#its been a long day man he just needs some shut-eye

[sugume]

YOUR BIGGEST FAN — GETO SUGURU

✧･. on vacation with your family, you discover that your biggest fan may not be a mystery after fall.

( TW ) f!reader. camgirl!reader. stepbrother!Geto (in a plot device way, no nii-chan and stuff.) unprotected sex. cream pie. phone sex. squirting. fingering. mutual masturbation. cunnilingus. deception. mentions of bullying. misunderstandings. hurt/comfort. explicit content.  

word count - > 6.6k

authors note. can you see I wasn’t creative with the username? I have a love-hate relationship with this fic because I feel like it goes from 0 to 100 real quick lmfao. This is heavily inspired by the book Eyes on Me! 

“I bet you look handsome.” You smile at the black screen with the default profile picture floating in the middle. 

‘Nah.’ User @Sssman72  types into the chat the takes up the left half of your computer. 

“Stop! Don’t say think bad things about yourself,” You laugh, making sure your tits jiggle in the flimsy red lingerie you're wearing. “I know your handsome baby.” You reassure your favorite client. The man who alone gives you 50% of your income. He’s the one who bought you this pretty lingerie set you're wearing.  

‘You look tired babydoll...how was today?’ He types. 

“I’m fine, I promise, just had a long day, was on a few other private chats with some other customers the entire day.” You confess. In all honesty after this call you were planning to pass out and try to get a few hours of sleep before you had to fly out to your family's vacation home. Today on your live stream, you told your followers you were going on vacation for the next two weeks and wouldn't be online. You didn't plan to get on a call with @Sssman72 but he had texted you as you were getting ready to go to bed that he had a bad day and wanted to see you. Before you had a chance to protest, he spent you 500 and said it would only be 30 minutes. You gave in because first he was your biggest supporter and you wanted to be there for him in some way with all the money and gifts, he sends you and second, you didn’t mind chatting with him, you thought he was the sweetest and you struck lucky the day he joined one of your lives.  

‘I’ll let you go then, I want you to get some rest before your flight, sorry for keeping you up beautiful just needed to vent about my ass job.’ 

“I’m always here for you handsome, I'll make sure to send you those pictures you requested through the week.” 

‘Make sure you enjoy your break babydoll, don’t gotta worry about me. Goodnight.’ 

You say your goodbyes and end up falling asleep in the lingerie bought you as soon as you shut your laptop. 

— 

“How’s college y/n?” Your stepfather asks when you slide into the back seat of the car. Your mother fitting the last of your luggage into the trunk.  

“it’s fine, some of my classes are difficult but nothing I can't manage.” You answer as you buckle in. 

“Oh yeah? Thats good. You mom tells me you started a job a few months ago, how's that working out for you?”  

You tense under the small blanket you’ve thrown over yourself. 

“u-uhm yeah its good—yeah it’s been fun.” 

“I’m sorry sweetheart, I don't remember what you mother told me you did again.” He chuckles. 

“Uhm—I'm a bartender, m-my friend works there and got me a position.” You tell him the lie you've rehearsed hundreds of times. You start to sweat under the blanket. Did he buy it? What if he and your mom found out what you did? Are they planning to ambush you when you get to the house? They're going to make you drop out and chain you up in the basement when they find out. You throw the blanket off, suddenly too hot and alert. Guess that nap you were planning on taking during the drive wasn’t happening. 

“Oh, that’s fun sweetheart, I remember I bartended awhile when I was in college, got fired for stealing the alcohol though,” He laughs at the memory before turning to look at you. “You wouldn’t do that though, you’re a good girl.” 

You nod, thankful that your mom decided now to take your stepdad's attention away and get in the car. 

“Alrighty were good to!” She cheers. Your stepdad turns back around in his seat before starting the car. 

“Finally, thought we were going to get a fine parked here another minute.” 

“Oh, shut up! Y/n are you excited to go back to the vacation house? You haven’t been in years!” You mom asks as you guys pull out of the airport.  

“Yeah, I can’t wait to, I missed the hiking trails and the waterfalls. None of that in the big city.” You answer truthfully. You did miss the silence of the secluded house you vacationed at every summer since your mom married your stepdad. It was the company that you hated. As if your mom heard your thought, she says something that makes your heart drop. 

“Suguru feels the same way, we didn't even have to blackmail him to come! That boy...” 

“Suguru is coming?” You scream.  

“Coming? Sweetie, he’s already arrived this morning. I’m so excited were all together as a family again.” 

“Are you fucking serious mom? Turn the car around and bring me back to the airport!” You screech. You were not going to spend the next week with your bully of a stepbrother.  

“Y/n!” You mom gasps. 

“Sweetheart, he’s changed.” Your stepdad tells you as if that's going to make it better. 

“That’s what he wants you to think! He’s the worst human being on planet earth, please don’t make me spend the next few weeks with him, please mom,” you lean over the consul. “Please dad.” You pout at your stepfather. You know he gets weak whenever you call him dad. 

“Sweetheart...” 

“No! You aren’t sweet talking your way out of this, he’s changed. He isn't the same teenager with a chip on his shoulder, he’s matured. He even told me the reason he’s coming is to apologize and bond with you y/n.” 

“He’s lying mom! He doesn't care about me; I wouldn't be surprised if he told you that just so he could drown me in the lake. You guys own the land so nobody would find my body!” You start to tear up. You were going to jump out of the car if your parents didn't turn back around. Your stepbrother was your biggest tormentor since the day you met him. From picking on you at home to getting the girls to bully you at school. He made your life hell for four years. The day you left for college you screamed how much you hated him and told your parents that the four of you would only be in the same room again when you lay in a casket. 

“Oh, don’t cry sweetheart. Your mother is right, he’s changed, I wouldn’t have allowed him around you if he hadn’t. Give us a week and if you want to leave, I promise I'll drive you back to the airport and you’ll never have to see him again, please?” 

“No.” You cross your arms and look out the window despite knowing that they’ve won. You can’t jump out of the car now that you are on the highway, and you didn’t bring your own car to drive yourself back to the airport. 

“We’ll give you the master suite, the whole attic floor to yourself.” They bargain. You act like you’re thinking of accepting the offer. With the master suite taking up the entire third floor you could lock yourself up there and ignore Suguru. You could also film videos and even go live because the room is soundproof. You perk up at that. You could just spend your vacation on stream and chatting with @Sssman72. He’s somehow always free for you and told you that if you get bored you could call him. He’ll make up for your stepbrother’s awful behavior. 

“Fine, I’ll take the master suite.” 

— 

“Okay that's the last of your luggage, we’ll be having dinner in a few hours on the dock.” 

“Kay, thanks.”  You watch your stepdad shut the door. Once he does you release the tension in your shoulders. You lock the door before running to throw yourself onto the huge king bed. You sink down. You didn’t see Suguru when you arrived, you mom told you he was probably in town. You hope he stayed in town for the next two weeks.  

After laying it bed thinking about how much you hate Suguru with a passion you pull out your phone and open the porn app. You click on messages and open your chat with @Sssman72. 

‘Hey...I know I told you I was on vacation but I already wanna go home. You don't have to answer lol.’ You send. He immediately starts typing.  

‘Of course, I'll answer you babydoll. What’s wrong?’  Your face heats at the pet names. You wish you knew what he looked like, all he told you about himself was that he was in his twenties and worked for his father's company. You want to know more, what he looks like, what he sounds like. If the messages he sends make you sweat, you wonder what’ll happen if he spoke to them to you. In your head he’s a handsome bachelor who just so happened to find you and deem you worthy of his time and money but hell, he could be lying. He could be some old rich man in his eighties who likes young girls like all the rest of your viewers. The romantic part of you ignores that and is convinced he is who he says he is and that one day you’re going to meet in person and fall in and have a bunch of his babies. 

‘You know that stepbrother I told you about?’ 

“Mm, that asshole who bullied you?’ 

‘Yep, that asshole. Anyways I bet you won't guess who's here on vacation with me?’ 

‘Are you serious?’ 

‘Dead serious...my parents didn’t tell me until I was already trapped and now, I have to spend my vacation away with a man who hates me for no reason.’ 

‘Wow that’s crazy lol. Did your parents tell you why he chose to vacation with you if he doesn’t like you?’ 

‘Apparently he’s here to make amends...he’s probably here to kill me so he gets all the inheritance.’ 

‘Well, what if he’s really there to make amends baby?’ 

‘You should've heard the groan I just let out. I can’t believe you’re on his side babe. When I tell you that he too evil for that I mean it.’ 

‘Hey, you know I'm always on your side babydoll, I'm just giving you a man’s perspective on it. Maybe he realized he’s fucked up and he feels back so he wants to apologize for all the wrong he caused you’ 

‘Yea well from a women's perspective he’s an asshole who doesn’t care about anyone else but himself!’ 

‘Don’t say the baby...hypothetically what would he have to do to get you to forgive him?’ 

‘Hypothetically he's going to have to get on his knees and beg for my forgiveness every time he sees me until I deem, he's forgiven. And he’s also gonna have to send every dollar in his bank account to me AND be my slave for the rest of his life...hypothetically.’ 

‘Lol you never know babydoll, he just might be willing to do anything for your forgiveness. I know I would.’ 

‘That’s because you’re perfect and care about my feelings...now I'm gonna go get some sleep before having to eat with the devil. Pray he doesn’t poison me and I survive the night.’ 

— 

You sit at the dinning room table waiting for Suguru. Of course, he’s late, he doesn’t care about anyone's time but his. You say so to your parents. 

“Y/n stop being so harsh and give him a chance please.” You roll your eyes and go back to scrolling on social media.  

“Sorry I'm late.” You jump at the deep voice before whipping your head to the left where your stepbrother stands looking so...so different. 

“Suguru! No need to apologize! Come sit.” Your mother points to the empty seat opposite you. Suguru glances at you and smiles before walking to the seat. You gasp. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile at you or anyone else. Actually, you know he hasn’t smiled at anyone, he was know for being so stoic. You watch intensely as he pulls out the chair and sits. He looks like a different man, his hair is long, down past his shoulders, the black shirt he's wearing stretches around a huge chest. He looks like he spends half his day in the gym. And those eyes—those eyes that always had heavy eyebags and glared at everyone that looked his way, look at you with gentle look you can’t place. They even crease with the smile that he’s wearing. Your eyes widen, he has a fucking dimple. He looks like a gentleman, he looks handsome. You can't stop staring at his smile. 

“Y/n? You alright?” You Stepdad breaks through the haze you were in. You look at your parents and back to Suguru who all have concerned expressions on their faces.  You feel your entire body heat in embarrassment.  

‘Uhm—yea I'm fine.” You look at your parents, refusing to look back at that smile.  Suguru has different plans. 

“Hey y/n, it’s been a long time yeah?” Suguru says in that deep voice that has your heart beating faster.  Out the corner of your eye you watch as Suguru reaches over the food, holding his hand out. Does he really think you’re about to give him a damn handshake?  

...Are you seriously thinking about shaking that huge hand? No, you won’t. 

You purse your lips and cross your arms over your chest. You swear you see him glance down at your cleavage but the next second, he's holding eye contact. You blink and look away with a ‘hmm’. He lowers his hand.  

“Alright guys let's eat, okay?” You mom breaks the tension. Everyone grabs their share, and you eat in silence for a while, nobody brave enough to speak and you simmering with anger at Suguru. You throw glare at him every time you look up from your plate which happens more times than you’d admit.  

“You got something there.” Suguru points the sharp end of the fork at you. 

“What?” You ask. 

“There,” He grabs his napkin and starts to reach for you. You tense suddenly locked in place. Suguru brings the napkin to the corner of your mouth and wipes it. “There you go.” 

You stare at him like he's grown three heads. Maybe he’s dying and wants to make amends? Why else would he be treating you like this. Maybe someone took over his body? That has to be it. 

“Uh thanks?” You mummer, unsure what to say. 

“You're welcome little sis.” You choke on your spit. What the hell did he just call you!? He must be messing with you; you’re suddenly filled with rage. You glare at him, hoping he disintegrates with the sheer force of your stare. 

“You’ve grown up.” Suguru says after another blinking contest, you lost. 

“Yea, have you?” You snarl. He stops smiling. 

“I have,” he says seriously, setting his fork down. “I want to talk about—” 

“I don’t care.” 

“Please—” 

“No!” You slam your hand on the table, and he goes silent. You’re overcome with guilt before you remember that he bullied you for a year, that he told the entire school to bully you after he graduated. Fuck him. 

— 

You slam the door the door of your room speed walking to the bathroom. You strip your clothes before turning on the tub. You finally breathe when you settle into the scolding hot water. You needed to wash his gaze, his touch, off your body. The entire dinner after your conversation was awkward, your parents didn't really speak, and you refused to glance back up at Suguru who wouldn't stop staring.  

You hated him. You hated him. You—you can’t bring yourself to hate him. For some unknown reason you can’t bring yourself to hate him despite everything he's put you through. Why? You shake your head. You don’t want to think of Suguru while you're trying to relax. You phone dings. You pick up and a smile replaces your frown. @Sssman72. 

‘How are you babydoll, you alive?’ 

‘Yes, wish I wasn’t though.’ 

‘Why what happened during dinner?’ You sigh and send him voice message detailing everything that happened. 

‘Oh wow.’ 

‘I know.’ 

‘You gonna give him a chance to explain?’ 

‘I don’t know I don’t want to but also, I want to hear his explanation...can we call I really don't want to type all of this out?’  

‘Course, give me a second. I'll call you.’ You wait a few minutes before you hear the familiar ring. 

“Hi handsome.” you smile at the blank profile. Right now, you’d do anything to see him, to hear him comfort you, to be in his arms. He could be the ugliest man in the world, you wouldn’t care. 

‘HI beautiful. Talk to me.’ He types into the chat box. 

“I don't know. like I said I want to hear him out but also, I don't want to hear it because what it it’s bad, what if it doesn’t excuse it? But also, what if it does and I feel like shit for being mean back—it's just so stressful.” 

‘I know babydoll. I wish I could be there right now and hold you. I would do anything to take that hurt away. I'm sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.’ 

“Stop, don’t apologize you didn’t do anything. If anything, I should apologize for using you as a therapist when you paid to see me naked.” You laugh. 

‘Beautiful girl—I would rather pay to hear all your problems and be able to comfort you than see you naked again.’ 

“Wow you don’t want to see me naked, I'm hurt. Just kidding, thank you for saying that handsome.” You feel your heart skip a beat at his message. Maybe you can convince him to turn his camera on tonight. 

“I kinda wanna take my mind off everything right now.” You murmur into the phone before turning on your camera. You hold it above you and smile so he can see everything.  

‘So, fucking beautiful, prettiest girl in the world. You gonna give me a show?’ 

“hm,” You use your free hand to tap your chin. “Only if you do something for me.” 

‘And what is that?’ 

‘Can you turn your camera on? And before you say no, you don’ have to show your face—maybe you can just show your dick or something else. We can masturbate on the phone, please handsome please.” You whine giving him your best puppy face. You watch as the chat bubbles disappear and reappear. You’re about to back out but all the sudden you’re looking at a dim lit room and a huge cock between a big hand. Your eyes widen and the sight. 

"Y-you probably won’t be able to type and jack off at the same time” You suck in a breath. Please turn your audio on please... 

‘I’m gonna turn my audio on but I won’t talk, okay? Think you can get off on my moans babydoll?’  

You nod. 

‘Good girl now show me that pretty pussy, make it squirt for me.’ 

You lift yourself up to sit on the corner of the tub, propping one leg on tub and spreading the other that rests in the water. You flip the camera so your mystery man can watch you finger yourself. You hear him groan and spit onto his hand. 

You moan softly at the sound, teasing your entrance. You wish he was talking to through it, but you’ll settle for this for now. One day... 

“Mmm, wish you were the one fingering me right now,” You circle your clit before gliding your fingers out your cunt. 

“Wish you were here, holding me n' fucking me.” You curl your fingers into your g-spot and moan. You look back at your phone, watching your stranger play with the tip of his long cock. It looks so big compared to his hand, you know you’ll struggle to take it. Your pussy clenches around your small fingers that do close to nothing compared to your dildos at home.  

“Wan’ your cock in me so bad, it looks so big you’ll have to force me to take it, you’ll have to hold me down and make me take it.” You cry out. You watch as he squeezes his hand up and down his cock. It looks painful. He grunts louder. 

“M’gonna cum for you handsome, m’gonna give you what you want and make a mess,” You speed up your fingers to match how fast he slides his fist up and his cock. You moan louder, thankful that you got the suite and aren’t in the room next to your stepbrothers, how embarrassing it would be if he could hear you pleasuring yourself.  

You clench harder around your fingers. Your stranger starts to grunt and groan louder. You shiver at his deep voice on the edge of cumming. 

“Please please let me cum please! Can I come for you please?” You cry, your pussy starts to squelch, spurts of liquid coming out. 

“Yes, cum for me.” Your mystery man groans in an all too familiar voice but before you have time to think about it, you’re squirting, the grip on your phone loosening and falling into the water. 

“N-no!” 

— 

“Yes, this phone is done for, your mother and I are heading into town we can try to find a company that sells phone, but you know how small towns like this are.” You stepdad stares at your phone that’s been sitting in a container full of rice since last night.  

“Fuck, I need it for work! What am I going to do?” You look up at him in distress. 

“What do you need your phone for bartending?” He looks down at you incredulously. 

“My boss is sending me some important email and I didn't bring my computer.” You lie. 

“Well, you can use Suguru’s laptop, I saw him using it this morning in the sitting room. Think he left it there before he went on his run.” Your stepdad points down the hall as your mother rounds the corner.  

“Ready to go honey?” She asks your stepdad. 

“Coming! Use Suguru laptop to check your email, if we come back and you haven’t got the email you can use my phone. Bye! Have fun and be nice!” Your stepdad waves before following your mother. You wave back. 

 Of course, you had to use Suguru’s laptop. Maybe you can just log in, tell your stranger that you’re okay and that you won’t be able to contact him until you get a new phone and then delete the history before Suguru comes back from his run. It’ll only take a few minutes...you hope he doesn’t a password.  

You run to the sitting room, but you don’t see a laptop anywhere. Dammit, he always has to make things hard for you. You walk up the round staircase and down the hall until you're standing in front of Suguru’s room. You look around, as if Suguru's gonna pop up out of nowhere and attack you from going into his room. You shake the thought off and open his door. You stop and stare at the bed, you feel like you've seen that duvet. You chalk it up to a bunch of man having the same bedding before turning to scan the room for a laptop. You quickly spot the laptop on his desk and run to it. You sigh in relief when it opens to the last tab he had opened. Thank you Suguru for not caring about who gets into your shit. You click new tab and start to type in the name of the website you use before you freeze.  

You only need to type in three letters before the website popped up in top hits. You stop breathing. No... He couldn’t know what you do. Is that why he came here? Was he going to expose you to your parents? Was he acting nice to butter you up before crushing you? Your vision starts to blur. All boys watch porn, maybe he just happens to watch porn on the same website you film on. You can block your account from him so that he never finds you. You swallow before clicking the tab. You shakily move they pointer over to the search bar before you spot something in the left corner that makes you dizzy.  

Right where the username of the viewer is supposed to be is the username @Sssman72. Your heart stops and you feel wetness hit your hands. This can’t be real. You move to chat and cry out when you see your username. The last text he sent was asking what happened. No—this is a dream; you’re going to wake up and this is going to be a bad nightmare. You refuse to believe the man you’ve been slowly falling in love with over the last six months is your stepbrother, your bully. The man you confessed all your darkest secrets is the man who never showed you an ounce of kindness. Is this a part of his master plan? Is he going to blackmail you and hold all the nudes you’ve sent him and all the secrets you’ve told him over your head. You’re going to become his slave, doing whatever he wants of you until you die. You curl into yourself and cry harder at the thought.  

“Y/n? What are you do—” Suguru stops when he sees what's on the screen. “Let me explain please baby.” He reaches out to touch your shoulder. You flinch away from his touch.  

“D-don’t call me that,” You sob staring at him with such heartbreak in your eyes he wants to drop and beg for your forgiveness. “You-you, it was you the whole time.” Your voice breaks. 

Suguru nods slowly trying to reach out for you again. You take a few steps away. “Was this some masterplan to hold me under your thumb for the rest of my life!?” You scream at him. 

He’s grateful your parents went out of town; this would be an absolute shitshow if they were here.  

“No babydoll—” 

“I said don’t call me that you asshole! Stop pretending. I hate you Suguru! You win okay, you win!” You tell him before you run out of his room. He curses before running after you, you run up that stairs and into the suite but before you can shut the door Suguru shoves it open. You drop to your knees to pull your suitcase from under your bed. 

“Please listen to me y/n. I wasn’t faking—stop packing and let me explain.” Suguru pleads as he watches you throw your clothes into your suitcase. 

“Y/n, baby, please listen to me please” He grabs your arm, and you try to fight him, but he pulls you down onto the bed with him. He hugs you around the waist and you push in this chest trying to break free. His heart aches. He hates seeing you hurt, he hates that he was the one who made you cry like this. He hates that you only associate him with the version of himself that he created to stop anyone from seeing what he was truly feeling. He hates that you won’t accept the real version of him now that you know it was him. He holds you tighter as you scream and cry. He whispers sweet nothings as you whisper how much you hate him. At some point you stop fighting and wrapping your arms around his neck. You sniffle into his neck, and he rubs your backs and rocks you.  

“Why?” You ask hoarsely after all the anger leaves your body. Now you feel numb, like you're watching your life from a third perspective.   

“I never hated you, I never lied, and I never planned to blackmail you—I know you don’t believe me baby but everything I've ever told you on that app was real. Everything I feel for you is real.”   You pull your face out of his neck and stare up at him. You don’t believe him. 

“I have never hated you y/n. I swear it. I hated the fact that my father replaced my mother with yours not even a year after she died. Baby, I never fucking hated you. I was just a teenager who didn’t know how to express my emotions so I took them out of the person I knew I could hurt the most. It was bad I know; I feel like shit to this day. When I graduated and got away from my father, I realized how bad I was to you, and I got into therapy. I wanted to be better for myself, for you, for everyone around me. I didn’t know that the bullying continued when I left. I didn’t know how bad people had taken it until that day I came back home. When you told me off about it, I was so confused. I’m so fucking sorry. I want to reach out and apologize for everything and the day I planned to do it Satoru—my best friend, you remember him—well he sent me the link to your account and so I made an account and it all just spiralized out of control after that. I was too embarrassed to tell you it was me and then we started to form a connection, a real connection, and I didn’t want our conversations to end so—fuck I'm sorry. Everything I told you; I meant it. I fucking meant every word.”  

You sit there stunned, trying to comprehend everything he said. You never knew about his mother. You thought she had passed away long before your mom and his dad had met. But you remember when your stranger told you that. God, you remember when your not so mystery man told you about his family the seemed so familiar to yours. And he didn’t tell all those people to bully you after he left? Did he mean every word? Every word of affirmation he gave you. Those times when he told you that you were capable of being loved and that you were going to find someone who would love every part of you, the good and bad. Was that the same Suguru? You try to wrap your mind around the fact that the man you love is your stepbrother. 

“I know it’s a lot of information.” 

“It is.” 

“Do you believe me?” He looks at you with furrowed brows. You do. Despite everything you find yourself nodding. He sighs and you feel the tension release from his shoulders that your arms are wrapped around. You suddenly realize the position you two are in and feel your face heat. Your arms are wrapped around his neck and your legs are on either side of his thick thighs his cock, the cock that you saw last night, is right underneath you, if you lower yourself an inch, you’d be sitting on it.  

Suguru grips your waist with one hand, the other cupping the right side of your face. You look up at him and sniffle. He leans down until your foreheads are touching.  

“If you give me achance, I'll treat you like the queen you are. I’ll love you the way you’re meant to be loved. One chance is all I ask for.” He mummers rubbing your noses together.  

You hesitate, one part of you wants to run away with him because he’s the man you’ve wanted for the last six months. The other part of you wants to run away from him, he’s your stepbrother, he lied, and you don't know if he would’ve ever told you the truth. But isn’t that what he came here to do? Can you blame a little boy for being mad at the people who replaced his mother?  

You give him his answer by grabbind his neck and push his lips towards you. If this does go to hell at least you’ll have a story to tell your feature children.  

Suguru kisses back before standing and pulling you off him. “What—” 

“You said you wanted me on my knees, didn't you? I’m ready to serve you in any way you want. I can have my savings transferred to your account by tomorrow night.” He says as he drops to his knees. You stare at him with wide eyes as he holds your legs and starts kissing from knee to right where your pussy starts.  

“Suguru—” 

“Shh babydoll let me take care of my girl, show her how sorry I am for hurting her.” He mummers before dropping your leg and picking up the next one. He repeats this a few more times before finally asking you to lift your hips so he can pull your leggings and panties off. Suguru throws your pants behind him before standing up to pull your tank top off. You reach behind to unbuckle your bra and toss it on the floor with your other clothes. Suguru chuckles, reaching up to kiss all over your face. 

“Take your clothes off too Sugu.” You giggle, reaching for his sweatpants. You get a firm grip and yank them down. His thick cock bounces out. Your mouth goes slack. The phone call didn’t do it justice. It somehow looks bigger than before and if you weren’t wet before, you are now. That thing is going to be inside you soon.  

“Like what you see beautiful?” You nod dumbly as you watch Suguru step out of his pants and take his shirt off with one hand. He’s so fucking sexy.  

He drops back down to his knees and pulls you until your ass is hanging off the bed. “Lay down and let me please you.”  You comply and watch as Suguru lifts your legs up and buries his face in your cunt. Your hands fly down to his long shiny hair. 

“Suguru!” You moan as he licks you from asshole to clit. He sucks on your clit before biting both lips. Your pussy clenches. “Feels s’good Sugu!” You grind down on his talented tongue. Suguru hums into your clit before setting one of you thighs in his shoulder and bringing his fingers to your entrance. He teases you, only pushing his fingers into the joint before taking them out. You cry out in frustration before pulling on his long hair when he finally slides two big fingers into you. 

Yours definitely don't compare to his long thick ones. Your back arches off the bed as Suguru fingers jackhammer into you all the while his mouth sucks on your clit.  

“S’good Sugu! Don’t stop!” You scream letting go of hair with one hand to cover your loud mouth.  

“Don’t hide those sweet moans from me babydoll. If you want my cock, you’ll let me hear you scream my name as you cum on my fingers and mouth.” 

You bring you hand back to hair and grind hard as you get closer and closer to orgasm.  

“Gonna cum! M’gonna come!” You cry, as you release all over Suguru's face. He moans and sucks even harder before adding another finger. You cry at the sudden intrusion. It doesn't take long before you’re coming all over again, this time liquid shooting out of you and onto Sugu’s chest.  

“Yes baby, that's it—what a good girl,” He praises as he slurps up all your juices. “Such a fucking good gril f’me.” 

“Gimme a kiss.” You say between heavy breaths.  

“Does the pretty girl want kiss?” You nod, pulling Suguru down with you by the shoulders. 

“Want you to kiss me while you fuck me for the first time. Want it to be special,” You confess shyly. Suguru leans down and pecks you on the forehead, then the nose, and then both of your cheeks. 

“Don’ tease meanie!” You laugh when he kisses the corner of your lips. 

“M’sorry baby, can you forgive me?” He pouts.  

“Hmm—I’ll forgive you only if you kiss me right no—” You don’t even finish your sentence before Suguru shoves his tongue down your throat. You kiss him back and your tongues fight for dominance. Suguru wins and smiles into the kiss. You can’t believe this is happening. Your bully, your stepbrother, your mystery man is kissing you right now. Your about to make love with said man. 

“You okay babydoll?”  

“Mhm, just can’t believe this is all happening.” 

“Me too beautiful, you sure you want to do this right now? We can always wait.” 

“No, I want to. I want you.” You raise your hand to tuck his hair behind his ear. He smiles, showing you that adorable dimple. You kiss it.  

Suguru kisses your lips once more before he grabs his cock, rubbing it up and down your cunt. 

“Fuck—I don’t have a condom.” 

“I’m on the pill—please Sugu.” You beg, frustrated from all this foreplay. You’ve been on edge since last tight in the tub.  

“Alight beautiful,” He pushes the head of his cock into you. “Fuck me—you feel so good. Always knew you would.” You feel his fist guide his long cock into you. You moan. He fits you perfectly.  

“Sugu—feel’s s’good, want more!” You cry, fisting the blanket’s underneath you.  

“Does my baby want more—does she want to orgasm on my cock?” You nod watching Suguru lift your legs to his shoulder. He leans down, bringing your feet to the side of your head. You whine at the stretch. 

Suguru groans as he pulls his cock in and out of you.  

“S’too much!” You moan into his shoulder. He just laughs and picks up his pace. The fancy headboard above the bed starts to slam against the wall. You watch with blurry eyes as the stock photos hung on the wall shake.  

“Said you wanted more baby, ‘m giving you more.”  he says before biting into your neck. Hard. You scream, back arching at the pain. Your hands fist the sheets even tighter, knuckles turning white. Suguru unlatches his jaw. Lifting his head to admire his mark. Now all your customers will know you belong to someone. To him. He kisses the mark. 

“Sugu, It’s too much. Hurts! m’gonna cum!” You cry, tears soaking the blanket breath you. 

“Oh, don't cry baby—shhh—you’re so beautiful y/n. So damn pretty.” He whispers, coaxing you to orgasm. Your eyes roll to the back of your head. You stop breathing for a second as your pussy contracts around Suguru's cock. Suguru follows in suit, spurting his cum deep inside your pussy. 

“Fuck,” he draws out, collapsing onto you.  

“T-that was—” 

“The best sex ‘ve ever had.” 

“Same.” You smile before wincing. 

“What’s wrong babydoll.”  

“You're about to break my damn hip if you keep my legs up any longer,” Suguru lefts himself enough to bring your legs to his sides. “And you probably ripped a chunk of my neck off with that little trick of yours.” You grumble. 

“It’s not bad, promise.” He kisses the bite mark softly. 

“And all the pictures fell of the wall.”  

“I’ll put ‘em back up baby,” He laughs into your ear. “Just let me hold you for a second.”  He kisses your cheek before snuggling deeper into you. You throw your arms around his shoulder while you both try to wrap your head around everything that happened.  

[bisexualiteaa]

actually dying for a cooper howard x vaultie!reader smut where they have some slow burn longing steaminess, but coop thinks she’s too good for him UNTIL she comes in contact with a sex pollen-esque chem and he finally gives in to save her 🥵 please work your magic and elaborate however you want

A Flame in Your Heart

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: NSFW like absolutely filthy y’all, you’ve been warned. 💀 unprotected sex, irradiated cream pie, p in v, p0rn w/ plot, slow burn, flirting, cursing, perverted thoughts, dub-con (because of chem usage though consent is asked and given!) rough sex, dirty talk, choking, praise kink, degradation, squirting, mention of fingering, FEELINGS!! Slight deviation from TV series, possible grammar/spelling mistakes, cooper starts off mean but slowly warms up to reader

AN: I absolutely LOVED this request! I was up all night writing down all my ideas and spent all this morning perfecting it, and this has to be my longest one yet! I thank you for your patience anon and my lovely readers as I finally post this! Hope you enjoy and that I have done your ask justice! ❤️

Life outside of the vault was difficult to say the least. You felt hunger and dehydration in ways you’d never experienced before, going out of your way to do desperate things you would normally never do in order to get said food and water. The heat was unbearable, every stretch of land you walked across had a danger lurking around every corner, and worst of all, you’d never felt so alone. You weren’t sure what it was about you, maybe it was because you were new to the surface, maybe it was your nearly perfect skin, but everyone seemed to stare or glare at you when you would walk through. It wasn’t until you’d passed through Filly, meeting Ma June that you realized people didn’t take kindly to people like you. “Vaulties” she called them, an audible disdain in her tone, making you look down to remember you were in your blue and gold Vault-Tec suit. “I’ll be going then, have a nice day!” You said skiddishly, offering her a kind smile before turning and exiting the shop. You just wanted to make friends, why was that so hard up here? So when your eyes set on a man clad in classic Wild West cowboy clothes, watching smoke settle after a stand off, you weren’t sure why but you knew that was who you needed on your side in this world. Before you knew it, your feet were already moving and mouth speaking to him, grabbing his attention.

