#once again yearning but not willing to do anything about it :)))))))))

[bangcakes]

.

[ozai-the-bonsai]

Like Lovers Do

| Part 1 | Part 2 |

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: You and Daemon would dream about marrying each other before both of you became victims of political marriages, very much against your wills: he was sent to the Vale and you to the Riverlands. However, when your lord husband passes away, you return to King’s Landing, only to find out that your childhood sweetheart is now wearing a crown of his own.

A/N: Once again, I wrote too much - this is a long chapter (4.3k)! And full of smut and hot daddy Daemon... And thus concludes this mini-story (which was supposed to be a one-shot but anyways)... Hope you enjoy it! Again, you can always send me Daemon x reader requests!

Warnings: I am not a native English speaker, strong language, smut, strong smut (basically the whole chapter is a big bad smut)

Taglist: @throughgoeshamilton @mirandastuckinthe80s @xicesam @mariamyousef702 @eddiemadmunson @dont-try-pesticide @sweetybuzz25 @hc-geralt-23 @schniiipsel @ttae-yong @syrma-sensei @asiludida164 @kaitieskidmore1 @irmavanity-blog @pax-2735 @trickrtreatart @shanzeyxsyed @random-human02 @scarwicht @xcallmetaniax @instabull @niiight-dreamerrrr @my-dark-prince @stargaryenx @abaker74 @babywolff @sonnensplitter @bi-narystars @softtina @sadmonke @avalyaaa

Your feelings about dining with Daemon were complicated.

On the one side, your heart yearned to spend time with him, rekindle the bond you once shared with him and perhaps find solace in his embrace once again. However, the other part of you seethed with anger, unwilling to forgive him for disappearing from your life.

Oh, and not to mention that he was still married to Lady Rhea Royce, even though one could scarcely call it a marriage.

"I shall regret this night," you muttered to yourself as your handmaid (you had offered to bring her to King's Landing with you when you left the Riverlands) assisted you in getting ready for the evening.

In these thirty years of life, regrets have been my constant companions; what is one more to add to the tally?

"The Prince has undoubtedly ensured a feast fit for royalty, my Lady," Elyse told you while fastening the laces of your crimson dress, fashioned from the finest sateen.

You chuckled softly at the fact of how naive she was. "Oh, sweet Elyse, the dinner itself is the least of my worries." You spoke with a soft voice, only to earn a confused look from Elyse. "Don't you remember when I told you that the Prince and I go way back?"

"Oh, right - you grew up together, didn't you?" She asked, earning a nod from you. After finishing adjusting your dress, Elyse stepped away, taking a good look at you. "You are going to sweep the Prince off of his feet with your beauty, my Lady."

A soft smile formed on your lips. "You have done a wonderful job, Elyse, as always." You told her, causing Elyse's blue eyes to shine. "You may take your leave for today, darling - the hour will probably be quite late when I retire tonight."

After Elyse left you alone in your chambers, you took a deep breath and stood in front of the mirror for a while, lost in that vast ocean of thoughts circling your mind like crazy. You realised that you were scared to get the answers to those questions that had plagued your nights ever since you had left King's Landing.

Nevertheless, you deserved to know why - why he hadn't done anything to fight for you and why he had simply disappeared into the ghosts of your past.

Slowly, your feet took you to Prince Daemon's chambers. The corridors of the Red Keep were cold, the wind inside was giving you goosebumps. The white-cloak keeping watch in front of Daemon's chambers nodded at you upon seeing you and slightly opened the door to inform Daemon about your presence. A few seconds later, you were standing inside, your back facing the closed doors, a large dining table in front of you.

Daemon stood up from his seat and walked towards you, he was all in black except for the red linings on the sleeves of his black tunic. You couldn't help yourself but admire how unearthly he looked - the contrast between his silver hair, pale skin and black clothing added another layer of charm to his beauty.

He was ageing like Dornish wine.

For the third time that same day, the Prince brought your hand to his lips. "You are a feast for the eyes, my Lady."

You felt heat rushing to your face. Truth be told, you couldn't recall the last time you were showered with this many compliments in mere hours. "You flatter me, my Prince."

Daemon pointed at the table with his head. "Shall we?" He asked, earning a nod from you. You sat at the opposite ends of the giant table, which was adorned with all kinds of food: from roast duck to lemon cakes and the finest of wines...

"You remembered," you said, you didn't expect Daemon to remember how much you loved the taste of roast duck.

The Prince chuckled softly as he slowly filled his plate. "It pains me to hear your disbelief in me, love."

You raised a challenging eyebrow at him while you reached for the wine. "Forgive me for not expecting you to remember small details about me, my Prince," you spoke with a sarcastic tone, "I believed you had forgotten that I existed."

Daemon licked his lower lip, you could see that he kind of enjoyed you biting him back at every chance you got; however, you knew very well that you had to thread carefully with his patience. "You would be surprised at how much I still remember, love," Daemon spoke with a deep voice before taking a sip from his wine. "Are you planning on staying in King's Landing?"

You hated the way he changed the subject whenever he felt himself cornered.

"As long as my father holds his position as the Master of Coins, yes, I shall remain in King's Landing." You responded while taking a piece of the roast duck into your mouth. "Mmh, Daemon, this is exquisite!"

A small laughter left the Prince's lips, causing your heart to skip a beat.

"I gather roast duck is not one of the Riverlands' specialities," he muttered. "Are you planning on remarrying?" He asked, he seemed genuinely curious. Since your mouth was full, you shook your head in a short response as you swallowed your food. "A woman such as yourself does surely miss the marriage bed."

Upon hearing his last remark, you let out a loud laughter unfitting of a lady of your station; however, you didn't feel the need to force yourself to follow all those formalities when you were with Daemon - you never did.

The Prince was apparently having difficulty understanding what you found so amusing in his words.

"Miss the marriage bed?" You repeated Daemon's words. "Oh, Daemon, the day I miss my marriage bed, will be the day I ask you to burn me alive with Caraxes."

The Prince clicked his tongue. "Naive of you to think I would allow you to give voice to such absurdity, love."

Once again, you raised an eyebrow. "Absurdity, is it now?" You shook your head in disbelief as you brought your cup to your lips. "You have no idea what absurdity is, my Prince." After drinking all the remaining wine in your glass at once, you placed the cup back onto the table, your eyes finding Daemon's questioning ones. "When the lady wife of a wealthy lord becomes nothing more than a highborn whore, that is an absurdity."

"I believe your words need more elaborating, my Lady." Daemon spoke, his purple eyes moving slowly from your eyes to your lips and to your cleavage, only to return to your eyes once more. You felt warmness spreading through your body, his intense gaze was enough to make you feel dizzy.

Taking a deep breath, you fixed your gaze on the sky visible through the window, which was becoming darker by the minute. "I have told you earlier that my late husband was not able to father any children," you said, you could see from the corner of your eye that Daemon nodded at your words. "When he realised he needn't have taken me wife, he stopped seeing me except to bed me."

Slowly, you turned back to Daemon - there was something else inside his deep, purple eyes that resembled... fury?

"I became one of his whores," you spat out the words as if they were venom. "But I was the noble, wealthy, lady whore whom he could exclusively have for himself." As you spoke, the feelings of anger and disgust you had been trying so hard to suppress suddenly surfaced, making you lose control. "My only duty for the last decade was to let myself get fucked by a fat, old man over and over again! I couldn't even mother any children so that this fucked up fate of mine would be worth it all..."

You saw Daemon clenching his fists and chin in anger but you couldn't understand the subject of his fury - above all, he was the one who had done absolutely nothing to avoid both of your damned fates.

"Why, Daemon?" You asked as you pushed your seat back loudly. "Why didn't you do anything for us? Why did you leave me alone to drown in my nightmares?!"

Your voice was getting louder.

The Prince responded with an indifferent voice, absent from any kind of emotion, which only embittered you. "We were both married to different people, our destinies took us to separate places," he responded, causing your eyes to widen with shock. "It wouldn't have changed anything."

"Is this your excuse for leaving all the messages I have sent unreturned?" You asked with a disappointed tone as you started pacing up and down in his chambers. "You... You are unbelievable, Daemon!"

"Thread carefully," the Prince spoke with a warning tone.

However, at that moment, you couldn't have cared less - you wanted to trample on Daemon's damn boundaries until they were nothing but meaningless lines.

"You could have said something, done something - anything! But instead, you stood by as we were both shipped off - and to what end? You haven't spent a single night with your wife in years!" You shook your head in disbelief as you stopped walking to take a look at Daemon, who looked like an angry dragon that was about to throw fire any moment now.

"You didn't even say goodbye to me."

Then, everything happened all of a sudden.

Daemon roared in fury as he threw his plate (and multiple other plates) off the table, which ended up loudly crashing the nearby wall and falling down onto the floor, causing you to slightly jump in your place. The next thing you knew, Daemon was standing right in front of you, his right hand holding you by your chin with a firm grip, his fingers digging into the flesh of your skin.

"Because it hurt," the words left his lips silently but the power they held was immense. "I didn't bid you farewell, I didn't return to any of your ravens because thinking about you hurt me. So. Fucking. Much."

When he finally let you go, you were able to speak, though your voice sounded weak. "Then why?" you asked. "Why didn't you do anything?"

The Prince let out a scoff. "Because I am the prince, you believe I can do anything, change anything but it is not as simple as that, my Lady." As he spoke, you realised how close he was standing to you and how his figure towered over yours. You could still feel the fury circling him but he was trying to calm himself down. "There were arrangements done far beyond my reach, my station and yet you still dare blame me!"

You raised your hands in the air as you talked. "You talk as if you have tried to change the King's mind back then, my Prince." You spoke with a bitter tone, your index finger pressing against his chest as you hissed between your gritted teeth. "We both know that you did nothing of sorts - you decided it was better to bury your sorrows in some whores!"

Daemon aggressively grabbed you by your wrist, his hold was so firm it made you flinch as you felt the pain shooting through your body. "What would you have had me do?" Daemon's strong voice thundered in his chambers, causing you to flinch another time. "Take you to Dragonstone and make you my wife? Defy the King's will?"

There was a small silence for a brief moment, you could hear Daemon taking deep breaths as he waited for an answer. However, the single word leaving your lips was obviously not the answer he was waiting for.

"Yes."

It was hard to decipher the dark look in Daemon's eyes - it carried hints of anger and fury but also lust and yearning.

As the Prince slowly let your wrist go, you placed both your hands against his chest, his warm breath licking your forehead as you looked up. "Even now, I would have you take me to Dragonstone on dragonback," your voice was seductive, not caring to hide the desires spilling out with every word. "And marry me in the tradition of your House."

Daemon's breaths were getting deeper by the second, he raised his right hand to caress your face with the side of his finger as the other hand rested on your hip. "Such temptation," he spoke with a low tone while his fingers trailed down to your neck. His touch sent shivers down your spine, leaving you yearning for more. "And so eager to be mine, are you not, love?"

You wanted him to do unspeakable things to you.

At that moment, all you could think about was how it would feel to let him fuck you into oblivion - until you couldn't even remember your own name anymore.

"Please, Daemon," your voice was a mere whisper as the Prince leaned into you, his soft lips brushing your neck. "I have waited long enough."

His warm breath against the sensitive skin of your neck made you heave a sigh, which was followed by his lips leaving a small kiss. "For what?" He spoke against your neck. "Say it."

"For you to claim me as yours."

The next thing you knew - Daemon's lips rested against yours.

His lips were hungry, kissing you with so much passion as if he was trying to take away your next breath. Little did you notice that his hands were around your neck, holding your head to allow him to deepen the kiss.

You let out a small whine as Daemon slid his tongue into your mouth, claiming it as his, while pressing his body hard against yours. The heat that took over your body was insane - you felt it getting hotter and hotter with his every touch, with each brush of his lips against yours.

"Daemon," you breathed out his name when he left your lips to kiss your neck while backing you back up until your back ended up touching the cold walls.

A moan left your lips when he sucked on the skin. "Mmh?"

"You have too many layers on."

The naughty smirk he carried - you could swear it alone could make you reach your high right then and there - as he took off his cloak and his tunic was something you wanted to carve into your mind, never to forget. Before he could throw away the clothing, your hands started stroking his bare chest, moving to his well-built arms.

He looked like a Valyrian God.

"So eager, now, are you not?" Daemon spoke against your lips, his tone husky. His hands were wandering around your body, hungrily, making you almost forget how to breathe. "Let me show you how it feels to be fucked befittingly, my Lady."

His fingers quickly found their way under the skirts of your crimson dress, trailing up to the source of heat in your body. Upon feeling how wet you already were, the cocky smirk took its place on Daemon's lips.

You let out a deep breath as Daemon slid two of his fingers inside you, his other hand was holding you firmly from your waist. "I have just started touching you, and yet," the moan escaping your lips echoed in the room when Daemon curled his fingers inside you, "you are fucking wet."

Well, you were not the only person in the room literally aching to fuck - Daemon's trousers were failing to hide his hardness.

"You are one to talk, my Pri..." Before you could finish your words, Daemon found that sweet spot in you, making you cry out in bliss. When his thumb also joined his little game, circling over your clit, your only solution for silencing your cries of pleasure was placing your left hand over your mouth.

However, when Daemon suddenly stopped both stimulations, you were left confused.

Slowly, the Prince removed your hand from over your mouth. "You are not to silence anything, love." He spoke as he began to move all his fingers once again. Your hold against his arms tightened.

Biting your lower lip, you spoke with a voice that sounded no more than a soft cry. "We might get heard..."

"I do not give a fuck." Daemon responded as he brought you nearer to the edge. He breathed out your name. "You are mine, and the whole Keep shall know this."

"Fuck," you let out another moan when Daemon fastened the movement of his thumb against your clit, the heat between your legs was getting hotter with each passing moment. "Daemon, if you don't stop," you were out of breath, unable to open your eyes. "I am going to..."

Before you could reach your bliss, Daemon stopped the magic he had been carrying out with just his fingers, leaving you feeling somewhat empty. As your eyes found his darkened ones, you knew that he was about to rip your dress away from your body.

So before he could tear the exquisite fabric of your dress, you took the advantage of getting rid of his trousers, freeing his erection from the fabric. The Prince inhaled deeply when your right hand wrapped around his length, slowly moving.

"I am going to tear that dress apart," Daemon breathed out huskily as you went down onto your knees.

"Or you can simply take it off, my Prince." You whispered, seduction dripping from your words, before letting your tongue swirl around the tip of his cock.

"Bullshit," the Prince spoke but he was interrupted by a small grunt escaping his lips. "Don't tease me, love."

