of the cliff face she had just scaled. She listened, but the searchers had either moved on or she was too high up to hear them. Either way, she couldn’t go back down so she moved across the plateau, the wet grass soft on her bloody feet, a welcome change after the unforgiving rock.  

She hesitated when she reached the tree line on the other side of the clearing. The moon was obscured behind a cloud, the dark of the woods in front of her was deep and thick. Something moved through the underbrush, the snapping of a branch echoing through the stillness of the night like a shot.

Fear gripped her as she stumbled back away from the edge of the forest. A rabbit darted past. Relief surged through her, followed by a new jolt of fear as she found herself face-to-face with a lynx. The large spotted cat abandoned the rabbit to investigate its new prey. Its ears twitched as it regarded her. She could hear her own heart thundering in her chest as the predator crouched down preparing to pounce. She took a step back steeling herself to turn and run, but before she managed the maneuver, the lynx made a screaming sound as it spun and fled back into the forest.

Her respite was short-lived. A pair of powerful arms grabbed her from behind. A menacing laugh cut through the quiet, “Ohhhh, what have we here!”

“Let me go!” She struggled in his arms, kicking and flailing to no avail.

“Okay!” He released her and she lurched out of his embrace, running for her life back the way she had come. She never saw him move past her, but he was suddenly, inexplicably in front of her, “Boo!”

She whirled and ran back the other way, crashing into another man. This one didn’t try to grab her. He just stood in front of her, arms crossed, immovable. The collision sent her sprawling to the ground. The first man was behind her now and any chance of escape was rapidly dwindling.

The first man bent over her as the fog lifted, giving her a clear view of blond hair and soulless blue eyes, “What could possibly have possessed you to come here, human? Do you have a burning desire to be eaten?” The grin that spread across his face was bone-chilling, “because that can be arranged.”

“Knock it off Leo,” the second man still hadn’t moved but his tone brooked no arguments. Her eyes moved to him, taking in the chestnut hair and copper eyes that glinted in the moonlight. He seemed more human….barely.

“Ah, come on, Drake! She’s here, in our territory looking helpless and delicious, let me have a bite!”

“What happens to her isn’t up to you. There are treaties to consider.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! She broke the damn treaty the moment she crossed the partition and I saw her first so that technically makes her mine!” He turned his attention back to her, his head tilting to the side as his eyes ran hungrily over her form, his stance not much different than the lynx that he had scared away.

“You will abide by the rules,” the second man replied evenly, “We will take her back to the keep. The dark lord will decide her fate. No one else.” Finally moving, he reached out one hand and pulled her to her feet as if she weighed nothing, “Let’s go.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled as she stumbled into him.

“For what?” He steadied her as his eyes fixed blankly on her face.                   

“Saving me from him!” She moved closer to him, seeking safety in his nearness.

He continued to regard her with an inscrutable expression before shaking his head, “I am not your friend. I’m merely doing my duty, and by the time the dark lord is done with you, you may well wish I had let his brother eat you.”

Her blood ran cold as her eyes darted back to the blond. His brother was the dark lord? Her eyes closed as she swallowed thickly. What the hell has she gotten herself into? Then her eyes fluttered open, and her head turned back toward the edge of the cliff she had just climbed, the memories of her life before solidifying her resolve. She filled her lungs with air as she pushed her shoulders back and thrust her chin out. Making direct eye contact with the one called Drake she nodded, “I’m ready. Take me to him.”

Whatever awaited her in the dark kingdom could be no worse than what she had fled from, she was sure of that.