“I ain’t no charity case sweetheart, I don’t take on strays” The ghoul spoke, his southern drawl making him even more memorable than the marred texture of his skin. You looked to the dog that trailed not far behind him as he walked, changing its pace to keep up with the man. “The dog there with you tells me otherwise” you quipped. “Ain’t my dog” he responded harshly as he continued walking. “I can make it worth your while!” You yelled, making him stop in his tracks for a moment, a scary sight at first before you worked up the nerve to come closer once he turned back to you. “And how you suppose you’d do that?” He asked, and at first you didn’t know what to say, the words leaving your mouth before you could really think of a good enough reason. Did nobody like company anymore these days? “Well…I can be your scavenger! Pretty good at collecting stuff” you offered, shaking your bag and making things rattle around inside to prove it, making him give a huff of a chuckle. “‘f I wanted a pack mule I’d‘ve found a brahman” he shot you down. “Okay, then I can be good company to talk to!” You offered. “They make radios for when I want to listen to someone yack” he shut down once again. “I’m a good cook! Even with shitty supplies, I can make a stew that’d put a smile even on the meanest son of a gun’s face” you said, hopeful that he’d at least take you for something, but you had a feeling he’d probably turn you down again. “Iguana on a stick’s just fine” he said, though he had to admit the stew sounded good. Reminded him of home before all this wasteland bullshit. “Oh, umm…” you said awkwardly, your tone growing quiet and my how it put a sad look in your eyes. The evil part of him liked it, seeing your sweet innocent face all downturned but the part that was still human deep down, the part that hardly ever saw the light of day anymore, had half a mind to let you.

“Got a lotta nerve walkin’ up t’ me, girly. If you somehow been lucky enough that you ain’t met dangerous yet, you’re lookin’ at someone who could put you down before you’d even mutter your last words” he threatened, motioning to the double barreled shotgun in his hands. “I know, I saw it first hand. You hold yourself well, I envy that. I’m new to all of this and just really want someone who can help me hold my own the same way” you explained. “Look, I know I don’t look like much but please just give me a chance” you begged, looking up at him with a fighting spirit in your eyes that he had to admit, he was pretty impressed in seeing in a vaultie. “You help me, I help you, however that ends up being” you offered, standing strong on this and damn if he didn’t see a little bit of himself in you at that. He gave a sigh, tilting his head down before shaking it, not believing himself for the words he was about to say. “Alright, but the minute you start draggin’ you’re out, got me?” He said, and he hated the way his cold heart seemed to pump a little faster upon seeing your eyes light up with joy and a smile stretch to your face. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” You said, opening your arms up to hug him but being met with the barrel of his gun poking your stomach to keep space between you. “I don’t do hugs” he spoke gruffly, making you back up enough to where he’d drop the gun back to his side. “R-Right…sorry” you apologized, embarrassment washing over you but still glad to finally have someone in your company. “C’mon, I ain’t got all day now” he said, motioning you to start walking, so you joined him.

Your travels with him certainly weren’t at all what you were expecting them to be. From being used as bait, to being tied up with rope most of the time you’d traveled together, or being sent in as his scavenger, you weren’t prepared for a lot of the reality you faced with being up on the surface. Most nights made you question why you’d ever left the comfort of the vault, why you’d abandoned a trusty food supply, regulated temperatures, a safe place to sleep that wasn’t riddled with radroaches or had the likely hood of waking up to a raider with a knife at your throat for no reason. Then you would remember the experiment in your vault, why you left that awful place for arguably a worse reality on the surface but at least you had freedom. Out here you were free to say what you want, do what you want, consume what you want so long as you could defend yourself incase that supply wasn’t unclaimed. You’d gotten pretty handy with a gun in the most recent weeks. Cooper, you learned one night was his name, using empty glass bottles as targets to help teach you accuracy and how to hit things from a longer range. In exchange, you came a little more useful than he had first thought. You had some useful stuff on you for trade like chems, ammo and food, were a good extra bag to hold stuff in, and you were a better cook than you’d talked about. Sure you had a tendency to talk too much, and you weren’t great with a gun, but you were getting there.

“Might I suggest takin’ them clothes instead of wearin’ that suit?” He said, making you look at him weird for suggesting you strip a dead raider of their clothes. “Why would I do that…?” You asked, genuinely confused and not sure what he was implying either, he was a hard man to predict. “Because, people see that shit and get real mad. People up here don’t like vaulties or the ones that run ‘em” he said and it made sense, it helped you understand why you kept getting evil glares each time someone would look at you or talk to you. You figured he knew best, so you took the shirt and pants from one of the female raiders, tucking them into your bag to change into at a better time. He gave a chuckle watching you do so, apologizing to the dead body profusely as you took their clothes and whatever valuables they had on them for the betterment of your own survival. You were still so naive, part of him was hoping he could slowly start to break and corrupt your way of thinking, but that was a thought for another time.

Before you knew it, night finally began to fall. The sun setting across the horizon gave the air less of a hot, harsh bite as the temperature began to cool rapidly across the sands of the Mojave. All you managed to grab was a pair of beat up, old jeans and a tank top, so as soon as the sun set, the chill set in. As you both set up camp for the night just outside of an abandoned rest stop, you started a fire to cook some of that stew you talked about being good at. He had to admit, it was pretty damn good, likely the best thing he’s had since before the bombs went off. Though even the kindling fire couldn’t manage to chase the chill away, watching you run your hands up and down your arms to try and warm up some by it. He felt a slight pang in his heart, watching you shiver like that, how your eyes lit up by the blaze of the fire and your hair seemed to be tousled just right. You were pretty, too pretty to be trekking this wasteland, and certainly too pretty to be trekking it with him of all people as your company. Even he had a heart still, as cold as it was, so out of kindness he shrugged his duster from his shoulders, draping it around you. You looked at the fabric pooled around you, pulling it over you better before looking to him as he sat down across from you again. “Ain’t no use if the cold gets ya” he said, making you smile appreciatively at him as you realized what he did. “Thank you” you replied, a slight blush fanning to your cheeks as the chattering of your teeth finally died down and you grew warmer. It smelled like him, sure it had splatters of old dried blood and was rather worn, but it had that gunpowder and smoke smell to it that you associated with him. “Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya” he replied, trying to sound cold but it didn’t come off that way, making you chuckle. “What do I owe you?” You asked, making him fall silent for a moment as he pondered the answer to your question. He looked you over for a second before tipping his hat down to cover his face a bit, the signal that he was about to try and get some sleep. “Just keep watch for a bit, I’ll be up in a few hours” he responded, and while it wasn’t what you were expecting, you’d take it.

He was startled awake a couple hours later when he heard a commotion, you yelling at someone telling them to back off that this place had been claimed. The raider you were up against didn’t seem to like that very much, claiming that wasn’t how it worked up here. The altercation took a turn for the worst when the man reached for his gun but you were quick to fire and kill him before he could let out a shot. A shaky feeling set in your hands and a horrified expression across your face at the realization that you just killed someone. Cooper, who was certainly wide awake now, was rather impressed by your quick timing and precision, coming up behind you to lay a gloved hand to your shoulder. “Well would ya look at that, looks like them lessons been payin’ off after all. How’s it feel?” He asked, looking down at you as you stared at the gun in your hands. “He was yelling at me but…he was aiming at you. I don’t really know what came over me, I didn’t like that he was going to shoot you so I just…I killed him” you said, recounting the encounter to him as if he hadn’t seen it himself. He didn’t really know what to think in that moment as you explained how your mind worked, he was proud for sure at your show of improvement with a gun, yet also touched at the same time. No one ever really looked out for him since he started his bounty hunting, he was a well hated man by many but you defended him without really any reason to. You’d just learned his name not but two weeks ago, and before that he was dragging you around with rope yet you still defended him, had you two really gotten closer in the time that’s passed since? He wasn’t sure, but it was something he could mull over while you were sleeping. “Get some rest vaultie, sun’ll be up soon” he said, knowing you likely wouldn’t get much sleep with the adrenaline still coursing through you, but it was at least worth a try, you two had a long day ahead of you.

When you woke up that next morning, things felt a little different between you two. You weren’t some annoying little dog following him anymore, you were an equal. He no longer looked at you and treated you like you were lower than him as you both set out across the wastelands, he had respect for you. Hell, he even started talking with you now when you were out traveling which was almost unbelievable. You learned through those conversations that he used to be an actor in Wild West themed films, explaining his outfit, and that he was married before the bombs dropped. You of course told him bits and pieces about yourself in exchange, after all it only felt fair but it was also nice to just finally talk to someone after all this time.

When night time fell again you two sat enjoying a meal by the fire together, only rather than across from each other, he sat next to you, making a blush come to your face as you’d smiled sweetly at him. “Glad to know I don’t have germs anymore” you said jokingly, making him chuckle. “Give an old man some credit. It ain’t exactly all peaches and marmalade out here darlin’, even cute can be deadly” he said, the nickname and him calling you cute sending a deeper blush to your cheeks despite knowing it’s just how he spoke. Whether it was the lack of contact with other people for so long, or just his charm you couldn’t quite tell, but it always seemed to have an effect on you. “Just teasin’ you, I get it. I’d tie me up and use me for bait too if I’d been doing this as long as you have. It’s a shit hole out here” you said, making him look at you as you dropped the first curse word he’s ever heard from you. “Well I’ll be damned, either I’m a bad influence or you’re finally growin’ outta that naive shell there, vaultie” Cooper replied, making you laugh as you saw a smirk stretch to his thin, marred lips, the first one you’d seen in a while that wasn’t brought on by drugs, chems or that first sip of a good bottle of alcohol. “Probably both” you quipped, making him chuckle. “Yeah, probably. Been told I ain’t easy to stomach” he said, making you hum. “You’re alright in my book, Coop” you replied with a sweet, genuine smile that matched your tone and was that butterflies you felt in your stomach? Did you just call him Coop? No ones called him that in ages, why did it make his heart start to flutter a bit? “You ain’t so bad yourself, vaultie” he responded, still affording you that small smile before turning back to his food. “Keep making food this good and I just might have to keep you around” he joked, making you giggle and break the slightly tense silence. “It’s not much but I certainly try. I’ll definitely make sure to stay good at it, I like traveling with you” you said, unintentionally coming off flirtatious and fuck there it goes again, that feeling in his chest and his stomach like he needed to hit his inhaler but he felt great. What were you doing to him?

“Hey, if it isn’t too much can I ask you a sort of…personal question?” You asked, holding the beat up bowl in your hands as you looked over at him. This was normally the part where he would say no, absolutely not, he wasn’t here to be questioned on his personal matters. Yet, with you, it was different. Ever since last night he hasn’t been so on edge with you, it was like he’d warmed up to you. “Depends on what you’re askin’ there, sweetheart” he said, the nickname once again making you blush. “Do you…miss them? Your wife and daughter?” You asked, not sure if it was a good subject or good question to ask but after finding out, you were genuinely curious. He looked down at his bowl again, thinking of the proper response to your question. The old him would have been defensive, told you it was none of your business, but now? He wasn’t sure. “Ain’t a day that goes by that I don’t think about ‘em. About the way I ran out on ‘em when them bombs dropped” he answered, making you give him a sad look as genuine guilt filled his tone. This was the most honest and open he’s been with you this whole time. “I feel guilty. Not sure if I feel guilty for runnin’ out and leavin’ ‘em behind or guilty for the way I ran out, been tryin’ t’ figure that out for quite a while now and I still ain’t sure” he added, and you sympathized with that. Everyone has regrets, things they’ve done in the past that they aren’t proud of, people up here were no different in that aspect. “Well, in the short time I’ve gotten to know you, I’ve come to understand that everything you do has a valid reason behind it. So even if you feel it was a shitty thing to do, you obviously had a reason for doing so. No one can blame you for trusting your gut, and I don’t think you should blame yourself for doing so” you responded, your hand falling to his as a comforting gesture, your words ringing in his head almost as if you’d opened something in his mind, something he’d never really gave himself to think about before. He looked down at your hand that rested on his, noticing the way you didn’t flinch away from him like others did, the way you were brave enough to walk up to him, talk to him, *trust* him when he made it very clear that you shouldn’t. It was smaller than his, softer for sure, but warm all the same, then he looked up to see that caring look in your eyes and smile on your face that told him that you cared. “Guess you’re right, still wonder sometimes if it was the right choice to make” he replied. “I understand. Everyone has regrets, we all look at the past and hold at least something that we’ve done before in regret, it’s what makes us human” you said, making him give a huff as a chuckle. “You got anybody?” He asked, making you look down as you moved your feet along the dirt. “An ex-husband, but not anyone I really care about, no. My parents passed a few years before the bombings and he and I split up when I caught him cheating on me with some other woman in the vault..” you explained, not sure why it hurt you to tell the tale still, but you felt it was only fair considering what you’d asked of him to share. “Sorry t’ hear that” Cooper said, making you chuckle weakly, a somber look coming to your face that made his heart wrench. “I haven’t exactly been in love since, and considering he and I split up just a little over ten years ago, really says something I guess, huh?” You asked, trying to laugh to bring up the mood, knowing you sounded pathetic. “He was the fool, not you darlin’. He was the one skippin’ out on one hell of a woman” Cooper said, making you look to him and blush a bit as you gave a chuckle at his response.

“Thanks” you replied appreciatively and with a smile before casting your gaze down to see your hands were still connected and it left you blushing harder with embarrassment, you’d been holding his hand this entire time without realizing it. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable if I have I-“ “relax vaultie” he cut you off, pushing your hand back down onto his to assure you that he was far from uncomfortable. “It’s…rather nice actually” he admitted, making you feel relieved but your heart fluttered in your chest from it. A thick tension soon began to set in between you both after that night, something of an unspoken, kindling romance beginning to develop. “Then there it can stay” you said, making him smile softly at you, tipping his hat at you as a silent thank you.

Months passed on like this, where you’d spend the days scavenging, picking the land for its resources you could find and hunting bounties by day, then spending your nights by a fire growing closer and closer with every passing day. Through your shared meals, jokes, deep conversations, and plenty of near death experiences, you started to notice your fondness of the ghoul you traveled with. The way you’d hang onto his words with that southern accent that seemed to pull at your heart strings, or the way you’d go out of your way to stand between him and a stray bullet. You’d helped him on more than one occasion in getting out of a sticky spot, or getting him the stuff he needed to keep from turning feral. In return, he started to notice he was feeling the same towards you. There was this sudden need to keep you safe, to do nicer things for you, to speak better towards you, even flirt with you at times. Some nights there’d be so much tension in the air, it’s a miracle you haven’t jumped each other yet. Though in his eyes, as much as his heart yearned for you, he knew you were too good for him. You’d been hurt before, and he had a reputation for hurting people, feeling undeserving of even just the sweet smiles and company you afford him even now. You didn’t need someone like him, you needed a good man, someone who didn’t kill for a living, someone who could treat you right, someone who didn’t look the way he did. You were soft and warm, he was rough and cold, though he supposed that’s where the term “opposites attract” came from. So even when he was a whole bottle deep, he was sure to hold his tongue to a certain point.

Some of those nights around the fire were spent sober, others not so much, and this night happened to be one of those nights spent under the influence. You two had stumbled across a mini-mart, doing your best to out run the radstorm that had been trailing you guys for hours, coming in just to find whatever supplies you could to make it through the next week and possibly hunker down for the night. So imagine your surprise when you seemed to have found the largest chem stache you’d both ever laid eyes on. “Coop! Come here, you gotta see this” you said, making him run towards you to make sure you weren’t hurt or in trouble. His nerves were eased once he saw you, fully intact. “Tell me I’m not seeing shit” you said, pointing to all of the supplies sitting in a box on the table, joined by other supplies around it. You both looked at each other in complete and utter disbelief, this would keep you stocked for months, maybe even a whole year if you conserved it well. “Well ain’t that just the prettiest fuckin’ sight” he said. There was no way a horde of chems this large and this valuable was just completely unprotected you reasoned, so you routed around the place, scoping out for any raiders, straggling traders or ferals who happened to still be around. It was as if heaven was shining down on you both as you found no one around, seemed like no one had been here for days. So you did the most logical thing anyone would do in this situation. Stuff each of your bags to the brim of drugs of all varieties! Seeing as you had food, chems and even some clean water and alcohol lying around, Cooper locked and barricaded the door shut, proposing it could be a good spot to sleep for the night. With a radstorm approaching, it was best to have a roof over your heads to keep out the rain and potential radiation sickness that came with it. “This is the closest fuckin’ thing to a slice of heaven I’ve seen in ages” he said, aside from you is what played in his mind but he couldn’t speak that out loud, no matter how much he wanted to. “You said it!” you replied, and it’s even better with you here you thought, but thought it best to keep it to yourself. He plopped down on the couch, kicking his feet up to rest on the small table that seemed to be in shambles, enjoying a tape that was playing on the TV that he was surprised to still see functioning. “Holy shit, this thing still works?” You asked, amazed to see working technology out in the wastelands, sitting next to him as you watched it with him. He gave a smirk at your reaction, thinking it was cute the way your eyes would light up when you got all excited over something. Deep down it made him want to give you everything you laid eyes on like that just to see it pointed towards him. “Guess so” he replied, enjoying your excitement only to see you turn and look his way, which was his signal to stop staring holes into you before he gets caught. “I dunno about you baby doll, but I ain’t about to spend tonight sober with this stache sittin’ here ‘n front of us” he said, making you laugh as he routed through all the different drugs and chems til he found what he was looking for.

In the process of searching through it all, a small metal box fell to the floor at your feet. It looked like a box of mentats only the design was different, instead of the characteristic green and white box was a red one covered with hearts labeled DN-Chem. You supposed the worst that could happen was turn into the man sitting next to you, which you figured wasn’t the worst fate to succumb to all things considered, so you went against all better judgement and said fuck it, popping two of the mentat like chems and chasing it with the vodka he’d found to wait for it to take effect. “The hell is DN?” He asked, looking at the box, wondering what it was you took. “Don’t know, guess we’ll find out here soon because I took two” you said, taking another sip from the bottle of vodka he passed your way, and he gave a chuckle as you handed it back to him. “You come a mighty long way, little lady” he commented before setting the metal pill box down. He took the bottle from you, taking a swig, then placing one of the small viles into his inhaler before taking a hit of it then lying back, breathing a sigh of relief as it and the alcohol entered his system like the perfect remedy to any ailment. As about a half an hour rolled by, you waited for the high to set in but it never came, instead you were just getting hot, like really hot. There weren’t any windows open, and it was night time so you shouldn’t be this uncomfortably hot for how it was but you felt like you were on fire. “Shit, it’s hot as hell in here…” you complained, shaking off your jacket that you’d picked off of some raider a few weeks back, making him look to you curiously. “Lightweight” he quipped, making you chuckle. “Accept I don’t feel anything, I just feel hot” you said, making him hum with intrigue before turning back to the TV. “Give it some time, you’re new to all this. ‘m sure your body is wonderin’ what the hell you just put in it” he said, and he had a good point, maybe it was just a side effect of not doing them so often compared to his every day use.

As time went on, you began to notice the way your eyes couldn’t help but be glued to him, more specifically glued to the way his legs were now spread as he sat back. You wondered to yourself what he looked like beneath all that cowboy get up, what his reaction would be like to see you getting on your knees for him and slotting yourself between his spread legs. You shook your head to try and rid yourself of such inappropriate thoughts, but what you couldn’t stop no matter how hard you tried was the feeling of arousal beginning to pool in your panties. Sure he flirted with you every now and again, but you doubt he felt towards you the same way you did for him. To him you were sure you were likely more akin to a pet than a friend, useful and nice to have around, but not anything further. At least so you thought. You’d rather hoped you were wrong in assuming so, that maybe he saw you the same way you saw him. You bit your lip as you tried bouncing your leg to relieve the ache between your thighs, a light pink dusting your face and neck even up to the tips of your ears, but nothing worked. Even as you closed your eyes, all you could picture was you laid out on the couch beneath him, or bent over it with him behind you, or you riding him on it. “Been awful quiet. You doin’ alright over there, sweetheart?” Cooper asked you, and the audible whimper you let out from the nickname left you completely embarrassed. You clasped a hand over your mouth, god you were horrified but he gave a grin and a chuckle in response. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me all the sudden. I feel so…weird?” you said, unsure if that was really the proper word to explain it but it was the only way you could really word it off the top of your head with how much your brain felt as if it was turning to mush. “Ya took some chems, it’s gonna feel a bit fuzzy” he said, trying to assure you that feeling a little funny was normal, but this? This didn’t feel normal, not even for a chem high. You tried your best to swallow harshly, doing everything you could to try and relieve the dry ache you felt in your throat at the moment upon looking at him. You grabbed the bottle of vodka, taking a few sips but even that couldn’t grant you bliss from it. The throbbing in your core was driving you absolutely insane. You swore up and down that it was like you could feel your heartbeat in your chest, stomach, and in your cunt all at the same time. “No, this is different…I don’t think what I took was a normal chem, Coop…” you said, trying not to panic at the effects that were setting in but god you felt like you were absolutely feral. He turned to look at you, watching as you clamped your thighs together and the red that fell over your face. “I feel like an animal in heat” you said bluntly, making him go into a near coughing fit as you took him off guard. However that piqued his interest enough to pick up the little metal box again to see what it was you took. “I ain’t ever heard of a chem that does that, was that DN shit the only stuff you took?” He asked, growing slightly concerned for you and whether he had a possible horde of laced chems, or just an extremely horny woman on his hands. Speaking of hands, you were lost in thought staring at them, at the way they gripped the couch like you wanted him to grip your thighs, at the way they looked in those leather gloves he always wore. You wondered how it would feel wrapped around your throat, or how it would feel if his fingers were buried deep inside of you. Shit. This was getting out of control.

“Hey, ya with me still?” He asked, snapping to try and get your attention back on the matter at hand, making you shake your head yes as you broke from your perverted thoughts. “Is that DN shit the only thing you took?” He asked again, making you shake your head yes once more, because you knew damn well your voice was going to betray you the moment you tried to speak. That had to be it, it was the only thing that was different out of it all and the only thing he’d never heard of before. He knew it wasn’t the vodka either because he was drinking it with you, so if it was affecting you, it would have affected him and it hadn’t.

It took him a minute to put two and two together before he finally realized the abbreviations stood for Date Night, reading the instructions and effects on the inside of the tin’s lid. “Shit..” he said as he read it, realizing this was a hand made thing thrown into the bunch by whoever was running this place. “Did you read the lid before you popped them pills?” He asked, making you go wide eyed. As if this couldn’t get any fucking worse, this shit show could have been avoided had you just read the inside of the lid. “There was instructions?? Oh my god…what the fuck did I take?” You asked, concerned for yourself and the tone he had while reading it. “Somethin’ that the creator of it called Date Night. Looks like it’s a…well looks like it’s a handmade sex chem” he said, making you cover your face with your hands out of sheer embarrassment, you’d never wanted to die out in a radstorm more than you did right now. “Please tell me you’re fucking joking, cooper…” you whined, watching him read it more. “How much of it did you take?” He asked, almost scared to know and you were scared to know why. “Two?” You replied, making him whistle at that as he read it. “Fuckin’ hell sugar..” he said through a chuckle, and that nickname made a shiver run through you, sending electric bolts straight to your throbbing cunt. You did your best to bite back the whimper. “You’re only s’possed take one, and with you bein’ new t’ all this, I wouldn’t have taken more than half” he said, making you just wish you could just dig a hole and die in it already. “Fuck me…wait, shit! N-Not literally fuck me I- well I mean I’d like if you did but…FUCK! Forgive me Cooper, I’m so sorry, I can hardly think straight” you said, making him chuckle. “Well sweetheart, I think you and I both know there’s only one good fix for this situation” he said, making you whimper pathetically at the thought, your thighs squeezing together even more as you tried to fight to stay sane. Your eyes cast downwards to his lap once more, seeing the tent forming in his pants, clearly you weren’t the only one all worked up here. “I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, Coop. I can run off and take care of myself if it makes you uncomfort-“ you rambled but before you could finish, his hand cupped the side of your face, pulling you in for a long awaited kiss. You moaned into it without meaning to, feeling the way your body immediately relaxed upon wrapping your arms around him with no hesitation as the sweet innocent kiss turned passionate and dirty rather quickly.

“I won’t lie t’ you, doin’ this with you has passed my mind more times than I’d care to admit, but I don’t wanna cross that line unless you really want this” he said, looking into your eyes and making sure that this was truly what you wanted, that you felt the same way he did. “Coop, I know I’m under the influence of whatever the fuck this drug is, but trust me when I say, I’d be just as good with it sober. Been thinking about it for probably just as long as you have, if I’m honest with you. I want this, I want you and right now I want you so fucking bad that I might lose my mind if you don’t fuck me” you answered bluntly, taking him by surprise at just the sheer amount of absolute filth that left your otherwise innocent mouth, making him chuckle at your use of curse words and how desperate you were for him. “That so sugar?” He asked with a grin, enjoying teasing you at your neediest moments, including now. “God yes, Cooper please..” you begged, nearly moaning in reply and he’d spent time mulling over it before, denying himself the chance but just as the chem stache was a pot of gold, he took this as one of the best opportunities being placed in his lap by whatever higher power existed out there, making him waste no time in kissing you once more. “Good, because I don’t think I’d be able to hold myself back once we’ve started” he said, and the idea made you moan. “Don’t want you to hold back, want all of you” you said, and your wish was his command.

By the time your brain could finally catch up with you again, your clothes were strewn out all around you, your tank top hanging over the back of the couch, your jeans thrown haphazardly on the arm rest behind you, his pants on the floor, his hat on the table and shirt and duster having fallen somewhere behind the couch. By now, you’d already cum on his fingers twice, and on his cock once, this was your fourth round and this shit still had you on fire. “Yes!! Oh fuck, Cooper!” you moaned as your legs wrapped around his hips, keeping him as close to you as you could get, your fingers digging crescent shapes and puffy red lines into his back that unfortunately he knew wouldn’t stay long thanks to his ability to heal stupidly fast. “Doin’ so good for me, baby doll. Look so pretty like this for me, all splayed out like a needy little whore” he praised and degraded through his groans, making you moan and roll your eyes into the back of your head at the praise mixed with degradation as his cock was drilling deep inside you like tonight was all you guys had. “Yeah, you like that, huh sweet thing? Like it when I tell you how good it feels and call you names?” He asked, making you nod your head yes because there wasn’t a single thought in that brain of yours other than his name, which you spoke like a mantra. “Never knew such a sweet lil’ thing like you would be such a dirty little minx. Fuck…enough to make a man like me go feral, ya know that?” he said, making you giggle as you moved his free hand up to your throat, urging him to choke you, and he groaned at the sight. Your kiss swollen lips all puffy and shining with spit, your cheeks dusted a constant pink that grew darker anytime his cock brushed that spot deep inside that made you cling to him, your eyes half lidded, looking up at him like he was your savior. It made him absolutely rock hard knowing you’d pick him over anyone else in this god forsaken wasteland. “My, you are just a little freak, ain’t you? Oh we are gonna have fun together, you and me honey” he promised, squeezing your throat tight enough to restrict your airflow but not enough to hurt or cause any damage. Just enough to get that puddle of a brain of yours all fuzzy as you got closer to your fourth orgasm of the night. “Cooper…’m so close, so close please!!” You begged, feeling the heavy drag of his cock as he pounded into you, leaving you damn near screaming as it nudged your cervix and that spongy little bundle of nerves deep inside. “Go on honey, I gotchya. Let go for me, wanna see those pretty faces and hear those pretty noises you make” he said, angling his hips just right to hit that spot over and over again. “Oh fuck, oh fuck I’m gonna cum again, I-“ you warned before your moans rose in pitch as your walls clamped around him, gushing on his cock as your orgasm hit you like a freight train. Your body arched off the couch, stars filling your vision for a moment as you felt your release gush out and coat your inner thighs, screaming his name like it was your only chance at salvation. “Well ain’t I just the damn luckiest man in the wastelands right now, got me a pretty little vaultie and she’s a gusher” he said, making you whimper at his teasing but judging by the way he emptied himself inside you for the second time, you took it as a sign that he liked that about you. “Holy shit, I-I didn’t know I could do that” you said, thoroughly shocked with what your brain and body were doing as they almost seemed to almost be working against each other. “Do it again for me” he said, grabbing you and moving you both to where you were straddling him this time. His hands rested on your hips, helping guide you as you speared yourself on his dick with ease from how absolutely soaked you were, making you both throw your head back and moan. “Now that’s a damn good sight” he said, making you lean in to kiss him once more as his hands helped you start and keep a steady rhythm with your hips. It was definitely going to be a long night, but one you two have been needing for months, maybe even longer.

It’s a good thing ghouls have remarkable recovery time, because in order to finally get you sated and back to normal, you both had to spend all night going at it. Granted, it was aided by the mix of pent up sexual tension and pent up sexual frustration, but it was dawn before you both had gotten to a point where you could even *try* and fall sleep. First few times was on the couch between missionary, doggy and you riding him, next was you bent over it, with your pretty legs spread and ass in the air for him. Then, you used the arm rest of the couch as a pillow beneath your hips as he stood up while you laid out on the couch. He liked that one a lot for the way your tits would bounce with each and every forceful thrust into you, jolting your body. After that, it was done standing up with your back pressed against a wall, your legs and arms wrapped around him to keep him deep inside of you and fill you til he had nothing left to give you. From that point on, the rest of the night was all a hormone-hazed blur, but you knew well that he took care of you. You woke up unbelievably sore, your joints aching in places that you had no idea could even ache, a swollen, angry throb between your legs for the harsh, almost punishing treatment to your pussy followed by bruises, bite marks, scratch marks, hand prints etc. littered your skin as you woke up curled into Cooper’s side. You gave a gravelly groan as the sun shone in your eyes through the windows, making him chuckle at the way you were such a ray of sunshine except in the morning. Coming to learn that you absolutely *hated* mornings. Though you suppose you started to enjoy them more since traveling with him. “Mornin’ sunshine” he said coyly, making you groan disapprovingly at the way the sun was in your eyes, making you hold your hand up to cast a shadow on your face and grant you some relief. “Morning” you answered, your voice hoarse and half gone from sleep and all your activities that transpired the previous night. “Ain’t that a pretty sight” he said, turning and seeing you curled up to him, naked, your hair all messy from sleep and the hickeys and bite marks littering your skin, making you chuckle. “Last night was definitely something, can’t believe you’ve been holding all *that* out on me” you joked, making him give a dry laugh. “Could say the same thing about you, sugar. Had no idea that mind a yours could be so filthy. You’re a wild thing to party with, lil’ lady” he teased, sliding his arm around you to keep you close, making you hum as you lay soft, appreciative kisses to his collarbone and chest. “You’re fun too, and thank you for taking care of me last night. I’m sorry that it ended up happening the way that it did, I wanted to work up the courage and tell you some other way, I really did, but I guess life had other plans” you said making him chuckle as he saw you blush when he kissed your head. “Drunk words are sober thoughts they say, so I’d say I made out pretty good. But don’t sweat it, not sure how I deserved someone as good as you, but it’s good to know I ain’t as hard to stomach as most people say” he said, pulling you in for a soft, heartfelt kiss. “I think you are just perfect, Cooper” you said, your hand resting on his scarred chest as you looked at him with that gaze he swore he’d do anything to see pointed his way.