You clicked your tongue. "But that is where the fun lies." You responded in a naughty manner and wrapped your mouth around his cock, slowly taking him in. Daemon let out a long, low moan when you started bobbing your head.

His hands quickly got tangled in your hair, pushing his length deeper down your throat, triggering your gagging reflex. Careful not to let your teeth touch anything, you quickly pulled back, receiving a questioning look from the Prince.

"You are too big, Daemon," you said while wiping away the saliva from the edges of your mouth. "I cannot take all of you in."

Still, your hand was moving up and down his length. Slowly, you cupped his balls with your other hand, causing the Prince to gasp, his hold on your hair tightening.

"We shall work on that, love," Daemon's voice was husky when he talked, his purple eyes seemed almost black, darkened with lust. "Perhaps if I fucked your mouth every night..."

You let out a moan when the Prince lightly pulled you up from your hair, it was to signal you to stand up but your reaction to him pulling your hair only made his cock throb more.

"Interesting," Daemon whispered against your lips as his hands impatiently undid the ties of your dress, letting it fall to your feet in mere seconds. "You enjoyed that, did you not?"

His hands held you from your ass as he pulled you against his chest, you could feel his naked hardness against your lower stomach. Biting your lower lip, you nodded slowly. As a response, one of Daemon's hands moved to the back of your neck and held you tight while pulling you into a deep kiss.

Well, it was more like clashing tongues and teeth. Your hands were restlessly wandering around his god-like body, never able to get enough - each touch seemed to fuel the fire burning inside you.

A loud moan left your lips when Daemon's hand pulled from your hair, less lightly this time.

The Prince chuckled against your lips. "You are a far dirty girl than I have imagined, love." Without giving you any time to react, he held you up, your legs wrapped themselves around his waist. "That old cunt never let you explore what you like, did he?"

As Daemon let you down onto the sateen sheets of his bed, you shook your head. "I need you to show me, Daemon."

Placing a cushion under your lower back to arrange the height, Daemon licked his lower lip, he was standing at the edge of the bed. "Oh, you need not worry, my Lady," his tip was toying with your entrance, causing your breath to become deeper. "Together, we shall try even the dirtiest, sickest things known to men."

His voice, his eyes, his touch... Everything about him drove you crazy.

When Daemon gently pushed himself into you, you both let out a deep breath as he gave you some time to adjust to his size. When you nodded at him, he quickly picked up a steady pace. Still, you weren't quite sure you were getting everything out of this position. Hence, you decided to place your legs against Daemon's shoulders instead of having them wrapped around his waist.

The next time the Prince thrust into you, a loud cry of bliss left your lips without you having any control over it.

"Fuck!" You cried out as Daemon thrust deeper with a smirk on his face. "Daemon, you are so..."

"I know," he grunted the words while leaning into you. "Tonight, you shall see the stars, my Lady."

To let you try something else, the Prince picked up his right hand from the bed to wrap it around your neck. His grip was not harsh, he just applied the right amount of pressure while thrusting deep into you.

You could swear your eyes tried to roll behind your head. Several moans wanted to escape your lips but they came out muffled.

The way you reacted only made Daemon harder, as if it was even possible.

He grunted your name against your neck as he let go of you, placing the hand on your breast to toy with your nipple. "You are making me crazy," his voice was low.

"You," you were out of breath, "are sending me to another dimension, Daemon."

The Prince sucked on your neck. "I am not done with you yet."

You sent him a confused look when he abruptly stopped and pulled out of you; however, you were not expecting the Prince to literally flip you onto your stomach.

"On your knees," he commanded with a husky voice, which somehow turned you on even more as you stood on the bed on all fours. After thrusting into you, Daemon spoke once again. "Rest on your upper body and lift up your ass."

You adjusted your position as he instructed you and as soon as he picked up the pace, your cries started filling the chambers. He was continuously hitting the sweet spot inside you that sent your head over the clouds.

"Daemon," you cried out his name, "I am getting close."

"Not yet," the Prince hissed the words as you screamed into the sheets of the bed, knowing very well the muffled sounds could still be heard from the outside.

When Daemon's hands got tangled in your hair, you felt anticipation quickly growing inside you. The moment he pulled your hair with enough strength to lift your head up from the bed, your cries of pleasure only got louder.

"Daemon!" You cried out, the Prince picked up the pace with each passing second, and the slapping of his body against yours echoed inside. "Oh, fuck! I am coming, Daemon, if you don't..."

Apparently, the Prince had decided to give you your orgasm. Instead of slowing down, he let your hair go to hold you firmly from your ass with both hands as he fucked you into oblivion.

At that moment, you simply felt like an animal.

The sateen sheets wrinkled in your palms as you reached your orgasm, your whole body shaking as you screamed out Daemon's name, your sight becoming blurry.

After what felt like hours, when you finally came down from your high, Daemon turned you onto your back with a swift movement, pulling out. Before you could comprehend what was happening - mostly because your mind was still in that post-orgasm fog - Daemon finished himself with two strokes of his hand.

His warm seed landed on your stomach, on your breasts and on your face as the Rogue Prince grunted your name over and over and over again.

When Daemon let himself fall down next to you, you were finally coming back to reality. You slowly pushed yourself to sitting, not caring about the cum flowing down your cheek or your breasts.

Daemon chuckled softly. "You have no idea how dirty you look, love." His voice was low but one could still hear the remnants of your love-making.

With the idea creeping into your mind, a naughty smirk formed on your lips. "Perhaps the Prince would like me to take a hot bath," you spoke as you started playing with his silver hair. "So that he himself can join me as well."

His laugh was like a song to your ears. "I assume you could not get enough of me."

You shook your head. "I have waited more than a decade so that I could have a taste of you," the words left your lips in a bitter manner even though that was not the intention. "And that cock of yours is a forbidden blessing."

Daemon straightened as well, sitting next to you. "About that," he took your hands between his, his tone was so soft it resembled his sixteen-year-old self. "I intend to talk with my brother on the morrow."

Your eyes widened with shock as you asked with a shaky voice. "About... us?"

The Prince nodded while he left a small kiss on your forehead. "I shall take you to Dragonstone, on Caraxes, and make you my wife," he whispered. "Queen of the Narrow Sea."

[bamboobooshark]

Hiiii I just found your page and omg I love your writing so much. I actually did get into an argument with my friend, and I deactivated one of my intas cuz of it (long and stupid story) but it was really comforting to read Logan wanting to coddle and comfort someone yk

You can ignore the request if it makes you uncomfortable, but do you think you can write something where the reader doesn't really know or understand what regression is or why they feel this way so they isolate when they feel childish or playful or start annoying people without realizing it and Logan who loves and cares for them starts to miss them and is like wtf and helps them.

Thank you for your writing I hope you have an amazing day.

LOGAN HOWLETT X LITTLE!READER

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ ☁️་༘ COMFORT & CONFUSION : 991 WRDS

<RATING : PG, VULENRABLE MOMENTS, CRYING>

A/N : Just a little note for Anon; I am so heavily greatful that my fic was able to bring you so much comfort. I hope you’re recovering well from what happened. Apologies for taking so long to get this out for you, I always get caught up in spilling and detailing my concepts that end up becoming full fics. I truly hope this fic is what you were hoping for <3 !!Warning for a pinch of angst and crying!!

You’ve been isolating yourself in your room since you woke up. You feel so confused with yourself, with your mind, with your feelings. You press your back against your headboard, legs crossed one on top of the other. You gently rock back and forth while struggling to understand how you’re feeling; why you’re feeling the way you do. Yeah, you’ve got a ton of energy right now. You feel like you’re letting your inner child express itself in your mind, yet you’re holding them in as best as possible. You’re terrified of annoying anyone by releasing those feelings, espically Logan. You bite and chew at your lips nervously as you rock a bit faster. Why? That’s the only question you can ask yourself right now. Over and over, your mind fills itself with nothing but confusion of why you feel like this, why you yearn to be so childish, why you’re scared of annoying Logan when he loves you unconditionally.

You’re quickly snapped out of your thoughts as the man knocks on the door. “Everything alright in there, kid,” he asks with his face pressed to the wood. God, the way he calls you kid only makes these foreign feelings harder to suppress. You choke back your tears before responding. “Yeah. I’m fine. Just feeling a little down,” you reply with a tone that’s involuntarily soft and childlike. Logan raises his brows at the way you speak to him. You’ve never kept yourself away like this, but he’s been noticing a pattern lately. You isolate yourself the moment you wake up, beg him to leave you alone, and then come out quiet and reserved. He continues to press because he misses you so damn bad. He’s willing to do absolutely anything to get you in his arms again. “Please tell me what’s wrong, bub. I promise I’m not going to be upset with you,” he pleads with the softest tone he can force out of his throat. “I mean, I’d be more upset if you didn’t trust me with whatever you’ve got going on,” he chuckles akwardly.

You wipe your tears before inviting him in. The second he realizes that you’re crying, his lips form a frown and his eyes give you a sympathetic gaze. “Hey, hey, hey. Don’t cry, baby. I’m right here. I’m not leaving, I swear,” he scrambles to reassure you, sitting on your bed and pulling you into his arms. You let your cries get thicker once you lean into his. He smells so fatherly. His large, calloused hands make your entire body shiver with comfort. Everything about him is sending an unknown, unfamiliar feeling that you’ve been yearning for. You can’t even begin to imagine what to call it, but your body allows you to relax under his touch. “That’s it, baby. Let it all out. Tell me what’s up once you’re ready to,” he coos as his hands rub up and down your back. You nod against his chest, letting the thumping of his heartbeat soothe you.

You pull back from his embrace, but hold his hands in your own. His touch is what you’ve been needing. Scratch that, you’ve been needing Logan in general. You attempt to try and explain things, but you end up stammering and stuttering. “I’m sorry, Logan. I just — I don’t even know what to say,” you apologize while looking away from him. He squeezes your hands gently and sighs. “You don’t need to apologize, kid. I’ll be here as long as you need me to be. If I have to wait here for hours for you to get your thoughts together, I don’t mind. You know that, bub,” he tells you sincerely. You look at him and give him the best smile you can considering the circumstances.

You take a deep, shakey breath after a few minutes of silence before attempting to describe your feelings. “I’ve just been feeling like a child lately. I’ve had so much energy and excitement and joy for no reason. It’s so confusing and it’s scaring me Lo, it really is. I just want an answer,” you explain to him. His thumb rubs against your knuckles lovingly before he presses a silent kiss to your forehead. “Oh, god, I’m so sorry. You’ve got such a big heart, kid. I need you to understand that you don’t need to be afraid to let those feelings loose around me. I’ll love you no matter what,” he promises while holding your face in his hands so you’re looking at him. You nod gently, eyes glossy and wide from the way he comforts you so paternally. “I understand,” you mumble back, letting that same childlike voice slip. Logan gives you a gentle smile, failing to hold back a snicker. “Well would you look at that. You sound so little, baby. It’s adorable,” he says while attempting to hold himself back from squeezing your face. You giggle softly and shake your head no. “It’s not adorable, Lo,” you protest. Your stomach knots as you allow yourself to slip into this pure, innocent state. As soon as Logan begins to coddle you further, that knot unties itself and becomes a flutter in your heart. “If you deny anything else I say, I’ll have to find a way to get back at you for it. You’re too damn cute to not accept that you are,” he playfully threatens. “C’mere you sweet thing,” he growls as he pulls you into his lap. “No! Let me go,” you giggle sweetly, squirming in Logan’s arms despite wanting to stay right where you are forever. “I’m not letting you go, kid. You’re mine. My sweet little thing that I’ll protect with my life,” he declares before starting to pepper your face with soft kisses. You can feel him smiling like an idiot against your skin from the sound of your giggles, the way you smile, and the warmth of your face caused by him.

[chiscaralight]

Can you do makeup sex with scara? Basically, reader saw him cheating and broke up with him and later on, they attended a party of a mutual friend of theirs and they did the dirty tango

nsfw scara x reader. hes a cheat but he's actually sorry lol. bathroom makeout + car sex lowk angst/comfort. idk why I feel like suzu might like this😭 so @hitomisuzuya u can have this

sitting at the table, its almost bittersweet watching the girl he cheated with try to catch his attention. you shouldn't even be watching the two of them, you're supposed to be moving on. but it's so painful because your heart still yearns for him. picking up your glass, you make your way towards the balcony. maybe the fresh air will do you some good.

you cup is empty and everything is shifting a bit. you're staring off now, distant noises from the party low against the sound of the wind in your ears. until you hear it.

"hey."

your whole body tenses up. you won't dare turn your head as your tears are already threatening to spill. in the entire timeframe you and scaramouche had been together, he never apologized for anything. he's found ways around it. giving you gifts, reassuring you with his words after an argument. but when he lets those two words slip, you're all waterworks, makeup starting to drip as he slides the glass out of your hand so he can guide you to the bathroom.

you're pressed against the counter as he wipes at your under eyes. you're still sniffling a bit, chest pounding because of how close he is. he can't even look you in the eyes as he does it, the guilt is eating away so hard at him when he starts to explain. he's not going to bullshit, he didn't have a reason. but he knew it was wrong, and he's felt like complete shit after. he swears he hasn't even seen the girl since that day, that's why she's following him around like a lost puppy here.

against your better judgment, you're pulling his face close to press his lips against yours. you've missed this, the way he's wrapping his arms tight around your waist, the way he's pushing his chest into yours. most importantly, you've missed him. he's done the unimaginable to you, breaking your heart into a million pieces with a dumb blonde he didn't even know. yet you're the one tightening your grip around his neck, sinking your tongue into his mouth as he moans around you.

and maybe you're an idiot for dragging him to your car that's parked far enough from your friend's house that nobody can catch you. maybe you're stupid for sliding your panties off and sinking onto his cock. and maybe you're completely brainless for telling him that you still love him. but without a doubt, when you feel the wetness from his eyes drip onto your exposed shoulder, and the way he stutters out how sorry he is, you know he still loves you back. his hips are slow as he fucks up into you, hands softly moving to your face to wipe the tears that are starting to fall from your eyes now. your nails are digging into his shoulders, voice hoarse as you whine about how close you are. he pulls you closer and tells you that he's got you.

and maybe you are actually braindead for believing that he won't do anything like that again. once a cheater always a cheater, right? but you're willing to give it a chance. he just closes his eyes and presses your fingers to his face. he's not going to open his mouth to say it, but he's swearing. swearing to himself and to you, the only thing he can truly say he loves, that hell never put you in a situation like this ever again. even if it takes weeks, months, or years. he's willing to wait and try to earn as much of your trust back as he can

why did this make me sad

[love-toxin]

would yandere Charles Xavier...baby trap his beloved?