“You really wanna be my girl?” He asked softly, sounding shocked and with some self doubt still lacing his tone, but he had to be sure this was what you wanted outside of the drug’s effects. He cared for you deeply, in a way that he hasn’t felt in a very long time, but maybe you were just the right person for him to finally open his heart up to. His question made you giggle as your heart fluttered in your chest with excitement. “I absolutely do, I meant it when I said it last night, I mean it just as much now. I think we’ve danced around it for long enough, don’t you?” you replied, making him smile the most genuinely happy smile you’ve seen him wear since you’d met. “Just checkin’” he said, before laying a sweet kiss to your lips, wishing every morning could be like this one. Maybe it could, now that you were here with him.

[nanaslutt]

on my knees begging and praying for more perv! geto🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🛐🛐🛐

Some PervyRoomate!Geto (and 1 perv Satosugu) drabbles for you :3

contains: voyeurism, stealing, fantasizing, Gojo makes an appearance, degradation, p*ssy eating, cumming untouched, restraints, masturbating, handjobs, unprotected sex, slight somno, overall creep behavior... pls be warned

note: i do not condone any of this irl :3

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Perv!Geto who stands outside your door and jerks off to the sound of you getting your brains fucked out by your latest partner. If he closes his eyes and squeezed his fist hard enough he can almost imagine he’s the one fucking you. He’s timing his thrusts with the slaps he hears on the other side of the door to immerse himself deeper into his fantasy; and when you cum- he cums all over his hand while his other covers his mouth to prevent any moans from slipping through his lip.

Perv!Geto who steals your dirty panties, shirts, shorts--anything at all from your dirty clothes hamper and holds it up to his face to smell your scent while he jerks his cock furiously with his lip pulled between his teeth. You're just in the next room over, he can hear you giggling with Shoko at something funny she said, the sound spurring him on as he imagines you're laughing at him, at how pathetic he is for stealing your clothes to jerk off. Of course, when he cums he makes sure to make a mess all over the garment before he throws it back into your hamper. Maybe one day you would go searching through your dirty clothes and find the present he left for you and teach him a lesson for being such a perv.

Perv!Geto who sucks your fingers into his mouth while you ride him because he's been waiting for so long for this moment and he needs to taste you. Your neck, lips, thighs, hands- anything. He would gag and moan around your lithe fingers when they hit the back of his throat, jolting around in his mouth from the roughness of your thrusts on his too-sensitive cock.

Perv!Geto who sits on his knees with his hands tied behind his back, his heavy neglected cock and full balls hanging freely in the air as you grip his hair from his scalp and roughly shove his face into your cunt. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, his face flushed a gorgeous crimson color as you fuck his face while degrading him, telling him how filthy and dirty he is for being such a creep to his poor unknowing roommate (you). He would cum untouched with a pathetic whine into your cunt at your mean words, as he continued to suck and flick his tongue as he brought you to orgasm.

Perv!Geto & Gojo who FaceTime late at night to talk about all the filthy things they would do to you while they jerk off together. Sometimes when you aren't home they sneak into your room and jerk each other off on your bed, working each other up as they dirty talk each other about what you would do to them if you were here. "Yeah? You like the way they stroke your cock? Huh?" Gojo would groan as he twists his hand over Geto's tip while the dark-haired man has his eyes squeezed shut, pretending its your hand. "Yeah cum inside her Gojo fuck, she wants it so badd~" Geto would whisper as Gojo came all over your nice clean pillow. The two of them constantly plotted on how they would get you in their beds.

Perv!Geto who would sneak into your room at night and jerk off to your sleeping body only clad in tiny shorts that showed half your ass and a crop top that your breasts spilled out of. He never touched you, but he would get close, seeing how far he could test the limits before his cute roomie woke up to a face full of cum. He would jerk off right over your face, his heart racing out of his chest when you stirred in your sleep, the fright making him back up as he cums hard in his hand, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he tried to keep himself quiet.

Perv!Geto who would offer to stand behind you on the train while you wore a skimpy outfit so you didn't have to be pressed up against some olf perv. Little did you know he had the same intentions as them. He felt himself get hard as your ass bumped back agaisnt his crotch when the train ride got bumpy. He would pray for the time when you would lose your balance and almost fall so he could grab your waist in his massive hands to steady you. Your meek 'thank you Sugu' Going straight to his cock at how oblivious you were.

Perv!Geto who offered to sleep in your room to cuddle when your relationship ended. Who was he to leave you alone when you spilled the news to him with fat tears rolling down your cheeks, that made his cock twitch in his pants. He should feel bad about taking advantage of your vulnerable state right now, but how was he supposed to when your smaller frame was pressed right up against his body and his nostrils were filled with your scent from being smothered by your sheets? He wasn't able to stop himself from humping his hips into your ass when he felt your body relax agaisnt him, your breaths evening out as you slipped into dreamland while Geto used the friction of your soft ass to reach orgasm and cum hard in his pants.

Bonus: Perv!Geto who was more than happy to fuck you to back sleep when you awoke right when he released his load into his pants. Him getting off on you calling him needy while he fucked his next load into your cunt, not being able to stop himself from thinking how he wasted a perfectly good load in his boxers when he could've just woken you up and fucked it into your cunt as well :( How was he supposed to know you wanted him as much as he wanted you? You did break up with your boyfriend for him after all.

[pearlywritings]

A slip of the tongue

synopsis: as smart as Alhaitham is, sometimes he blurts out things without thinking twice. It's good, however, that your husband knows when an apology is due, even though it doesn't mean you (and your friend) won't come up with something to pay him back with~

pairing and characters: Alhaitham x fem!reader

tw: established relationship (marriage), little hurt/instant comfort, a bit suggestive, Kaveh is lowkey couple's marriage counselor

word count: 3.7k+ words

a/n: wow, finally releasing this one out of the basement!

Your cheek starts hurting from how long the knuckles of your fist have been digging into it. Fingertips drum on your knee, as legs stay crossed and stare fixed on the figure before you, sitting on the chair across the table and not taking the eyes off of the book pages. The most infuriating part of it? The figure is talking.

"...and so you should be prepared for Rajkumar's endless questions. He might not have any relation to Haravatat or languages at all, but he has a bone to pick with me, so being my wife puts you in a position to attack. And you know how annoying it is to converse with an idiot."

Yeah, probably as much as hearing what you are already aware of. You love your husband, you truly do, but sometimes the urge to smack the back of his head and tell him to shut up is too tempting.

All you said was that you were a little nervous and mentioned that tomorrow is indeed one of the most important days for you. After all, you are going to defend your second thesis, one you spent years to complete and pass all sorts of verification, reviews and censorship. Having the Scribe as your husband had both its perks and drawbacks in the process - he could easily push your work forward to the necessary people in charge of all the mentioned above stages of approbation, but then the fact he was your spouse put a label on you for those who were aware, and it said “Needs to be examined more thoroughly”. Though come to think of it, it’s pretty illogical.

Fortunately you never had troubles with that - after all your brain was in place, and both topics of your first and now current papers were innovative. Moreso, many of your Haravatat professors agree on your academic success and some of them expressed their hope to see you in the role of their colleague in the future.

But it’s for the future. First you need to become the Dastur, and for that you need to defend your thesis in the present. You have absolutely everything ready, no one knows your topic better than you are (maybe only Alhaitham can come close, since he read and reread it multiple times, helping with editing and providing impartial perspective), and years at the Akademyia taught you how to withstand the piercing eyes and prickling words of the jury. You will be fine.

Or you thought so, before just one phrase of yours started this whole exchange that is now happening in your kitchen.

“...and remember the part in the third chapter we discussed with you. This will be the one they’ll claw at, since it’s a turning point in a whole theory and I heard some of them already criticizing it,” the male hums, turning another page, eyes scanning the words written on a yellowed from time piece of paper. This seems the last comment of his, as he falls silent, reaching for the cup of coffee you’ve made him - in the process of which you were short-sighted to voice your concern.

When a minute passes and you do not answer anyhow to any of the valuable advice he’s just given you, Alhaitham lowers his book and stares at you. You keep drumming your fingers on your knee, eyes boring into him and almost unblinking, and it’s not hard for such an observant man to notice a barely-veiled displeasure in your tired eyes and a scowl.

"You know you could've just said you are worried about tomorrow too, and leave it at that?"

Alhaitham blinks, hand frozen in the middle of lowering the mug back on the table. He is holding your gaze and you can practically see the thoughts running through his mind, he is clearly contemplating how to answer your bold statement.

“Why would I be worried?” He finally answers with a question on your own, putting the mug on the flat surface. “It’s just a thesis defense, and if you get rid of your nervousness you’ll see that you already have the Dastur title in your pocket. Tomorrow is just a formality for you.”

“So you are not coming to watch me tomorrow?” Your scowl and frown deepens, fingers stopping abusing your knee and curling in a fist instead. Your husband sighs, marking the page with a bookmark you’ve made for him and closing the volume he’s been on for the past week. Then his captivating eyes are back on you.

“Scribe isn’t required to attend. Besides-”

“Yeah, yeah, you know my work enough to not hear anything new in my presentation,” you interrupt him and he can clearly hear rising anger in your voice that wasn’t there before. It actually manages to shut him up. “As my husband, as my support, are you going to come?”

The man feels a twinge of guilt in his heart. He always prided himself of his intelligence and attentiveness, yet just now he failed to assume what exactly you expected of his presence. Of course he’d want to give you a peace of mind by being there, but it seems he is too used to uttering the same phrase every single time someone asks him to come, that it was out faster than he had a moment to think it over properly.

He sees a bit too late how your face drops when he doesn’t give you an answer immediately - it looks like his pause appeared to be hesitance to you. He slightly panics when you lower your gaze and move to uncross your legs to stand up, having an almost iron grip on the back of the chair.

“Wait- Dear, I will come,” at that your eyes flicker at him, with doubt on display in your beautiful orbs. “I promise, I’ll be there.”

“I thought you didn’t like to be around idiots the whole day,” you huff, crossing your arms, reminding him of how unflattering his words towards some of his colleagues were. You do not mean to act childish, but tomorrow is really important to you, and obviously you’d want to have your husband be there to share it with you.

Alhaitham puts the book aside and stands up as well, rounding the table and coming closer to you. His fingers deftly touch your elbow, and you will yourself not to jerk it, some annoyance still bubbling in your system.

“That is correct. However, you are not one of them,” he murmurs, caressing your arm. You huff again, but this time your posture is more relaxed. “Besides, all you need is to be confident, and if my presence can assure you that, then I’ll be more than happy to be there for you.”

You give him a long stare. Your drilling eyes to his bewitching ones, searching for the truth in the greenish depths, while he stands still, waiting patiently, expecting your verdict silently. It’s as your frown softens, he knows you’ve found what you’ve been looking for in this kind of staring contest.

“Maybe just as quick you are switching from fuming to forgiving,” his palms are warm as they slide up your arms, featherly resting on your shoulders. Your smile widens a little and you meet him in the middle when he leans to press his forehead to yours.

“Oh Archons, Alhaitham…” You shake your head with a small smile and the man feels relief washing over him. You are no longer mad at him. At least, it seems so. That is definitely good. “We’ve been married for years and it still surprises me how you can be a jerk - affectionately - one moment, and a completely sweet guy another.”

“Yeah, yeah… But to your credit you were quick to fix your attitude, and as long as it’s sincere, I am grateful.”

Or rather realizing when an apology is due.

“It is sincere,” he says with emphasis. “You know I am not the one to change my mind lightly.

You hum, content with his answer. Yet, a mischievous glint finds its place in your eyes.

“Even though you are forgiven, I am still complaining to Kaveh about the mean and heartless husband of mine.”

“Don’t worry, he won’t be glaring at you murderously. Much.”

“Of course you are,” he rolls his eyes, but you know it’s playful. He knows it too, and the shift in the mood is apparent, and he is thankful for its course to the positive destination. “I guess it’s deserved.”

Alhaitham only sighs at your giggles. He could care less of what the blond architect would say about him, so he’ll survive some annoyed buzzing from the senior, and if the little exchange which is about to occur makes you happy - he doesn’t mind. Plus it will be good for you to take your mind off of tomorrow.

“I’ll trust you on that,” he finally says, slowly leaning back. You smile, patting the back of his hand still resting on your shoulder in reassurance. With a promise to collect you from your ‘girlish talk’ (you swat his shoulder at that) in a couple of hours, your husband helps you to make a new pot of tea. It’s quite ironic that this one is gonna be emptied while he’s the main focus of the conversation.

Minutes later, when you leave the kitchen with a tray, Alhaitham can faintly hear the knocks on the other end of the house, and the door opening not a minute later, the voice of the man you two have been housing for months coming clear and concerned. Kaveh remained your friend even when he and Alhaitham got in a horrible fight over their beliefs and you were partially the reason why the Haravatat graduate was convinced to let the blonde stay. Though loud, flamboyant and snarky, there is some perks of having him around - even if the architect always complains how he didn’t sign up to be a marriage counselor, he’s never let you or your husband be in a conflict for long (fortunately it happened really rarely), being your shoulder to tear up on or begrudgingly becoming an ear to be talked of by the other man and the foot that would kick Alhaitham into action or the hand that would gently nudge you in the right direction.

Or, just like tonight, simply be ‘your girl’ to chat with.

Alhaitham, as promised, lets you be for a couple of hours, meanwhile busying himself with his book. To outsiders this scene may appear weird and paint the Scribe in an awful light as a husband - but it is just like that with this man. And the strange dynamic the three of you have while staying under one roof: a wife, a husband and their… loquacious canary-like-therapist.

Only when it’s close to the time you usually go to sleep, does he also end up before the door of Kaveh’s temporary room, and firmly knocks three times.

“What?” Unsurprisingly it's the blonde’s voice, and by the tone of it he is pissed. The ash-haired male chooses to ignore him.

“Darling, let’s go to bed,” he calls for you softly. 

Alhaitham hears shuffling and muffled curses the architect surely prepared for him and some short, but incomprehensible conversation happening between you two. Not a moment later though, the door opens revealing your face, and your husband can’t help but feel extra weight lifted off his shoulders. No line reappeared between your eyebrows, no pout and no distress is written on your face. Quite the contrary, when your eyes meet, you give him the same warm smile you graced him with back in the kitchen.

“Sure, let’s go. It’s quite late already and we need to wake up early tomorrow,” you hum, exiting the room. Through the gap Alhaitham spots Kaveh sitting over some blueprints with two mugs on the table and a chair placed on the opposite side of the fine piece of furniture. When the architect lifts his eyes to glare at him, the Scribe slams the door closed. To your bedroom you returned with arms linked.

The silence of your shared space is comforting and is only disturbed by your light steps and rustle of changed clothes. The Scribe glances at you every two minutes, still a tiny bit concerned about that animatic exchange you had back in the kitchen.

“You know I will come, right?” The man suddenly asks you, as you’re fluffing the pillows. Your eyes slightly widen for a brief moment, so quickly that he almost misses it, but then they soften again as you chuckle.

“Yes, I know, dear. Sorry I reacted the way I did initially. It seems I really was pent up after all.”

“I could tell. You looked like you could bite my head o- ow!” He gasps when you throw your pillow into his face, which he catches at the last second.

“Oh, shut it, or I might get mad again,” but there is no anger in your eyes, only hardly veiled mischief. He drops your weapon of choice back onto bed and raises his hands in defense.

“Okay, okay, point taken. Any way I can make it up to you?”

At that your eyes strangely glint, and the scholar can’t place his finger on what exactly feels off about it. But it does.

“Actually you can. I’d like you to wake me up when you do, and let me use the shower first.”

And that’s it? Well, odd, but not disturbingly odd. Surely you wouldn’t go as far as to play some pranks on him by mixing something in his shampoo - you are way too intelligent for that. Also not one for revenge. 

“Of course. I will wake you when I do so myself, and let you use the bathroom first.”

Even if the mornings are not Alhaitham’s forte, he still opens his eyes disgustingly early, so sleeping for a bit more while you are at your morning routine sounds nice. Not as nice as doing it with you in his arms, but still quite nice.

“Thank you, dear. Now, if you are going to read-”

“Not tonight. You need sleep,” to that you smile warmly, crawling under the blankets, which he is quick to follow. You do not deny his embrace, and willingly scoot closer, extending an arm to put around his waist, as he does the same. Nor you turn away from a kiss he places on your forehead, pecking his chin in response.

“Good night, Alhaitham.”

“Good night, Y/n.”

True to his word, your husband pulls you out of the dreamland just moments later after exiting it himself. Cerulean eyes drink in your sleepy face contorting in displeasure, arms reaching over your head, and body arching in a morning stretch. He can’t help himself, leaning close and pressing a kiss just above the hem of your chemise, relishing the feeling of your heart thumping against his lips. You yawn, reaching a hand into his hair, but your breath hitches, when his mouth is suddenly on your throat, peppering it with soft pecks.

“Mmm… If you are trying to make up for yesterday you are a bit late,” your groggy voice is so adorable to the man. With you he tends to forget how to rationalize things. Yesterday was one of the times when his ‘Alhaitham for anyone else but his wife’ slipped into his interaction with you, the behavior he’s been trying for years to suppress when it comes to you. Now he knows he should’ve acted differently, and regrets his unique way of trying to give you reassurance. If only he-

“Are you overthinking again?” 

Your question makes him emerge back to reality. Eyes meet, and his heart skips a beat when you smile at him. Archons, you are beautiful.

“You know I am joking? Yesterday was yesterday, and you are already making it up to me, right?”

Words can’t describe how much he loves you, and at this moment he feels like he’ll never be able to express it fully.

“Right. Shower is all yours. Also,” he leans in again, placing a kiss on the corner of your mouth, “good morning.”

Your smile gets wider and you wrap your arms around his frame to kiss his cheek.

“Morning, Haitham.”

With you gone to the shower, the man buries himself in your pillow, inhaling the lingering scent. Sometimes he thinks he doesn’t deserve you. Your husband is intelligent enough to evaluate his own deeds and behavior, so he knows he is far from perfect to be someone’s partner. Yet, here you are, loving and accepting all his flaws - not without some complaint, but you are trying.

He might come off as arrogant to some people, but in arguments with you, he can tell when it’s his fault and not blame you for giving him a cold shoulder and requesting some space. He might look like he doesn’t care, but he cares for you, for your well-being, for your likes and dislikes, for your opinion, carefully storing all this valuable information in his brain, to show how much you mean to him. He is aware he has a long road ahead of him to get rid of all of his annoying conversing habits, but he is willing to keep trying for you. He seems to not show gratitude to anyone, but he is so grateful that you remain by his side, going as far as telling him you are proud to be his wife.

He wants you to know that it’s mutual.

That being said, Alhaitham is a smart man, but when he himself exits the bathroom after his shower time, his brain is reduced to just one thought.

You are absolutely gorgeous.

His gaze is chained to your pretty fingers, rolling the long, dark green stocking up your left leg. His throat bobs, when the elastic hem of it snaps against your skin, squeezing the flesh of your thigh a little. Then you take the second one, elegantly lifting the other leg and repeating the taunting process, but this time he is here to watch it from the beginning to the very end.

You happily hum, observing your work, and, satisfied, get on your feet, adjusting the band of your panties a little. Archons, you are wearing a matching set of the richest green shade. Lace leaves little to imagination, as his eyes flicker up to your chest, noting the pretty, natural swell of it and the outline of your nipples, and then down, as you turn around and bend to grab the shirt from the bed, demonstrating to him your ass and thighs.

His hand almost reaches out to touch you, to get a hold of the round globe, to sink his lithe fingers in your flesh. After all, your husband is not above earthly pleasures.

But your voice snaps him out of it.

"My love, if you keep standing like this in the middle of the room with just a towel on and no intention to dress, you might be late for breakfast," you chide him not even turning around and throw on the shirt, hiding the bra and some of the lower half, yet still leaving a bit of an appetizing view for an eye.

Alhaitham wills himself to tear the almost burning gaze away from you and redirect it to his own clothes, already prepared and neatly hanging on a chair. You mischievously smile as he takes a step to move past your figure. He's kept alarmingly silent and you are dying to know what reaction he has for your little plan. 

The man has just a second to react when you abruptly turn around and stumble into him. Big palms instantly grab your hips to steady you against his chest, and the heart quickens at the feeling of soft lace under his fingertips, peeking from beneath the hem of the shirt he accidentally crumpled in the process. Your hands on his chest are so warm, put out just in time to catch yourself, and Alhaitham finds himself thinking of how would've it felt if your chests collided - maybe the thin material of the only layer of clothes you have on paired with some flimsy bra would not make any difference from direct skin to skin contact?

"Ah, sorry, 'haithy," you sheepishly smile up at him, eyes soft and staring innocently, "Are you alright? I haven't heard you speak ever since you left for the shower…"

Archons, please, don't let his voice betray him.

"I'm," he quickly clears his throat, "alright. Was just about to start dressing."

You hum, pushing onto his pectorals to move away and continue with your own - though slightly changed - routine, but strong fingers flex, keeping you in place by the sheer hold on your hips. You look at him inquiringly, ignoring how the very tips of his thumbs just barely slip under the thin material of your panties to caress your hip bones. It's almost an absentminded action.

"What's with this lingerie?" He finally drops the question swirling on his tongue ever since he first laid his eyes on the tantalizing sight. It's hard to hold back a smirk - you admit you were a bit doubtful if it'd actually grab your husband's attention. Who knew the stoic man was into it…

"Oh, this?" Nonchalantly you tug on the collar of your shirt and Alhaitham sharply inhales upon catching a glimpse of your barely covered breast again. "Do not worry, habibi, it is not to seduce you," he is not that sure about it. 

Taking his hands in yours, you pry them off of your body and put them back to his sides, gracing his waist just above the towel with your touch. He shivers.

"I know it's different from what I usually wear, especially to work," you admit, turning around again, to grab the robes of the Akademyia's scholar. "But I really-really loved this one I purchased a couple of weeks ago on that outing with the girls. I feel so beautiful in it," fuck, you are. "And today is a special day. Want to have some confidence, you know?"

And as the rest of your body disappears under the long article of clothing, Alhaitham is finally aware of what this whole thing is about.

It's going to be an agonizingly endless day, where the only thing he can do is watch.

[mokulule]

A Man has Needs part 1

This will hopefully be a short thing, maybe three or four parts. Silly with a small dash of angst for flavor. Also someone needs to stop me from starting new stories, instead of indulging my insanity.

Ship: Dead on Main (Jason/Danny)

It had been an exhausting Friday, people were out celebrating the weekend and payday both. To top it off it was prime petty crime weather too with no rain. It was a patrol that would never end. Crime Alley had really lived up to its name tonight.

Jason was exhausted. Not because anything had been particularly challenging or dangerous, but it had just been one very long night of constant stupid little crimes.

It was five in the morning and his bed was calling him. He’d already stashed his gear in storage on the roof and he was so close to being home he could practically feel the soft sheets, the promise of sleep. The open bathroom window was a bother when he was this tired. Maybe he should have just gone down to the street and walked in the door, but keys also seemed like such a bother right now and more stairs… No, window was fine, he was in.

Bed. Now.

He bumped into something outside the bathroom door. Fuzzily he looked down to see a moving box - odd. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, he’d deal with that in the morning. Bed, comfort, safe.

He stumbled into the bedroom when it turned out the door wasn’t properly shut just pushed mostly closed.

Okay check list. Boots off. What else? Pants off, shirt off. He’d pick up in the morning. Did he forget anything? Toothbrush. He glanced backwards halfheartedly, he’d already left the bathroom; bed was right there.

The bed won. Tomorrow he would deal with teeth.

Tomorrow…

He crawled under the sheets. Warm and nice and safe and mmmmh he snuggled closer to the source, breathing in mint and something biting like frosty morning air. His nose buried into soft short hair and breathed in deep again. Good. Amazing. Safe. Sated.

Sleep.

Oo o oO

Danny turned and stretched with a yawn. He frowned when something held him into place. Must have gotten himself caught in the sheets again. It wasn’t a problem, he just slipped away intangibly, rolling to the edge of the bed to reach blindly for the night table.

Where was the phone? It took him a moment but finally it connected with his hand.

He groaned when he saw the time, it was nearly midday. Jazz would frown at him for already messing his sleep schedule up, but he’d just wanted to get as much set up in his apartment as possible, that had to be an okay excuse? He turned back on his back and looked at the light dancing across the ceiling from the light breeze moving the curtains. 

Okay time to get up. He had another day of unpacking today.

He got out and stretched absently. He turned around intending to make his bed if only to look responsible for when Jazz would come later to see the apartment.

He turned and promptly clapped his hands over his mouth to contain the frightened scream.

There was a guy in his bed! How was there a guy in his bed?! Ancients, what the fuck?!

Wait.

Danny tilted his head, eyes trailed down the muscular and scarred back, to a well shaped butt, which the tight boxers did very little to hide, and then those thighs!

There was a hot guy in Danny’s bed!

Focus Danny. He shook his head and slapped himself for good measure. That wasn’t what was important right now - though those thighs… Ancients, Danny would happily die again crushed by them.

No!

What was important was somehow there was a (hot) stranger in his bed. Danny had not invited him, of that he was sure. He had been unpacking yesterday, there had been no consumption of ghost zone alcohol yesterday, which could otherwise explain the lack of memory.

Which meant the guy had for some reason entered Danny’s apartment and slept with him - in the boring ordinary sense, Danny lamented this fact quietly for a moment.

Danny wasn’t surprised he hadn’t woken up, he slept, well, like the dead. The only thing that would wake him was very loud noises (like his alarm or his Dad’s inside voice) or occasionally his ghost sense.

It wasn’t even that Danny was surprised to find a bedmate. It was rare that Danny slept alone these days. He was, no matter how you put it, a very powerful ghost and he gave off a lot of good concentrated ambient ectoplasm.

Sometime last year the blobs and animal ghosts in Amity had started to join him every now and then when he slept. According to Frostbite it wasn’t so strange. They fed on the energy he gave off and also benefitted from his presence, which apparently radiated safety.

At first he’d been woken up by his ghost sense every time, but he’d gotten to a point where he just subconsciously dismissed the sense when the ghosts in question didn’t have ill intentions.

So Danny wasn’t surprised he wasn’t alone. He’d expected a bit more time to pass before whatever weak ghosts might be around figured out he was here, but you don’t wake up six days out of seven with cuddly animal ghosts in your bed and get surprised by it.

No, Danny was surprised by the fact that it was a guy. A human. A person. With muscled arms and- Oh, Danny realized cheeks heating up, that probably hadn’t been the sheets he’d been stuck in earlier.

Danny covered his face with his hands and groaned in despair.

Why was there a guy in his bed? Why couldn’t there be a guy in his bed for normal reasons? Danny would have brought this guy to his bed for normal bringing a guy to bed reasons.

He crawled onto the bed intending to wake the stranger, but as he reached out for the guy’s shoulder he turned leaning into the touch and sighed like the weight of the world had just lifted off his shoulders.

Danny was frozen, staring at the point of contact. He could sense it now: the man’s malnourished ghost core.

Danny swallowed thickly, suddenly seeing the many scars on the man’s back in a different light and that pure white streak in the otherwise black hair, it all seemed so obvious now.

The man was a halfa, or halfa adjacent. Because that was definitely warm human flesh underneath Danny’s hand.

So incredibly, unbelievably, absurdly this was essentially the same situation as usual, except not at all, because this was a person. Humanoid ghosts and ghosts with human-like or above intelligence didn’t do this. There were social conventions in place and not to mention they were usually powerful enough on their own to not need the ectoplasm.

But this guy was malnourished. He probably never had a good stable source of ectoplasm to properly develop his metabolism. Also to Danny’s metaphysical senses he smelled like he’d done the ghostly equivalent of dumpster diving to survive. Danny’s ectoplasmic aura had to be like the siren call of a buffet table.

Shit.

New plan. Danny was not gonna embarrass the poor guy. The situation was weird enough as it was. Danny was just gonna act like this was normal. Danny woke up with guests practically every day.

This was a person, not an animal, therefore petting was out of the question, so coffee.

Coffee was normal to offer guests. Also Danny needed coffee. He nodded to himself in satisfaction and floated off the bed to enter his combined kitchen and living room. The coffee machine was the first thing he got set up yesterday, clearly smart of past Danny.

It wouldn’t be long before his guest awoke with Danny no longer in the room to supply passive ectoplasm.

Maybe his human stomach wanted food too?

Oo o oO

Jason woke up with his head and nose buried in a pillow that smelled wonderful and comfortable somehow. He breathed in deep, catching mint and that biting cold he vaguely remembered from last night. Now, however he wasn’t dead on his feet, he was awake, more rested than he remember feeling for a long time and his brain connected the details into very alarming facts:

This was not his pillow. This was not his bed.

He sat up, quickly taking in the bare white walls and the stack of emptied and flattened moving boxes leaning against the wall next to a built-in closet.

This was very much not his apartment.

There was a noise of a cupboard clanging shut and Jason’s head snapped to the door that was open just a crack; he was not alone.

Shit.

He jumped out of bed, bending his knees upon impact to soften the sound. He needed to leave. Where was his clothes? His gaze darted around and he hurried to pick up his discarded items of clothing as he found them. Somehow one of his boots had ended up under the bed.

Quickly he pulled on the jeans and the shirt, was he wearing a jacket yesterday? He didn’t remember. Boots on and then he was going out the window- except there was the scent of coffee and something in the air. What was that smell?

He found himself moving to the door instead. The door squeaked as he pulled it open and he froze, hand still on the door handle, when the sound drew the attention of the young man in the kitchen.

His hair was black and sleep tousled, he had a slender athletic build and as he walked around the kitchen island bearing two cups it became apparent he was just wearing boxers. Jason’s inspection ended on his legs, which were admittedly very nice. When he looked back up he found the man standing a cautious distance away and a cute pink blush stretched all the way from his cheeks to his chest. Sky blue eyes looked up a him from underneath slightly frowning brows.

“So, you’re awake,” the man opened with an admirable attempt at a smile considering the situation. There was a beat of silence in which Jason grasped for what to even say, then the man reached his hand forward offering one of the cups, “coffee?”

There were many a thing Jason could say or should say. Like, what the fuck? You’re just gonna offer the guy who broke into your apartment coffee? Or, I’m sorry I broke into your apartment (and bed!)? And, why do you sleep with your windows open and unlocked? This is freaking Crime Alley! Or, what is it that smells so good?