OH......YEAH!!!! <3

(cws: DDDNE, fem!reader, crazy fucked up n-con, babytrapping, drunk sex, drugging, pregnancy talk, jealousy, dirty talk, super manipulative yandere charles)

I'm thinking Days of Future Past Charles again....the yearning. The loving glimpses of the life with you he let slip through his fingers. Every day that he's without you is painful, but when he finds you again, he's complete.

There's no way he can let that happen again. Ever. You belong to him. You're part of him. He's become so disillusioned by your reappearance in his life that he can't focus on anything but you. If you let him, all he would do is make love to you every day, kiss you, hold you in his arms, sweep your feet out from under you and carry you wherever you wanted to go. Even when you plead with him to stop taking the drugs, he's just so hooked on the feeling of being there for you that he wants his legs more than his powers. Plus, the sex is incredible when his mind isn't filled with thoughts and worries, and he can move around as freely as he wants. And part of it is perhaps willful ignorance--there's a quiet part of him that doesn't want to hear any negative thoughts in your head. He wants to live in the blissful delusion that you're just as obsessed with him as he is with you, that you want all the same things he does.

And one of those is, well...home. Charles is tired of the people he loves cycling in and out--he's sick of losing people and watching everything he cares about slip away slowly. He has a place to call home, but nothing to fill it with that's distinctly his. It's been a shelter for so long, for Raven, for the X Men, for his students, but he craves something more. Family.

But you can give him that. It would be a blessing, wouldn't it? On good days he watches the way you move, how your eyes light up with your laughter, the sun setting a glow over your skin. It's crude, but he can't help it; you would look so good pregnant. You'd get a cute waddle in your walk, a bump, and you'd have to rely on him so much more to help you when you're far along. He could put a ring on your finger and try for your first the very same night--nobody has to know you haven't had the wedding yet, and who would even care?

When you start having sex regularly, on the daily now that Charles has his muse back, it's obvious he's being risky. Coaxing you into letting him slip the rubber off, so sincere as he promises you he'll pull out...but each time he gets close, so close, that you have to keep your wits about you just to make sure you cry for him to slow down before he lets it get out of hand. The twitching and pulsing and throbbing inside you is so good, but you know Charles is acting strange about doing it unprotected. You gain a sense that he's hiding something but you want to trust your beloved, so you neglect to insist on using condoms again.

That's your own mistake. Charles tries to convince you to let him cum in you, at least once, but he gets more insistent around the time you should be ovulating. It's even harder for you to resist him at that time, but you manage to hold your ground--until he resorts to truly dirty tactics, and gets the two of you drunk while you've got the mansion all to yourselves. As usual, he's handsy right off the bat, kissing you while his belt buckle digs into your soft thigh. He just barely manages to guide you upstairs while he stumbles himself, laughing and cackling along with you as you lean on each other and teeter about the corridor like the drunken fools you are.

As it turns out, Charles is a pretty good actor. And as badly as he feels about it initially, mixing that powder into your drink really did make it easier for him to get his way--you're already fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, and when you trip and fall back against the floor as you stumble into his bedroom, all you can do is giggle dazedly with your eyes closed like you're floating on cloud nine. As he crawls on top of you to help you up (with no intention of actually doing so) he's deft in hiking up your skirt, and though in your drunken state you're conscious enough to tease about him not being as wasted as he seemed, your addled mind has no idea just how true that turns out to be.

When his buckle finally comes loose and he's slowly sliding it in, it's paradise. Your body is willing and your mind is void of common sense; you're barely staying awake as he takes you right there on the floor, skirt pooled around your hips as Charles mutters praises under his breath. "Right there, so tight--such a good mother, you'll make such a good mother, darling-" He can't stop, he might just be addicted to your drugged pussy from that moment on. It's foul, it's disgusting, it's wrong, but when he hitches his hips right up against yours and sucks in a deep breath, knowing you can't say no to what he's about to do, he feels more at peace than he has in years. His shoes squeak against the hardwood as he struggles to pin you down, your limbs twitching and flailing erroneously while he's working on making you a sweet little baby to take care of in the future. Charles eventually resorts to holding your head down with his palm, your cheek pressed to the floor that vibrates with the strength of his thrusts into your pliant body.

"You need this," he mutters under his breath, fighting the guilt settling in his chest at your growing whimpers for mercy. "Last time you ever fucking leave me, whore."

Mmh. Well, maybe he's a little drunk after all. The anger at your disappearance still simmers near the surface, and that betrayal isn't one so easily forgiven. You should be trained out of it so you never make that mistake again. Perhaps becoming a doting mom will fix that defect in you, just as he hopes it fixes the deranged, vile forces inside of him that would have him lure you into something as debased as this. With every plap of his hips growing sticky with your slick, Charles can sense those urges screaming out for him to make you his.

In a haze, he orders you to shut up, to stop that incessant whining and try to enjoy what he's giving you. When you try wiggling your hips away, feebly attempting to escape the pleasure growing harder to resist, he yanks you back on his length and bruises your tits in his rough hands as recompense. If he wasn't intent on impregnating you, he would flip you over and show you how mean he can really get--but he has a job to do first, and he won't let you out from under him until you can't walk without spilling his seed. Even if Erik never laid a hand on you during these long years apart, you still chose another man to scamper off with, and that will never happen again....not if you're all swollen with his baby.

"I-I'll swallow it, Ch-Charlie-" You slur, trailing off into mindless blabber as he bends your knees back to your chest. So cute. You think you can talk yourself out of it, but he's already there--already bursting at the seams with the promise of new life, already biting down on your neck like a hound as the heat overwhelms him and fills you with ropes of thick, virile cum. So potent your body already eases to welcome him in, and your walls tighten and clench when he pulls out, like you don't want to spill even a drop.

You're so fucking drunk, you can't even keep your head up. You look a right sloppy mess, laying there with your skirt pulled up and cum pooling underneath your hips, as if you're some used sex doll that's been kicked under the bed after serving your purpose. But Charles would never think of you that way, and he wants you to know that; Erik may have stolen you away and poisoned your mind against him, but he clearly abandoned you too once he'd taken everything he wanted from you. Yes, he may have taken advantage of you now in a sickening way, but it was for a good reason, wasn't it?

Yes, it was for all the right reasons. Charles has to tell himself that to stave off the guilt that follows, the tension in your shoulders when next he touches you and the fear of him that may never go away. Soon, you'll see that his efforts have borne fruit. And when you tear up and collapse in a panic at the result of the test in your hands, Charles, your Charlie, will be right there to soothe you with promises that everything will be alright.

[ariseur]

“do you think we get a star out there when we die?”

he hummed in thought for a second or two, “maybe.”

“would you look for mine if i died?”

suguru stayed silent as his grip slightly faltered, eyes still fixated on the dark sky above you, littered with stars. your head turned back to mimic his actions, your ears echoing the shuffling in your head from the rough grass rustling under you.

“sorry,” you muttered.

“i would,” he mumbled, loud enough for you to hear as his fingers tightened around yours again, feeling the way your pulse would thump a little quicker in your fingertips whenever he’d speak.

looking at him, you realized that you and suguru geto were like roadkill, two dogs playing fetch on the highway as you chased your visible breaths in the cold — you’d throw a bone and he’d bring back his heart, bloody and throbbing. that was your routine, and he never got sick of it. even when the car would come, he’d lay limp under the wheels in hopes of making it quick, at least glad that your face would be the last thing he saw.

your lips twitched into a soft smile, bittersweet and warm — something geto always understood without words. thumbing his knuckle on his first finger, your eyes trailed down to where you were connected. at times, it often felt that sex would rarely surpass these small, intimate moments the two of you would share. you’d heed his calls for comfort in the middle of the night, using your time of quietude as an excuse to sway under the stars, the bright shimmering lights providing you a sensation of serenity as only the crickets and suguru’s soft breathing was heard.

your hands would find each other even in a dark spot where nobody could see; that was the beauty of the dark, you could hide from anything in there.

“i hope you know that i really am grateful for you,” he mumbled, eyes trained on what lay above you, trying to search for certain constellations he remembered reading about ( or more so being forced to read about ) back in school, virgo and ursa major and such. he struggled the urge to hold back a smile as he felt your gaze on him once more, instead letting the feeling of content manifest itself upon his lips, only a corner of his lip quirking up.

“me too, sugu,” you closed your eyes, letting your head relax on the gross, occasionally shaking it if you felt even the slightest crawl near you on the ground. “me too.”

a small huff of air left geto’s nose in amusement, his eyes closing along with yours only for a bit, letting this calming feeling wash over him — peace, it almost felt like. suguru would do anything for you and your love, even willing to lie on the floor merely a few feet away, just to have you nearby. his hand felt warm, comforted from the abrasive cold that had enveloped him many years ago; slowly, he could feel himself melting into you, yearning for more of you.

“i would look for yours, too, by the way,” you said, causing suguru to open his eyes and shift his head towards you again. your lashes fluttered, peeking one eye open to look at the stars once more.

he felt your hand grip his snugly before you turned your head to look at him. you beamed, “your star, i’d look for it forever if i had to,” you failed to miss the way his eyes widened ever so slightly, dark pupils on display even in the dim moonlight. you would do anything for each other, you both thought, that was common knowledge in itself even non-verbally; for what is love if not offering to bring back grief, only a little bit smaller.

you watched as his tired eyes crinkled at the corners again, relaxing themselves — and for what seemed like the first time in forever, suguru smiled.

𐙚 join my taglist !! ; @sad-darksoul @kasumitenbaz ( where all my geto baddies at 💔 )

𐙚 requests are open — july seventeenth, 2024 ( 11:36 am )

[effy-writes]

Blitz: ABC’s of Intimacy

i’m posting my old stuff on here!!

•Aftercare (How do they look after you after sex)

He mainly just lays in bed and cuddles you. Nothing too crazy, he just lays there and listen to you talk and vice versa. He's not really into aftercare, but he does it for you.

• Body Part (Fav body part)

Boobs, he's a sucker (ha) for boobs. Groping, flicking, licking, sucking your nipples, he loves it.

•Communication (Do they talk during sex, roleplay, etc)

He's a huge talker and super into roleplaying. He mainly likes to roleplay as cowboys but is up to do whatever you want roleplay as.

•Dirty Secret (A secret they won't tell)

He's lowkey into you degrading him. He found out by accident whenever you yelled at him for accidentally cumming in your eye. Sometimes he gets on your nerves just so he could be yelled at by you.

•Experienced or Virgin

Super experienced, before yall got together bro was fucking like once a day.

•Goofy or Serious

Mainly serious in bed, but if it's just casual sex he'll say some dumb shit like, "I wonder if M&M are fucking right now." And you'll just reply with "Well I'm pretending I'm fucking Moxxie right now." And yall will just go back and forth

•Favorite Position (self explanatory)

He's a sucker for doggy. Pulling on your horns, hair, tail, he loves it. (Same with pegging)

•Hair (pubes shave or natural)

He's trimmed

•Intimacy (Their romantic level during sex)

It depends on what kind of day he had. If he had a pretty good day he's pretty romantic. Candles, music, all of that stuff. If he's having a shitty day then it's not as romantic but you can still tell he loves you.

•Jack off (How often)

Pretty often. Whenever you're not there he usually jacks off in the bathroom and thinks about you.

•Kinks

Choking, roleplaying, bondage (giving and receiving) He's not vanilla whatsoever. (But is willing to be vanilla if you're not up for it).

•Location (Fav areas to have sex)

Mainly his office, but he also loves doing it in the shower and on the couch. But office 100%

•Motivation (Their turn on's)

Whenever he sees you killing the targets. M&M have to pry him off of you basically. Also whenever he sees you wearing one of his shirts wearing no pants.

•No's

He doesn't have a lot of no's. The only thing is that he's against dressing up as clowns and roleplaying as them (because of his past)

•Oral (Give or receive)

At first he prefers receiving, but after that encounter with Verosika he was willing to give you oral, and ever since he loved it.

•Pace (Slow, gentle, rough, hard, fast)

Again, depending on what type of day he had. Sucky day, hard and rough, good day, slow and gentle. He's also willing to do whatever pace you would like.

•Quickie

He loves them. He always asks for a quickie every day (and if you're willing to do one).

•Risk (What things he's willing to do)

Anything and everything. Living world, the headquarters, on a fuck ton of drugs, in public (if you're up for that)

•Stamina

Pretty high, he can go how long you would like. After sex, he would need a couple of hours to recover, but after he's willing to go again.

•Toys

He loves them. His favorite one is using a vibrator on you. For himself he loves using a vibrating buttplug.

•Unfair (Teasing)

Definitely unfair. He's really into edging. But once you beg him to stop he'll happily obliged.

•Volume

Normal amount of volume. He's not extremely loud. Mainly just grunts and some moans.

•Wild (Are they animalistic)

Very much so, but not all the time. It depends if y'all are roleplaying and what yall are roleplaying.

•X Ray (What's in their pants)

7 Inches in length but slim. Its the same color as his skin and he has some "spikes" like the one his his back. It doesn't hurt at all and it gives you more sensation.

•Yearning (High or low sex drive)

Pretty high. If he's depressed then it's quite low and he's kinda embarrassed by that. But you're by his side and reassures him it's okay.

•Zzz

He typically stays awake if it's during the day. But if it's late at night he'll stay awake for some minutes before finally falling asleep.

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l four

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: After a few weeks, Joel finally realizes that he can’t stay away from you and he gives into his desires; Ellie and Dina start getting closer; you give Joel a special gift that once belonged to your father.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS A SCENE OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, EMOTIONAL AND VERBAL ABUSE. reader gets slapped. PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. infidelity, implied infertility (reader), mutual pining and yearning, Ellie and Dina interaction.

Word Count: 7k

July, 2024

About twenty three and a half days.

That’s the longest that Joel Miller can stand to bear without seeing you again, and even then, he’d found that amount of time to be too goddamn fucking long for his liking—each and every single minute of those twenty three and a half days felt like an eternity to him. Joel had lost count of the number of times he had almost caved, almost scratched that overwhelming itch he had to seek you out, to satisfy his craving as if he were a recovering addict going through withdrawals and all he needed was a good fix to feel better again. Hell, the more he thought it over in his mind, the more he’d started to realize that wasn’t all that far off. You actually were something of a drug to him, and even though he’d only had a mere taste of what being with you could be like, he was already hooked on the feeling. One hit of you was all it had taken and now he’s a fiend and he wants more of you—he needs more of you or he’ll surely lose his mind.

Exhaling a labored breath, Joel reaches up as he wipes at his damp brow with the back of his hand. The sun is sweltering, beating down on him hard.