What he actually said was a quiet, “yes, please.”

The cup was warm in his hands as he sipped it. And clearly this was enough for the cute guy because his smile turned more real and he nodded to himself and walked back to the kitchen counter. Jason really hoped that didn’t mean the coffee was poisoned.

“Feel free to take a seat. I hope you like pop tarts, it’s kinda all that I have at the moment.” As if summoned the toaster made a swish noise popping up the tarts. 

Hesitantly Jason sat down at the small square table paired with two mismatched foldable chairs. He really should turn and jump out a window. There had to be some kind of reckoning coming. Maybe the guy really cared about hospitality and Jason would be questioned after the food? Maybe that’s what was going on.

But also strangely his gut was telling him he was safe here? He really had no clue what to do with that.

A paper plate with a pop tart was set down in front of him and after setting down his own pop tart and coffee the man joined him.

Jason was supremely aware of the few inches between their knees. This wasn’t a large table after all and if he moved just slightly they would be touching. But why would he want them to be touching? Why was it so tempting?

Jason clenched his hands firmly and stared down at the pop tart, with an intensity born of the fact that for some reason he had to focus on not knocking knees with a stranger.

“You look at that poor pop tart as if you think it’s gonna explode, that’s not actually what pop tart means, you know.”

Jason looked up at the guy in disbelief.

He rubbed the back of his neck, “yeah that was terrible I know.”

Silence stretched between them and clearly embarrassed the guy hastily took a sip of his coffee and a bite of his pop tart avoiding Jason’s gaze.

Guilt twisted in Jason’s chest, not only did he invade his home he was also making him uncomfortable. His only comfort was the fact that the guy clearly wasn’t afraid of him.

Jason started eating the pop tart. For whatever the reason breakfast was part of the script the guy had decided on to make an attempt at normalcy. What else was Jason to do? He hadn’t fled when he had the chance and-

Oh-

The guy had shifted in his chair, one of their knees were touching, there was a spark and it felt like something uncurled inside him, a weight lifted. Jason blinked. This was…Mint and frost was a sting in his nose, a fullness in his chest. Goose bumps ran along his arms, and it tingled all the way to his fingertips.

Jason snapped his head up, but the guy was just looking at his phone sipping his coffee. As if he couldn’t feel the cold electricity between them. There was no way he could sit like that if he felt it? Was Jason just imagining it? He shuddered and moved slightly, just enough that they weren’t touching and instantly he regretted it. The wave of longing was almost enough to make his vision black out.

The guy looked up with a frown. “You okay, man?”

“Fine,” Jason said hoarsely, desperately focusing on the half eaten pop tart and taking another bite.

When the pop tarts were eaten and the cups emptied the man stood and Jason matched him. Jason wasn’t sure what he expected to happen at this point but it certainly wasn’t the guy, to walk over to his front door with a casual, “well I should get ready for the day.”

It was a clear dismissal. An out for the whole strange situation. Jason stood up and walked over to the door.

The guy opened the door letting Jason out with a short electrifying clap on the back and a “Take care, man.”

Jason was left standing outside the door to the previously empty apartment 4A, several floors below Jason’s own top floor apartment. How did he ever mistake it for his own?

What was the deal with the guy’s touch and why did Jason crave it so desperately?

Unsettled. he started walking towards the stairwell. As he moved further away from the apartment the pull to go back lessened. It was still there, but it was replaced quickly by something else.

He felt rested, energized in a way he hadn’t felt in a long while. There was an urge to do something. He felt like he could take on the world - maybe even Sunday dinner at the manor tomorrow.

Jason laughed. Wouldn’t that surprise everyone?

He was so caught up in the euphoria of productivity and social interactions that didn’t go sour for the next couple of days, that he completely forgot about the strange Saturday morning.

-

If you liked this consider telling me your thoughts in the replies or tags, it is motivating. Now to hopefully write a bit on Catnip.

[sahkuna]

a follow up to this drabble i wrote abt fucking around with yuuji's older brother sukuna :3 but fret not, this can be read as a stand-alone

word count: 1.5k+

content warnings: 18+ minors dni, afab+fem! reader, childhood "friends" with benefits, best friend's brother trope, modern au, slight exhibitionism on the behalf of u and sukuna :3

You would rather die than step out into Sukuna's living room where his younger brother, Itadori Yuuji, sits blissfully unaware of your presence.

Half of you does not have the heart to walk out there and potentially expose the fact that ‘Hey, I’m that ‘random girl' that Sukuna has been canoodling with! Sorry about that, by the way!’ You couldn’t imagine his reaction and didn’t want to find out anytime soon, so you’re currently hiding out in Sukuna’s bedroom— praying and hoping that Yuuji would leave before you do.

After hearing the younger Itadori brother’s unrelenting fists pounding at Sukuna’s front door, you were absolutely mortified at the timing of it all. From his arrival to how Sukuna was balls deep inside your pussy— and showed little to no concern at the fact that Yuuji might hear the… commotion… on the other side— it all went from good to bad real fast.

It didn’t take long for Sukuna to grow irritated with the sounds of Yuuji’s incessant whining for him to open the door and not invite him over when he’s got ‘some girl’ there, before he finally pulled out of you, threw on some clothes and yanked the door open. Almost ripping it off its hinges.

Pushing back the thoughts of the sex (and how incredible it was), you focus on the main task at hand.

You need to leave. Now.

Squatted down on the floor, you search for your black lace bralette that Sukuna tossed into a corner hours before his little brother’s abrupt arrival. “Can’t believe this…” you mutter under your breath.

From behind you, you swear you hear a faint snicker coming from the man who got you in this predicament in the first place. He watches you with careful eyes as you tip-toe around his room with nothing but your jeans and socks on, trying not to alert your best friend in the next room over of your presence. “Relax, the brat can’t even hear you,” he says.

“You don’t know that,” you all but hiss, throwing a threatening glare (one that he doesn’t flinch under) Sukuna’s way. “He could be waiting there, ready to accost me the moment I walk out!”

Honestly, you wouldn’t blame Yuuji if he did choose to confront you and verbally rip you to shreds. For Christ’s sake, you were fucking his brother behind his back! Quite literally.

But despite the circumstances of you starting a “friends with benefits” type of relationship with Sukuna and how terrible it made you feel to secretly withhold something so significant from your best friend, you’d be lying if you said you wanted to stop.

Judging how Sukuna’s gaze trails up the expanse of your belly and lifts higher to linger briefly on the swell of your breasts, it’s safe to say he thinks the same.

 You toss a protective arm over your exposed chest to preserve some of your dignity despite the circumstances.

“Can you just—” you flounder for words, trying to find the best words to use next and finally settle on something. “Distract him? Talk to him so that when I leave, he doesn’t have time to digest that it’s me.”

There’s an amused glint in his eye, he’s far too entertained at your frail attempts to at least salvage this shitty situation. Your eyes leave him in search of your bra once more and breathe a quiet sigh of relief once you do spot it behind his dresser. “Just walk out the door. Who cares.” 

Wasting no time you throw on the undergarment, clasping it shut before your attention is drawn back to Sukuna. Your face morphs into pure astonishment at how nonchalant he is about this… and reckless. “Are you crazy?!” you whisper-yell for the second time that day.

The corners of his lips curl up, forming a wicked grin. “It’ll be fine. You should go out as you are right now.” He gestures at your half-dressed figure with an uncaring hand. “I’m sure he’ll like it.”

Speaking of…

“Give me one of your sweaters. Preferably one that has a hood.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow, and his tone lowers a bit. “Leave with what you came with. Don’t know why you’re so threatened over the fact that he’ll see you.”

“No! Yuuji’s seen me one too many times in this shirt,” you reference the tee that is scribbled with your university’s name on its front, “so he’ll know it’s me if he were to turn his head.”

Sukuna clicks his tongue with annoyance and though it’s brief, you catch an expression that you can only chalk up to be one of disappointment flicker across his face before he schools it back into indifference. “Fine.”

Standing abruptly, Sukuna leaves his spot on his bed to head toward the closet. He digs around for a few seconds before he pulls out a black sweater and flings it at your face, effectively clouding your vision until you peel it off. “Hurry up then.” Is all you hear before he leaves the room to go see Yuuji once again.

Okay. That went… pretty well? Excluding the tough time Sukuna gave you before and after.

You let out another involuntary moan when Sukuna drives his hips into you when another round of knocks echoes throughout his apartment. You can feel your cunt squeeze around his cock, feeling the intense heat from the predicament you both were in right now.

“You’re real perverted, huh?” Sukuna’s hand finds the back of your neck. He squeezes. “Don’t tell me you’re getting turned on by this?”

Another muffled exclamation escapes you as you try to refute it, but Sukuna laughs at your attempt.

Yuuji might hear. Yuuji might hear. Yuuji might hear. That was all you could think of.

“Cute.” Is all Sukuna says before he’s back to thrusting his hips against yours. Forcing you to take it as you lay in a blissful, helpless state on his bed, rocking the bed roughly with every movement he made.

In and out, over and over and over and—

You smack your palms against your cheeks. Stop! Stop. Thinking. About it! You remind yourself.

You’re sure you’ve spent too much time here anyway, so you throw on Sukuna’s sweater hurriedly. As you hype yourself up to exit, you tuck away any hair that may show into the hoodie.

Thankfully, it seems like Yuuji has delved into chattering boisterously away about God knows what to Sukuna, while his older brother just sits there only offering a few grunts and affirmatory noises to show that he was listening. Kinda… Not really.

Stepping out from the bedroom, you close the door in a manner that would have Sukuna chiding you to ‘hurry the fuck up’. Once that’s done, you very quietly pad down the hallway and make a beeline straight towards your shoes. You thank your lucky stars you chose ones that were easy to slip on.

Great. Everything is going smoothly so far.

Yuuji’s still talking away and unaware of your company and you’re all dressed, ready to head back out to where the bustling street of Tokyo awaits you.

But it gets shot down too fast. Before you can even grasp your hand around the doorknob, you hear Sukuna speak up from behind you.

“Leaving so soon?”

That fucking asshole.

No way in hell did he just draw attention to you right as you were about to step out the door.

Biting your cheek you keep your back facing them, forehead pressed into the door’s frame as you grip its doorknob to refrain from screaming. “Mhm!”

Sukuna’s laughter is low and taunting. You can tell that he’s basking in this moment, being able to mock both you and his little brother at the same time in a manner that screams I know something that you don’t know.  “You know, she went to the same school as you, kid.” He’s now talking to Yuuji, prompting him to say something to you and he bites.

“It’s uh… nice to meet you?” you hear Yuuji say.

God, you can even picture that dumb confused yet polite expression he makes when he’s caught in an awkward situation.

“Mhm!” you repeat, because what the fuck else is there to say?

There’s a long beat of silence, the brothers don’t say anything and neither do you. You wouldn’t dare.

It isn’t until Itadori’s voice from the couch floats over to you. His tone is riddled with confusion and a bit of recognition. “Hold on, I think I—”

“I’m gonna see her off, don’t move.” Sukuna commands, successfully interrupting his train of thought. Swooping into the rescue, you hear him come up to you. He toes on his shoes and places his palm on top of yours so that he can twist the knob open. His hand dwarfs the size of your own.

Woof.

You’re ushered outside, and it’s like that all the way to the elevator with Sukuna’s hand still seizing your hand. It’s only when you slap your hand against the button calling for the elevator that he lets go. You don’t bother exchanging any parting words for him, seeing that you’re too peeved to do so anyway. Thus, Sukuna speaks up before the lift dings signifying its arrival.

“Same time next week?”

“Shut. Up!”

[monamourbladie]

AHH OKAY SO.. this feels so weird typing out but IF YOU'RE COMFORTABLE CAN YOU WRITE LIKE PROTECTIVE/POSSESSIVE DAN HENG IL? idk how to describe it aaa like.. id imagine because he is a vidyadhara, they stay with their lovers for life, so he's be like very protective over his lover. maybe smut but its up to you!!!!!!!

Possessive Dan Heng/IL head canons

okay firstly i wanna say i was sitting on this ask for days bc i was trying to think of a possible plot but I couldn’t:( so i’m just gonna do some head cannons, i hope you don’t mind! I’ll be including some nsfw ones at the end too don’t worry :)) and thank u for being my first request on this blog hehe~

Dan Heng:

alright, so Dan is a very reserved and kept to himself kinda guy as we can see on the Express. he doesn’t show his emotions a lot and he’s kind of hard to read

you’re one of the few people that can read him like a book due to how close you guys are and how much he trusts you. like, even MARCH couldn’t get him to open up as much as he does with you

so when he’s upset, you just know. like it’s so obvious to you and you alone lol

so let’s say you’re out in Belobog and he’s speaking with March & Stelle when some guy comes up to you and starts chatting with you

initially he wouldn’t think much of it until he starts hearing laughter from you, and then all his attention is on you and him. like, why are you laughing at his jokes? what’s he even doing talking to you??

he’d just kind of keep his distance and just watch. nobody else really understands what he’s doing, but you can immediately recognize the coldness in his eyes as he’s glaring daggers at the man.

eventually he’d have enough when he notices him starting to touch your arm and he immediately walks over, keeping a calm & collected stature

“y/n! there you are, i was wondering where you ran off to.” he’s walk up behind you and wrap his arm around your waist, keeping you pressed close against him.

your cheeks would flush and you’d immediately lean into him, feeling better now that he’s here and can scare the guy off. “i was just waiting for our drinks.”

“and speaking with me. i was offering to give her a tour around Belobog, since she’s new,” the man said with a smile to her. dan’s grip would tighten around your waist and he’s grit his teeth.

your drink would be called and he’d move away for just a moment - (it helped that you were waiting by the counter, anyway) and grabbed your drinks for you, handing you one and kissing your forehead as he did so, “that’s sweet, but we already have a tour guide. let’s go.”

he’d grab your hand and fast walk you away, his heart almost aching from the exchange.

you always understood how sensitive he is about you dating him, since he’s been so heavily traumatized by his previous marriage in his past life. any scenario where you could leave him in any way terrifies him more than he wants to admit.

“was that supposed to be intimidating?” march would comment with a giggle as they walked over. dan simply sighed as he handed march her drink, “leave it, march.”

you’d look up at him with a soft smile and tilt his face to look down at you. you’d grin and kiss his lips longingly, “don’t worry, sweetheart. i was just being nice and keeping conversation.”

this eased his mind greatly - it’s not like he doesn’t trust you, he’s just extremely insecure and fearful about losing his loved ones, even to a random stranger in a planet they have no plans to stay on.

back at the hotel when you’re alone though? that’s another story. he doesn’t feel the need to keep his usual reserved facade up, and you know that.

the moment the door is shut, he’s immediately behind you, his arms trailing up yours as he peppers kisses up the back of your neck, “i hated seeing him speak with you, you know that?” he’d mutter against your skin.

you’d hum and close your eyes as you leaned into his touch, knowing this was going to be a pleasantly long night. “were you jealous, baby?” you’d playfully tease him.

he’d let out a low growl against your skin as his grip on you tightened, moving you in his arms so you’re pressing your chest against his own. he leaned down and started to kiss against your jawline up to your ear, “i don’t get jealous. i get protective.”

“you’re so jealous,” you’d giggle, moving your head so you could kiss his lips instead. he’d kiss you back harshly to immediately shut you up, beginning to walk the two of you slowly over to the bed as you’d kiss

he’d pin you down against the bed quickly, his kisses getting more feverish as his hands start exploring your body, “that’s enough out of you. you’re my girl.”

you’d squirm under his touch in enjoyment, cheeks flushing red from being called his girl. you loved when you got him to act all touchy, especially when he was riled up like this.

he would absolutely tease you all throughout the night just to get you so riled up that you’d just be panting and begging for him to finally let you have your release.

he’d click his tongue and lean in against your ear, his fingers teasing you unbearably slowly as you squirmed. he wouldn’t let you have your release until you cried out that you were his and only his, reaffirming him in the best way.

he’d lean down and kiss you heatedly as he pumped his fingers quickly to push you over the edge, “good girl, that’s right… you belong to me, no one else…”

youd cry out as he helped you through your high, “o-only yours, dan… f-fuck…”

there was literally nothing he adored more than seeing you a sobbing, moaning mess all because of him. part of you wondered if you should get him possessive more often if he would treat you so nicely afterwards…

Imbibitor Lunae:

if you thought dan heng was closed off and reserved, dan feng was another level. we all know everyone described him as cold and uncaring, but when it came to you? he was a total opposite and an absolute sweetheart.

he had his moments of being a typical brooding dragon, but the love he has for you is so immense that it outweighed every once of coldness in his heart and actions

it honestly surprised most of the quintet when he announced that you two started dating, because out of everyone they expected to actually get a girlfriend the high elder himself was last on the list — let alone a short life species such as yourself.

dan feng does not like showing any ounce of PDA in public by any means. in the public eye, he only would have his arm around you if you were walking around, or occasionally held your hand. he would never kiss you if he knew a lot of people would be seeing it

at least that’s how he acted early on in your relationship. this lead to most people thinking you were single, so it was not uncommon that you would have guys flirt with you right in front of him.

the first time dan feng noticed a drunk guy coming into you hardcore, it made his blood boil. unlike dan heng, dan feng was totally cool with showing off his angry side.

he immediately stormed right up and got between the two of you, resting his hand against your chest and glaring at the man, “i think it’s best if you leave.”

the man scoffed as he crossed his arms, “actually, it would be best if you left. i was having a great time with her.”

dan felt his blood boil and he glared at him, “that’s my fiancée, and i suggest you get away from her immediately.”

“or what?” the man spat back. “for being her fiancé, you certainly don’t act like one.” without thinking, dan shoved the man against the wall, his arm pressed firmly over his chest, “you have some nerve to speak to your High Elder in such a way. I told you — stay away from her. you should be thankful i’m not throwing you into the Shackling Prison for being an ass.”

the man’s eyes widened as he started sobering up enough to realize how badly he fucked up. he squeaked and nodded furiously, “i-i’m so sorry, your highness! it won’t happen again!”

he’d step back and let him run off quickly. turning back to you he saw your cheeks burning red with embarrassment, and his demeanor immediately changed back to stoic. he approached you and began to walk away with you, his hand wrapped around your waist, “i believe i owe you an apology. i didn’t realize i wasn’t acting as much of a fiancé as I thought i was.”

and ever since that day, he made sure he always had his arm around you in some way, and made it very, very clear that you were his fiancée.

he’d pretty much be the same as dan heng, except way more passionate and dominating about it. he’s not afraid to entirely let his guard down in private with you, especially about anything sexual, so absolutely be prepared for a long, pleasure filled night

he’d be very dominate but definitely a pleasure dom … most of the time lol, other times he’d just be absolutely rough with you if he was really, really feeling jealous or possessive

he would not be afraid to leave a lot of marks - it made him proud that others would absolutely know you’re taken just by one glance at your neck, and he wasn’t ashamed of it, either. he knew he fucked up early on, and he made sure to always make up for it, especially in bed

and yes — part of the reason why he’s so protective over you is because you are a short life species. it absolutely destroys him that while you will grow old and spend the rest of your life with him, he cannot share the same blessing with you, and he absolutely hates himself for it. it’s not fair.

that’s why any time anyone tried anything with you, he’d get so angry over it because how dare they flirt with his one and only?

he also gave 0 fucks that some vidyadharans did not approve of you, in fact he loves to flaunt it in their faces now and kiss you at public events when he hears people murmur about the high elder and his “short-life woman.”

moral of the story, don’t fuck with the high elder’s woman or you’re a dead man

i hope this is what u had in mind alenfhehddhhd thank you for the request 🫶🏻

[beardedjoel]

smother - part ii: resistance

dark!joel x f!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | kofi

summary: joel knows how to break you just right, to get you feeling helpless enough to accept what he believes you need. somewhere deep inside of you, you think you might like it. 10.9k words (sorry) chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI! noncon, nonconsensual touching, dubcon - reader eventually enthusiastically consents but the syndrome is stockholming so its dubcon, reader is a virgin, big juicy age gap (reader is 19, joel is late 40s) masturbation (m), nipple play/groping, manipulation, joel def has a corruption kink, joel gets a bit violent in this chapter, y'all get a lot of touching and (kissing), if these darker tags aren't your cup of tea please keep scrolling! a/n: okay i'm even more nervous about this chapter than the first, idk how it got so long but i really hope its tense and enticing for you all! i love writing dark joel, this has been such a thrill so far tbh! get buckled in for heavy duty smut next chapter too ✌️

Light spills in around the thick, heavy curtains, drawn tightly shut. Just a glowing sliver on the edges and underneath, telling you it’s at least well into the morning, that you’ve been asleep for longer than you’d expected to. Your brain is a scrambled, hazy mess from the way you’d finally been able to pass out, still encumbered by Joel’s grasp holding you down. After a while his heaviness had a calming effect, the opposite of what you’d ever thought would happen when he first came into your bed last night. But now, he was nowhere to be found, the other side of your bed cold and empty, such a stark difference that you start to wonder if maybe you’d imagined it, dreamed it all last night. 

You get up to let some light from the day in, your eyes burning as they adjust and you see that it looks to be late afternoon already. How many hours had you been out for? 

Recollections of the night before flood your brain - Joel’s warmth pressed so close to you, his hard body molding softly into yours like he knew how to keep you safe, take care of you, just like he’d said. Yet there’s still an unease surrounding the thoughts, that he’d made the decision for you, came into your bed and lied. It sends a shiver up your spine, half thrill and half fear as you contemplate what you should do next. Maybe plotting a way to Jackson is the right move, but something about Joel was keeping you here, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on yet. It was more of a feeling, something indescribable that came over you when thinking about him. 

Could he really save you, like he said? Or was he just a sick old man with a fantasy? One he’d fulfill before tossing you out just as easily as he’d taken you in.

You sigh heavily and sit on the edge of the bed for a few moments, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You finally decide you have to leave this bedroom sometime and face Joel again to see if those same confusing feelings from last night persist, or even to clear the air between you two. You freshen up a bit with a toothbrush and homemade toothpaste that Joel had left out for you before fixing your hair to an acceptable enough level. You creep out of the bedroom, soft and quiet movements with socks padding your feet as you listen to hear what Joel is up to downstairs. No sounds of cookware or silverware clinking on plates, no rustling on the pages of a book, no distant sound of him chopping wood outside again. Until you do hear something. 

A sound almost in between a whimper and a groan, and it’s right there, the door diagonally down the hall from yours. You freeze, brows knit together as you wait to try to hear it again. The next time you hear it, it’s more urgent, more gruff, a loud exhale. Was it a pained sound? You couldn’t quite tell as you walked closer, noticing the light spilling from a crack in Joel’s door out into the dim, windowless hallway. 

One peek through the opening in his door has your eyes widening. A gasp sticks itself in your throat but you clap your hand over your mouth when you take in the sight before you. Shit…

All your eyes immediately focus on is Joel’s cock, heavy and thick, hanging out of his pants in a tight grasp in his hand. He’s sitting on the edge of his bed, practically in perfect view through this open sliver in the doorway. His eyes are closed, lost in the moment as he grunts a little bit more. You avert your eyes almost immediately, standing frozen with your cheeks burning. You’re not completely unaware, and you do have an idea of what he’s doing. You can’t help but flick your eyes back to him as another strained exhale leaves his lips, your eyes drifting down to where he’s sliding his hand in quick jerks. His cock is pink and slick as he runs his hand along it, and you start to tune into the lewd, sloppy sounds that it's all making as flesh hits flesh over and over again. You squirm in place, feeling your knees go a bit weak before you finally notice it. 

Your underwear. 

It feels like something screeches to a halt inside of you, everything moving in slower motion for a few seconds as this information sinks in. Joel’s face, turning more red and eyes rolling back as he pumps his cock with your underwear from yesterday in his other hand, a fist tightly wrapped around the material. You shudder, but find the little zing traveling further to a spot right between your legs, making you clench your thighs together tighter.

It’s all so… so… a feeling you can’t quite explain that starts to make your skin hot, and a scene you don’t know if you want to stop watching. You are just curious after all, you lie to yourself in those few seconds of continued peeking on Joel’s private moment.

You sense a difference in his movements, flashing your sight up to his face where his eyes are open now, gaze locked on yours, heavy lidded as a smile plays on his lips. He doesn’t stop, though, like you thought he would, and it practically steals the breath from your lungs. 

“Oh… sh- sorry,” you blurt out, panicky and quiet before you can think about it, covering your eyes with your palm and hastily pulling the door shut. 

Joel can’t stop smiling, a wry, devilish thing as he continues in fast, long strokes on his cock. You knowing exactly what he’s doing in here is only urging him on even more, the look in your eyes as he’d caught your stare on his glistening, ruddy cock making him harder. 

His smile grows when he realizes you haven’t stopped enjoying the show, not at all, despite your appearances of shutting the door behind you. What he realizes you don’t know, is that he can see the shadow of your feet underneath the door, tiny, anxious movements that catch the light and cast shadows. 

If you want to listen, he’s surely not going to disappoint you, another little groan slipping past his lips and he tightens his grip and speeds up, picturing you in his mind. He can practically see it now, one of your perfect little hands clasped over your mouth outside his door, trying not to make a peep, your body rigid as you lean closer to listen. Those perfect little hands that should never have to lift a finger, should always be taken care of. A pulse of pleasure wracks his body at the thought of him being the one to do that for you. 

“Fuck,” he whispers hoarsely. “Fuuuuck…”

A few more swift tugs on his length and he’s stuffing your underwear right at the head of his cock, thrusting once and cumming hard into the fabric with a loud moan, the only thing on his mind the mental image of you in nothing but these. 

He’s not too weak to admit he’s already completely addicted to you. Your pretty face, the way you’d finally given him those few little smiles yesterday. How you fit so wonderfully in his arms last night once you’d decided that you needed him. Joel knows he’ll do whatever it takes to keep you as his, to make sure you understand just what you need, how you need him. He sighs as he leans back a moment, then stares down at your underwear, his creamy release staining it now looking like one of the most beautiful sights. To paint you with it himself would nearly kill him, send him into a point of no turning back. No, there’s no doubt now that he’s addicted to this… And god help anyone who tries to take it from him, even you.

The moment you hear Joel’s longer, drawn out groan you scurry away, light as can be on your feet and tiptoe down the stairs in a hurry. The mortification you’d feel if he opened the door to you standing there listening in is more than you can bear. You wish you hadn't been curious, hadn’t wanted to stop and stare just to watch just a bit longer. It wasn’t your fault that you felt completely embarrassingly lost when it came to… sex, but you know it was wrong to invade Joel’s privacy like that. He had left the door cracked, hadn’t he, though? Your brain devours the information, barely able to latch onto that train of thought before the next one comes barreling in. 

You pace back and forth in the kitchen, hands wrung anxiously over and over again in front of you. You gaze at the staircase practically every millisecond, waiting for Joel to come down, wondering if he will. You two have to confront this, right? He knows what you saw, and you certainly know what you saw, the image burned into your mind now. All the details seem hazy in your panic, but all you can think about is your underwear in his hands, and how your current pair feel damp now against your own will. You’d felt this before - attraction and arousal - but not like this. You had been so close to everything this time, not just hearing stories or thinking about kissing a boy you thought was good looking. This was a full fledged man, pleasuring himself right in the next room to you. It makes you break out in a sweat, your body hot and breathing shallow as the floorboards creak under your rushing movements. 

You sigh and continue pacing for another moment before trying to make yourself busy by putting on the kettle, maybe to make some tea, something to calm your frayed nerves. If Joel didn’t wind up kicking you straight back out into the wilderness after that debacle, you’d be surprised. Maybe you should think about kicking yourself out to avoid any of this awkwardness. You make a split second decision to grab your things and go, your first steps out of the kitchen interrupted by heavy footfall upstairs, lazily making its way down to you.

You stand frozen, your plan quickly forgotten when you see Joel, moving with confidence, his steps nonchalant and unhurried as he approaches with a satisfied look on his face. Not angry, not embarrassed, just a casual, almost smug look plastered on his features. You look at a spot past him before dipping your eyes to the floor, your face already heated and flushed. He’s wearing jeans again but this time with a plain, moss green henley shirt rolled halfway up his forearms. Another shirt showing off his strong, muscular form, and it’s killing you inside, especially now that you’ve seen just that much more of him. 

“Sit,” he says plainly, finishing his walk to the kitchen table where he pulls out a chair, settling himself down. When you dare to glance in his direction, he’s giving you a look that sends a shudder up your spine, already knowing he’s about to ask much less nicely if you don’t heed his words. Your shaky hand pulls out a chair, perching yourself on the edge, hands holding on to one another for dear life in your lap. You feel like a child about to be scolded for doing something naughty, and you suppose in many ways that’s exactly what’s happening right now. 

“J-“ you start, with Joel cutting you off before you can even get a syllable out. 

“You enjoy listenin’ to that little show? Gettin’ a little peek?” Joel asks smoothly, a hint of irritation but also gratification in his tone. He leans forward onto the table with his forearms pressed against the wood. 

“N-no I didn’t… I mean I didn’t see much. I didn’t hear… I swear. I’m really sorry, that just made things so… uncomfortable…” you ramble on, feeling like a bumbling idiot as you’re sure your body is about to catch fire. 

“Did it?” Joel asks, eyebrow lifted in casual questioning. It makes you stop, your lips sitting parted with words you can’t express, clouded by confusion. 

“Well… didn’t it? I’m - I don’t know what’s… normal… That didn’t feel…” Your eyes search his face wildly, and you know he can see you, trembling like a fawn stood in the clearing of a forest just before it bolts. 

Joel sighs out a long exhale. “Seems like you enjoyed it, standin’ outside my door.” He states it as a fact, not a guess, and your stomach twists as it sinks. How he knows is beyond you, and you can only sit in your shame now, eyes fixed downwards on the table. You’ve never found knots in wood so interesting before as you stay transfixed by the glossy surface.

“Nothin’ to be ashamed of. Just curious, weren’t ya?” he says, his voice rumbling softly. His hand inches towards you across the table and you finally get the nerve to look up at his eyes. They’ve gone gentler, full of understanding. You’re sure your expression gives everything away, your shock, your intrigue at what you’d witnessed. “Weren’t you?” he asks again, and you finally give him a little nod.

His lips twitch upwards in a wry grin just as the kettle starts to whistle, the sound ramping up rapidly into the silent room. You both stare at each other for a few moments, still processing your answer to him. The screeching reaches a fever pitch, making your skin start to crawl, so you push your chair out in a hurry to grab it off the stove. Joel’s hand shoots out, his large hand snatching your thigh, fingers wrapping around and digging into the flesh through your sweatpants. You halt, your ass plopping right back into the chair as Joel stares at you through narrowed eyes.

“I’ve got it,” he says sternly. He waits a moment longer, making sure you’re fully seated and about to heed his words before standing up. The kettle is at a deafening scream, but Joel seems in no hurry, sauntering over to the stove. You breathe out a sigh of relief as the sound tapers off, Joel setting the kettle to the side while he busies himself with reaching up to some open shelving along the wall where you see several jars full of different types of tea leaves. He’s silent, moving slowly, as if to make you sweat it out, and you admit that his plan is working. You don’t know the last time you felt such an odd, burning fear inside of you. Different than facing infected, than being so hungry without knowing where your next meal is coming from. It’s primal, deep down inside of you, meek little claws in a vice grip at the core of you, a burning that travels downward repeatedly, right between your legs. You notice you’ve started trembling without even realizing it.