July had arrived, and with it came along the most unbearable and unforgiving heat. Winter had been cruel, but summer had decided she wouldn’t be all that much kinder. While Joel appreciated not having to trudge knee deep through the snow, he wasn’t too sure if he would prefer that over the way his denim shirt stuck to him uncomfortably, clinging to his skin like cellophane. He’d been used to it in his first life, having been born and raised in Texas—twenty one years later, he had discovered that he was no longer accustomed to these kind of blistering temperatures. 

After returning from his early morning patrol shift, Joel had stopped by Main Street, popping into the market to pick up some vegetables to make dinner—he’d also gotten some fruit for Ellie. As it turned out, she had quite the sweet tooth. She had gone through about a week’s worth of apples and berries in just a couple of days, but luckily he had enough food rations left over for the week to pick up some more for her. Once he’d finished and left the market, he found himself walking over towards the horse stables instead of heading back to the house like he should have. He really should have gone home, but after twenty three and a half days of fighting his temptation as best he could, Joel realized it was useless. 

Most, if not all, of his thoughts began and ended with you.

Sure, Ellie would mention you here and there over their shared meals together, and even though she had assured him that you seemed to be doing just fine, it wasn’t enough for Joel. It wasn’t even close to being enough. He had to see you for himself. He needed to talk to you, even if it meant running the risk of Tommy finding out. He wouldn’t be too happy about it, but if anything, Joel could use the excuse that he’d just stopped in to check up on Ellie. She had become something of your little helper, taking on the role of a stable hand after Maria had assigned one of the other hands to work in the mess hall. You’d needed the extra help and Ellie had been willing. She had to contribute and she liked being around you, so it worked out in everyone’s favor.

In reality, Joel trusted you with Ellie and he didn’t need to check up on her knowing she was in safe, capable hands—but the opportunity to use the kid as leverage presented itself and he’d be a fool not to take it.

He walks into the stables and starts making his way down along the open stalls, peeking into each one until he finds you—alone—in the second to last stall with his brother’s horse, Ranger. You’re leaning forward slightly, a look of complete concentration on your face as you firmly press the diaphragm of the stethoscope you’re using to the animal’s side and listen. After a minute, you hum and gently tug the earpieces, draping the instrument around your neck as you stand upright and pull out the wooden clipboard you’re holding underneath your arm. 

Joel’s breath audibly catches in the back of his throat, an intense, fiery blaze burning deep in his belly as he drinks the sight of you in. The heat isn’t being any kinder to you than it is to him—you’re sweating profusely and your pale pink camisole is drenched and clings to your body, accentuating each and every curve. Every inch of exposed skin is beaded with drops of perspiration that you’d all but given up on trying to wipe away. You let it drip freely, allow it to run down the sides of your face, neck—it trickles down your chest and between your soft, supple breasts. 

He swallows dryly, trying painfully to ignore the way his cock twitches against the zipper of his jeans as devilish thoughts begin creeping into his mind. Shoving them away, Joel enters the stall and says your name.

You look up at him, eyebrows raising.

Though you seem oddly surprised to see him, you still offer him a kind smile. “Well, hey there stranger. Long time no see.” You pause briefly, shifting your attention back down to your clipboard. Taking a pencil from the back pocket of your faded blue jeans, you start to scribble down your findings on the piece of paper attached to it. “You know, I was starting to think that maybe you were avoiding me or something, Miller.” Although you’d said it in a joking manner, he detects the hint of seriousness in your tone.

Joel shifts his weight from one foot to the other, a sheepish expression on his face. “M’real sorry ‘bout that, darlin’. I just had a lot goin’ on over the last couple weeks. Got real busy,” he fibs, feeling like nothing short of a complete jackass for lying to you. “I, uh—I had to do a whole lotta fixin’ up around the house, for starters. Between that, workin’ patrol, and takin’ care of Ellie, I had both my hands full for a minute there.”

“Well, if you’re here to check up on her, she’s outside in the paddock with Dina right now. They’re hand walking Luna for me,” you say, jabbing your pencil over towards the open stall window. Squinting, he sees the two teenagers out in the paddock, walking along on either side of a white horse, both girls observing the animal’s movements carefully with every step that she takes. You smile once again, though you keep your eyes fixed on your clipboard as you continue jotting down your notes. “Funny enough, if I weren’t so thrilled those two ended up being such good friends, I would actually feel kind of offended that Ellie’s spending a lot more of her time with Dina than she is with me. I guess I have officially been replaced.” You feign a look of hurt, causing him to chuckle. “She’s doing fine, but you’re more than welcome to go out there and check on her. I’m guessing that’s the reason you’re here.” It’s a statement, not a question.

“Actually, I came down here ‘cause I wanted to see you,” Joel blurts without thinking. Heat suddenly prickles at his ears.

You stop writing and your head snaps up in slight shock as you repeat in disbelief, “You wanted to see me?”

He nods in admission. “Yeah. I did. Besides, the stables are on the way to the house from the market. Figured it would be the perfect time to stop in and say hello,” he explains, unable to hide the slight nervous edge to his tone as he steps closer towards you. Joel’s closeness prompts a curious little sniff from Ranger, whom he would borrow for patrol from time to time when Tommy was on a different rotation. His brother wasn’t all too fond of anyone taking his beloved horse, but he’d made an exception for Joel. He pats the stallion on his thick, muscular neck. “Hope that’s alright with you.”

Nibbling on your lower lip, a strange feeling blossoms inside your stomach, a fluttering feeling—as if a kaleidoscope of butterflies had just taken flight inside of you. “Of course that’s alright,” you finally reply. Peering at the canvas tote bag slung over his forearm, you ask, “Did you get anything good at the market today?”

He shrugs. “Just some carrots and potatoes for dinner. Oh, and some fruit for the kid. Apples, berries—even got some peaches for her to try.”

Your mouth falls open slightly and there’s an excited glimmer in your eyes. “They have peaches?”

Wyoming hadn’t really been known for its peaches due to the extreme frigid temperatures during the winter months that would often lead to what you’d learned from Martha was called a spring freeze. It didn’t affect all of the plants and trees in Jackson, but there were a few species that simply could not survive the damage caused by the cold, bitter frost—peach trees happened to be one of them. You had seen a couple of the trees that were planted around the community, but only once had you ever seen them come into fruition. The first and last time you had seen peaches available at the market had been three summers ago.

Joel nods. “Yeah. Martha mentioned a couple of the trees survived the freeze durin’ the bloom period. Pointed me towards the bin and said they were picked fresh earlier this afternoon.” Digging his hand into the bag, he pulls one out to show you. He then offers it to you, holding it out in the palm of his hand. “Here, darlin’.”

Shaking your head, you politely decline. “No, I couldn’t. I know they’re meant for Ellie—”

“Relax, peach.” A small grin tugs at Joel’s lips as he continues holding it out to you. “I got plenty for her. Go on, take it.”

You flash him an appreciative smile. Setting down the clipboard on the two step mounting block behind you, you turn back to him and accept it, your fingers brushing his open palm as you take it from him. You eagerly bite into the fruit, groaning loudly as the sweetness of it coats your tongue and sends your taste buds flying into the clouds. The peach is perfect, right in between being too firm and too ripe. “This is amazing,” you say incredulously through a mouthful, prompting Joel to laugh. “It’s so good.”

You take a second bite and gasp when it pops in your mouth, its sticky juice trickling out of the corner of your mouth and down the side of your chin. Before you even have the chance to lift a finger, Joel reaches out and he gingerly wipes the juice away with his thumb.

Freezing momentarily, your eyes widen as he continues to sweep his finger across your bottom lip. 

“Had a little somethin’ there,” Joel murmurs.

Nervously, you finish chewing your mouthful of peach and swallow harshly, as if the fruit had turned into glass. You thought he would withdraw his hand by now, but instead, he moves it and cradles the side of your face in his palm. You can’t help but wince—his touch is gentle, but you haven’t been touched there like this in a long, long time. In fact, any time that a hand met your cheek lately, it was in a rough and painful strike.

“Joel,” you shakily breathe out his name. Your eyes momentarily flutter closed and you tilt your head to the side, sinking right into his large hand.

Push him away, you silently urge yourself. Don’t be stupid. Push him away.

But you can’t bring yourself to do it.

You stand there and continue melting into his touch.

He echoes your thoughts. “Tell me to back off,” Joel whispers, grazing the soft, delicate skin of your cheekbone with his thumb.

Your eyes fly open, lips parting slightly when you meet his gaze. When you speak, you hardly recognize the timid little voice that comes out of you. “What did you say?”

“You heard me, darlin’. Tell me to back off.”

He’s standing closer, much too close. So close that you can count every single gray that’s speckled in his beard—so close that you finally notice the small scar on his right temple.

Your chest heaves as you struggle to take an even breath.

He waits, but you say nothing.

Joel leans down, bringing his face closer towards yours. Still cradling your cheek in his hand, he lightly starts skimming the other side of your face with the tip of his nose. He trails it down your jawline, drawing closer and closer to the corner of your mouth—that’s where he pauses. It’s only for a second, but to you, that one second feels like an eternity. He pulls back slightly, giving you one last chance to push him away, to tell him that you’re not okay with this—to tell him to stop. When he’s met with nothing but a small, needy whimper, he moves in to close the remaining gap of space between your bodies. Heart pounding, he takes the final leap and captures your mouth with his in a tentative kiss. 

He tastes the sweetness of the peach on your lips mixed together with the saltiness of sweat and you taste something else too—something he can’t quite put his finger on, but it’s heavenly. He yearns for more, nearly aches for a chance to explore every inch of that pretty little mouth of yours. He wants something deeper, something more, but when he remembers that you’re in a public space in broad fucking daylight, he has no other choice but to pull himself away from you.

“Joel,” you whisper his name, wanting nothing more than for him to kiss you again. You almost find the guts to ask him when the sound of Ellie and Dina calling out your name startles you both, causing you to jump apart and tear away from each other.

The girls enter the stall just a second later.

They’re both sweating, their faces flushed from the heat. 

“Joel? What are you doing here?” Ellie asks him, confused. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him around the stables.

Joel shrugs, nervously touching a hand to the back of his burning neck.

“Just came in to check on you, kiddo. S’all.”

Ellie glances between the two of you, arching an eyebrow. There’s a strange glint in her brown eyes that tells Joel she knows something had just happened and he’s certain the only reason she isn’t confronting you both about it is because Dina’s standing right beside her, seemingly oblivious to the air of tension in the stall.

“Did you girls need something?” you offer in the steadiest voice you can possibly muster.

“We just came to tell you that Luna is back in her stall. She did really well on her walk. Her back leg doesn’t seem to be bothering her anymore,” Dina informs you. “We also finished with all the grooming for today. All the horses on the list you gave us are all squeaky clean, at least for now.” She smiles. “Is it okay if we call it a day? Ellie wants to come over to my house and hang out for a while.”

“You know Talia likes for you to give her some kind of a heads up when you bring company over,” you remind Dina of her older sister’s house rule.

“Yeah, I know auntie. I asked her permission this morning and she said it was okay.”

You glance at Joel. “As long as it's alright with you.”

“‘Course it is.” He nods and points an index finger at Ellie. “Make sure you’re home in time for dinner, kiddo. That’s my only rule. Understood?”

Before Ellie can respond, Dina beams and takes her arm. “Great! Come on, let’s go!” she exclaims as she all but drags Ellie out of the stall.

Joel waits until he’s sure the girls are gone and turns to you, clearing his throat. “I should—I should probably get on home now.” Pausing, he asks, “I’ll see you around?”

All you can do is give him a tiny nod of your head.

“Okay,” he says, sounding relieved

He turns on the heel of his boot and leaves the stall. 

Joel was playing with fucking fire.

And so were you.

“So tell me, does this town have some kinda weird ass rule that says every teenaged girl’s bedroom has to be fucking pink?” Ellie questions as she takes a glimpse around Dina’s bedroom. Her small nose wrinkles in disgust. The walls are painted a light pink color and it looks similar to her own room—but at the very least the previous owner of her space had thrown some green accents in here and there that made it a little less horrendous.

“What? Is pink not your most favorite color?” Dina teases her with a giggle, shutting her door behind her. She kicks off her boots, setting them next to her closet door.

“Totally,” Ellie deadpans, rolling her eyes at her. She gestures to herself with her hand. “Isn’t it just so obvious?”

Throwing her head back, Dina laughs again.

Ellie’s stomach somersaults. Dina might have been nauseatingly girly, but hell, if she wasn’t one of the prettiest girls Ellie had ever met—smooth golden skin, wide brown eyes, and long black hair that falls all the way down to the small of her back. Ellie had noticed the way several boys around the town would stare at Dina and she couldn’t help but wonder if she had her eye on any of them. Of all the fucking things that Ellie didn’t have the fucking balls for, it was asking her friend if she had a boyfriend or not.

Not that it matters if she does or doesn’t.

Right?

“Make yourself comfortable,” Dina offers, waving a hand around. She grins. “Feel free to snoop.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” She turns towards her writing desk, noticing a yellow flower beside a pile of notebooks. “Well, well, well,” she says, picking it up. She gingerly pinches the stem between her fingers. “A flower, huh? Who’s it from?” Ellie inquires, her back still to her.

Sheepishly, Dina replies, “Oh. That. Um—my friend gave it to me the other day. His name is Jesse.”

Ellie feels a twinge of jealousy stir in her belly. “And who’s that? Your boyfriend or something?”

“No. I don’t have a boyfriend.” She briefly pauses before adding, “Or a girlfriend.”

Freezing on the spot, Ellie holds the flower in a deathgrip. “Oh,” is all she can get herself to say. Throat bobbing, Ellie sets the flower back down on the desk and then turns to look at Dina. The girl flashes her a small, shy smile, causing her stomach to flip again. Awkwardly, Ellie tears her gaze away from her and her eyes flit to the bookshelf in the far corner of her bedroom. “Can I check out your stash?”

“Go for it,” Dina encourages her.

Ellie nods in thanks and pads over to the bookshelf, their shoulders lightly brushing up against each other as she does so. She starts looking at all of her books and one title immediately stands out and catches her attention. “No fucking way!” she exclaims loudly as she plucks it from the shelf. “No Pun Intended: Volume Tree. I can’t believe there’s a third one! Are you fucking serious?”

“Ah, so you’re familiar with Will Livingston and his hilariously terrible puns?”

Ellie grins as she walks over and takes a seat at the foot of Dina’s bed. She flips to the first page and runs her index finger down the list of jokes until she finds one she likes best. “What did the grape say when it got crushed?”

“Nothing,” Dina replies with a casual shrug, taking a seat beside her. “It just let out a little wine.”

She cackles and turns to the next page. “I don’t trust stairs.” She pauses for a dramatic effect and then continues with the punchline. “Because they are always up to something.”

The girls lose themselves in a fit of giggles.

As Ellie continues thumbing through the pages of the joke book, her smile fades slightly—memories of everything that had happened to her in the last year, everything she had been through, the people that she’d lost, it all comes flooding back to her in a huge wave that would have drowned her had Dina and her sweet, gentle voice not come to the rescue.

“El? You alright?”

Ellie turns to her. “El?”

“Yeah.” Dina’s face flushes red. “Is it okay if I call you that?”

Riley used to call her that.

When she’d still been alive.

Realizing that she was still waiting for a reply, Ellie carefully nods her head. “Yeah. It’s okay.”

“By the way,” Dina starts to say, scooting to sit a little closer to her. “About what happened back in the mess hall all those months ago when you first got here—I feel bad about it and I just wanted to apologize for staring at you the way I did. I honestly didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m sorry too. You know, for snapping at you. I got an earful from my old man about it afterwards. He gave me a lecture on manners.” Ellie chuckles and shrugs, her shoulder brushing Dina’s again. She had to resist the sudden urge to lean into her, just like the way she would always lean into Riley. “It’s just that I was so fucking sick of everyone looking at me like I came from another planet. Maria told me it was because I wasn’t like the other kids. She said I was different.” She pauses, nervously chewing her lower lip before asking, “Is that why you were staring at me? Because I’m different?”

“Yeah,” Dina admits. She notices the expression on Ellie’s face and quickly adds, “But that’s not a bad thing, El. Sometimes different is good, you know?

“Nice save, but that still doesn’t make me feel any better,” she mutters sourly.

Dina nudges her in her ribs with her elbow. “Well, would it at least make you feel better to know that I was also staring because I thought that you were cute?”

Ellie’s eyes widen as they meet Dina’s. “You did?”

“I did,” she confirms. She then corrects herself, saying, “I do.”

Dina smiles and leans in, softly brushing a kiss against her lips. It’s gentle and it’s quick but still enough to make Ellie’s heart race inside of her chest.

“Sorry,” she murmurs shyly as soon as she pulls away. She clasps her hands together nervously in her lap as she fixes her gaze on the floor.

Ellie reaches out, placing her hand on both of hers, causing the girl to look back up at her. “Don’t be. I’m sure as fuck not sorry about it at all.”

Relieved, Dina smiles again. 

Ellie squeezes her hands and goes in for a second kiss. “I should probably get home before my old man gets too worried and sends out a fucking search and rescue team for me,” she mutters against her lips, causing her to giggle. She pulls back and stands up, handing the book back to Dina who shakes her head.

“Take it. It’s all yours.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “There’s just one catch to it. I expect you to tell me a joke every single day.”

Nodding, Ellie grins and says, “Fuck yeah, I can do that.”

Several hours later into the evening, you can still feel Joel’s lips on yours—his touch lingers on your skin. It had been burned right into you and it didn’t really matter how hard you tried not to think about it because you had crossed a line that there was no coming back from. His touch, his kiss. You would never find the ability to forget how Joel had made you feel. Not that you’d wanted to forget it.

You didn’t have any regrets about what happened back in the stables. There wasn’t a single ounce of guilt or shame in your bones over it. That terrified you. You had so easily and so willingly let a man who wasn’t your husband kiss you, and you found yourself wanting and needing so much more.

You stand in the shower, allowing the ice cold water to beat down against your back and shoulders. You’d normally prefer a scalding hot shower to help ease the soreness that came after a long day of tending to the horses, but after today, what you had found yourself needing was a frigid shower to cool off.

And it had nothing to do with the staggering summer temperatures.

You shut off the water and grab a towel from a steel towel rack mounted on the wall right next to the shower. Wrapping it around yourself, you carefully step out of the shower and then reach for a second towel from the rack. You dry yourself off before padding into the bedroom where you’d laid out your clothes at the foot of the bed. You tug on a cotton gray tank top, dark denim blue jeans that you’d cut off into shorts yourself, and a pair of old, faded black low top sneakers that were extremely worn out, but much too comfortable to throw away. After haphazardly towel drying your hair, you pull it back into a ponytail.

In a futile attempt to take your mind off Joel Miller and the feeling of his lips on yours, you decided to preoccupy yourself with menial tasks around the house until it was time to start cooking dinner. The fact that you always kept the place clean—damn near spotless—made finding chores to distract you from your thoughts a much bigger challenge than you’d anticipated. God forbid that Luke ever found an unwashed dish in the sink or a speck of dust on the counter—his perfect little wife just had to keep the perfect little home. He wouldn’t allow it to be any other way.

After gathering the load of laundry that you’d had drying out on the clothesline in the backyard, you dumped it all into the large, woven hamper basket and carried it inside and upstairs to the bedroom. Within ten minutes, it had all been folded and put away. Looking for the next thing you could do to keep yourself busy, you noticed a big cardboard box sitting over in a corner of the bedroom. It’s packed with the rest of your winter clothes—it had been several weeks since you’d asked Luke to take it down to the basement and he still hadn’t done it for you.

Rolling your eyes, you pick it up, a labored grunt escaping you when you find the box to be much heavier than you’d remembered it being before. It nearly slips out of your grasp a couple of times, but somehow you manage to make it downstairs without dropping it—or falling. You carefully make your way down into the basement, the old wooden staircase creaking underneath your sneakers with each and every step. Once you’d made it down to the bottom, you haul the box over to the corner of the basement where you set it down with about half a dozen others, most of which were filled with your late father’s belongings.

Luke had been nagging you to get rid of everything to clear up space in the basement, but the thought of getting rid of your father’s things made you sick to your stomach. They were all you had left of him, after all.

As you glance around the dimly lit basement, an object nestled against the pile of cardboard boxes catches your attention. It’s a black leather guitar case. Letting out a curious hum, you drop to one knee and lay it flat on the ground, opening it only to find your father’s brown, classical Gibson he’d been gifted the year before he’d died by members of the town. He’d always been fond of music, and before the outbreak happened, he would play his guitar for you and your younger brother almost every single night, right after supper. When word spread that his illness was terminal, the kind folks of Jackson surprised him with the instrument, hoping it would bring him at least a little bit of joy in the time he had left. And it truly had. Even as a woman nearing your thirties, you’d found yourself sitting cross legged on the floor of your dad’s living room staring up at him in wonder as he would play his old favorite songs for you on the acoustic guitar—in those moments, you had felt like a child again.

You’d felt happy. Safe.

You brush the guitar strings lightly with your fingertips.

Suddenly, you remember the night of the party and how Joel had told you he enjoyed singing and playing the guitar in his life before the outbreak.

You chew your bottom lip, thinking it over in your mind. The decision comes quickly, and you close the case and pick it up, ascending the basement stairs with it in hand. It’s half past five—you still had some spare time before you needed to get started on dinner. You figure you won’t be too long. Besides, Luke had mentioned to you earlier that morning before heading out that he’d be staying late at the clinic anyway—one of the women in the community had just given birth to a premature baby boy that he’d need to keep a close eye on for the next few days.

Leaving the house, you start down the road towards Joel and Ellie’s place, remembering it was the brown and green unit just a couple doors over from your own place. You make your way up the porch steps and knock lightly on the front door. You try holding the guitar case behind you, but it’s fairly obvious what you have in your hands.

As you wait, you shift nervously from foot to foot. A few more seconds pass by and Joel answers the door. His salt and pepper curls are damp, and the scent of clean soap wafts in the air around him, slowly making its way over to you. He’d traded in his dirty denim shirt from earlier for a navy blue t-shirt that fits snug over his broad chest and wide shoulders.

He says your name in surprise. “What are you doin’ here?” His dark eyes flicker to the guitar case behind your back. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

“Oh, just a little surprise for you and Ellie.” You toss him a cheeky, mischiveous smile. “Do you mind if I come in for a minute?”

“‘Course not.” Joel steps aside. He shuts the door behind you and beckons for you with his hand to follow him down the hallway and into the living room. For essentially being a single father, he knows how to keep a nice, clean home. Knowing Ellie, she sure as hell isn’t the one who tidied up after eight hours of mucking out horse stalls.

“Where’s Ellie?” you ask him.

“Upstairs. She just got in the shower a minute ago, but she shouldn’t be too long,” he tells you. Placing his hands on his hips, he peers curiously at you. “I’d ask what the surprise is, but just by lookin’ at the shape of that case, I think I might already have a hunch.”

“Jeez Joel, you could have at least acted surprised, you know,” you remark with a giggle. You set the case down on the antique coffee table in the middle of his living room and open it, revealing the guitar to him. “Surprise!”

Walking over to the case, Joel delicately picks up the instrument by the neck and pulls it out, giving it a once over. He lets out a long, low whistle as his other hand runs down the smooth, cherrywood body. “This is fuckin’ gorgeous,” he states. A playful look flashes in his eyes as he asks you, “Now, who did you go and steal this from, darlin’?”

“It belonged to my dad,” you reply softly with a smile. “I thought you might like to have it.”

Joel’s jaw drops in shock as he hisses, “What?”

“Hey, I wasn’t lying when I said we’d have to find you a guitar,” you laugh. “I’m a woman of my word, Miller.”

“Darlin’ I can’t accept this, there’s no fuckin’ way—” He tries handing the instrument back to you, but you take a step back and hold your hands behind your back, shaking your head. He tries again. “Listen, I appreciate the thought, but I can’t take this. It was your dad’s and I really don’t think he’d want some stranger to have it.”

“Please take it,” you request, sweetly. “It would mean a lot to me if you would. He really loved this thing and I just know he would be devastated if he knew that it’s been sitting in my basement collecting dust for the last two years.”

Joel’s momentarily rendered speechless.

“Please,” you repeat, adding an innocent bat of your eyelashes to finish winning him over. “Do it as a favor to me, Joel.”

He sighs in defeat. “Jesus, darlin’. Why’s it so fuckin’ hard to say no to you?”

You shrug, trying to mask the look of sheer triumph on your face.

He takes a closer look at the guitar. “Gibson. Y’know, I always wanted one of these back in the day, but I just could never bring myself to drop that kinda cash. I wanted real bad and now here I am with one in my hand.” His gaze meets yours and he smiles softly. “Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Joel. But don’t you forget that we made a deal,” you remind him as a teasing grin spreads across your lips. “You owe me and Ellie a song.”

“Speakin’ of Ellie, she’s gonna lose her mind when she sees this thing,” Joel realizes, giving it a single test strum. “I’ve really been wantin’ to teach her to play for some time now. Guess now I can.” He shoots you a look of sincere gratitude. “Thanks, peach.”

Peach. 

As you recall what had happened in Ranger’s stall earlier that day, you let out a nervous, breathless laugh. “That my new nickname or what?”

“Only when I feel like it,” Joel replies jokingly as he carefully places the guitar back in its case. “Which might be all the time.” Closing the case, he turns to you. He hesitates for a second, but then takes a careful step closer towards you. He cups your face in his hand, just like before, his eyes flitting to your parted lips. 

Lifting your hand, your fingers curl around his wrist. 

You’d do just about anything for him to kiss you again—but the both of you had almost been caught by Ellie once already and you weren’t trying to make it two for two. It takes all the strength you have inside you to drop your hand away from him and step back.

You lightly clear your throat. “Um, I should probably get home and get dinner started before it gets too late. Will you say hello to Ellie for me?”

Nodding, Joel assures you, “‘Course I will.”

He walks you to the front door. He places a hand on the small of your back, his fingers brushing against the patch of smooth skin peeking from between the waist of your shorts and the lace hem of your tank top. Once he opens the door, Joel withdraws his hand from you to be safe. He doesn’t want anyone who might have been passing by the house to see any kind of physical contact between you and him and get any ideas. “Have a good night, peach.”

You smile at him. “Have a good night, Joel.”

You return home within seconds and head straight to the kitchen. When you walk in and unexpectedly find Luke standing there leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest, you stop in your tracks and let out startled little gasp. “Luke,” you say his name, hoping he can’t detect the nervousness in your voice. “You’re home early.”

He stares you down from where he’s standing. 

“Where were you?”

You can tell by the expression on his face that now isn’t the time to even think about lying to him—not unless you wanted things to go a whole lot worse for you. “I, um—I was over at Joel and Ellie’s place,” you admit to him. “I was only there for a couple of minutes, though. That’s why I left the door unlocked.”

“What were you doing over there?”

Luke sounds calm, but you know him better than that.

The clouds are coming in—the storm is brewing.

You swallow, your throat dry. “Just talking.”

“To Ellie?” Pushing away from the counter, he slowly saunters over to you with a dangerous look in his eyes. “Or to Joel?”

“Luke, please. Let’s just talk about this calmly—”

“When I ask you a question, you fucking answer it,” Luke hisses as he grabs your arm, his fingers digging roughly into the soft flesh right above your elbow.

“Luke, stop. You’re hurting me,” you manage to tell him through gritted teeth. As you squirm, his grip only tightens. “Seriously, you’re hurting me. Please, let me go.”

The panic is beginning to creep in, your body ready to go into flight mode, but you will yourself to remain grounded, to stay as calm as possible—dealing with him and his temper is frightening, but becoming emotional and showing him that you’re afraid of him always makes things so much worse in the long run.

“What the hell is going on between you two?”

“What? Nothing! I hardly know him,” you try to tell him. You let out a small, painful yelp as he continues to dig his fingers deeper into your arm. “Luke, I need you to let me go. You’re really hurting me—”

Finally, you lose your nerve and look away from him, trying to avert his furious gaze. 

Letting go of your arm, Luke reaches out and takes your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him.

“Do you honestly think I’m fucking stupid? Or are you just that fucking stupid?” He spits out in a venomous tone that sends an unpleasant chill down the length of your spine. He squeezes your face, hard. “Do you really think that I didn’t notice how the two of you had come from behind the barn that night during the party? How you were out there alone together, with no one else around?” He lets out a loud, bitter laugh. “Do you really think that I didn’t notice how that man fucking looked at you even when you were at my side?”

Luke releases your face, shoving it away harshly.

Taking a moment to catch some wind, you look up at him and sputter out the most coherent explanation you can come up with “We don’t even know each other, Luke! I don’t know Joel—the only reason we talk to each other is because Ellie’s his daughter and she’s gotten really close to me since she started working down at the stables. He only talks to me when it has something to do with Ellie. His kid. That’s it.” You’re now lying straight through your teeth and all you can do is pray he won’t pick up on it. “Today was the first time I’ve talked to or even seen Joel in weeks. The night of the party, he’d told me that he wanted to teach Ellie how to play the guitar so I went over to give him dad’s old Gibson. You’ve been telling me to start getting rid of his stuff, so I started with his guitar. That’s all.”