He brings a steaming mug over, setting it on the table in front of you. It smells mainly of chamomile, maybe some lavender - you see Joel read your mind on wanting something for your nerves. Instead of retaking his seat across from you, he walks around the table, doing a slow, deliberate lap. His feet, although shoe-less, make an impact along the floor, and you feel like each one sounds like a drum along with the way your heart is beating in your ears. He circles back and pauses behind your chair, sliding his forearm across your chest, tucking it close to your neck.

You really were trapped now. Not just by your own mental doing, unable to make yourself leave at the first sign of trouble with this man for god knows what reason, but truly, physically ensnared by his embrace. His arm wraps tighter across the top of your chest, his hand squeezing on the shoulder where it snakes around.

“Tell me…” he leans closer, lips coming to your ear, a hint of a smirk in his tone although you can’t see his face now. “That the first cock you ever seen? Or just the first you seen one like mine?” 

Your head swims, unsure of how to answer. He has you trapped with this question, either answer damning to you. You sputter and scoff out a chuckle, shaking your head. 

“No, you say? Which one, honey, c’mon it’s a simple question.” His arm tightens, fingers digging in along your shoulder. “No judgement here, just a curious man, thas’ all.” He says the words as if he’s expectant of a certain answer for you, following a hunch and looking to confirm it for himself. He knows, he knows, he knows. He knows you so effortlessly, reads your mind like it’s the simplest thing in the world. You worry he sees right through you right down to your debased thoughts, the ones where you give in to him and these foreign feelings you want to chase.

You shake your head again. “I haven’t…” Your cheeks burn with the confession, hoping he won’t make you actually say the words. You struggle uncomfortably in his grip, his scent invading your senses now as well, mint and leftover coffee from this morning and your stomach burns so hot you think you might be sick now. He responds with a tighter grasp, his arm starting to press a bit on your windpipe.

Joel blows out a breath, the sound nearly grating next to your ear. “Never seen a cock before till today? Till you saw mine the way you did? That so, darlin’?” He sounds amazed, excitement creeping into his voice. 

You swallow hard, fighting back tears, but you nod for him. “Y-yes…” you admit with a shaky voice, willing yourself not to cry again in front of Joel. 

“Oh, hey, hey, that’s okay. Must be an awful lot to see it jus’ like that, no context for any of it…” he murmurs, his voice oozing a sick sympathy as you sense his excitement building. “Shouldn’t have had to see it as a surprise. If it were up to me, darlin’, I’d have made sure it was perfect. Y’would’ve been amazed by the things a cock like mine can do for ya.”

He tuts quietly, his lips grazing along the shell of your ear. You squirm a little, your breathing picking up as you strain against him. You remember how much you’d liked his lips right under your ear last night, how badly you’d wanted to hate it, but here you were yet again, enjoying it. 

“Now I’m gonna ask you somethin’, honey, and I want you to be honest with me, mkay?” Joel says. Your options feel limited so you motion with a nod for him to go on, his arm digging into your throat further when your head bobs down.

“Be honest, now, remember.” He squeezes your shoulder hard. “How old are ya, honey?” His lips graze your ear again and your legs tense, thighs pressing together. You nearly have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop the little moan that wants to slip out of you. 

You chew your lip, telling him the truth before you can even think about it too hard. “I’m nineteen.” You don’t know why you tell him the truth, why you give him any part of you, but you do. 

“Hmm,” he murmurs in a low little groan. His fingers brush along your shoulder, across your chest a bit, loosening his tight grip. “Thank you for tellin’ me the truth, sweetheart. I appreciate that.”

“H-how old are you?” you ask in return, getting a haughty chuckle from Joel. 

“Older’n you,” he says simply, a little growl caught in the back of his throat as his nose buries itself in your hair, taking in a deep breath.  

“B-but I told you…” you whimper a little as he tightens his hold again, leaning further to press his head into your shoulder and neck. 

“Why d’ya wanna know? Wonderin’ why an old man like me is gettin’ your panties wet?” he asks, amused at your expense, knocking you down just one more peg. 

You blink hard and feel yourself flushing again, warmth radiating throughout your body all the way down to your fingertips. You’re angry that he seems to know every damn thing about you, and you feel like you know nothing about what he’s thinking. “I don’t understand… any of it. Why -“

“It’s all natural, sweetheart. Happens when you find yourself likin’ what I’m doin’,” Joel tells you, voice starting to sweeten like honey. His hand strokes your hair, smoothing the sides. 

“I know…” you bite back, only to feel Joel move his forearm closer to your neck. Your breath hitches. “I just mean… I - I want to know how old you are.”

“You persistent little thing…” He smirks again, looking impressed by you. “I’m in my forties, that’s all y’need to know.” He pauses for a brief second, not wasting a second to keep contact with your skin, his calloused fingertips stroking along the hollow of your neck. They trickle down, gentle and fluid as water as he ghosts along your chest and over your stomach. You shudder and try to keep your eyes open, succumbing to the pleasure of it all - nobody has ever touched you like this, taken their time to feel you out and seem interested in every part of you. It’s a slow, tortuous movement while his arms reach down over you, thick muscles on display, until his fingertips brush along your waistband. They trace back and forth along the crimped edges of the band, tied tightly. He plays with the strings, a clear contemplation to untie them any second. It makes you start to tremble even more, the way you feel powerless and know you couldn’t stop him even if you wanted to.

Joel abruptly stops, pulling his arms back before he starts to walk around the chair, standing in front of you now. He doesn’t crouch to your height, standing tall and proud as he towers over where you sit. His fingers reach forward slowly and gently, thumb and forefinger taking your chin delicately, holding it like something he might break. You can finally see his expression, look into his eyes, and they’re a dark abyss full of mystery and that hungry look he’d flashed at you a few times yesterday. 

“Get the sense you’re feelin’ a bit scared right now, hm?” he suddenly asks.

You swallow and then nod for him, eyes barely blinking as you try to keep track of every single movement he makes. His grip on your chin flashes tighter for just a moment before he lets it go, leaving a little red mark in his wake.

“Good girl.”

Your stomach turns as you realize he wants this, wants your fear to permeate the room so he can devour it, to know that he has this hold on you. Joel leans forward, one hand planted on the table next to you, the other coming down to rest on your thigh. He’s tender in his touch, letting his hand soothingly find its way up your leg.

Joel’s eyes bore into you, trying to capture your attention and hold it, but you can barely summon the courage to look into those dark pools, worried they’ll draw you in forever. Instead, you squeeze your eyes shut, focusing on your shaky inhales and exhales as Joel’s hand rubs your thigh.

“Don’t you like it, sweetheart? Feels good to be touched here, doesn’t it?” You don’t answer him, eyes squeezed shut even tighter, a quiver starting on your lips. You try to ignore the way your body responds to the touch, skin blazing right where he’s touching and that pooling of heat starting between your legs.

“Now c’mon, open your eyes f’me. I want to take care of you, honey. Jus’ like we agreed to last night. You need me to take care of everythin’ for ya, never make you have to worry or lift a pretty little finger again. I can show you everything.” Joel pauses, waiting to see if you’ll heed his command. His hand wraps a little tighter around your thigh, fingers squeezing.

“I said… look at me. Open your eyes. Nothin’ to be afraid of.” His voice has a shake to it from trying to keep it even amongst his building frustration, his desire to have you under his thumb already. You finally brave it, your eyes opening slowly to find a softer smile playing on Joel’s lips as his face comes into focus, just a few inches from yours now.

“I want you all to myself… d’you understand what I’m sayin’?”

You nod. His smile grows, much more foreboding now.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, fingers squeezing your thigh again, brushing his thumb along the inner part, sending a set of sparks hurtling up your spine. “And you’ll stay? Won’t try to get away from me, will you?” he asks, a wicked raise of his eyebrow telling you there’s only one correct answer here.

Your face falls a little bit. “Wh- what would you do if did?” you dare to ask.

He laughs, a mirthless chuckle before he can even stop himself. “Oh, honey, what’re you gonna do? Where’ll you go? You wouldn’t get barely ten steps outside this door ‘fore I got to ya.” His eyes pierce yours before studying your face for a few moments, challenging you. “Best that you don’t even try, yeah?”

You don’t reply, hoping that the fear in your eyes and trembling lips are answer enough for him.

“Come and sit w’me, how about that? I’ve got a few more questions for you.” Joel offers you his hand and you pause, eyes fixed on his tan, rough skin - hands that have worked hard for an entire lifetime. He takes the initiative to grasp your hand instead, giving you a quick tug that has you standing up to start following him. He completely dwarfs you in every way, his hand practically enveloping your entire fist as he pulls you along towards the couch.

You don’t know what otherworldly urge possesses you so suddenly, but you glance over towards the door, then back at Joel before you muster up everything you have and shove him square in the back, yanking your captured hand back in the process. He stumbles forward, your hand slipping from his and you quickly gain your balance and bolt. You reach the front door, fumbling with the lock and knob as you hear Joel grunt loudly behind you. 

“Don’t you understand? There’s nowhere to go, sweetheart,” he calls after you angrily. You don’t dare turn around as you fling the door open with a strength you didn’t even know you possessed, feet moving of their own accord as you sprint down the stairs and towards the oncoming woods. You can hear Joel’s huffs behind you, both of your shoe-less feet pounding on the frozen earth. It hurts, the cold ground combined with all types of brush and wood littering the forest floor that are now jabbing into your feet with every step. This was stupid, this was a mistake, you’re going to die out here if he doesn’t do it first.

“God… damn… it…” you hear Joel pant behind you, knowing he’s close, that it’s almost over now. You’re weak and frail still, much too slow to outrun a towering powerhouse like Joel. He was right - there’s no fighting it, no escape from here unless he allows it. Maybe it won’t be so bad… maybe you do enjoy the way he speaks to you, the way he’s been touching you… maybe it’ll all be just what you’ve needed. You’ve always wanted more than what you had, wishing for someone to care just a little more, to have a family again.

You lose yourself to an almost transcendent train of thought, letting it wash over you. As if the universe was trying to tell you the right decision, you feel your foot collide with something sharp and you stumble, a sure way to get you back into Joel’s arms. He catches you as you go down, upper arm squeezed into his grasp as his other wraps around and yanks you by the front of your collar, tearing your shirt all the way down to the middle of your chest as he tugs. You’re pulled into his chest with a hard thud before you both go down with the momentum of it all, his body landing on top of yours on the hard, frozen earth.

“God damn it, girl, what the hell you think you’re doin’, huh?” Joel huffs out, arms pinning you down by the wrists as he breathes heavily right in your face. You grunt and struggle, squirming against the ground, but it only serves to help Joel push you into the frosty dirt even harder, his own grunts slipping out of his lips. 

“Like it when you struggle…” he says closer to your ear, leaning down. His lips turn into a chilling leer as he bares his teeth down at you. “But too bad we can't play a little longer, you’ll freeze out here. Get up,” he demands, pulling back and then fluidly plucking your body up off the ground as he stands. He hooks one of his arms through yours and begins drags you, your feet scrambling to keep up with how quickly he’s moving. 

You’d barely gotten far, just like he said you would - it’s only a short distance back to the cabin where he slams you against the wall, clutching one hand around your throat, not hard enough to put much pressure, just to show you he could, if he really wanted to. His body crowds closer as your back presses against the hard, unrelenting wooden logs adorning the outer frame of the cabin. The chill of the air settles in and you shiver, feet throbbing and chest prickling with goosebumps from the frozen air entering your lungs in large heaves. 

“Told ya, girl. You don’t need to go anywhere. All y’need is right here. I can do anythin’ I want with ya, can’t I?” He spits his words out angrily, eyes blazing. His head is cocked, looking down on you with scornful, yet hopeful eyes. His gaze travels to your chest, the way your shirt is torn to almost reveal everything there, eyes flickering hotly on the sight. Both of you stand with huffing breaths, chests heaving and letting out little cloudy puffs of air as your exhales hit the air. 

You nod, whimpering as his grip gets slightly tighter around your throat when you don’t answer right away. Your entire body trembles against him, afraid you’ll collapse any second as your knees buckle. His entire frame is pressed against you, keeping you upright, the warmth of him the only thing keeping you grounded and afloat right now.

“Thas’ right, it’s just me ‘n you out here. I’ll take real good care of ya, never let anyone hurt ya again. Ever.” A hand snakes around to your hair, smoothing it as he pulls your head off the wall, tracing his palm down as he pets you. “Now c’mon.” He yanks your entire body by the waist, holding you close as he hauls you back inside, pulling the door shut behind you two and locking it.

Joel brings you to his original destination before you’d run - the couch - and sits back, pulling you down with him, maneuvering you to settle on his lap so that you’re straddling him. His hands wrap around your back in a possessive, tight hold. You squirm a little bit, the feeling of him enveloping you like this making you hot, a sheen of sweat breaking out over your entire body.

“S-stop…” you mumble as you continue to struggle, his hands only seeming to get stronger the more effort you put in. You start to shove and push at his chest and one of his arms comes from around your back to catch your wrists in one fell swoop, pinning them against his chest. 

“Better knock that shit off quick,” he commands, grunting as he continues to hold your squirming body. “You got me offerin’ you everything I know you want, and all I ask is you do what I want, sweet girl. Be here w’me.” His tone is somehow cruel and hard but soft and caring at once, like he really believes that he needs to act this way to care for you right now.

“N-no, you’re hurting me,” you cry out. “You said you wouldn’t let anyone hurt me…” You think that maybe your reasoning will have any kind of effect on him, and he only smiles softly. It disarms you a little, your struggle starting to die out as you look at the hidden anger behind the smile, the desire to let out the hidden beast within him. 

“Let’s get one thing clear,” he says, letting go of your wrists to grip your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger, squishing them together. Your hands fall limply to your sides, skin burning on your cheeks where he’s pressing in harder. “Only I can make you feel pain. Nobody else. Nobody’s gonna hurt you when I’m around. And I’m the only one who can make y’feel good too, understand? But if you’re not gonna be a good girl ‘n pull this shit, I can’t help what I’ve gotta do to get you back to bein’ good, hm?” His eyes track across your face, awaiting a response. 

You shake your head in small movements, squeezing your eyes shut and squirming one final time to try to slide off his lap. He sees your desperate eyes and his blood rushes a little hotter through him, tugging you harshly to situate you back perfectly centered on his lap.

“Please…” you whimper quietly, unsure of what you’re asking for now. To be let go? To be held tighter? For someone to just make it all okay?

Joel drops your cheeks from his tight grip and looks at you a little more sympathetically. “Okay, okay, c’mon, no more strugglin’ sweet girl. I’ve got you. Not gonna hurt ya. I just wanna help ya.” 

He leans forward and his lips find your neck, peppering wet, urgent kisses from just underneath your chin all the way down to your collarbone. It’s all too much, the emotions bubbling up as the adrenaline leaves your body. You shake a little, feeling the now all too familiar sting of tears behind your eyes that quickly manifest as tears that roll down your cheeks. Joel must sense a heave in your chest as you try to hold back your sob because he pulls his lips off of you and looks up to see your eyes shining as tears start to fall at a more rapid pace. 

“Shh, shh,” he coos. Both of his arms wrap around your back and pull you in so that your chest is flush with his. Your head drops instinctively to his body and you find yourself wrapping your arms tightly around his neck before burying your face in his chest. 

“Oh, c’mere, sweetheart. Let it all out… shh…” Joel says quietly, his palms splayed along your back, rubbing up and down in a soothing pattern. You finally break completely, finally let yourself sob. Your entire body is wracked with shaking heaves of breath each time you start another wave of tears. You bury yourself deeper into Joel’s chest, your face burning red hot with embarrassment, but unable to stop nonetheless. He’s warm and soft against you, the comforting fabric of his shirt soaking up the tears you pour out. 

Joel continues his soothing ministrations, his hands uncharacteristically kind and sweet, holding the back of your head against him now, like he’s encouraging this, even, this release of emotion from you. It makes you sob even harder to realize the only person you have in this world to comfort you is a man you met yesterday, one who hasn’t shown you a consistent side to himself since then. You don’t know how long you cry for, the last two weeks of pure desperation and the flood of emotions since meeting Joel have all collided into this one meltdown, Joel’s chest taking the brunt of it as you continue sobbing.

“Oh, that’s it, there we go…” he hums calmly, his chin resting on the top of your head as he keeps stroking along your back. You finally start to let up, choking back little sobs as they climb their way up your throat. 

“Jus’ breathe… there ya go, honey. Take some deep breaths for me now, okay?” Joel says calmly, continuing to chant little encouragements in your ear. You turn your face to lay the side of your cheek along Joel’s chest for a moment, a few remaining hiccups shaking your body as you sniffle. Your entire face feels puffy, like everything is two sizes too big for you now, cheeks wet and sticky as your tears start to dry. You slowly lift your head up and Joel quickly catches your face between his hands, thumbs going to work wiping your tears.

“Beautiful…” he murmurs as his eyes scan your flushed, glowing face. His lips turn into a gentle, small smile while he continues to wipe down your cheeks for a moment longer. “Now don’t that feel better?” Joel looks at you with concern now, his head tilting as his fingers continue to stroke along your face. You look so broken and fragile right now - the thought exciting him, sending a twitch beneath his jeans that he doesn't even have the mind to be ashamed of. You're close... so close to being his.

“I g-guess…” you murmur, unable to say if it really does feel much better. You feel lighter now, unburdened of the pent up emotions that had been weighing you down the last few weeks, but you still had to grapple with the fact that you were here now, with a dangerous man who seemed intent on keeping you here no matter what.

“Listen, darlin’...” Joel starts, a heavy sigh escaping him. “You’re too sweet for this world, you deserve to be protected… That’s all I’m tryin’ to say here, to do here. You wanna know what I thought when I first saw ya?”

Your eyes widen in curiosity, letting him go on.

“Thought that the universe sent me a gift. One look at ya and I knew you had to be all mine. Like y’were made for me, I swear it…” he gushes before his eyes go more serious. “I can show you how good it all feels, sweetheart, d’you understand?”

You shake your head slowly. “S-show me how good what feels?” you ask tentatively.

Joel leans forward, his lips brushing along your jawline then ghosting to that sensitive spot under your ear. His breath tickles you in just the right way and you shudder, hating that he seems to have pinpointed your weakness.

“Show you… just how good it feels… to submit to me.” His lips press onto your neck gently, his tongue poking out to taste the salt of your skin. “Show you what your place is here.” He sucks a little harder on your neck, eliciting a tiny sound from the back of your throat. “I’ll give you everything, you’ll see. I can see you want it, sweet girl. I can see how badly you need it.” His hips thrust upwards into yours on his last words, grinding against you slightly. Your eyes flutter shut when his lips kiss your neck again, rough but gentle, as Joel always seems to be. You squirm, your body and mind still mixing signals with each other, unsure if you’re fleeing or giving in. 

You consider his words heavily, the weight of them pressing down on your chest, nearly choking you. It makes your entire body tingle, the way he’d said the word submit, not even fully understanding all of what that would entail. But he’s right, you do need someone, you need something in your life that won’t fail you or run or disappear. You’re desperate for it at this point, needing it like you need air and water. You’ve seen nothing but loss and sadness and lived with a desperation to just be loved and cared for in the deepest ways. 

Maybe it was fate, like he said. Maybe you were meant to stumble into that clearing just at the right time, just when you so fiercely needed everything he’s offering to you. 

He pulls back and stares into your eyes, trying to read the look behind them, trying to gauge how you’ll respond as you sit silently. You feel tears building on the rims of your eyes again, quickly wiping them away before they can fall. 

“Let me show you, hm? How I’ll take care of you.” He thumbs your chin as he stares at you, a look of wonder in his eyes. “We need to get some more food in you, darlin’. Barely ate a thing yesterday.” His bargains immediately begin to work as you notice your stomach rumbling and empty again as if on cue. You nod slightly and he gives you a half smile.

“That’s a good girl,” he coos. “Now hold on tight.” Before you can question him further on why, he’s lifting you up off the couch, and your arms scramble to fling around his neck so you don’t fall backwards. Your legs wrap around his middle for extra support as he carries you to the kitchen table, settling you down on top of it now, legs dangling off the side as he lets go of his grip under your thighs. You find yourself reluctant to untangle your arms and legs from his warm, safe body, but he begins to pull away, heading for the fridge. You watch him with a frown as he bends down, shuffling a bit in the fridge before pulling out an item wrapped in a thin cloth. He opens a breadbox on the counter and reaches in, tearing off a chunk of bread before plating it and unwrapping the block, revealing some type of cheese.

“Sheeps cheese from Jackson. And some bread I made. Should tide y’over till dinner time, don’t you think?” he asks, bringing the plate over. He nudges your legs apart with his knee, a silent command that you follow mindlessly before he steps in between your thighs. One hand brushes along your thigh as he gets closer to you, eyes pasted right onto yours. His near glare is nearly too much to keep focused on as he grabs the piece of bread and brings it up to your lips. You pause, gaze faltering as you scan his face, a little stunned.

“Y’need some food, darlin’. Now eat.” Another command, another test to see how pliant you are, how willing you are to accept the entire package he offered you. You crane your neck forward enough to bite down on the piece, tearing some off as he holds it for you, never breaking eye contact with him. His eyes quickly flash back to a satisfied, pleasant look from the darkness that had threatened them moments ago.

“Good girl.” The words burrow in a little more, your thighs tightening against his, sending Joel gazing down with a smirk pulling at his lips. “Another,” he says quietly, holding the bread up to your lips again. You don’t falter this time, taking a quick bite and chewing as Joel smiles down at you, letting his thumb brush across your lips.

“You’re bein’ so good f’me now, what happened?” he says smugly, picking up the cheese and feeding you again. Each time he does it, you take the food more eagerly, Joel stepping closer until he’s pressed against the table, his hips as close as they can be to the apex of your thighs. You can sense the excitement radiating off of him now, the pure satisfaction that you’re not putting up a fight, accepting the care he’s pouring out onto you.

“Now you see how I can take care of you, darlin’? That’s just a small thing, honey, makin’ sure you get fed. Now tell me how much you appreciate it, hm?”

You feel your cheeks warming up at the blatant coaxing from Joel, the way the heat of his body presses so close to you now as his finger lingers on your lip after the last scrap of bread goes in.

“T-thank you, Joel,” you say, quiet and mousy as you avert your eyes downward.

“Oh, such a good girl.” He pets the top of your head down the side, stroking a gentle, long path down to your shoulder. “Feel better now that we got you full?”

You nod, swallowing hard. “Y-yes, thank you.” Mousy. Quiet. The way Joel seems to like, the way that you can’t help but be when he questions you like this, when his eyes search your depths so intensely. Your heart clenches at just how quickly he’s already worked his way in, has you saying just what you know he wants to hear. 

“Not bad for an old man baking bread, huh?” he asks, winking as he caresses your cheek. You tilt your head down, failing to conceal your little smile in time as a breathy chuckle makes its way out of you. You can sense the lightness fill Joel and the entire room as he notices, cocking his head and leaning closer to you.

“That a smile I see, darlin’? You think it’s funny to call me an old man?”

You shake your head, pulling your lips tight to suppress your smile. “N-no, you’re n-not…” 

“Oh, too sweet, ain’t you.” He wraps his arms around your middle, drawing you close again. “Y’know, you’re so pretty when you smile. This old man’d like to see more of that, y’know.”

Your smile falls quickly as discomfort settles in again at the way he’d cracked through your façade just now.  “Why haven’t you just… hurt me yet? Or done what you want with me and tossed me out?” you ask suddenly, blurting the words out before you can think twice about the possible consequences. 

Joel clicks his tongue and lets his lips part slightly, showing his surprise - a rare moment from such a guarded man. 

“That what you think this is?” he asks quietly, forebodingly. The pure control in his voice is a skill that you can tell he’s exercised many times. “Just want to squeeze the life outta you and toss your body out for the damn animals? Or fuck you senseless then turn you to the cold? You really think that little of me after I fed you, clothed you, helped you?”

He doesn’t sound quite angry, but something deeper that takes a minute for you to register - you’ve hurt him. Wounded his ego, made a dent in this brick wall of a man. A power you suddenly wish you didn't have over him.

“I don’t… I don’t know…” you admit. “You scare me.”

He leans forward, his dark irises going icy as he captures your rapt attention with this one single glance. 

“I should,” he spits out with a twitch of his lip. “But only if you give yourself reason to, yeah? I never want to hurt you, sweetness, never.” He goes softer, brushing a finger along your cheek, sending you trembling with a quivering lip. “Jus’ want you to be here w’me, lettin’ me take good care of you, and you do the same f’me. Somethin’ so beautiful here, you ‘n I…”

You sigh heavily, your body slumping in defeat. You’re exhausted, your nerves frayed and mind overstimulated from all of the inconsistencies, the back and forth with him. If what he says is true, if he wants to treat you kindly, give you all he’s promised, you know what he expects in response. You can feel it in the undertone of every word he says, every tiny movement when he touches you. He wants you to belong to him, to have you sucked so completely into his world there’s no going back. To have you fear him and look in wonder at him and worship at his feet and let him touch you and feel you and be completely yours and you be completely his. Your head spins, a dizzy sickness overtaking you at how utterly lost you feel right now. How badly you crave it and are equally repulsed by it. 

You dip your head down, eyes on your lap as you let the wave of churning fear wash over you.

“Eyes up, darlin’,” Joel reminds you, fingers tracing on your thigh to get your attention. 

“I… believe you,” you say, turning your gaze to him again. It’s not an answer yet, not a yes or no or anything at all. A fact.

“I know you do,” he says, a serious expression curling into a smile. “Only say what I mean. Are we clear, then?”

Joel’s face inches closer to yours, leaving just a few inches between you, now. “Y-yes,” you mutter, rapidly scanning over his eyes to try to read anything there but the inky darkness that seems to permeate above all else.

“Good,” he says proudly. “Now gimme a smile, darlin’. Need to see you lookin’ happier ‘round here.”

You pull your lips into a tight smile that seems to suffice for Joel as he carries on, moving until his lips hover just above yours. You notice yourself starting to tremble a little bit, shoulders tightening up, and Joel holds you close as his brows come together.

“You ever kiss a man like me, darlin’?” he whispers, licking his lips.

Your lips part, words failing you for a moment as you contemplate him. Your throat is suddenly dry and itchy as you glance down at Joel’s lips. “N-no…” You shake your head. “I haven’t… haven’t been with… anyone…”

Joel stills completely for what feels like minutes, his lips twisted to the side in a wry smile now. “You sayin’ you’re a virgin?” he asks bluntly, his hands naturally tightening their grip on your back, fingers digging in as they slide a little lower towards your waist.

Your face burns first, then your entire body is set aflame as embarrassment sets in. You know you shouldn’t be embarrassed, but you can sense Joel’s experience, almost having some strange need to impress him with your own, coming up empty. Your eyes look down, staring at the middle of his shirt before you nod once, blinking away a quick sting of tears at your sudden humiliation. 

“Christ,” Joel bites back all the things he wants to say for a moment and tuts as he notices your glassy eyes, scraping his fingers along your back. He tightens his hold on your waist and tugs you even closer so that your hips are flush with his. He moves his lips right next to your ear, making you shudder as they brush close enough to touch for a moment. “Had a feelin’. You have no idea… how turned on that makes me, sweet girl.”

Joel’s crude words have you gasping a little, a breath caught in your throat as you stutter out a sound to try to answer him. His lips press on your neck again, kissing a little more fervently down to your collarbone and then he pulls back, one hand going to your face to cup your cheek. 

“Such an innocent little thing… so sweet…” he murmurs. “‘S okay to touch me, y’know.” Your hands tingle with anticipation as he says that, but you don’t know how to move them, where to move them to, or if you want to touch him.

“I - I don’t…” You shake your head, and Joel captures one of your hands in his, holding it gently and rubbing his fingers along yours. 

“I got ya, I’ll show y’everythin’ you need to know, how’s that sound?” he says, gazing down at you intently, waiting with baited breath to hear your response. 

“You mean…” you ask, cheeks flushing as you’re unable to finish your sentence. Joel places your hand on his chest, spreading your fingers out to splay across the space between his pecs. He nods softly and you wiggle your fingers a little, feeling the planes of his chest, hard but warm underneath your palm. He glances down to where your hand explores a little more, running your fingers gently over to the right side of his pecs, then the left, and smirks. 

“I mean all of it, you sweet little thing. You don’t know how good y’could feel, do you?” Joel breathes a little heavier, his expression losing a bit of its controlled façade, that vague look of craving revealing itself in his eyes again. “I could give you so much… oh, you pretty thing, you need it.” He shakes his head in disbelief of everything he’s learned about you. “Untouched… so innocent…” he says more quietly, his hands finding their way back to your waist, thumbs hooking under the waistband at the back of your pants.

“I’m n-not sure… I-I don’t know -” you stutter as you feel his thumbs touch bare skin before one of his hands trails under your shirt, moving upwards. Your eyes blink a little slower, a flutter of your lashes as his calloused pads scrape along your skin, leaving a blazing trail that tingles all the way to the base of your spine. It pools quickly there, your core starting to heat up as his hand travels higher, the other playing at the hem of your shirt, starting to lift it. Your breath hitches, eyes going wider as your shirt moves, but you don’t squirm, don’t try to stop him.

“Y’do know. I can see you want it, sweetheart, look at how you respond to me…” He breathes in and out a little shakily. “Respond to a man takin’ good care of you…”

“W-what are you doing?” you ask, feeling your back almost halfway exposed to the air.

“Think you know what I’m doin,” Joel huffs a stony hearted chuckle. “Just wanna see how pretty y’are, take a peek, thas’ all.”

You shrink back a little, eyebrows pulled close together, shaking your head in small movements. “I’m scared…” you whimper finally, showing Joel the fear that’s been building deep inside of you. You don’t know how to want this, when to know your body is telling you it’s okay. You’ve somehow lost complete trust in any of your instincts, unsure of where along the way that happened. 

“I know, I know,” he purrs, still pulling your shirt higher. His lips dart down to your stomach, where your bare skin is starting to show, kissing sloppily along all the fresh skin he hasn’t seen yet. He starts speaking against your body, kissing in between his words. “Nothin’ to be scared of when you got me though, y’understand? You let me take care of you, and you’ll never worry a day in your life. Be my good girl, my everything. Just gotta trust me.” His nails dig into your back, a sweet, welcome pain, bringing you to the present. It’s too easy to lose yourself to his lips, his touch, his words. Your hand stays steadily placed on his chest, barely daring to move now.

You stare with your mouth open, and at your silence Joel drags his mouth up your chest and to your neck before looking at you expectantly.

“I don’t… know…” you murmur, less convincingly than the other times, an observation that Joel doesn’t fail to notice. He gathers the fabric of your shirt and tugs on the front hem of your shirt, pulling it taut along your back, drawing you closer to him as his lips sit merely an inch from yours.

“Think y’do know,” he says, greedy hands under the front of your shirt now, pulling the hem up. “I’ll be so gentle, honey…” He pulls your shirt up further and you drop your hand from his chest, allowing him the freedom of movement he needs to finish the job. 

“Okay…” you whisper, unsure if the two syllables even resonate far enough to reach Joel’s ears. You start to feel your legs trembling as you see his face registering your one word, the only thing he’d needed to hear. 