It’s difficult to be certain whether or not he believes you. 

“Ellie,” he repeats her name with a scoff. “What, you couldn’t bear any of your own so you just go around adopting feral little strays now? Is that it?”

The words leave your mouth before you can stop them. “Screw you, Luke.”

He smirks. “Hit a nerve, sweetheart?”

You know better than to shoot back at him.

Still, you foolishly do it anyway. 

“First of all, don’t talk about Ellie like that. In fact, I don’t ever want to hear you say her name again so keep it out of your mouth,” you warn him, your voice low, seething. “And second, don’t you pin our lack of a family all on me just to make yourself feel like a real fucking man.”

You see it coming before it even happens and brace yourself for the impact. 

The sound of his hand connecting with the side of your face bounces loudly off the kitchen walls.

“Listen and listen good because I won’t repeat myself,” Luke snarls. He backs you against the kitchen table and grabs a fistful of your hair at the nape of your neck, yanking your head back roughly as his face inches closer to yours. “Don’t you ever disrespect me like that again. You are my wife—you honor and you obey me, especially in our own home. The next time you run your fucking mouth like that, you’re going to be picking pieces of your jaw up off the floor. Do you understand me?”

Chest heaving, you nod meekly.

He pulls your head back further—harder. “Say it.”

“I understand,” you squeak, momentarily feeling like he might actually snap your neck. 

“Good.” Luke releases you and stalks out of the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “I expect dinner to be on the table in an hour.”

[gunnerfc]

Katie McCabe NSFW Alphabet (18+, minors DNI!)

A: Aftercare

Will get you anything you need after you’ve calmed down and give you light kisses all over your face while praising you

B: Body Part (their favorite body part of themselves and their partner)

Katie’s favorite body part is her arms, she’s caught you staring plenty of times and loves to show off in the gym when she knows you’re watching

Her favorite body part of yours is your legs, Katie loves having them wrapped around her and leaving marks all over them

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

Katie will immediately pull you into a kiss after she’s made you cum with her mouth

D: Dirty Secret 

Katie might not want to share you with anyone but she’s not opposed to the idea of people hearing you and will tease you to be louder

E: Experience (Are they experienced? Do they know what they are doing?) 

Definitely knows what she’s doing

F: Favorite Position 

Either any position where she can have her mouth on you between your legs or have you bent over something

G: Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous?)

She’s way more serious in the moment

I: Intimacy (How intimate are they during the moment?)

She might be degrading or teasing you but she knows you and your body well and knows when you need something from her

J: Jack off (Masturbation HC) 

She doesn’t care if you do, she knows it won’t be as good as her

K: Kink (One or more of their kinks) 

Degrading and edging, Katie loves hearing you beg her to do literally anything

L: Location (Favorite place to have sex)

Anywhere, but prefers being at home or in a hotel room so she doesn’t feel like she has to rush

M: Motivation (What turns them on?) 

You touching her, your hands always leave a warm feeling when you touch her and it’s all she can think about

N: No (Something they wouldn't do)

Katie doesn’t want to share you with anyone so no threesomes, she wants to be the only one who makes you see stars

O: Oral (Preference on giving or receiving)

Giving, she would stay between your legs as long as possible

P: Pace (Fast & Rough? Slow & Sensual?) 

Fast and rough nine times out of ten, the one time it isnt fast and rough is when you’re the one who’s in charge that night

Q: Quickie (Thoughts on quickies) 

She doesn’t mind them, she loves any chance to have her hands on you but she loves taking her time pleasuring you more

R: Risk (Are they open to experimenting) 

Some, as long as you two talk about something, she’s willing to try it once and if you both enjoy it, it may happen again

S: Stamina (How many rounds) 

Katie can go for many rounds, she prefers longer ones for the most part though

T: Toys 

Two main straps get used often, one is double ended and the other isn’t

U: Unfair (Do they like the tease)

Katie lives to tease you both out and in the bedroom, though the teasing that happens inside the bedroom is a lot more degrading and sarcastic

V: Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make) 

She’s not the loudest but you have been able to make her louder on different occasions

W: Wild Card (Random HC)

The first time the two of you had sex away from home was during an away game with Arsenal. The two of you weren’t roommates and she joined you in the shower after training which led to sex and your roommate, Lia, almost heard you loudly moaning.

Katie still hasn’t let you live that down and anytime you two have sex during away games and you get a bit loud she’ll shush you before saying “don’t want Lia to hear you” with a teasing smirk on her face.

Y: Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Very high, will take any and every opportunity to have sex with you

Z: ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

It changes, sometimes it’s very quickly but other times she’ll stay up until you fall asleep

[r0ttenhearts]

cold greetings

cheater! scaramouche x reader

sypnosis: after taking scaramouche back from a nasty breakup-situationship he isn’t the same

warnings: cheating, angst, mean scara

“scara?” your voice almost trembled, seeing him standing on your doorstep. his cheeks and nose were reddened from the cold but a sorrowed look graced his features. he looked as if he had been crying, dark streaks down his cheeks as his cold hand gripped onto the hand you held against the door.

“(y/n)..” he whispered, gaze onto the snowy white carpet of snow on your steps. the lingering resentment held awkwardly in the air. it was almost like an unspoken promise.

the anger and resentment you still held for him kept you guarded. his tears wouldn’t sway you. not this time.

“i just, i wanna talk to you. you don’t have to say anything but i have to say this to you, or i’m afraid i’ll never get a chance to again.” he spoke softly, almost tenderly. it was as if the cruelty he had hurled towards you not too long ago never happened.

“okay. talk, but then you’re out.” you hesitantly stood aside and let his shaking figure inside. it almost felt nostalgic to see him sitting at your kitchen table again. the pink on his cheeks and the thick scarf around his neck did nothing to hide the feeling you got seeing him like this, once again.

taking a seat in front of him, you noticed the way he wouldn’t meet your gaze. his focus on his fingernails, lap, the salt shaker, anything but you.

he let out a heavy sigh before looking up at you. his eye bags seemed darker than they were the last time you saw him.

“i know i have no excuse to be here. i shouldn’t be, i know that. i hate how we ended things (y/n). it’s been you and i for years, and i miss you. i miss having you around, i miss seeing your face and hearing your voice.” a shake exhale left his lips as he sat there. guilt written all across his face. “i shouldn’t have left you that way (y/n). not when you needed me the most.” he whispered the last part, knowing how much he had hurt you.

how much he had fucked up.

memories of that night flashed back to your mind. his anger, that glare he held as he tormented you with the details of the new girl that occupied his mind. his loud laughs at your feeble attempt to show him that you didn’t need him.

it still hurt, even now. you shook your head, feeling that familiar pain again. “i can’t just forgive you scara. that was really fucked up.”

“i know (y/n), and i’m sorry. i really am. it’s just.. i’ve been thinking about it more with the holiday’s coming up. i don’t want to start a year without you in my life.”

you bit your lip back at that. your sense of nostalgia was something that kept you with him for as long as you did. you yearned for the comfort of the past, begged for it. it was the one thing that felt safe, memories.

with some reluctance, you let him back into your life. he seemed different. he was more willing to do activities with you, things he had refused to do once before. some of his belongings had found a place in your home. it felt good to be around him. almost as if you two were young again, discovering the deeper parts of your relationship together as foolish teens.

but.. if it felt so good why was he so distant now? you paused, standing in the doorway of his bedroom. it was dark except for the bright game on his monitor illuminating a corner of his room, headset on his ears as he clicked away. not paying you any mind.

“hey, scara? you said tonight we could watch—“

“i do not care (y/n). let me play my damn game, won’t you? i have more important things to do than watch something i don’t care about because of your whining.”

oh. oh. without another word you slipped away, quietly leaving his apartment. if he wanted to be alone so bad he could have his alone time. to hell with him! you thought to yourself. you wouldn’t spill any tears, not this time.

you went to bed alone that night. hugging yourself and wondering why he had to repeat history, once again. you had lost count of how many times this had happened before. he would always come crawling back to you once his life fell apart, using your weakness for the bittersweet past you’d longed for.

sighing, you rolled over on your side. you wouldn’t bother him anymore, not with how things were going. you were done with him. done!

you tensed at the feeling of cold hands around your waist, warm breath hitting the nape of your neck as your bed dipped slightly behind you. “i’m sorry (y/n).. that was a dick move.”

you scoffed, shrugging his hand off of your shoulder as best as you could. “i’m tired of this scara.” you said quietly. “i’m tired of you doing this to me. it’s been years, and you never stay the same.” you say with a sigh.

scaramouche muttered apologies as he kissed along your neck. his cold hands finding a place on your stomach now as he caressed you. “i’m sorry (y/n). i’ll be better.”

a small smile flashed across your face once he turned you onto your back, leaning down to meet your lips. the kiss felt warm, unlike the cold indifferent kisses you would press against his chapped lips.

he spent the night in your bed, holding you and reminding you of the promise you had made to each other as kids. “i will always stick with you, despite who i meet along the way.”

you woke up groggy the next day, reaching out to the space next to you only to find it empty. with a yawn you made your way to your bedroom door, opening it but pausing once you heard scaramouche’s voice. he was talking to someone, but who?

“yeah i know babe. i’ll be over by tonight. i’m just busy with work stuff, you know how it is. don’t let childe come. alright bye, see you later. i love you.”

you didn’t think as you walked up to him, grabbing his phone out of his hand and slamming it onto the table next to him. “what the fuck? are you fucking serious?”

“what (y/n)? she’s just a friend. don’t get so bitchy.”

you scoffed, shoving him back as hard as you could. your hands trembled with anger. he had betrayed you again. you stupidly believed he had learned.

“fuck you. i’m done, done with this game. get the fuck out and never come back.” he didn’t say a word as he went back into your room, grabbing his jacket and leaving you there. alone.

you didn’t cry, not at first. you were too angry to cry, all you wanted to do was scream. it seemed so good while it lasted. you believed it was the last time, the last time of being apart and being no contact for months until things would fall apart for him. the way it always did.

it took months to rebuild your life without him. he hadnt reached out, not once. but inbetween drinks with kazuha you would hear about him. his new relationship, how nice his new girlfriend was. it made the drinks taste more bitter as you’d gulp them down.

once it was june you’d find yourself with kazuha on most days. your shared laughs throughout the night turned into interlocked fingers on the sheets of your bed. it was the first time in a long time that you felt good about having a relationship with someone. like a new phase of your life had begun.

a knock on your door one stormy night brought all of this to a halt. you half expected to see kazuha there as you swung open the door. “kazu- oh.” your smile fell seeing who it was. it wasn’t your white haired lover, but your ex situationship from what seemed to be forever ago. the rain slid down his dark hair as his hand went to touch yours, but you retracted it just as fast. it was just like that day in december.

“can we talk, (y/n)?”

taglist: @whorerificstuff @sakiimeo @astrolomona @dearsumire @saeism @shoheartluv @0kauy @lelemnh @aqualesha @msdevilis @linkookie197 @berriiov @xiaonscaraswife @foxlover1144 @reblog-crazily @samarill

[toxicanonymity]

that's the spot

2.3k | masseur!joel x f!reader | masterlist

This was a request from @megangovier20. ty @dark-scape for the title. Also highly recommend @swiftispunk's amazing masseuse!reader fic: say it with your hands.

warnings: I8+ non-outbreak, Joel jacks off, unsafe PiV, reader pressures joel, wants a rough touch, can sit on Joel

Your friend referred you to Joel for your back, and after having his hands on you that first time, you needed more.  He was gentle and professional.  Too gentle. Too professional. You yearned for a rougher touch and he couldn’t stop calling you “ma’am” at first, even when you asked him not to.  The room was tranquil and minimalist.  There was a shelf for your clothes, a hook for your keys, a chair, and a massage table.  It was dimly lit and he wore a linen tunic with matching drawstring pants.  He gave you privacy while you stripped down to just a towel. 

Initially, you were startled by how handsome he was – the perfect hook of his nose, his tortured brow, and sad eyes. The mesmerizing pattern of his facial hair.  But you were at ease once he spoke in a low, calming voice as he kneaded your back.   “You’re too young ‘n healthy to be walkin’ around with back pain” was the first thing he said with you face down on his table.  The depth and masculine softness of his voice mesmerized you, and from then on, you tried to keep him talking as much as you could.  It was hard, though –  he wasn’t much of a talker.  

Joel’s hands on your back did as much for you as any other man’s hands between your legs.   It had been a long time since a man touched you at all.  But as far as you could remember, no one’s hands compared to his, not even close.  Strong and massive, gliding across your smooth skin, firmly pressing into your muscles, they turned you on unlike anything you’d felt before.

Every time you left his office, you were in desperate need of release.  You squeezed your thighs together as soon as you got in your car, and once in the privacy of your bedroom, you thought about nothing but his hands all over you as you brought yourself to climax.  It never took long after an appointment with Joel. 

-

One day, you asked Joel if he could be a little rougher with you.  

“Rougher?” he asked skeptically. 

“Don’t be afraid to hurt me,” you told him.  

He was hesitant and explained he’s trained in specific massage techniques, “and rougher ain’t one of’em.”  He offered to try the massage gun on you instead.  The thought of a tool instead of his hands didn’t do it for you, so you told him maybe another time.  

The next time, you slipped him some extra cash and asked him to work you over as hard as he was willing to.  He searched your eyes and must have seen the desperation, because he wouldn’t take the folded bills,  but he finally agreed. 

At first, it was only slightly rougher than usual.  

“Good, that’s great,” you kept telling him.  “Perfect.”  Your praise gave him the confidence to continue.  “More,” you kept telling him.  “Harder.”  

When he finished that day, there was something in the air between you, like each of you knew this was going to become more than massage therapy.  Seeing it in your eyes appeared to be the confirmation he needed. He again refused the extra cash.  

In the following weeks, when you said “harder” or “please, rougher,” he obliged, often grunting with the effort.  He used his elbows at times.  

“Damn, you like it real rough, don’t ya?”  he muttered at one point.   It was a far cry from his professionalism at the first appointment, and it turned you on that you were breaking down his walls.  He was good at hiding his arousal, but you could hear it in his voice.  

At the end of the appointments, he always composed himself back into the perfect professional.  He scanned your body and wet his lips, but there was no sign he’d make a move.  He had the self-control you lacked. 

-

One week, you asked him to get on top of you.

“If that’s what ya need, sugar. . . I’m here to give ya what ya need.” Those words sent a rush of blood to your loins.  

At your urging, Joel got on the massage table and straddled your ass.  He used his fists and knuckles and his body weight.  You sighed and moaned as he pushed the sweetest pops and cracks out of your skeleton. His grunts and heavy breaths made a symphony with your own sounds.  

You ached and throbbed between the legs.  After a particularly sensual sigh left your mouth, you felt his crotch twitch before lifting off your ass. He wasn’t going to let you feel him get hard, but the knowledge of it made you swell with need. 

“Lower,” you said. He scooted back, moving down your body, and kneaded your back lower and lower until his hands were almost at your ass. 

“Lower,” you pleaded. “Lose the towel.” He took the towel off you, and his big hands slowly crept onto your ass cheeks. 

“Yes,” you said. “Feels so good. . .”  

He took two handfuls of your ass and inhaled loudly.  

"Ohhh,” you sighed.  You were close to coming. 

“Feels that good, huh?” he said in a low, horny murmur.  

He flattened his hands and slid them from your ass, down the curve of your lower back, up to your shoulder blades and said “You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” 

The contrast of his light touch and the desire in his voice did it for you.  You clenched your thighs together and sighed as you reached your release.  You dug your pubic bone into the table with your pulsations and he took his hands off you in astonishment. 

“Fuuuck,” he sighed and brought his hands down gently on your back.  “Was that what I think it was?”

“You have a way with those hands, Joel.”  

“God damn,” he said.  

-

“Will you lie down on me?” you asked. 

“I, uh, I’m really enjoyin’ all this. . .but I think I better not right now.” 

“You dunno how good you make me feel,” you gushed.  “You dunno much I need this."

He was quiet.  “Nice of you to say that. . . tryin’ to be professional, but god damn, you make it hard.”  

“And that's exactly how I want you,” you purred.  “Come on.  Lie down on me for just a minute.  Let me feel you for just a minute, and I swear to God I’ll leave.” 

After a few seconds he agreed, “Only have a minute ‘til I gotta go anyway.”  

Your hands were under your head with your elbows out to the side.  He walked on his knees back up the table, pants dragging against your sides.  Then he slid his large, veiny hands under your arms, sending a rush through you.  He put his forearms down on the table.  Then he got in a plank and you felt the linen of his tunic hang against your needy skin. 

He dipped his hips and lightly grazed your ass with the hardness in his pants.  He murmured into your hair, “Guess this is what you want?”

“Mmmm, yeah. . .” you replied.

Then he laid onto you, lowering his pelvis first.  You moaned and he sighed as his hard bulge pushed against your inner thighs. 

"Gimme all your weight."

He slowly lowered more of his weight.  

“God damn, sugar. . . you got me breakin’ all kinda rules.” He swelled harder against you, making your whole body weak with desire, and you savored the weight of his body on yours.  Your insides buzzed from head to toe.  His hips just barely thrust into yours, making you wetter.  

“Mmm,” you sighed.

He stayed there for a minute, just barely rutting into you, then sighed loudly as he climbed down from the table.  ���Sorry, sugar.  That’s it for today.”  His massive palm lightly stroked your upper back.  “I’ll let you get dressed.” 

You turned over onto your side, facing him before he could turn around to leave.  You followed his eyes to your naked breasts before he could avert them.  He swallowed and clasped his hands in front of his crotch, trying to regain his composure. 

“Joel….” you said and lightly stroked his inner elbow.  His eyes met yours again and he bit his lip.  “Thank you.” 

He winked. “See ya next time, sugar.” 

-

You looked at the clock and realized you might make him late for his next appointment.  You quickly dressed in a daze, your whole body tingling with the afterglow as you put on your jeans and t-shirt.  It wasn’t until you were in the parking lot that you realized you left your keys on the hook in his massage room.  When you came back in, the receptionist was closing the appointment book.  

“Excuse me, I don’t want to interrupt Joel’s next appointment, but I left my keys in there. . ..”

“Oh, you were his last appointment for the day.  I think he’s probably gone.”

“Oh. . .” 

“Go ahead, it should be unlocked.” 

-

As you approached the door and put your hand on it, you heard him sighing over the squish of skin.  Your breath hitched.  So that was why he had to go.  Fair enough.  You took a deep breath, turned the handle, and opened the door.  

In the dimly lit room, Joel was seated in the chair with his legs spread wide.  His strong, veiny hand was wrapped around his hard cock. He froze when you opened the door, pausing mid-stroke. You nearly scared him to death.  He opened his mouth, but words didn’t come out.  There was a look in your eyes that paralyzed him.  He watched with bated breath as you closed the door behind you.  You took your keys off the wall and suddenly he looked more embarrassed, like of course, that’s why you’re back.  

He started to tuck himself away, but you shook your head, don’t.  You stepped out of your shoes, and as soon as you pocketed your keys, you unbuttoned your pants.   You took  your underwear down with them and his eyes fell to your nakedness.  He looked at you with his chest heaving, mouth watering, and rubbed his lips together as you crossed the room.  He was holding his dick back against himself and cupping his balls with his other hand. 

When you got to him, you put your hands on his shoulders, and slowly mounted him.  You stayed hovering over his lap, then you took off your shirt and bra.  One more step and you would be directly over his cock.  “God damn, you’re hot,” he said to your tits, then took a deep breath.  

“Heard you’re off the clock now,” you replied in a low, sexy voice.  

“Guess I am,” he murmured, glancing up at your face.  

You looked down at his stiff member, weeping with precum, and you wet your lips.  He held it at attention for you and gently cupped your ass with his other hand.  He gave it a light squeeze with his palm, prompting you to take that last step forward.  His face looked about as needy as you were for his body on yours earlier.  His cock looked delicious and its angry pink head was begging to be inside you.  His girth was impressive, and it had been a long time for you, but you knew you could take him because you had never, ever been so ready.  Your body yearned to be filled by his.  

You lowered yourself onto him, and when his cock’s swollen head met your dripping entrance, you sighed as your body took him in.  You sank right down, letting his girth spread you apart.  You gasped when your bodies were flush and sighed as your body finished rearranging itself around him.

“Fuuck,” he breathed.  He looked down at where your bodies met, then looked back up at you, astonished.  

You gently rocked there, enjoying the fullness of him all the way inside you. His pubic bone, cushioned by neatly trimmed hair, rubbed against your clit and your pleasure built rapidly.  

You began to lift and lower yourself on his rock-hard shaft and he grunted as his hips moved in rhythm with yours.  Each time you claimed his full length, the tension inside you swelled.  He looked back and forth between your eyes and mouth, then you kissed him.  He eagerly accepted your mouth, and when your tongue parted his lips, he sucked with an, "Mmm."  Your lips broke away only to whimper as you rode him, building quickly toward your orgasm.  Your breath was hot against his cheek, and his against yours as you rode his thick cock.  His head fell back with a moan.

“Easy. sugar. I’m not lastin’ long like this.” His voice amplified everything you were feeling.  The next time you took his full shaft inside you,  you stayed down and rocked your hips again. 

“Fuck, you feel too good,” he panted and a look of pain spread across his face. He held both your ass cheeks. His lips puckered with an exhale, his climax looming ever closer.  You came down hard on him one last time and groaned as your tension released into something otherworldly.  You clenched around him and a powerful flex of his strong arms abruptly lifted you by the ass, prying you off his cock.  

He came as soon as his cock sprang out of you.  Still in the throws of your own climax, you pulsed and moaned and and sat on his thighs watching the last of his cum dribble onto his uniform.  

“Sorry,” he panted, catching his breath.  He was self-conscious about the timing, even though you came.  

“Shouldn’t have started without me,” you teased him. You sat there for a minute in silence and rested your head on his shoulder.  He rubbed your back. 

You asked him, “What were you thinking about?”

“Hmm?” he asked. 

“When I walked in on you.  What were you thinking about?”

He looked at the massage table.  “How ‘bout I show you next time?” 

-

As always, thank you SO much for your engagement! I love y'all so much. 🖤 I notice and appreciate every comment and reblog even if I don't respond out of self consciousness to flood my comments.

PSA, PLEASE CHECK YOUR CONTENT SETTINGS. Many of my posts have been flagged very quickly recently even if they weren't explicit (like lincoln 1) so if you don't want to miss anything, you might want to follow me and check my profile regularly (filter to "latest fics" from my header) or get on the joel tag list.

[yujo-nishimura]

All the rage

A fauxpax at your job leads to some intimate time with your boss Sir Crocodile and even a promotion...

Warning: gore, blood, violence, smut, Sir Crocodile x female reader (It is not as gory as I intended it to write because I also do not want my readers to be disgusted)

NSFW - minors do not interact

words: 1932

I am tagging @lostfirefly since she has explicitly asked for it and she will understand the background of the story.. ;)

What began as a promising career path quickly transformed into a daily grind filled with frustration. Your boss had placed you on the front lines of sales, fully aware that it was your charm and physical appearance that kept customers engaged, rather than the actual product you were selling. Initially, the attention may have been enjoyable, but it rapidly developed into an arduous routine of forcing a smile and feigning interest in even the most absurd customer requests.

In addition to your job-related frustrations, you hated the commute, enduring endless waits for public transportation alongside the empty expressions of fellow passengers. To make things even more difficult, you had developed romantic feelings for your boss, Mr. Crocodile, who failed to provide the attention you yearned for. Nevertheless, he remained the sole reason you clung to the job, at least for a little while longer. 

After enduring yet another exhausting and sweltering morning commute, coupled with three customer calls riddled with complaints, it's no wonder that you finally reached your breaking point.

The client you were scheduled to meet today had already displayed unpleasant behavior over the phone. However, you tried to stay optimistic, believing that people tend to be kinder in person compared to phone or email interactions. As the clock struck 10, the client was still nowhere to be seen, and impatience crept in, knowing your aversion to tardiness. Eventually, he arrived at 10:30, nearly an hour late. Upon entering your office, he offered no apology, opting instead for a shy smile. With his greasy blonde hair, ill-fitting suit, and repulsive demeanor, you took a deep breath and, attempting to maintain your professionalism, offered him a seat and asked if he wanted tea or coffee. To your annoyance, he requested soda water, the one thing you hadn't offered. You reluctantly went to the small fridge in search of anything to satisfy his stupid request.

Upon your return, he sported a sly grin and made inappropriate comments about your appearance as you turned around to face him. For a moment, you contemplated ending the conversation then and there. Not only because of the harassment, but also because he had already exhibited a series of missteps from the start, leading you to believe it would only worsen. However, you reminded yourself that this client had promised substantial purchases, resulting in a significant deal that would not only make you proud but also capture your boss's attention.

As you settled down before the client, you ensured your suit jacket and skirt were impeccably aligned, carefully placing product flyers on the glass coffee table. "So, as we discussed on the phone, this is what we can offer, and we're willing to negotiate a generous discount for bulk purchases," you initiated your customary sales pitch, fully aware that the man was likely not paying attention at all.

"I wasn't aware that they allowed women to work at Cross Guild Corp. as well," he suddenly remarked. 

"Pardon me?" you replied, looking up at him, meeting his watery blue eyes and sly grin once again. 

"I believe men excel in sales and business, but I can see why they placed you on the front line. You're a cute little Missy with a nice little butt. Are they sharing you around here?" 

"Sir...!" you sighed deeply, mustering all your strength to restrain yourself from snapping at him. "At Cross Guild Corp., our team strives to create an inclusive environment that does not discriminate based on gender or sexuality..." you trailed off, realizing that you sounded like a spokesperson for your company's marketing campaign. 

"I actually came here just to find out about your sexuality, girl, since you sounded so nice on the phone!" To your horror, the client stood up, walked around the table, and sat down next to you on the large leather couch. His sly grin remained etched on his face, and you understood that he had no intention of making any purchases. As he forcefully grabbed your hand and pushed it between his legs, you gasped. Your phone lay on the table, and the imposing wooden doors prevented any sound from escaping to alert your colleagues of your distress. Your eyes fell on the letter opener on the table, next to the flyers and paperwork from the morning. 

“I will give you a good tip, so show me - how is your head…!”, he murmured and the grip on your hand got tighter. That was your breaking point. In a split-second decision, you instinctively reached for the letter opener resting on your desk. Its design was reminiscent of the sword once wielded by your chief manager Mihawk, a renowned sword master.

With a swift motion and without any regret you stabbed the small iron blade into the neck of your attacker, making his eyes go wide in disbelief over the blood fountain suddenly gushing out from under his ear. He gargled, trying to cover the wound and hissed “You fucking bitch!” but you had already stood up, trying to get away from the fountain of blood spilling over the leather couch and your black suit and sheer tights.

The guy had finally stopped smiling and you felt a sense of relief. Still heavily breathing you went to your desk trying to grab anything to hold on to. You were still in shock but you also felt like this was the only thing you needed to do today. Your work was done here, time to punch out and go home.

As the client gasped for his final breaths on the couch, a sudden knock at the door startled you. Without hesitation, your boss, Sir Crocodile, made his entrance into the office, dressed impeccably in a sleek black suit, his presence accentuated by the cigar he held. 

"Y/n, I was just coming in to discuss the sales numbers from last month and review our plans for Q3..." he began, but his words trailed off abruptly as his gaze fell upon your pale face, the crimson stains on your hands, and the somber scene that unfolded on the couch before him. 

"Oh..." he remarked, his reaction to a dying person being the one you least expected from all possible responses.

“I…!”, that was all you were able to say, looking in horror at your own hands and the blood stains on the carpet. 

"Did the sales proposal go wrong?" your boss inquired, carefully placing the documents on a nearby shelf to avoid any stains. 

"He... he tried to assault me," you stammered, your voice trembling as you spoke. 

Crocodile approached the lifeless figure and casually lifted his arm before letting it drop back onto the couch with a nonchalant "flop." 

"What a tasteless suit brand. He reeks of cheap whiskey as well... I think you handled the situation very well, dear Y/n!" 

You couldn't believe what you were hearing as your boss praised you. 

"Are you alright, though? It must have been quite a shock for you..." 

With just two swift strides, your boss stood before you, his towering presence simultaneously intimidating and comforting. He gently took hold of your blood-stained hands, inspecting them as though he had stumbled upon a hidden treasure. 

"I'm... I'm fine, I suppose," you whispered, relieved to be able to utter any words at all. 

"How about you take the rest of the day off, my dear?" Crocodile suddenly suggested, causing your heart to race. Did your beloved boss just refer to you as "my dear"?