“Good girl,” he breathes out, exuding pure elation. “Oh, I’m gonna make you so happy, darlin’, gonna give y’everythin’.” He practically snarls as his hands get back to work on your shirt, lifting each of your arms to tug them through the sleeves, then tossing your shirt aside after it's over your head.

A growl tumbles out of his throat when he takes in your breasts, and you hunch your shoulders up a little more, your arm flying up to cover your chest now that it's exposed. Joel’s hand grabs your wrist, strongly wrapped around it as he tugs it away.

“Don’t have to hide ‘em from me, nothin’ to hide from me now,” he snaps, tossing your arm back to your side. His hands reach up to tease at the swell of your breasts, and you sit half in shock, letting his fingers send tingles across your skin as he explores your chest. He runs errant fingers down along the curves as he stares downwards. Your breath catches when he rubs his thumbs over your pebbled nipples, you back arching towards him as you gasp. 

“So soft ‘n pretty…” He grins, continuing to watch the way his hands work along your skin, a little more rough as he gropes your tits, rolling your nipples just to observe your reaction. The little pinch sends waves of arousal through your body, pooling deep inside of you, making you feel your underwear get damp again. You’re already panting, the sensations he’s bringing out in you so strong that you can hardly contain the little noises slipping out of you as he continues touching your chest.

“I - I’m…” you pant. “Joel…”

He pauses for just a moment, leaning closer and brushing his lips across your cheek. “Know you’re feelin’ good, aren’t ya?”

You nod dumbly, completely awestruck as he pinches your nipples again, sending your back arching and hips pressing into his. It’s maddening and confusing all in one, the way he’s able to work your body like this and make you feel a hot burning starting to blaze across your skin. 

“Pretty girl never had her tits touched, has she?”

You shake your head urgently, a breathy moan pulled out of your throat as he pinches and tugs a little harder on the hard buds. “P-please… stop… it’s too…” you whine, scrunching your face, unsure if you actually want him to stop. You feel wild, feral almost, the strangest sensation pulling at your insides as he tugs one more time.

Joel smirks in satisfaction, going back to caressing you more lightly, giving you some relief. One hand travels down to rest on your hip, the other up to your face to cradle your cheek in his palm. 

“You’re fun to play with, jus’ like I thought you’d be…” Joel muses as he touches your face. “You’re bein’ so good f’me, too, honey. Lettin’ me see you ‘n touch you.” He looks at you almost curiously now, like he’s studying you. 

“Think you deserve a little reward for bein’ so good for me, finally seein’ some sense.” He pauses, watching your face morph into a soft, intrigued look. “How’s that sound, hm?” he asks, pinching your cheek. 

You tilt your head at him. “A reward? Wh-“

“Exactly. If you act like a good girl, gotta reward ya for it.” Your heart beats a little faster as you take in his words, your thighs clamped as his voice comes out low and teasing. “C’mere, sweetheart,” he says, wrapping his fingers around your cheek and pulling you closer as he leans in. “You deserve to feel good, do you realize that? You’ve been denyin’ yourself somethin’ so good, but turns out it was so that I could show ya.”

“I - Joel - I don’t know…” you blurt out, your stomach twisting. The fact you can barely say anything but those same three words over and over is starting to frustrate you. 

“Don’t go gettin’ shy on me now,” Joel replies, his hand now cradling the back of your head. “You’ll enjoy this.”

He leans forward again, completely closing the gap between the two of you as he presses his lips to yours. It’s soft at first, testing you, and you blink once in surprise, not able to force yourself to press your lips back into his at first. But your body naturally starts to melt into him a little, his hand stroking against the back of your head calming you into submission. Your hands twitch forward, gently touching the bottom hem of his shirt and holding onto it just slightly. The feel of the fabric grounds you as you feel your lips press back into Joel’s, sending a wave of heat over your body. Your cheeks burn and your skin prickles as he groans quietly and pushes his lips a little more aggressively against yours before pulling back slightly. 

He looks down at you with a smirk. His hand digs into your waist a little harder, the possession he’s feeling clearly evident. 

“Tastes sweet, darlin’,” he says quietly before leaning back in, kissing you again. Your hand tugs a little harder on the bottom of his shirt and you feel yourself cracking under the pressure, like you’re about to burst into a million little parts like a piece of dropped china.  

His mouth opens and invites you to do the same, so you follow his lead. You’re frustrated, unsure of yourself, not understanding the way your body just moves with his, mirroring his motions. 

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. Maybe your first kiss is supposed to feel just like this. Maybe you’re supposed to be afraid and unsure and terrified yet intrigued in a way you can’t ignore. You wouldn’t know any different, after all, and your body already yearns for Joel to keep going, to press his lips harder onto yours, to feel his warm, soft lips all over you. You don’t even quite understand where the thoughts come from, it’s like your body is telling you without your mind having to get involved. 

You open your mouth the tiniest bit, allowing Joel to kiss you deeper. He pulls back just enough to suck a little on your bottom lip and you whimper and your brows scrunch. How… how could it feel so good?

As if to send you asking that question a hundred more times, one of his hands skates his fingers up your spine and you shudder, falling apart just as his tongue swipes across your bottom lip. You nearly gasp but find your own tongue hesitantly brushing against his. He hums quietly in satisfaction, continuing the motions of his tongue with small variations - darting into your mouth, licking your lip. 

You feel your entire being aching and warm now with the way Joel is pressed as close as he can, hips flush with yours. You want to move your own hips, to push them further and further, your body urging you on again without telling you quite what it’s doing. 

You yank your head back, completely breathless. Joel’s hand scrambles to the back of your head, holding it in place as he devours your lips again, not letting up just yet. 

“Wasn’t done w’you yet…” he mumbles before kissing you again, his tongue and lips more aggressive now as his hand slides to the back of your neck, gripping tightly. When he’s had his fill he tucks his head back enough to get a read on your expression, smirking. He sees the wonder in your eyes, the confusion, the struggle, but he welcomes it all, now. He knows he has you - his prize, his to keep, his to take. He can practically feel the ache of want oozing out of your pores now as you sit trembling slightly on the table, your soul and tits bared to him, equally enticing. A perfect paradox, he thinks.

You look so perfect - like a pure, innocent angel sent just for him. He knows you can be exactly what he’s looking for - someone to call his own, to protect and guide and keep close to him. His perfect girl.

He buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent and musk like it’s the last time he’ll ever get a chance to before his lips rumble against you. 

“Lemme take you upstairs, show you how to be mine," he offers, in a way that's not an offer at all, but an instruction, a test.

He’s quiet and seductive with his words, a low, gravelly lilt to his voice that makes your head swim. You’re hazy, a practically drunk feeling coming over you now. You’d tried alcohol once, and you remember feeling a bit like this - cloudy and out of control of your own body. 

Before you can stop yourself, body buzzing and lips puffy and parted in need, you nod for him.

reminder i have no taglist now! follow @beardedjoel-updates and turn on notifs!

[radiance1]

Vlad owns a bakery.

It is, however, on the very downlow. The CEO of a massively successful corporation being known as the owner of a mere bakery would make it far too easy for people to access him, which would then lead to him having to hire people to keep said people who didn't come for the bakery out and that would just really ruin the mood.

On the other hand, he's also keeping it a secret from the Fenton family, he doesn't need them trying to install their 'defense systems' into his bakery because first of all, he already had his own. Second of all he's strong enough that most ghosts don't even want to try him and he could take care of any normal human and thirdly, he doesn't want that bumbling fool to bust down his walls because he can't grasp the concept of a door.

His bakery is successful, not enough to be famous, but he has a steady selection of customers. He doesn't want his bakery to be famous either, he would prefer to keep a good pool of regulars that were nice and calm.

After all, money is never an issue.

Of course, he has a few part timers, who he pays handsomely for their time.

Simple logic really.

More money = happy = greater efficiency.

Of course, Vlad knows that he's overpaying them more than the normal amount, but does he care?

No.

Because after all, as he has said.

Money is never an issue.

Recently, there's been a man by the name of Constantine coming by his bakery, who came at first by recommendation, took one of his items, paid and then left.

Then came back a few days later, then when Vlad showed himself from inside his kitchen and personally took the guy's order (his usual part timer called in sick) and the guy seemed to stare at him for a second too long, before getting his stuff and leaving.

Then the time he visited became shorter.

And shorter.

Until he was visiting daily.

Constantine seemed to have a certain... interest, in Vlad whenever he was around, and of course, Vlad noticed. Why wouldn't he?

Now, Vlad normally wouldn't have the time nor want to respond to the crushes of people he couldn't care less about, especially when he had Maddie. But, after recently accepting that Maddie has no interest in him and finally deciding to let that obsession that was fueled by spite, pettiness and some misguided feelings go.

Well, you could say he had time.

And Constantine wasn't displeasing to the eye.

===

There was a demon masquerading as a normal man in this bakery.

Constantine was sure of it, the bakery owner didn't feel human, and Constantine could tell from a glance that he wasn't. He wasn't exactly expecting it though, going to a bakery after the one he actually liked shut down due to financial problems, and then finding its owner to be a demon.

He was surprised to say the least, as well as disappointed, because after dealing with the demon in disguise the bakery would most probably shut down.

Except, the owner wasn't going around secretly killing people in the dark or torturing their minds or making them his eternal servants. In fact, he seemed to be treating them well, if what he gathered was correct.

They had a far higher pay than a part timer would normally have, they could call in sick and Vlad would accept that, even say that they just couldn't show up or feel mentally able to do their job that day and Vlad wouldn't care, wouldn't fire them, just tell them to come in when they can.

Weird, for a demon.

So, Constantine stayed his hand.

But he was waiting, waiting for that mask to slip up juuuuust the tiniest bit, make the wrong move, and then Constantine would send him back to hell where he originated from.

It would be shame, the treats he cooked were delectable and completely and utterly normal. But he could just find another bakery to eat at.

Although probably not as good.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

unwinding after a long day ft. r.zoro!

in which, after a long day, he comes right back to you <3

ft. zoro x fem!reader

set-up: its been a tiring day for him, good thing you're right here to offer your services (wink wink)

warnings: both sfw/nsfw headcanons for this dumbass; nsfw stuff includes penetration, cowgirl, just him being a smexy mf aah <3; MDNI (thankyou so much)

sfw!!

- the amount of training this guy does actually scares me to death - like nice arms babe but please calm down. please. - so anyways, after a long day of training and sleeping and training and more sleeping and fighting off random pirate fleets, this fine specimen is bound to be tired - i am not kidding when i say he just wants to fall asleep like a log - "zo, you sleep like 10 hours a day" you pout as he lays down on your shared bed, already drifting into a sound slumber "i would like to sleep for 10 more" he grumbles, putting his hand over his eyes. - you are now wondering if maybe chopper should check him up, cause there's no way this man is fr - but let me tell you no matter how fucking sleepy he is, if you're talking about something (no matter how nonsensical), he will stay up and listen to it all - his eyes are closed, his chest rising and lowering in a repetitive symphony and you stop mid-sentence, realizing that he must be asleep "and what happened next?" his voice is nonchalant, as if there was no reason for you to stop talking "i thought you- were asleep" you mumble "bullshit." he glances at you, ignoring your bright grin, "finish up, now. i can't stay up the whole night, can i?" - so now you both have come a meticulous pre-arrangement. - you both would stumble through the door, legs heavy and eyelids heavier - his head is on your chest as he lays on top of you (how is he not crushing you? idk. if i knew that much physics id do something else than writing fanfics, stop attacking me) - as i said, his head is on your chest, one of his hand intertwining with yours. your fingers run through his scalp, slowly massaging as you recount your day for him "and then, nami told sanji that he needs a haircut and he got offended" "hm?" zoro's eyes are trained on your face and for a second you wonder if the pink dusting your cheeks is evident under the pale moonlight - it must be because he presses a chaste kiss to your knuckles and then closes his eyes with a low hum - you've decided this zoro, the one who's too tired to put up with his stoic demeanor is your favourite - because only you get to see him - his soft smiles as he pulls you closer to him, his annoyed sigh when you get too hot and push him away (he will pull you back like 2 seconds later, so it was of no use anyways), his droopy eyes as he struggles to stay awake and decided to kiss you to shut you up and falls asleep a second later - ugh we are all hoes for soft zoro 🥱🥱

nsfw!!

- on a few ocassional nights, his hand will skim over your tits, lightly running over your hardening nipples and then trace downwards to your waist "chopper was so confu-" your breath hitches, "zo- zoro?" he hums, fingers hiking up your shirt slowly, "keep talkin'" - and so you keep talking while he continues his administrations - his calloused fingers are tugging on your hardened nipple as his lightly runs his tongue over the other. his touch is fleeting, it comes and goes in waves and you're having a hard time keeping your thoughts straight - he looks up at you, "i said keep talking, didn't i?" - then he's flipping you over so that he's on his back and you're on top of him - and he's kissing your neck, breathing against your neck as he makes you sit on his thigh, you can feel his muscles under your core hot - you're rutting on his thigh, desperately aching for some satisfaction from the layers of clothes that separate you two - "zoro" you whine, "i- you. i need you." you undo his pants, stroking his dick as it comes into view - his calloused touch is pulling you downwards and he watches with a strange amusement as his dick stretches you open, disappearing into you with a practiced ease - "mhm, feel good?" his hands are still on your waist, bouncing you up and down on his dick. his hand grabs ahold of your face, squishing your face into a forced pout, "answer me, baby." - "ngh- yes, yes, fuuc- k fuck-" you nod feverishly, your own hand playing with your tits, giving it the attention he refused to give you - at one point he removes his hands and tucks them behind his head, watching mesmerized as breasts move up and down with each shallow thrust, how your ass slapped against his skin when you came down and how your head was thrown back as sweat dripped off your collarbone - "fu-" he groans, turning you around again so that your back is against the bed again - he's fucking in and out of you, dick slipping out accidentally because of the slickness "fuck, do you see how wet you are?" "zoroo~ please, please-" "that's right, keep moaning my fuckin' name like that" he's pushing it back in, resuming his cruel pace - "inside. im gon' cum inside, okay?" you nod, head thrown back from the feeling of having your walls stretched out and fucked into - he collapses on top of you, breathing into the cranny of your neck, "that was so good, baby" - you fell asleep with sweat clinging onto your body and a sticky, hot fluid seeping out onto your thigh - he can get you cleaned up in the morning (after another round or two ig?)

a/n: well... that was long, hope you enjoyed lmao

[slow-motionlovepotion]

𝒅𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒆 | 𝒋.𝒎𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆𝒓

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈:  Joel Miller x f!Reader

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 4.6K - this was not meant to be this long, oops.

𝒂/𝒏: I'm feral for Joel Miller and I won't apologise for that. This ended up so much softer than I planned but Joel Miller deserves to be loved, goddmit. part two is already in progress ~ no beta, we die like men

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 18+ - smut, post-apocalypse, pre-Ellie, age gap (mid/late 20s!reader x early 40s!Joel), first time, loss of virginity, fingering, oral (f!receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it kids), Joel Miller has a big dick, risky creampie, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, manhandling, angst, implications of rape (does not involve reader or Joel), soft!Joel, fluff, idiots in love, innocence kink, Joel Miller is down bad. - minors do not interact.

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Sometimes when I look into your eyes, I pretend you're mine, all the damn time

Joel had found you cowering in the corner of a store in some godforsaken town somewhere in deep Texas, the twitching body of an infected splayed in front of you. He’d eyed you cautiously, keeping his distance, gun pointed directly at you, not afraid to pull the trigger. 

“No, please, no. I’m okay, I’m fine, not bitten. I promise. Please” you were frantic, begging for your life. 

“Just the one?” He’d asked, voice gruff and dark, he exuded danger. 

You nodded “It was out the back, I checked but I didn’t see it, then it just came out of nowhere”

He nods once “You alone?” 

“Yeah, it’s just me” you hadn’t moved from your spot on the floor, hands raised in surrender, shaking in fear.  

“Christ” the man mutters more to himself than to you, giving you the once over he lowers the gun “C’mon, I’m not leaving you here” 

Your time together was meant to be brief, Joel had planned to find you somewhere safe to stay, people you could live your life with, some sense of normality. Life would never be like it was before the outbreak but maybe he could find you a new version of living. 

It took two months to find the first group of settlers but Joel didn’t even let you near them, he’d checked them out alone, swiftly deciding it wasn’t a safe place for you, he didn’t say why. Another six months until the next group, they initially seemed better but the cries echoing outside the commune at night told Joel all he needed to know. 

It’s been exactly 2 years since he found you in that abandoned store, you’d managed to survive for six months, barely, living in a constant state of fight or flight. And then Joel came, Joel who took a chance on you, who shared his supplies and taught you to survive. Joel, who stood watch and let you sleep despite being exhausted himself, who bandaged your wounds, and made his own life harder just to make yours a little bit easier. 

Joel, who would watch the world burn just to make sure you were safe. 

You could still to this day, pinpoint the exact moment you fell in love with Joel Miller. You watched the world burn. Well not the world, just a decrepit cabin on the side of a road somewhere in Texas. He'd thought it was safe, he’d checked and double checked, the place was free of infected, or so he thought. The thick knit of your scarf was the first thing that saved your life that night, when the infected had come at you from behind, jumping out of the dark and going for your neck.  Joel hadn’t even hesitated, gun drawn and a bullet in its skull before you could even cry out for help. He’d reached for you, entwining his fingers with yours as he dragged you out of the building, kicking the cap off a gas canister as he went and throwing a lighter behind him as the door had shut. He pushed you ahead of him, protecting your body from the flames licking at the dry timber frame behind him.  

You realised you loved him, were in love with him, laying on the dusty ground, with Joel’s imposing body shielded yours. You felt safe, he was firm behind you, chest heaving with laboured breaths, arms wrapped around you, keeping you close, muttering softly into your ear, “it’s okay, it’s okay, I got ya”.

So by the time you came across the third group you’d become quite the survivor. Joel had taught you to defend yourself, how to shoot a gun, how to actually use a knife, the weak spots of a man. You’d wondered why he was teaching you this, why you needed to know how to break the grasp of hands around your throat, how to use his body weight against him. When you’d stumbled across a group of men, animals really, surrounding a woman on her knees, her sobs echoed in your ears and you’d immediately searched for Joel, hands shaking as you grasped at his arms, eyes wide and terrified, you finally understood.

“They… they. Shit Joel, they were…”  He didn’t need you to finish, he knew what they were doing. Within 20 minutes he had you both packed and on the road. 

You felt like you’d been walking for weeks, in reality it had only been three days but you were exhausted. You were heading East, Joel had heard about a group of women that had settled just across the state border. You trudged slowly behind Joel, the unseasonable heat making you sweat, boots kicking up dust with every step, lost in your own thoughts.

“What’s bugging you?” Joel’s voice pulled you from your thoughts

“We should’ve helped her,” you confessed.  It didn’t sit right, that you just left her there for those men to take what they wanted

“There’s nothing we could’ve done, no guarantee she’d be safe in the next place” he’d explained softly 

“Is that why you’ve not left me?” The question slips from your lips before you can stop it.

Joel stops, his eyes meet yours but he doesn’t answer, he can’t, can’t admit that he won’t leave you, can’t admit why he won’t leave you. He can’t admit that he loves you.

Darkness has fallen by the time you reach a safe house, a favour from a friend, he’d said. The house was neat, tidy and clean, if not a bit dusty. Joel clears downstairs first, checks upstairs and calls you up to the bedroom.  A small puff of dust is released from the bed as he drops your bags. One bed. There’s two of you and more than one bedroom, but you know he won’t let you out of his sight. He won’t risk it. 

“Joel?” you croak, voice trembling as you sit on the end of the bed.

“Hmm?” He’s stood by the dresser opposite the bed, removing his jacket and boots. 

“I… there’s something- uhh, shit” you pause, taking a shaky breath “listen, please don’t make a big deal of this but I want you to fuck me” 

“Darlin’, I’m not gonna do that” he responds almost immediately, doesn’t give himself time to even think about it, doesn’t let himself indulge in the possibility. 

Not that he’s not thought about it, God knows he has. He’s wanted you, wanted to feel your lips on his, feel your nails claw at his back as he takes you. But you never gave any indication you wanted it too, so he stayed respectful, well, as respectful as he could. There’d been nights he’d fisted his cock, your name a whisper on his lips as he came into his hand, while your sleeping body lay just inches away.

“Please” you barely whisper, he goes to speak, to reject you again, but you cut him off,  “Joel, please. I don’t- I want it to be you, I don’t want it to be like that” your eyes are pleading, silently begging “please” 

“You’ve not…? There’s not been anyone?” He asks tentatively, hoping he’s misunderstood, that you’re not actually asking that of him, he crosses the room, sitting next to you on the end of the bed. 

“I’ve been kinda busy, what with the end of the world and all that” you try and make a joke but it falls flat, sobering, shining a light on all the ways your life has been taken away from you, all the experiences you’ve missed out on. 

It shouldn’t be him, he knows it shouldn’t, he’s so much older, he’s cruel and ruthless and angry. You deserve something else, soft, gentle, loving. He can’t give you that. 

But if he doesn’t, if he says no and doesn’t do this for you, there’s no guarantee the next guy is going to love you, no guarantee that he won’t hurt you. For Joel, that decides it, he can’t give you what you deserve but he can give you something better than what’s out there. 

Cautious fingers on his leg startle him out of his thoughts, “Just once, just this once” His agreement doesn’t soothe you, it ignites something, butterflies rolling in your belly; you want this. 

You’d seen other men on your travels, the way they treated women, both good and bad. You’d thought, naively, that Joel might be like that too, that Joel might take you to his bed, fuck himself into you then roll over, pretend it never happened. But he never did, always respectful, barely ever touching you unless he had to, you’d shared beds, and bandaged each other up, but he’d never touched, never taken it further. “All right?” He nudges when you don’t respond

You nod tightly and whisper a “thank you”, sitting quietly in awkward silence, you don’t know what to do next, you’ve read books, you knew how to do this before but you didn’t know how to deal with an arrangement like this. 

Joel breaks the silence first “Do you want to… tonight or would you rather w-?”

“Tonight,” your response is a bit quick and Joel huffs an almost laugh “tonight is good”  

You don’t know how to phrase ‘lets just get it over and done with’ when you’re about to fuck someone for the first time. He stands then, grabbing something from his bag then dropping it to the floor. Liquid sloshes as Joel brings the flask to his lips, drawing in three times, brow furrowed. He hands the  flask to you “Drink” and the look in his eyes tells you not to question him. 

You take a sip and nearly retch, the taste burning your throat and nose, eyes watering. You hadn’t liked whiskey much before and while it’s rare to find anything else these days, you still hadn’t got used to the taste. You take another sip, stomaching this one better. You hold the flask back out to Joel and he takes another drag before placing it on the dresser with slightly more force than he meant.

In two steps he’s back across the room, his hands finding your face, calloused fingers dragging along the skin of your jaw, bringing you to meet his lips. The kiss is bruising and feverish, hot lips pressing to yours, he licks into your mouth and you moan, it’s sinful and sweet and Joel wants more. He wants to pull more pretty noises from you, wants to hear you scream his name. His cock responds eagerly, hardening in his jeans, he’s not felt desire like this in years, it’s burning through his blood, overwhelming his senses. 

Joel stands between your legs, tilting your chin up, bringing a knee to rest on the mattress between your thighs. One of his large hands moves to support your neck, the other tracing the line of your throat, gripping gently. The kiss has grown sloppy, Joel is breathing hard, nipping at your lips. His knee between your legs moves to press into your clothed core and despite the layers of fabric you can feel the heat of his thick thigh, your hips roll, chasing more pleasure and a groan escapes your throat unexpectedly. 

Joel’s hand drops from your throat, following the neckline of your shirt, down between your breasts, flicking the buttons open, exposing you to the humid air. He pushes the flannel off your shoulders, taking the straps of your bra with it, reaching behind you to unclasp it, inwardly pleased he managed the first try.   

You slide your hands to his waist, dragging his shirt with you, brushing your fingers across bare skin. Your fingers trace the waistband of his jeans but he reaches for your hands, wrapping a large hand around your wrists he pushes you flat, pinning your arms above your head. The other hand joins his knee between your legs, fingers teasing the seam of your jeans. 

“You asked me to fuck you,” he pulls a nipple into his mouth, teeth nibbling at the sensitive bud “n’ I will” It may have been a while but it’s really just second nature to him and he feels you shiver beneath him “gonna make you feel good darlin’”

“Joel” Your throat is dry and your voice cracks but it’s enough, his hands reach for the button of your jeans, working them down your legs while his mouth assaults your breasts. You can’t focus, it’s too much, his mouth, hands, the feel of his body, large and imposing over yours. He finally gets your jeans off, discarding them to the floor.

You reach for him, finding the buttons of his shirt, tugging gently but making your intentions clear, he allows your trembling fingers to fumble with the buttons for a minute before helping you, making quick work of the buttons, all but ripping the shirt down his arms, throwing it to the floor behind him before positioning himself between your thighs.

Joel’s hand runs up your outer thigh, fingers digging into the flesh of your bum. He trails kisses over your skin, behind your ear, down your jaw, across each of your breasts, fingers playing with the nipple neglected by his mouth. He moves his head down your exposed torso, tongue tasting the salty sweat on your skin you gasp softly as he reaches the waistband of your underwear, black lace, a little luxury that makes you feel pretty and feminine. He nudges the fabric with his nose, breath ghosting over your skin and you shiver, 

“You don’t have to” you whisper into the darkness.

A soft “yeah I do” is mumbled into your skin. He makes quick work of removing your underwear, dragging the lace down your legs and dropping them to the floor in a rather obscene gesture.

His mouth is back on your hips working his way to nuzzle at your folds, leaving open mouthed kisses and grazes of his teeth on your skin. His hands press against the back of your thighs, pushing your knees up to your chest, spreading you wide. Joel’s eyes roll back in his head at the sight of you, pussy glistening in the dim light, the low growl that sounds in his chest shakes the bed and it takes all his restraint to take it slow, make it good for you. 

“This all for me?” He rubs his thumb through your folds, gathering your wetness and spreading it up to your clit, circling the little bundle. You look down at him between your spread thighs and nod. 

The sound you make when Joel flattens his tongue and licks a stripe up your cunt is unholy, and when he flicks his tongue against your clit you can’t help the way a hand reaches for his hair and tugs, nor can you help the sharp cry of his name. 

Languid, is the word you’d use to describe the way Joel works at your cunt. Long, slow, lazy circles around your swollen clit, soft passes over the entrance to your cunt, not giving you more than that for what feels like hours. You catch on, quite quickly, that this is as much for Joel as it is for you, and you think he might be enjoying it the most.  

Joel hums around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, and the arch of your back is violent, a stark contrast to Joel’s gentle movements, biting down on the fleshy part of your thumb to muffle your scream. 

“Don’t do that” a hand reaches up in the dark to pull your fist from your mouth, “wanna hear you” his breath is hot against your core, tongue lapping at you like a man starved. 

You’re hot, skin prickly with a layer of sweat, hips rolling, pushing your soaked pussy into Joel’s face, your clit catching on his nose as he teases your entrance with his tongue. 

“Jo-el” your voice is whiny to your own ears and your face heats at the sound “more, please more” 

Joel lets out a hum at your request, bringing two thick fingers to slide into you and already you feel the intoxicating spark of your orgasm approaching. Your cunt clenches around his fingers and the feeling shoots straight to his cock. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you breathe, your grip in his hair painful even to you.  “Fuck, fuck, I’m gonna cum, Joel”

You’re so close that when Joel crooks his fingers and continues his assault on your clit, your orgasm tears through you. You stiffen, hissing a “Yesss”through gritted teeth, hands clawing at the sheets and Joel’s hair.

“‘Atta girl” he coos around your clit “tha’s it baby” The sound of Joel’s voice is muffled by the ringing in your ears and when you open your eyes all you can see is stars, flashes of white clouding your vision. 

Sensing his movement, you open your eyes and when they’ve adjusted to the darkness again, you can see the burly outline of Joel kneeling between your legs, his eyes drag down your body, fingers of his left hand gently caressing the bend of your knee. You sit up, reaching for his belt, tugging at the buckle. Joel watches as you pull his belt free, fingers ghosting over his length confined in the denim as you pull down the zip. 

When your fingers dip inside to grasp him he can’t stop the choked “fuck” that escapes his throat. Pulling him free of his boxers, your jaw drops at the size, fuck he’s thick, so thick, and swaying heavily between his legs, dripping with precum. With hesitant fingers you run the pad of your thumb down his slit, smearing the fluid, stopping to rub your thumb on the underside of his head. Joel can’t help the jerky twitch of his hips at the stimulation. You take that as a positive, repeating the action once, twice more, before calloused hands still your movements. You look up to Joel, confusion clear on your face. 

“Won’t last if you keep that up” Joel explains, his voice a whisper, vulnerability evident even in his low tone. 

You release his length from your grasp, bringing your thumb coated in his arousal to your mouth, sucking tentatively. You don’t notice Joel watching you through hooded eyes, but he makes quick work of his jeans and boxers, kicking the offending fabric off as quick as his aching bones will let him.  

Experienced hands lift your legs to hook over his hips as he settles himself between your thighs again. You can feel the thick length of Joel’s cock pressed firmly against you, sliding through the wetness left by his mouth and your orgasm as he ruts against you. It takes the entirety of Joel’s willpower to not fuck into you, coming back to himself, he remembers why he’s doing this. 

“Gotta tell me if y’need to stop” he slurs against your temple and he feels you nod as he presses a soft kiss to your clammy skin. Joel rests the heavy weight of his cock against your entrance, running the head between your folds, bumping your clit and soaking himself with your wetness. He presses himself in to your tight heat and you feel like you’re being split open, wincing at the burn “I know, ‘m sorry darlin’, it won’t hurt for long promise”   

Joel pushes your sweat-damp hair out of your face, big hands cupping your face, open mouth dragging against yours. He tries to distract you with wet kisses to your jaw but when he pushes himself deeper you cry out, hands flying to claw at his hips, stopping him from moving any further. 

“We can stop” Joel mutters into your open mouth but you give a quick shake of your head 

“No. I’m okay, I’ll be okay” The feeling is foreign, neither his fingers or tongue could’ve prepared you for the stretch of his cock, nor the desperate ache that settled deep inside you, the one you know only Joel can satisfy. 

You can feel him throbbing inside you, and it’s taking everything in him to hold still

“Eyes on me darlin’” Joel orders as he pries your hand off his hip, entwines his fingers with yours, and pins your hand to the mattress. Your eyes meet through the darkness and there’s a softness in Joel’s eyes you wish you could bottle and keep.

You tense up in anticipation of Joel’s next movement, squeezing your cunt around Joel’s cock

“Fuckin’ Christ  darlin’, y’gotta relax, just relax” you will your body to relax, to release the squeezing of your core, “that’s it, doin’ so good, you’re doin’ so good. Takin me so well” and yes, you keen at his praise, the throb of arousal in your stretched cunt is heavenly and Joel takes your moment of distraction to sink the rest of his length into you. 

“Fuck” you whimper, the sharp stretch shocks you, eyes widening.

He shudders a breath above you, “‘m sorry, ‘m so sorry”

“So big Joel. ‘T  hurts” you practically sob and the sound breaks his heart in ways he didn’t expect. Joel breaks eye contact first, fixing his eyes on where you’re currently impaled on his cock. He moves to pull out but you tighten your thighs, keeping him still “No, don’t. Don’t wanna stop. Just give me a minute” you close your eyes and breath in deep through your nose, letting a shaky breath out. 

“Touch yourself,” Joel orders, bringing your hand still clutching his to his mouth, wetting your fingers with his tongue before pressing your fingers against your clit “‘t’ll make you feel better” 

You obey, stroking your bundle of nerves, still sensitive from your previous orgasm “that feel good?” He asks as you tighten involuntarily around him. 

“Yes,” you pause for a moment, continuing to stroke at your clit. Warmth blooms under your fingers, arousal spreading through your body, loosening your muscles, the discomfort subsides, leaving behind a different kind of ache “can you move? Please” 

The way you ask him, with your pleases and thank yous, still so polite despite the harsh world you live in, it’s innocent and sweet, and he loves it. It activates something primal in him, some deep desire to protect you, to please you. To pleasure you. 

Joel settles his knees wide on the mattress, pulling his cock from your depths before pushing back in slowly, when you don’t stop him he repeats the action. “shit darlin’, so fuckin’ tight”, and he’s not wrong, the girth of his cock is stretching you in ways you’ve never been before, you can feel every vein, every ridge, every goddamn fucking inch as he works himself in and out of you. It’s steady, controlled, almost gentle, the way he rolls his hips, leaving enough space between you for your fingers to continue working your clit, not that you need the distraction anymore. 

He could cum right there, your aching cunt absolute bliss around him. The whine that leaves your throat is of pleasure not pain and the tightness in his chest borders on uncomfortable. He’s done this before, he’s experienced, he’s had women screaming his name but nothing compares to the breathy sound of his name leaving your lips. You’re so sweet, eyes fluttering, fingers ghosting across the skin of his hips, the softness of his belly, the firm muscles of his chest and his broad shoulders. 

You could pretend, wrapped up in Joel like this, that it’s not the end of the world, that this comfy bed in this nicely decorated house is yours and Joel’s. You pretend, just for a minute, as he’s fucking himself into you, that he’s yours. Your hands reaching to wrap around his back, nails scratching at the muscles working beneath the skin, it’s intimate.

You feel his pace falter, “‘m close darlin’” he mumbles into the thick air above you, “fuck, y’gotta come for me baby, come on” it sounds like he’s begging and you find that you quite like the sound of Joel begging, especially when he’s begging you to cum for him.  

He can see you’re close, legs twitching, breathing heavy, he can feel the tell-tale flutters in your cunt and he knows “what d’ya need?” He pants, chasing your high, no care or regard for his own anymore, he just wants you to get there. 

“Joel, I need mo-” he drives himself into you deeper, tilting his hips to rub his cock against your sweet spot. With fluttering eyes and heaving chest you whine a tight “that’s it” fingers working furiously at your clit, hips rocking down as you meet his thrusts “Joel, yes” you groan, the sound reverberating in your chest. 

He feels your cunt squeeze him “tha’s it, good girl”, he needs to stop or he’ll cum but you don’t care, continuing to rock your hips, thrusting down forcefully against him, cock reaching deeper than you thought possible and you tense, muttering a “fuck” as you cum hard around him. You can’t comprehend that this is what it feels like, the violent quivering of your muscles, tight and squeezing. Fuck, you don’t want to let this feeling go, Joel’s cock buried so deep inside you it hurts, you never want to cum without this ever again. 

Joel gives a few tight thrusts, “Shit, what a sight” He has to pull out, he can’t cum inside you, can’t take the risk but the rhythmic pulsing of your walls is dragging him kicking and screaming to the edge.  You let out a breathy “inside Joel, inside,” the way you say his name sends a shiver down his spine, but the way you moan the softest “please” has him cumming, cock twitching violently, hips rocking, pushing his release deeper. 

His mouth meets yours roughly, ragged groans escaping between harsh kisses as he continues to pump inside you. He can’t remember the last time he came this hard, beyond satisfied and completely drained but he still can’t break his lips from yours. The kiss is soft now, tender and lazy, something close to loving. His sweaty weight above you is grounding, bringing you back to reality. 

Joel groans and drops his forehead to your chest, cock still buried deep you can sense his reluctance to part from you, you tangle your fingers in his hair, allowing him to rest against you. He stays for a minute or two before groaning, aging knees and shoulders protesting as he hovers over you. 

He moves slowly, dragging his softening cock out from your over sensitive heat and you moan low in the back of your throat as he disappears, returning from the en-suite with a damp towel, 

“There’s warm water” he mumbles as he wipes the towel gently between your legs. You hum contentedly, your tired body drowsy and dopamine drunk. You briefly think about the long hot shower you’re going to take in the morning when the bed dips next to you and Joel reaches for you, rolling you into his side, your head on his chest. If you had more energy you’d say something but the gentle caress of Joel’s thumb behind your ear and the slow thump of his heartbeat quickly has your eyes closing and your breath steadying. 

“Was that” Joel pauses, what, good? All right? Just okay? he thinks it’ll kill him if it was bad for you

“Good, it was good” you offer him a soft smile “thank you” 

“Christ darlin’ so fuckin’ polite” he can feel himself stirring again beneath the sheets, and fuck he’s depraved, he’s convinced you could make him cum just by saying please. 

Joel must think you’re asleep and you feel it more than you hear it, his whispered admission of “love you” spoken into your hair as he presses soft kisses to the top of your head. 

𝐉𝐎𝐄𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[i-cant-sing]

PLS PLS WRITE THE PLATONIC YANDERE MIGUEL OHARA FIC IM BEGGINF 🙏🙏🙏🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️🧎‍♂️WE NEED MORE PLATONIC FICS OF THIS MAN

(Thank you for reading this and have a great day!!)

I definitely see dad Miguel treating reader like a child, no matter what age you are. You could be a strong, independent woman, and to Miguel... you're a baby🥺 Everytime you get frustrated when he tells you no, or doesn't allow you to do what you want, he thinks you look absolutely adorable, your brows furrowed and your nostrils flared, and Miguel just has to just lean down to your level and you think that he's gonna offer you an explanation and in his mind, he does, but all he really says is-

"I know what's best for you, mija."

And if you dare to say "you're not my dad!", he won't say anything because yeah, you're right, but he will stare at you intimidatingly until you either take your words back or change the topic.

I think Miguel is not someone who talks much (but he still expects you to converse with him regularly) and so when he doesn't wanna argue with you, he may or may not shoot a web to seal your lips shut, just so that you give him enough time to explain (which again he doesnt), but he does use this time to tell you that you're grounded and then again, uses his strength against you to pick you up like a little bratty kitten and drop you back to your room.

I also think that Miguel definitely sees you as this helpless creature that would absolutely DIE without him. It doesn't matter if you're a spider-person like him, no. To him, you're just a frail kitten that needs papa Miguel's help to shelter her from the pouring rain and bubble wrap you and cuddle you and just- protect you from this all too harsh world.

And you could be trying to break free from his grasp, going of about how he didnt need you to pull you from your universe, how you had your life under control and what not, and Miguel would just sigh and shake his head and mutter "Teenagers🙄" EVEN IF YOU'RE AN ADULT.

Miguel isnt someone who talks about his feelings, definitely not at first, he just bottles everything up until the lid pops off and someone else has to face his fury. BUT that doesn't he doesn't expect you to talk about yours. He's super observant so the moment he notices the slightest change in your mood, or the way you breathe, oh he's bugging you to tell him whats wrong. I mean he's breathing down your neck, which as you already know isnt great because he is the only person you're allowed to talk to (minus Peter B Parker and Mayday), and eventually, he may even tie you upside down with his web to make you talk. And he's just nodding and offering up solutions/therapeutic advices (not really, they're just compromises) while you're getting blood rush from hanging off the ceiling for so long.

Also going back to the "you're not my dad!" thing, I think if you say it enough times, it does start to hurt him and eventually he reaches a breaking point where he does end up getting mad and bares his teeth at you as he yells "I AM, NOW! AND IF YOU DON'T START LISTENING TO ME MIJA, YOU WILL REGRET IT! NOW, MARCH OFF TO YOUR ROOM!" And sure, you get spooked enough to run off, but not before you yell like a very cliche, angsty teen "I hate you!" and you slam your door close before he could scold you again. He still comes right up to your door, probably to ground you even more, but he doesnt have the heart to open the door when he hears your sobs. Damn, now you just broke his heart. So, Miguel leaves, deciding its best that you two get some space to cool off.

Now I see Miguel as the type of dad who doesnt really apologise (mostly because he doesn't feel like he's done anything wrong) but instead offers a parley or a white flag of sorts in the form of food (like some cut up fruits and veggies, or even your fav takeout) and sure, his heart is still heavy with guilt, even more so when he sees your swollen red eyes indicating how you've been crying for days, so he clears his throat, maybe shifts in his seat a little and asks about your day or something random, heartbreak intensifying 100X when you refuse to talk to him, making him resort to something thats... uncomfortable for you both.

A hug.

I mean this has to be the most awkward hug in history, because Miguel just swoops you up and places you in his lap, pulling you to his chest and telling you that he's not letting go until you talk. STILL NOT APOLOGISING, I mean there is a greater likelihood that you may end up apologising to him but Miguel sure as hell isnt saying the word "sorry" (unless you're dead, specifically if u die in his arms hehe).

[astayinwonderland]

Do you think we are about to make a terrible mistake? | Zhong Chenle

pairing: chenle x f.reader

genre: besties to lovers | smut +18 MDNI

summary: chenle has been away for a while and you miss your best friend-- however, everything changes when you realise you might actually love him more than a friend

wc: 2.2k

warnings: mentions and use of alcohol, anxiety, consensual sex, unprotected sex (pls no), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms-- lmk if I forgot anything

It’s 15 minutes past 11, where the fuck is he? 

You already texted him twice. You called. The party had already started and your friends wondered if you would make it. Hell, you were wondering if you should just go on your own. But no– you promised you would get there together for old-time’s sake. It’s been a little over a year since Chenle moved out of the country, your days of embracing nothingness together are gone, movie nights are just nostalgic memories, and maybe some words left unspoken. You missed your best friend dearly and even though you often called each other, it was not the same. Not at all. You missed more than his company. You missed his essence, aura, sparkly eyes, smile, and touch… 

Your heart suddenly ached. Were you truly in love or is it just the fact that this is the first time you will see him since he left? The thoughts that rudely invade your brain get interrupted by three loud knocks. Running to the door, you can feel the thundering beating of your heart ringing in your ears. 

“I know I’m late, I’m sorry…. Please don’t be upset–” 

You open the door abruptly and there he is. 

Zhong Chenle. 

Blue 3-piece suit. His hair graciously falls over his forehead, framing his beautiful face. He gives you the brightest of smiles, your heart skips a bit. 

“Don’t hate me. Come here!” he opens his arms to embrace you. 

“Shut up,” you throw your arms around him, and suddenly everything is fine. Time has not passed. 

His nose lowers to your head and he inhales your scent. This is home to him, he can’t believe he’s been away from you for so long. All he yearns is to keep you close, but doing so means having to accept the fact that he is irremediably in love with you. 

Smoke and bright lights danced around the place and the crowd made way for you and the man of the hour apparently. Everyone reaches out to Chenle. Hugs, high fives, praises, and kisses shower him. You can’t help but feel a tad bit jealous. This was supposed to be a fun night for you and your best friend… and your other friends as well. But Chenle is loved, popular, and missed, of course, people would be all over him. You feel silly for suggesting going to the party in the first place. 

You’re snapped back to reality when your body crashes into Chenle’s. His hand is possessively placed around your waist. Your audible gasp makes him laugh. 

“Where did your mind go, silly?” 

“Nowhere, I just wish we were somewhere else. This is not how I envisioned tonight, you know… after spending so much time apart,” you force a smile and feel his thumb caressing you softly. There was something up with him, but to your surprise, you couldn’t read him. 

Chenle closes the distance between you too. He's a little too close, his breath fanning on your face. Is he going to–

“Chenle!” 

Shiny hair, plump lips, white smile. Her manicured hand was already snaking its way to Chenle’s arm. She looks at you, scanning up and down as if she were trying to figure out who you are. 

“Oh, hey! Wh- what are you doing here?” Chenle replies. A kiss on her cheek makes your heart sink. 

Chenle’s eyes go from you to the girl and again to you. He is about to introduce you but you suddenly feel like your heart is going to burst out your chest, your palms are sweaty, your eyes getting watery and your ability to breathe fades as you try to fight the feeling. 

“I really need to go. Sorry– Nice to meet you,” you say politely. You try not to cry as you make your way out. Chenle watches as you leave, but he feels how his chest tightens more and more with each step you take away from him. 

After his third call, you get into the shower hoping that the pain would fade away with the hot water hitting your vulnerable skin. With tears streaming down your face and sobs that echo around your bathroom you finish your shower. You are too exhausted to do anything else but sleep, and your phone has long been forgotten in your purse. 

You think you just blinked but in reality, it is a little past 3 a.m. and the faintest sound coming from your door seems to wake you up. In a panic, you rush and open the door to find a sobering Chenle by your door. 

“...it was about fucking time you opened that door, silly, I’ve been knocking for hours I thought–” 

You cut him off, pulling him in. 

“Chenle what the fuck?” 

He smiles at your puzzled expression. His hair is a bit messy now, blue suit is wrinkled. You can’t help but wonder if anything happened with the girl in the club. 

“I’ve been waiting for hours… I followed you back here but you locked the door. I called you so many times… ” he frowns. 

You go to the kitchen and fetch him a water bottle. As he starts drinking it, you find his eyes searching yours…  Sparks. No. No. This is your best friend Chenle. Nothing can ever happen between you and your best friend. The one who taught you how to ride a bike, tie your shoelaces, and give the best hugs ever. 

“You look so pretty,” he finally says. 

“Drink your water, Chenle,” you sigh. 

“You do!” he insists. 

“Who has she?” and you can’t believe the words that leave your mouth. You weren’t supposed to ask. 

“We did a semester together abroad. She is a good classmate that’s all. I never meant to upset you– you are too important…” 

You weren’t sure where the conversation was going, but Chenle assumed he talked too much. He puts the water bottle down and makes his way to you. Now you find yourself between your best friend and your bedroom door. The hard wooden surface against your back reminds you that once you cross that threshold with him, your relationship will change forever. 

His hands touch your waist, not sure if he has permission to do so, but you welcome him as the drug you need. His lips inches from yours and you pray he will kiss you, but time stops. It’s really only you and him at last like you dreamt of so many restless nights. 

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something since the moment I came back…” 

“Yes?” your voice comes out as a breathless whisper. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

You can’t even wait to answer him when your lips are already on his. His tongue teases yours and your lips part. He tastes of expensive wine, lust, and love. Chenle moans into your mouth and that is it for you. You want every single inch of you to be consumed by him. You reach out to open the door to your room. 

“Please,” you ask. 

“How can I say no to you?” he smiles and kisses you once again. 

Each second you spend kissing him you feel your skin getting hotter, desire coursing through your veins making you dizzy, and then you feel him carry you. Bride style, his lips never leaving yours. He carefully lowers you onto the bed, his hands now exploring your clothed body, the feeling of sparks under his fingertips making the moment intense, and urgent. Little moans and cries escape you both as Chenle helps you to straddle him. Your delicate fingers move his hair away from his face. The most beautiful man is underneath you, eyes on yours, lips parted. His chest rises and falls, you contemplate him for a moment. He takes your hands into his, everything seems surreal, you have spent countless times in this bedroom but not like this—a new territory. 

“Do you think we are about to make a terrible mistake?” your voice is small, you may not want to know what he has to say. 

He shakes his head. His hand reaches your cheek. 

“Do you?” 

Now you shake your head. 

“Good. Then kiss me, silly, and don’t stop unless you don’t want to do this–” but you don’t let him finish his thought and your lips already found his. 

It is then that you finally understand that he needs you as much as you need him. The pieces of clothing now are forgotten somewhere on your bedroom floor. Every part of you reacting to Chenle’s heavenly but sinful touch. His fingers finally take the only item of clothing left, your panties. He lowers himself, eye level with your wet cunt. 

“So pretty,” he murmurs. 

His tongue licks your entrance, ending in your clit which he sucks and your soul seems to leave your body as your back arches for him. Your hands immediately reach your breasts increasing the sinful pleasure coursing through you. You feel one of his fingers slide in you with almost no resistance. That’s how aroused you are for him. You gasp and your hips move, making the feeling of his hot mouth on your cunt even better. With his tongue flat on your slit, Chenle’s hands squeeze your thighs, encouraging you to use his face as you please. Only stopping to spit on your throbbing core, he eats you out so deliciously your soft moans turning louder. Legs over his shoulders now, he adds two curling fingers in you. 

Again and again, he kicks your clit, his fingers working magic inside you, fogging your brain and heightening the urge to cum for him. 

“Fuck! I– I’m–” you can’t think, you can’t speak… and so your orgasm hits you with such intensity you are shaking under him. Your legs turn to jelly. The heavy breathing that follows your cries echo in your ears. Chenle plants one last kiss on your clit and your legs close from the overstimulation. 

He lets out a low-pitched chuckle and the vibration travels straight to your clit again. 

“You okay?” 

You look at him in between your legs. Did this just happen? Your head falls back once more to the pillow. An involuntary laugh escapes your lips. But Chenle knows you, sometimes better than he knows himself he thinks and to him, this moment is making his heart go a million miles an hour. What an honour to have you like this, all fucked out, and all for him. 

Little kisses are planted on your thighs, on your lower stomach, your hands, your breasts, until he reaches your face. You giggle in response. His eyes meet yours, and different from what you thought, you are not embarrassed. You want him more than ever, so you kiss him. 

“More than okay,” you finally replied. 

Reaching south of his body you find his erection already leaking for you. You stroke it slowly, the faintest of moans leaving Chenle’s lips. This is the greatest reward you can get. His breath hitches as your pace gets faster. 

“Aaahhh…” a long, whiny moan. 

“You like that?” 

He nods reassuring you. 

You bring his hips lower, aligning his tip with your entrance. In anticipation, your eyes shut but immediately your jaw falls open when Chenle’s cock begins to stretch your needy cunt. Inch after inch, pleasure builds on pleasure and you silently pray the moment never ends when he starts moving in but not completely out of you. Your nails digging into his biceps, loving the way he stretches you out. 

“Ch-chenle,” 

“I know, I got you,” and he wraps one of your legs around his waist, making his thrusts deeper, his cock dragging against your walls that clench tightly around him. 

“Feels so so good,” your hand goes to his head, grabbing a handful of hair and pulling slightly. 

“Say. That. Again,” he moans. 

“It feels so good”. 

Chenle buries his face in the crook of your neck. Mild sharp pain fades into pleasure when he bites your skin, licking the now sensitive spot to ease the harsh sensation. You pull his hair once more, this time to make him kiss you. And he does, so lost in passion, so lost in you. The kiss is sloppy, messy, perfect. His thumb presses circles on your clit acting as the perfect trigger for your orgasm. You feel climbing higher and higher, his cock twitching inside you, his hot breath fanning on your face, his lips curving into a smile. Fuck, he is everything. 

“Chenle! Fuck… ah!” you cum for him. 

“Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes,” he repeats as a broken record as he pulls out and cums letting out a high-pitched moan that you will remember for the rest of your life. 

Chenle kisses your face, your hands, and helps you clean up. However, you didn’t exchange a word then. Now, you find yourselves back in bed, still naked. His arm around your waist, your head on his chest. His heartbeat is a love poem itself. 

“You know,” he breaks the silence. “I don’t ever want to say hello or leave without kissing you… I guess what I’m trying to say is–” 

You kiss him. It’s a long kiss, your lips pressed against his. Everything feels just right like it’s meant to be. 

“I really like you, Chenle,” you whisper, somewhat scared of what he will say back. 

“I really really like you too, silly,” he smiles. 

————————————————————-

a/n: this is pure ✨fiction✨

I hope enjoyed this :3 ~ masterlist

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (17)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer and Y/n try to outsmart the situation. wc: 3.5k Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA A/n: this took longer because trying to come up with a climax scene was SO hard, I hope I did some justice here

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16

HER BODY ACHED. Every muscle seemed to join a protest, sending out persistent signals of pain. The cold air seemed to snake through her limbs, and the chains that bound her wrist seemed to cut into her flesh. The bed underneath didn't do much to ease things—it was as stiff as a board, offering about as much comfort as the floor.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been here. It was likely no more than a week, but it felt like months. Maybe hunger messed with her head, making everything feel fuzzy. The lack of nutrition had her feeling delirious. For someone who claimed to be in love with her, Eric showed no mercy for her well-being.

Of course, he didn't, she thought, because there was no love in the first place, no genuine care, no honest affection—just an illusion crafted by his distorted mind.

Her eyes drifted shut, and a sigh escaped her lips. The air in the barn was thick, almost suffocating, with its heavy, musty scent. It offered no peace for her tonight—or was it already early morning? The darkness seemed to stretch endlessly, blurring the line between night and dawn.

But something felt different.

The atmosphere shifted abruptly, a quiet change that quickened her heart. The unmistakable sound of a vehicle reached her ears before it abruptly stopped on the other side of the wall. A car door creaked open, accompanied by distant voices. Then came the purposeful footsteps, growing louder with each step as they approached her.

The barn door groaned in protest, creaking open slowly, letting in a thin ray of dim light. Her breath caught as Eric stepped in. Yet, it wasn't his presence that shocked her; it was the man he dragged along, someone she least expected to see.

Her eyes widened. Spencer?

He was here. He was really here, right in the flesh, making it harder for her to breathe. Because he looked worlds apart from the last time she saw him—his shirt dirty, bruises marking his face, clear signs of whatever ordeal he'd been through. It also seemed like he hadn't slept for days. His eyes appeared hollow and vacant, yet as they met hers, she noticed a glimmer of relief.

Tears welled up in her eyes. All she wanted was to run into his arms, find comfort in his embrace, and let out the tears for everything that had gone wrong. But she couldn't do anything when she was bound with chains while his hands were tied behind his back. And as glad as she was to see him, it registered her to why he was even here. Anger suddenly flared through her body as she leveled her gaze on Eric with a glare.

"What the hell are you doing?"

He pushed Spencer forward, forcing him to stumble, landing him on his knees. "A little present for you," Eric taunted. "Aren't you glad to see him?"

Spencer looked at her with concern, his eyes slowly assessing every inch of body. His stomach churned when he took in how fragile she looked. She seemed so weak, so helpless, being held captive with those repulsive chains binding her wrist.

“Are you…” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper. “Are you okay?”

It was a dumb question. Of course she was far from being fine. But he had to say it, he needed to interact with her to make sure she understood how much it pained to see her like this.

But before she could respond to him, Eric noticed the interaction and pulled out a knife. Her heart pounded in her chest as she watched him circle Spencer, the glint of the blade caught in the dim light, sending a chill through the air.

The cold steel of the knife traced sinister patterns in the air, and she couldn't tear her eyes away from the dangerous dance. "What do you want?" she demanded, her voice shaking but defiant. "Let him go. This has nothing to do with him."

Eric chuckled and shook his head. "Oh, but it does. He's hurt you, and I need to do something about it."

"Eric, please," she pleaded. "You don't need to do this."

He ignored her pleas and narrowed his eyes on Spencer. "What do you think, Dr. Reid? Should I let you go? Let you free while I'm left alone with her, doing anything that I please." Spencer glared at him and Eric's smile grew wider. "That's what I thought."

He started pacing between them again, casually playing with the knife in his hands. "You know, I usually kill my victims before I write anything on their bodies, but tonight I'm making an exception." His eyes glazed over to her. "I think it'll be fun to do the other way around."

The ominous threat hung heavy in the air, and her heart pounded wildly in her chest. Spencer's eyes flashed with defiance, though his bound hands limited his ability to physically intervene. She locked eyes with him. They both knew the odds were stacked against them.

“You don't have to do this,” she begged once more, desperation lacing her voice.

"But I do Sweetheart, I really do." He focused his attention back on Spencer. "Now, what do you reckon I should choose for you, Dr. Reid?"

Eric continued to circle, a predator reveling in the vulnerability of his prey. "What do you think of Proverbs 11:21?” He spread his hands out as if he was imagining the words were written in the sky. “'Be sure of this: The wicked will not go unpunished, but those who are righteous will go free'."

When he was met with silence, he approached Spencer with a menacing glint in his eye. "No? How about Proverbs 21:15 then? 'When justice is done, it brings joy to the righteous but terror to evildoers.'"

Spencer finally looked up and retorted, "Justice isn't about inflicting pain for the sake of satisfaction."

Eric glared back with a sadistic resolve. "The only way to cleanse the evil here is through suffering. Proverbs speaks the truth, whether you like it or not."

At that moment, Spencer's mind suddenly shifted gears, deciding to try a different approach. His narrowed eyes showed he was honing in, not just reacting but strategizing. He was about to do what he did best—understand people, especially those on the brink. Instead of just reacting to the danger, he aimed to get inside Eric's head. He wanted to observe Eric with an intensity that went beyond the immediate threat.

"You're a smart man, Eric,” he started, his tone measured and analytical. “I can see that you've been through a lot, maybe more than most. I don't think this is about justice anymore.”

He noticed Eric stopping from his casual pace around the narrowed space, and Spencer continued. “It seems like you want to reverse the roles. To be the one inflicting pain instead of receiving it."

Eric, though still wearing a facade of defiance, couldn't completely mask the flicker of unease that danced in his eyes. Spencer's words seemed to hit a nerve.

"What do you even know about my past?" He retorted, a hint of vulnerability seeping into his voice.

Spencer, maintaining his calm and analytical demeanor, continued his probing. "I don't need to know the specifics to recognize the signs. People who inflict pain are often trying to regain control over a part of their lives where they feel helpless."

Eric's grip on the knife tightened, his jaw clenching. "You're making assumptions, Dr. Reid. You don't know anything about what I've been through.”

Spencer met his gaze evenly. "I actually do, Eric," He paused, letting the words linger in the air. "Or should I call you Henry?"

The name hung in the air, a heavy silence enveloping the barn. Y/n’s eyes darted between the two men, her confusion mirrored in the furrow of her brow. Henry? His real name was Henry?

"Henry Wyatt," Spencer continued. "Troubled childhood, juvenile records. You changed your name and tried to leave the past behind."

There was a moment of silence as if Eric was weighing his next words. "I no longer associate with that name," he finally insisted, the defiance in his voice trying to mask the vulnerability that lingered beneath the surface.

"I don't think so,” Spencer remarked. “You're still him despite having a different life now. Your current action shows how you're still bound by the past."

Eric vehemently shook his head. "No."

"Your attempt to leave it behind is what brought us here."

"No," Eric shot back, frustration lacing his voice. “You’re wrong.”

"Your sense of betrayal is the root of your actions," He pressed. "Are you deeply hurt by Oliver that you seek revenge this far?"

A growl rumbled in Eric's throat, the grip on the knife tightening. "You have no right to bring that up," he spat out.

"I do, because I want you to realize that your need for revenge is a sign of weakness," Spencer continued with a calculated intensity, his words aimed at striking a nerve. "Not strength."

Eric shot a fierce glare at Spencer as his frustration reached a crescendo. "You know nothing about me. Don't pretend to understand."

"I do understand that inflicting pain won't change anything." His words hung in the air, a challenge that dared Eric to confront the truth.

The subtle tremors of Eric's clenched fists betrayed the storm within him. The knife, once held with purpose, now seemed almost precarious in his grip. Spencer's next move was strategic, pressing on despite the mounting tension. "Romans 12:21—Do not be overcome by evil, but overcome evil with good."

Eric's anger boiled over. "Stop talking."

But Spencer saw an opening and seized it. "Hurting others won't bring you the closure you seek."

"I said," Eric snarled, his patience wearing thin. "Stop. Talking."

"Ask yourself, Henry," Spencer goaded, deliberately emphasizing the name. "Is this really about justice, or is it about masking the pain you refuse to confront?"

"Fucking shut up!"

Eric's outburst reverberated through the barn as he grabbed onto the only source of lighting, an old lamp sitting on a nearby crate. He smashed it onto the floor towards Spencer, the crash of the lamp echoing like a gunshot.

Fragments of glass sprayed across the floor, some landing dangerously close to his knees as the room dimmed further, the broken lamp's feeble glow casting eerie shadows on the walls.

"You thought you could defy me?" Eric seethed, his voice low and menacing, closing the gap between them. "You're fucking wrong."

With a sudden, swift motion, Eric brought the knife dangerously close to Spencer's face. Y/n’s mind raced. She couldn't let Spencer get hurt. She had to do something, anything, to protect him.

"S-Stop!" she stammered, trying to intervene. The chains rattled as she tried to move. But Eric kept going, and she tried again with a desperate plea.

“Eric! Look at me! Please!” She begged. “I-I'll do anything!"

There was a slight halt in his steps. "What?" Eric paused.

"What are you doing?" Spencer's voice filled the air. 

She glanced over to him, prepared to see the panic in his eyes. But despite the concern in his voice, he responded to her gaze with a silent plea, as if urging her to keep going.

He was onto something; she was sure of it, even if she wasn't sure of whatever plan he had in mind. She could tell by the slight shift in his demeanor before he quickly looked away. She sent him an understanding nod and redirected her attention to Eric, who was slowly turning toward her, oblivious of their interaction.

"I-I'll do anything you want," she repeated her words. 

A sinister smile played on Eric's lips. "Really? Anything?" he taunted, a cruel glint in his eyes as he considered her offer.

"Yes, just—please, let him go.”

Eric's gaze shifted between her and Spencer, contemplating the power he held at that moment. "You'll do anything to save him?"

Her nod was hesitant but determined. 

Eric's eyes gleamed with a malicious delight as he absorbed her desperation. "Anything, you say? That's quite a tempting offer."

"Just tell me what you want," she pressed, her voice quivering. "I'll do it, but you let him go. He doesn't need to be a part of this."

A wicked grin etched itself on his face. "Oh, it's not that simple, Sweetheart. You see, actions speak louder than words. I need a demonstration of your commitment."

Her mind raced, searching for a way to navigate through the situation. "Tell me what you want me to do," she pleaded, her eyes pleading for mercy.

He bent down and picked a shard of glass from the broken lamp scattered on the floor before throwing it to her feet.

"First, you're going to have to convince me that you're willing to endure pain for his sake." Eric gestured toward Spencer with the knife. "Hurt yourself, and maybe, maybe, I'll consider releasing him."

A chill ran down her spine as she comprehended his twisted demand. She shot a quick glance at Spencer. He met her eyes with a subtle nod, indicating that he was ready to seize the opportunity when it presented itself.

As Eric watched her, a maniacal excitement burning in his eyes, she knew she had to play along, at least for now. With trembling hands, she reached for the shard of glass, but she hesitated for a moment.

"Come on," Eric urged, the sadistic anticipation evident in his voice. "Prove your devotion."

Summoning every ounce of courage, she finally pressed the glass against her palm, wincing as it broke the skin. A suppressed gasp escaped her lips, but she fought to maintain a facade of resolve. 

"Now, that's dedication," Eric mused, enjoying the spectacle of her distress. "But we're not done yet. I want more."

She fought back the nausea, the pain in her skin throbbing with each heartbeat. With a deep breath, she tightened her grip on the glass shard, her hands trembling as she looked up at Eric.

"What more do you want?" she demanded, desperation still present in her voice.

His eyes glinted with sadistic pleasure. "Cut deeper. Prove to me that you're willing to sacrifice for him."

Spencer's eyes widened in silent horror, but she shot him a reassuring glance. The shard pressed against her skin once again, but this time, she hesitated. The internal struggle was evident on her face.

"Do it!" Eric barked, reveling in his perceived triumph.

With a swift motion, she sliced the glass across her skin again, the pain intensifying. A muffled cry escaped her lips as she felt warmth seeping through her fingers. 

"That's more like it," Eric praised, his eyes gleaming with madness. "Now, drop the glass."

She complied, releasing the shard to the floor with a gasp, her eyes never leaving Eric's. The room felt heavy with tension as he considered his next move.

"Now tell me you regret nothing, that you'd do it all over again for him," Eric demanded, the twisted satisfaction evident in his tone.

In a desperate attempt to stall him and buy time, she played into his game. "I regret nothing," she forced the words out, her voice steady despite the pain and fear. "I'd do anything for him."

Eric's triumphant grin faltered for a moment as if he expected her to break. But then, a cruel glint returned to his eyes. "Well, well, well. Seems like we have a devoted lover here.” A chuckle followed through. “But the night is still young."

A chilling silence took place as Eric continued to stare at her, his eyes traveling the line of blood dripping down her skin. His gaze traveled upwards to her shaking body before it settled on her pleading gaze. A sinister smile took hold of his face and she shivered at the sight.

"You know," he began, taking a step forward. "You look rather tempting covered in blood."

Her skin crawled at his words, and she fought to maintain a façade of compliance. The barn seemed to shrink around her as Eric advanced, his eyes fixated on her like a predator closing in on its prey. 

"Look at you, all frightened and desperate." Eric continued, walking closer to her. "I'd say you're quite adorable now."

Every step he took sent a chill down her spine. Eric's sinister smile widened as he reveled in her discomfort. "You thought you could outsmart me, didn't you?" he sneered. "But here we are, and you're at my mercy."

In response, she swallowed her fear and shot back, "Your twisted games won't break me. I-I won't let you win."

His laughter echoed through the barn, a haunting sound that seemed to reverberate within the walls. "Oh, I'm afraid you've already lost, Sweetheart."

Her stomach dropped when she saw him unbuckling his belt with his free hand, the sound of its clinking metal echoed through the suffocating silence. Fear gripped her as Eric's intentions became painfully clear. She struggled against her restraints, her mind racing for a way out of this nightmare. "Y-You promised to let him go," she pleaded, her voice shaking.

"I said I'll consider releasing him," he corrected her. "And right now I'm considering giving him a show."

She felt a wave of nausea and revulsion. Fear clutched at her chest, threatening to overwhelm her. Every inch of her body ached, both from the physical torment and the psychological torture. The chains that bound her seemed tighter, cutting into her wrists.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He taunted. "You'd let me use you while he watches how good I can make you feel."

He unzipped his pants.

“How you’d be screaming my name,” he grinned. “Secretly begging for more.”

His looming figure cast a shadow over her, his attention remained fixated on her. He was too focused on her that he didn't notice Spencer's stealthy movement behind him, and just as she braced herself for the worst, the unexpected happened.

"What do you think, Spencer? Let me—"

A sudden shot echoed in the room. The deafening sound rang through the barn, causing a momentary freeze in the air. Her eyes widened, pupils dilating in shock, as she watched a dark stain spread across Eric's shirt before he crumpled to the ground.

The gunshot rang in her ears and she blinked her eyes, trying to focus her attention on her surroundings. Then Spencer took over her line of sight, sitting on the floor with one leg stretched out. The time she had bid managed to help him escape from his restraints. 

Her gaze then shifted to the subtle holster snug in his sock, revealing the hidden firearm he was carrying all along. Her eyes met his, his expression a blend of exhaustion and concern, and a heavy breath escaped him as he slowly lowered the gun.

Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring her vision. The weight of the situation hung in the air, and she couldn't find words to express the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her. The fear, the desperation, the relief—they were all tangled together. It was like a tornado had torn through, leaving her standing in the aftermath.

Spencer moved on instinct. Without saying a word, he stumbled towards her, sinking right on the mattress as he reached for her face. His hands were warm against her cold cheeks, and his eyes held a depth of regret as she stared into them. 

"I'm sorry," was the first thing he said as he held her gaze. When the first cry escaped her lips, a raw and unfiltered release of the pent-up anguish, he pulled her into his arms without hesitation. Her wails echoed in the hollow space of the barn as he held her close and continued to utter his apology like a desperate prayer.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he choked, his voice sounding strained. "I'm so sorry."

Her sobs vibrated against his chest. She clung to him, her fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt, her blood staining the material. The scent of hay and the earthy musk of the barn intertwined with the warmth of his presence.

"S-Spence.." she murmured, her voice a mere whisper.

"Shh, I've got you." Spencer continued to cradle her, his lips pressed gently against the top of her head. His fingers traced soothing circles on her back. "It's over. I'm right here."

Between her cries, she managed to nod, clinging to him as if her life depended on it. And maybe it did. She wasn't sure she could function properly without his presence. So she focused solely on him—the rise and fall of his chest, the soft beating of his heart against her cheek. She shut out everything around her, not even bothering to ask how the authorities knew their location when she heard a faint siren coming from the distance.

The sound of people entering the barn didn't even faze her moments later. Or the way someone came up to them, insisting the two for a medical check. Instead, she shook her head and tightened her grip, and Spencer reassured the medics they’d come to them in a while.

Time seemed to stop at that moment as she pressed herself further into his arms. The world outside could wait, but for now, all that mattered was him.

>> NEXT PART

a/n: his escape scene is kind of a nod to that truth and dare episode, idk i felt like putting it into the plot :D

.

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[undercoverpena]

7. honey cream

frankie morales x f!reader | chapter seven of do me yourself

summary: a meet-cute in a hardware store? impossible, out of the question. except, that's exactly what happens. a need for screws leads you to a broad-shouldered, brown-eyed man who you're sure is about to change your day, never mind your life.

wordcount: 3.9k chapter warnings: frankie calls you 'rainy' (paint-related from chp.1) no other descriptions or name used. no use of y/n. frankie being a good dad. bad tool names. anxious!reader. an: can i just say a massive thank you to all those who show up EVERY SINGLE WEEK. i adore you so much. thank you. if you're new to the ride, also welcome. even if i loved this story so much, i never expected people to love it even half as much as me, never mind the love i keep getting. so thank you.

prev chapter | series masterlist

key: frankie is in bold, you are in italics

Nice forearm in your story.

Thanks, It’s this guy I met in a hardware store? We’ve been kind of seeing one another.

Oh, tell him he has a nice watch.

I’ve been told to tell you that you have a nice watch.

You’re hilarious.

I try to be.

You can say no to this, but do you want me to call you later?

That’ll be nice. I’ll be working late so I'll take a break when you do.

Tomorrow, I just need to grab some bits from the store and then I’ll be with you.

Are you sure you want to spend your day off helping me paint?

I was promised to see you in overalls, so yes.

They’re nice, but please lower your expectations.

I bet they look great on your ass.

Everything looks great on my ass.

Including my hand.

Yes, specifically when you slipped your fingers in my jeans pocket on the way to brunch.

I can’t wait to see you.

Drive safely, Butterscotch.

“I feel bad that your day off is spent painting.”

Flicking the lid off with a screwdriver, Frankie just smiles—eyes looking up at you from under his cap.

When he looks at you, you might as well be a fly irresistibly drawn to the brilliance of it, captivated by it.

He’d come in clothes that were long since paint-splattered. A set, you assume, he wears most times—an over-washed and over-loved flannel over a greying white tee, and a pair of cargos that have more pockets than you know what they could be used for.

It had been more natural when he’d arrived this time. A sweet kiss at the door, a long hug where he walks you in and his heel kicks your door shut. A muttering of 'you smell nice', into your neck—grinning over his shoulder because you’d sprayed far too much of your perfume.

“Don’t—I want to be here.”

“I think I’ll likely apologise another three times, at least, before we’re done.”

Standing, wearing a slightly twinged expression on his face, he steps over the clean trays and folded step ladders. His hand rises, turning the beak of his cap around, before he’s in front of you, staring at you before he kisses you.

Kisses you like he wishes to rid you of your worries and make your guilt wash away. Like he wants to empty your mind of things you’ve once been told, make you forget them, purge them. Fuck, his mouth almost does.

“So, rule of thumb—ceiling, walls and then kickboards, window sills.”

“Did you… Did you really just finish kissing me and immediately talk about painting?”

Grinning, he chuckles, bending down to grab a paintbrush. “Did you want me to linger on why you feel bad, or are you ready to get your hands dirty?"

You hesitate for a moment before taking the brush, fingers brushing over his. “I guess I’ll get dirty, since it’s with you.”

He seems to swallow, gaze holding yours as a soft smile tries to tug at his lips before flattening out to a line. Then, you just watch as he pours the off-white paint into the trays—its thick, glooping contents filling it quicker than you’d banked on, but he took it perfectly in his stride.

The sleeves of his flannel are rolled up, forearms flexing as he tilts the larger tub until he appears content with the measurement in the tray.

You know a thumb covered in paint shouldn’t cause your throat to dry, but it does. Your mind thinking up all the places he can leave a stamp of it, a trail of it, turn you into a map showing where he’s been—over a thigh, collarbone, your —

“Race you to the end of the wall?”

Blinking, finding him already readying his roller on the blank, sun-stained wall.

Before you can respond, he's off. The roller glides smoothly across the wall, leaving a trail of fresh paint in its wake. You laugh, shaking your head at his competitive spirit before joining him, your own brush meeting the wall—cutting in.

In time, the room fills with the rhythmic sound of brushes against the wall, the occasional laughter, and gentle conversations. The room transformed over the hours, looking fresher, already a thousand times better than it had this morning with the patches off filled in holes and cracks.

Taking the brush from your hands, you step back to the middle, looking around, not initially aware of how he’s looking at you. Not until you spot a satisfied smile and a glint in his eye.

“We did good, didn't we?”

You shrug. “Think you could do better—put your back really into rolling next time.”

Shaking his head, he throws your brush into the used tray before he’s grasping, tugging, your body connecting with his in an oomph—his reflexes quicker, arms longer than you’d expected—as laughter escapes out as you slide your hand around the back of his neck.

“Thank you. For helping me.”

“Sure,” he whispers, cheek close to yours, fingers on your hip. “Have I told you how good you look in your overalls?”

Rolling your lips, you slowly turn in his hold—all set to turn his cap for him again. To whisper to him that they’re easy to remove too, that he could slide his fingers up, even slant your mouth back over his again.

But you hear his stomach. It rumbles—practically thunderous.

“I haven’t even offered you food,” you confess, words laced with guilt. “I should make you food.”

“You don’t have to…”

Fingers entwining with his, you pull him—finding him happily following, even as he mumbles about cleaning up, that the paint will dry in the tray. You don’t loosen your hold until the two of you are in the kitchen, a hand needed to open the fridge, both required to pull out some ingredients.

“You cooking for me?”

“I’m going to try, if that’s okay?”

He leans against the counter, watching you with a soft smile.

“I'd love that, baby,” he says, the affection in his voice making your heart flutter like it keeps doing.

Before you’ve even sliced the first vegetable, Frankie excuses himself—a kiss to your cheek, all domestic, normal. It not feeling weird even as he goes back to the “project room” and you hear him tidying.

Because it’s not odd in the slightest him being here.

A thing you turn over as you continue to prepare ingredients, cutting and marinating. By the time he’s returned, sporting an amused smile on his face, you’re about to begin frying things.

“Can I do anything?”

Shaking your head, you glance at him over your shoulder, finding he’s taken up his earlier spot. “Just keep me company.”

And he does. Asking you things, questions—some about your childhood, your family, friends. Every word spoken, he hangs onto. Staring like he’s making notes in his head, committing them to memory, somewhere inside that beautiful, amazing mind of his.

“Should I get used to you cooking if I come round and help you with your project?” he teases, taking a water from the fridge like you’d instructed.

“You better not get used to it,” you retort, throwing a small piece of bell pepper at him playfully. He ducks, laughing. “I batch cook most of the time—easier when you eat for one.”

His eyes follow as you move around the kitchen with a fondness in his eyes, you focusing on not burning anything. Stomach knotting itself when it comes to dishing it up, placing it down, and watching him slide into the stool.

When he takes the first bite, you swear you are frozen—unable to move, or think. Eyes just focused on his, watching, waiting, until you breathe a sigh of relief at the way his eyes light up. “This is really good, baby.”

You can't help but feel a little proud. “Thank you.”

He raises his water in a toast. “To more cooking then,” he proposes, and you laugh, agreeing wholeheartedly.

As you stick your own fork in, it's easy to find comfort in the shared silence, a contentment you continue to be amazed at. The atmosphere all at ease. There's no need for words as you both eat, side-by-side, a relatively normal thing for most, but not for you.

But, none of it feels weird, awkward. It never has—even if part of you continues to wait for it. If anything, it continues to be comfortable, right.

Even as the food effortlessly vanishes off both of your plates, it's not until you've reached your fill that you clear your throat.

“So, how often do you have Luca?”

Chewing his food, he puts down the remainder—wiping his fingers on the napkin. “It’s a weird rota. But it works? I’ll have him in the week for two nights and then overnight on a Saturday one week and then one night in the week the following and then Friday to Sunday, and then I’ll have him for three nights in the week the following. Sometimes, extra if I have time off or I want to take him to see family.”

Nodding, you take a sip of your drink.

“Does that… bother you?”

“No! No, of course not,” you grin. “He’s the most important, in all of this. It was just curiosity, I couldn’t… I couldn’t work out the pattern.”

Chewing his cheek he smiles. “You trying to work out when I’m free?”

Shrugging, you look away, aware of the heat warming your cheeks. “Well, someone did post about brunch on their Stories…”

“I remember someone else posting my forearm on theirs.”

Smiling, you plate your cutlery down. “It’s a very nice forearm.”

Shoulder nudging you, Frankie chuckles—cutlery lined up on his plate, your hand moving to take it. Sliding around the kitchen as he begins debating what part of him will appear next, a thigh, an ankle.

“I can include all of you next time, if you like?” Hand testing the hot, soapy water filling the bowl.

“Yeah?”

Licking your lips, you smile. “I don’t cook for anyone, Morales.”

Shifting to meet your gaze, his eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles. “Is that right, Rainy? I must be pretty special then.”

“You have no idea,” you reply, your voice a mere whisper but the words carry an immense weight, one you suspect has snuck out, and embedded itself into him.

You're quick to turn your back to him, hide the heat and shyness, as you carefully rinse off the dishes. Only hearing the stool shift at the last moment, the sound of his sock-covered feet padding around until he's standing behind you.

His presence is unmistakable, more so when he places his hands on your hips. “I think I'm beginning to,” he murmurs into your ear, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine.

You turn to face him, the plates forgotten in the sink. Looking up into his eyes, seeing a reflection of things fluttering in them.

“You better,” you say, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek, “because I'm not planning on posting anyone else’s arm for a while.”

His grin widens at your words, his hands pulling you closer until your bodies are flush against each other. "Good, because I don't plan on trying brunch with anyone else."

And as he leans down to kiss you, he pauses, mouth hovering over yours. “Speaking of…”

Narrowing your eyes, you retract your head, soap suds sliding off your wrists.

“My friends… they want to meet you.”

His words catch you off guard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Meet...me?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper.

As soon as he confirms with a simple nod, you feel a tightness in your chest. An explosion in your mind. A vortex of thoughts, all overwhelming, non-stop.

Each second you try to breathe, the knot in your chest tightens, sitting, carving a bigger hole where your happiness had just been—

“Yes,” he confirms, his hands soothingly rubbing circles on your hips as though noticing your sudden tension. “I think, maybe, I’ve talked about you too much?”

Running your teeth over your lip, you feel a piece of skin. One sticking up, not as smooth as the rest. Lip balm would solve it, fix it—but you pick at it anyway, pick, pick, pick—

Running your teeth over your lip, you notice a stray piece of skin, protruding slightly, disrupting the otherwise smooth surface. Lip balm would fix it, effortlessly smooth it out—but despite knowing this, you find yourself unable to resist the urge to pick at it. Listening to him as he explains, hearing names, a day suggested. As you compulsively pick, pick, pick—

Until he says your name.

Soft. Gentle. So cautiously spoken it makes your heart do a double take as you taste copper on your tongue.

“Are you sure? I mean, I want to. I just… don’t want to intrude or anything,” you reply, and you know it’s left your mouth shaky, bathed in nerves.

Attempting to shake the suds from your hands, hoping to fling off the worries with it, you find yourself unable to meet his gaze. Mind a flurry, a snowstorm of ifs, buts and maybes.

Because meeting his friends is a significant step—a thing you’re happy about, pleased he feels the same way. Yet, you're also terrified.

Digging your hip into the counter because of it, rooting yourself as you flex your fingers.

“Hey.” His fingers gently lift your chin, forcing you to look up at him; eyes full of warmth and reassurance. "You wouldn't be intruding, baby. They're… they’re like my family and… I want them to meet the person I can’t stop thinking about.”

Shoulders sliding down from your ears, you move to rest your hands on his waist. “You really talk about me that much?”

Scrunching his nose, he smiles. “A bit.”

“Okay,” you agree, your voice sounding more confident than you feel. “I'll meet your friends.”

“Great,” he grins, his relief evident. He pulls you close, hugging you tightly. “Benny—the one who fights—that's who we'll be supporting.”

“When?”

He frowns, but vanishes it away as though realising you hadn't been listening. “Not this weekend, but next. They’re going to love you, I promise.”

“I hope so,” you whisper into his chest, your heart rate trying its best to slow down.

I need you to tell me what I need to do with the office room, if your friends happen to not like me. They’re going to like you. But if they don’t. Rainy, they will. Introducing you is more so they don’t think I’ve made you up. You have a habit of making up people? No. But apparently, the way I talk about you makes it seem like you’re made up. Why? Because you’re perfect. I am not. You are, but let’s have that battle another day. What are you worried about?

It sits there, in your fingers. The answer to his question.

Foot kicking out at your kitchen island, laptop light illuminating your face as you roll your tongue over your lips.

Foot kicking out nervously at the kitchen island, the harsh glow of the laptop casting an eerie light across your face, you roll your tongue over your lips.

A nervous tic. One you find yourself repeating—letting it trace over the same path again and again, desperately seeking a sense of calm that seems perpetually out of reach.

The question doing its rounds, spinning and swirling: What are you worried about? What are you worried about?

Like a bell has been wrung, it blares out. The answer.

It vibrates through your bones and comes back to you in an echo. Almost a chorus: That I’m not good enough.

A thing you’ve done well to ignore, to stuff down. But now, it's crawling up out of its boxes, the tape having barely kept it down, flapping about in the whirlwind of worries in your head.

As your phone screen dims, memories flood, recalling the evidence. The words flung at you, feelings you’ve wrestled with in bathrooms at loud parties and brutal quiet nights; arguments in places that don’t feel like home and tears against brick walls that cut shoulders.

Unlocking your phone, you tighten your jaw because he's not like them. He's good, kind. A sudden unwillingness to bend to insecurity roaring inside of you as you list every good thing about him; not willing to let a good thing be ruined by things that could never happen.

Sliding your fingers over the screen, you type words that seem easier, less difficult to confess:

Living up to the stories you’ve said. No stories, just a mention of your name and apparently a smile they’ve not seen in a while.

With a mouth-closed grin, you purse your lips.

Reading over the message again and again as your teeth sneak out to bite your lip, thumbs darting out over the phone’s keyboard.

Would it be okay to pick you up? You want to pick me up? I do. Yeah, sure. I was going to offer to pick you up. I think I’d like to pick you up, and if I don’t make a fool out of myself, would you like to stay over? I’ll pack your robe.

As soon as he throws his bag into the backseat and slips into your car, you feel at ease.

The drive over to grab him had been a combination of whispered mutterings about how it was going to be fine and a mind full of all the ways it wouldn’t be.

It’s further helped when his lips press to your cheek, allowing hands to loosen on the steering wheel, and when that low voice sweeps over you as he greets you—as other words hang there unspoken.

You almost say it on sight, I've missed you.

Because you have. A week and a half of messages and phone calls sufficing, but you’ve missed his presence, his face, the chance to brush your fingers over his cheek.

“You look nice.”

Eyes widening, he stares down at himself, palms brushing out over his thighs. “Me?”

“No, the ghost you brought with you—of course, you.”

Snorting, he fastens his seatbelt. “Says you, hermosa.”

“Smooth talker.”

The drive to the fight continues with similar, gentle teasing, all comfortable conversation filling the vehicle. He begins to fill you in on the new developments in the saga of Luca’s newfound love for blanket forts rendering the living room a disaster and you about the sign-off on the work you'd been worked up over.

As you navigate the roads, excitedly sharing about how you've picked a wallpaper you like, Frankie's warm hand finds a home on your thigh, his thumb idly tracing patterns over the fabric of your jeans as he continues talking.

No smirk, nothing. Just the usual smile, as if he'd done this before.

Yet, he hasn't. Unfamiliar sensations surge through your body, catching you off guard, body all ill-prepared for the way it warms you. It almost urges you to shuffle in your seat so his hand rises north; Electricity crackles along your veins, accompanied by a tightening in your abdomen that refuses to dissipate. And, it only worsens when he coughs and his hand grips you a little tighter.

As more of the cityscape flits past your windows, you steal glances at Frankie. His profile illuminated intermittently by the passing street lights, shadows highlighting the rugged contours of his face.

By the time you're pulling into the parking lot, you wish the drive had been longer. Momentarily, you press your thighs together, for reprieve. Only doing so when his hand moves to open the door, the liveliness and music spilling out onto the sidewalk as he comes around the vehicle to take your hand.

“So, where will your friends be?”

Frankie tightens his hand on yours, leading you, holding the door open. “They’ll be in the locker room. Will is Ben’s non-official trainer.”

Nodding, you smile, letting him lead until the two of you come to a stop at the bar—him asking you what you’d like, giving you a look that says please don’t fight me as he takes out his wallet.

“You not needed there?” Shaking his head, ordering drinks as he faces his head forward but his eyes slide down to you. “And what are you, what's your role?”

“His other non-official, less present trainer.”

“You slacker.”

Shrugging, he shakes his head, paying for the drinks. “I know, so much free time to do it too.”

Grinning, you follow him to a spot out of the line, sliding your arm around his back, curling into him—the ice cubes in your plastic cup colliding in the fizziness of your drink.

“I’m glad you came.”

“Because you missed me?”

His mouth opens, parts—the tip of his tongue peeking out as you feel his chest expand before relaxing. “Yeah. Nine days was too long.”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you slide your hand under his jacket, it taking a moment, more awkward than full of ease before you can fan your fingers out against him.

“Technically, it was five—if you count me half-waving to you when I came in to get a screwy.”

Almost spluttering as he takes a sip, he clears his throat, staring down. “You can’t call it a screwy?”

Narrowing your eyes, smirking away. “And why not, Morales?”

“Because suena mal... dirty,” he argues, trying to suppress a laugh.

Your eyebrow raises in question, but before you can retort, his lips are on yours, effectively silencing you. The place around you is all of a sudden silent, muted—as if no one else is around at all. The ring, the lights, and all of the people blurring into nothing, not as your fingers tease over his chin, as your mouth reminds itself what his feels like.

Pulling back, mouth hovering close to his. “So, what do I need to know about your friends? Outside of the obvious.”

The obvious is that they all served together. Frankie had explained it one night as you cooked for yourself, him on a shelf—face filling the screen as you sliced and brewed on the stove.

It was clinically given, top-level you'd been sure. Just the need to know—the need to understand.

“Well, Ben is loud—but he’s gentle. Will is a bit protective, especially since we've all been through a lot together," he begins, rubbing his thumb along the back of your hand. “But they're good people. They're upfront and honest.”

“Does Harold like them?”

Tutting, he pauses as he lifts the plastic cup to his lips. “The only person Harry likes is you. And his own family.”

“I’ll be sure to drop that in conversation then. Show them I’m one stamp approved already.”

Tilting your chin up, he licks his lips—slowly, intently. “You have nothing to worry about, alright?” You nod, trying to take in his words. “I mean it.”

“Okay.”

Kissing the top of your head, Frankie keeps his arm around you. Even when Benny's name is shouted and the crowd goes wild.

I think they like me.

Are you texting me from the bathroom?

Maybe. But, I think it’s going well.

Baby, are you peeing and texting me?

No! I dried my hands and then messaged you.

So you’re leaning against a dirty wall texting me.

Are you grinning like an idiot at your phone?

Don’t answer I can see it.

Shut up.

If that’s the grin you wear when I message you, no wonder they wanted to meet me.

Basta!

You're cute when you're flustered. Can see the red climbing up your neck from here.

Come back and keep me company.

Grin a bit more and I might.

Rainy.

Fuck you're handsome, Butterscotch.

NEXT CHAPTER ->

an: while the meeting happens off-paper (haha wanted to say off-screen) all meetings won't appear like this 👀. we knew they'd love her, and in time we'll see how much. also, her texting him in the bathroom may be my fave thing she's done off her own accord (i am merely just a body and fingers when rainy begins talking to me)

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 12

Roronoa Zoro + Cumplay (Snowballing)

Hello One Piece fandom 🗣️, it is i, Gator. I have come to invade your fandom and hopefully start writing for it when kinktober is over.

I remember swearing id never get into one piece, but here I am. I’m not that far into the manga, but I am balls deep in the fics anyways, so.

What can I say, I see a man with huge pecs (Zoro) and I’m in love.

Kinktober 2023 masterlist.

Zoro grunted where he was laying, slumped against the floor of the crows nest, the place the two of you would sneak off too to “keep an eye out”. Or that’s what you told the other members of your crew, but you were pretty sure at least half had figured out the two of you sneaked off here to have some so-called alone time.

It was later in the evening, and the weather had been quite pleasant, maybe bordering on a little too warm during the day. There had been no threats as of late, allowing everyone to just relax. It had led to the two of you crawling up into the crows nest, multiple bottles of booze tucked under arms and into pockets to be shared between you.

It was nowhere near enough to get either of you blackout drunk, dating Zoro for as long as you had, had upped your own tolerance enough to need more than just a couple of bottles. But it was enough to get a good buzz going, and Zoro had started looking more and more attractive with his normal outfit replaced by some flimsy excuse of a robe.

You called it a sorry excuse, as it only came about halfway down his thighs, and there was no way to truly pull it shut around his chest. He had gotten it a long time ago, back before you guys split up for a few years to train, so it didn’t really fit his bulk anymore, but he never threw it out. Not that you were complaining, as the fabric hugged his form nicely, and the bottom stretched across the strong muscle of his thighs.

You had both been laying on the floor, buzzed in the best way, when you just couldn’t stop yourself anymore. With some work, you were able to roll over and flatten your tongue between his pecs, the robe not able to fully close across them leaving exposed skin, that you now used to your advantage.

Zoro had grunted in a slightly questioning way, but his strong hand soon found its way into your hair and held on as you sucked hickeys across the muscle of his pecs. Another part you enjoyed about this robe was how easily you could open it up, just needing to pull at the knot holding it closed, and bam, your boyfriend’s torso.

As you started kissing down his torso, you couldn’t help but appreciate how his stomach flexed under your lips, or how his thighs tensed when you groped at them. Another thing you enjoyed about the robe, was how Zoro always insisted on wearing shorts under them, you almost dared to call them compression shorts with how tight they sat on him at times. You had a bet going with Nami that he was doing it on purpose to get you riled up, it might be counterproductive to make bets on yourself, but oh well.

He was already hard as you nuzzled into his crotch, rubbing your face against his hard length. You could feel it twitch through the tight fabric Zoro had chosen to wear, and you found yourself licking your lips. You pressed your lips against the hot shaft as you looked up at Zoros one eye, his pupil blown wide as he chewed on the inside of his lip.

He huffed out his nose, and you were sure if he was a dragon smoke would have shot out. He knew what you wanted, you wanted him to ask, or even beg for it, but even in his buzzed state he found his face heating up as he turned it the other way to stare at the wall. “…please” he grumbled, his voice rougher than usual, his strong hands clenched into fists by his sides.

You couldn’t help but chuckle softly, and before Zoro could snap at you for laughing at him, you’d pulled down his shorts enough to tuck his dick and balls out, letting the waistband snap against his thighs. “Its not fair how big this thing is” you mumble as you wrap both your hands around him, and still have a good part free. It shouldn’t have surprised you how hung the swordsman was, it just made sense in some way.

Cutting Zoro off from speaking once more, you swallow the tip and take it as far into your mouth as you can. His size made it impossible to deepthroat all of him, it was hard to even get half, so instead you used your hands on what couldn’t fit in your mouth.

Going down on your boyfriend had become a science for you at this point, mouth and tongue teasing the top half, one hand jerking and touching what didn’t fit in your mouth, and your other hand fondling his heavy balls, because of course those were big too. You were half convinced it was because he was so focused on anything but getting off, so it all got backed up until you showed up and started giving him a regular outlet.

Zoro wasn’t a loud person, moaning grunting and groaning as he placed a hand on the back of your head again, though he wasn’t pulling or pushing at your head like you might have wanted some days. It was only when he was drunker he got loud, if you hadn’t seen each other in a while, or if you had decided you needed to bully his prostate for an hour or two.

You could tell he was getting close as his other hand grabbed onto the back of your head, his strong fingers gripping onto your hair as he started pushing his hips up, forcing his cock deeper into your mouth and down your throat. If you hadn’t done this so many times, you might have choked or even passed out, but you were used too it, and found enjoyment in seeing the normally mostly collected swordsman lose it for a bit.

You dig gag when he came, shooting a big thick load down your throat and into your mouth, if you had flexed your throat wrong you were sure it was gonna shoot out your nose. Zoro held you there for a moment before he let go, flopping down onto the floor with a sigh as you pulled your mouth off his length with a wet noise.

Zoro had his eye shut as you crawled your way up his body, your mouth full of his own spend. It was only when you were right above him that he looked up at you, and he seemed to lick his lip as he saw that your mouth was full. As you leaned in to kiss him, he stuck his tongue out as if to catch the cum in your mouth before your lips even met.

Your green haired lover groaned at the thick spend that spread from your mouth to his, the taste spreading across tastebuds and filling mouths. You had no idea when you guys discovered that Zoro loved to taste his own cum if it came from your mouth, but after discovering it, it almost became part of the process.

A loud slurp-like noise could be heard as Zoro sucked your tongue clean of his spend, letting his strong tongue flick across the roof of your mouth before pulling apart. You hovered over him for a while, a cocky grin pulling onto your lip as he panted, somehow looked more debauched than you did, even when you had been the one who had gone down on him.

You felt his shoulders square before he grabbed your waist, flipping you onto your back and hovering about you with that hungry animalistic look in his eye. A glance down confirmed that he was hard again, his refractory period being something you could only dream off. The robe did absolutely nothing to hide that monstrous length of his as it dribbled thick drops of white onto your leg. With a smile you laid back, happy to go along with whatever was going through your swordmans mind.