“I am fine, Sir..!”, you tried to utter and you looked into his dark purple eyes. A rush of adrenaline had run through your body, heightened now by the sensation of Crocodile's warm skin on yours.

He gently raised your hands to his mouth and you gasped in disbelief as he carefully opened his lips, licking over the blood on your fingers.

The tension in the office got unbearable and you suddenly realized that the death of the client and you having killed him had turned Sir Crocodile on. He didn't even ask for your approval, he did not need to hear it, seeing the same fire in your eyes as mirrored in his own was enough proof for him. Without hesitation he quickly grabbed your hips, pushing you up on your wooden office desk, starting to greedily kiss you. His lips tasted like cigar smoke and blood and it made your mind go blank.

Instinctively you wrapped your legs around his waist and put your arms around his shoulders. You were only kissing but you already felt like moaning into his mouth, your arousal palpable. Crocodile did not wait any longer. While still kissing you, he unbuckled his belt, pulling down both his trousers and underwear. His throbbing cock was so huge, pressing against your clothed folds, for a moment you were not sure if you could take it all. He did not give you a choice. Ripping your tights apart, he pulled down your panties and pushed your skirt up. Your bare ass was seated now on documents from the morning briefing and before your boss embraced you, he quickly checked with his fingers if you were ready for him. The slick sound made him smile, he kissed your neck and gently whispered: 

“Killing that guy turned you on, didn't it?”

Without waiting for your reply he pushed into you, his full length filling you in an instant. Surprisingly you were ready to take him - there was no pain, only pleasure. As he started to move relentlessly into you, your thighs and your butt started slapping against the wood of the desk. You moaned into his shoulder, feeling his big cock filling you to the brim. As you held onto him you were able to peek over his shoulder, seeing the lifeless body of the client still slightly bleeding, but much less than earlier, leaving a big crimson puddle on the floor. 

Crocodile gently but vigorously pulled your hair forcing you to look at him. 

“Focus on me, baby. I want you to enjoy every moment of this…!” his deep voice was laced with desire, you could feel his cock pulsating against your velvet folds. 

His demand made you feel getting close to your own orgasm, he pressed his hand on your mouth, trying to stifle your moans and holding on to you while his motions grew more forceful and vigorous. 

“Almost there..!”, he leaned over and whispered these words into your ear.

“I underestimated you, I knew you were beautiful and charming.. but I did not think you had the guts to kill someone…!”, his voice turned husky from the fast-paced breaths.

You pushed your nails into his skin and threw your head back as the orgasm washed over you like a wave. Seeing you squirting all over his cock made him go wild, with some last stuttering movements he pushed his cum inside of you, gently collapsing with his massive body on your suit jacket. You both were panting, the room was hot and sticky, the scent of blood and wrongdoing hung in the air.

He slowly stood upright, handing you your underwear and pulling up his trousers, adjusting his tie in a swift movement. 

Still overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment you silently grabbed your panties, pushing them into your jacket pocket instead of putting them back on. 

"Well, I've been in need of a personal assistant for quite some time now," Crocodile cleared his throat, smoothing back his slicked hair with a swift gesture. "How about we tidy up this mess together and then discuss your well-deserved promotion?"

[mothwingwritings]

Y&B for taiju shiba I love you❤️

I love yooou and thank you for sending an ask for the LOML bless you <3

Warnings: Abuse, getting the shit beat out of you, brutality, mentions of murder (hashtag just Taiju Shiba things)

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Taiju actually has the capacity to wait a rather long time before he snaps. Not necessarily because of patience, but more so because deep down he wants YOU to be the one to come running to him. He fantasizes endlessly about how you’re gonna fall into his arms, confessing to him how much you love and need him, crying over how hard it’s been living without him in your life. He’s had countless daydreams of you initiating the relationship, consumed with the thought of you whole heartedly reciprocating his affections just as strongly (if not more so) than he does.

He KNOWS you love him. He’s seen it in the way you look at him, how you get all blushy and bashful whenever he comes near, unable to even speak without stumbling over your words because of how excitable his presence makes you. When you flinch away from his touches and affections, or go out of your way to avoid him, he knows it’s only because you can’t handle the rampant feelings surging through you. It’s cute as hell, and only makes him want you that much more.

So though it’s nearly unbearable, he’ll wait for you. He knows the moment you finally give in and concede to him it will be the sweetest moment in his entire life, worth the wait and then some. Knowing the prize that is awaiting him at the end is the only thing that gets him through the excruciating waiting period. (Well, that and fucking his fist to thoughts of you, excitement coursing through him when he muses on all the ways he will be able to ravage you in the near future).

That being said, there are certain triggers that will make him IMMEDIATELY drop all pretenses and assert his authority right away, mainly if someone else makes a move on you. It doesn’t even matter how small that advance is, if someone so much as bats an eye at you in a way that can be mistaken as flirtatious it’s over. You’re his from that point on, whether you are ready for the relationship or not. He’ll be damned if he’s gonna let some asshole try and stake a claim on his darling-the mere thought of it makes him sick with rage.

If it’s the other way around and you happen to have someone else that you have your eye on, then it would be in both you and your crush’s best interest to nip that in the bud ASAP. The moment Taiju gets an inkling of it you won’t come out of it unscathed. Regardless of the fact that he never got your express consent to be in a relationship, your loyalty is something he expects unconditionally, and should it falter at any point he has no qualms over correcting your behavior. But while you may be holed up in bed for a few days healing from a brutal lashing, the person you are smitten with will get it 100x worse if they are even allowed to keep living. Needless to say, you will neither see nor hear from them again after that.

You belong with nobody else but Taiju, nowhere else than at his side. He’s not afraid to beat that into you. You’re lucky he’s forgiving, and that he loves you so much, otherwise you would be MUCH worse off for the shit you pulled. He’ll even tend your wounds once your properly apologize for what a harlot you’ve been.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Extremely. There really is no limit. He will destroy everything and anything around you to keep you at his side. He isn’t stupid about it either, which makes him that much scarier. He has the connections, the money, the power, and the brute strength to make just about anything happen for his benefit. Anyone trying to prevent you from being his, whether they are friend or foe, he will take care of them. The disposal can range from paying them off or heavily threatening them, too far worse things. He would destroy someone’s entire livelihood in the blink of an eye for you, and if he could get away with it strangle a person to death with his bare hands if they terrorized you.

Whatever is necessary, whatever is needed, he will do it without hesitation. He loves you. You are his family, his heart, his EVERYTHING. This man would rip God himself asunder to keep you in his life, so you’d do best to never question his devotion to you.

[zeebee3]

Dramione Month Day 6: Legilimens

Draco/Hermione

NSFW

Continuation of Day 5.

---

She broke the kiss a moment later.

“You really want this? It’s not just because I’m here and you’re—”

He cut her off with another slanting kiss, putting as much into it as he could. When he drew back, she was panting. 

“I’m only here and hard because of you,” he murmured. “Or did you think I needed a refresher on Interrogative and Defensive Mind Magicks?”

She blinked up at him. “Well…they’re very useful…it’s always good to hone skills.”

“I’m a natural Occlumens,” he reminded her. “And the skill transfers the other way, too.”

Her hands slid from his shoulders down to rest over his chest. Little hands, but strong. His heart pounded below her palms.

“So then…why did you come along?”

“You asked me if I’d be willing to attend the conference. I am.”

It was clear the answer surprised her, but then she huffed an incredulous laugh. 

“You came all the way to Zürich for a conference on a subject you’re naturally adept in just to, what, placate me?”

He shrugged a casual shoulder. “It’s quite a nice city. Incredible architecture. Amazing views.”

He dared to tuck a stray curl behind her ear, fully unobstructing his currently perfect view. When she huffed again, he couldn’t hold his smirk, gazing down at her with open affection. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she accused lightly. “Had you never considered just telling me how you felt?”

Countless times. A nearly unending thread of conversation in his head, scenarios built and summarily dismantled when reality tapped politely against his skull. The concept of confession was not new to him, but it still felt unfamiliar.

“All the time,” he murmured.

When she wet her bottom lip, he wondered if she could taste him still.  

“I’m sorry but I’m finding it a bit hard to believe that. You’ve always been so aloof. I’m a very perceptive person but until tonight, I had no idea you thought of me as anything but a mildly irksome colleague.”

“Mildly? You drive me mad.”

“So you’ve said. But you’ve never once…you’re always so reserved.”

Restrained, he wanted to correct, but she was close enough. 

“I have been, yes.”

The validation settled her slightly, shoulders dropping down. Total relaxation would be even better, so he inhaled deeply and offered himself up.

“I have all the data to back up my claim right here, if you’d like to practice honing your skills?”

“What, you mean…?” Her eyes flicked to his forehead, then back. “Really?”

Blame it on the lingering delirium of her kiss, or the pounding of his heart, or the unrelenting interest straining toward her, but in that moment, inviting her into his head seemed like the most logical solution to a very easy-to-solve problem. Let her see what he felt for her, and then she’d know and he could do something about it.

“Mmhmm.” He stroked the hinge of her jaw with his thumb, then let his fingers slide down the side of her neck to rest on her shoulder. “Get your wand. Have a look.”

It was, evidently, an easy choice for her, too. 

He’d been at the end of her wand tip before, many times, but in this instance, his only concern was for her. What would she think once she knew? He braced himself. 

“Legilimens,” she incanted, eyes locked on his, and then she was inside his head, and he let her see. 

Her striking amber eyes were first, as they always were, featured in flashes of memories: seeing them deep and thoughtful, sparkling with delight, narrowed in annoyance. 

And then her lips — he did his best to skate through those thoughts as quickly as her Legilimency allowed, pulling forward specific examples instead of his increasingly depraved ramblings. 

Across the refectory, sipping tea then shooting him a bemused smile over the rim. Leading a debriefing, commanding the room easily. Hunched over her desk, wand in her curls, exhausted but breathtaking. And all the associated feelings those moment had elicited in him: butterflies, hot arousal, yearning. 

And then he offered her specifics. A glimpse down her blouse, and the fantasies it had fueled for weeks, a rush of images that had never existed but were so clear, so often imagined, that they may as well have. 

And then a very real memory, offered to her as final proof for everything he’d claimed: a view down his abdomen, watching as he pinned the toy to the mattress, thick cock burying into it over and over as his thumb rubbed lazily, soothingly at the silicone clit. Whispered words, low and agonized, heralding the end. “What a good fucking girl, Hermione.”

She left his mind with a shudder. 

He was leaking all over himself, pants damp with his want after having re-lived so many moments he usually parceled out, but his attention was riveted on her. 

“See,” he managed, voice rough. “All the time.”

“I’m…” Her eyes were slightly glazed, cheeks flushed. “Overwhelmed. Oh gods. That’s…so much.”

He grimaced. “I tried to stem some of the images but you kept—”

She barked a laugh, tight and wild. “You, Malfoy. It can’t be—oh gods there’s no way—”

Desire shot through him, mixing potently with pride and affection. Holding her eye, he gently, carefully, gripped her wrist and slid her hand from his chest down his abdomen, stopping the buckle of his belt. 

“Go ahead. Find out.”

A small rotation within his hold, and then her palm was cupping him, eyes widening as she mapped him. 

“Oh…Godric.” Lips parted, eyes dropping — he preened. “Fuck, you’re…”

She found the tip and squeezed it lightly, seeing the pleasure in his face, then stroked him all the way up to the base. He had to bite his lip to stem the pathetic noise burning in his throat at her confident touch. 

“Can I see you?” she asked, the question tinged with wonderment. 

“Fuck. Absolutely.” He went to undo his belt but she got there first, batting his hands away and working the leather through the silver buckle. 

Her eyes only broke from his when the zipper snagged at the bulge, looking down to work over the obstacle begging to be set free. As soon as his fly was undone, she pulled at the waistband of his black briefs and dipped her hand inside. He sucked in a breath when her knuckles skimmed his pelvis and then hissed it out when she found his cock. 

“Oh…” The word faded as her lips parted, eyes rounding, and then she was tugging at the waistband, baring him to the room. “...fuck.”

It was silly to be proud of something he’d had no role in obtaining, but the feeling surged in his chest all the same. 

“You can touch,” he whispered, “if you like.”

She didn’t hesitate, her hand smoothing up his length in a single, devastating glide that made his next blink labored and sluggish. The number of times he’d imagined this very act–

The little crease between her brows was back, hinting at a busy mind. He wanted so desperately to know what she was thinking, except that she was still stroking his cock, and he’d been hard for her for years, and coping with the situation was getting dicey, let alone unpacking it in real-time. 

Maybe she’d get him off and then he’d be able to think fully; he’d make it up to her twenty times over. Or maybe he should pull her hand off and make it up to her first. Yes. That was the better route.

He was about to do just that when she squeezed until her middle finger and thumb touched, eyes flicking up to his when he grunted at the constriction. Oh…fucking hell. 

“This is…” She let go of him to grip her wrist, and a little sound of despair escaped when her fingers touched easily. “Jesus fuck, Draco.”

He wanted her hand back on him; was nearly dizzy with want and from standing for so long on only two of his available legs. 

“I told you. I don’t fit the standard size.”

“No, you most certainly do not.” She reached for him again, squeezing then stroking. “Right. Get on the bed. Straightaway.”

While her enthusiasm was intensely gratifying, he caught her elbow and pulled her to him. “Kiss me again?”

“I’m going to kiss you lots,” she assured him, but went up to press her lips to his obligingly. He leaned into it, turning it long and languid, savoring her. 

“I’m about to be nearly incoherent,” he explained softly, pecking another compulsive kiss to her lips. “Wanted one more to remember.”

She scoffed, amused and pleased. “Ridiculous man.”

“Want back inside my head?” he offered dryly. “I’m pathetically into you. There’s a massive chance this is going to kill me.”

She hummed a warm, alluring sound, and finally succeeded in tugging him to the bed, letting go to climb up and settle onto her back. “It certainly seems so. Trousers off; shirt too.”

From her place on the bed, she watched as he hurriedly undressed, tossing his shirt to the side and then kicking off his trousers, leaving everything in a rumpled mess. When she sat up to pull her own shirt off, he had to wrap his fingers at his base. 

“You should be on top,” he said, trying to keep a level head as she revealed dusky nipples, the well of her navel, a tidy strip of curls. “You’ll…uh, you’ll have more control over the depth and pace.”

She shook her head obstinately, tossing her knickers aside and then bringing her knees up, feet wide. “I don’t want the control — I want to feel you on top of me, breaking me open.”

He had to squeeze his eyes shut against the double-punch of her words and body. “Don’t—Merlin fucking hell, Granger. Fuck.”

“I trust you,” she promised. “You showed me what you want. And I want you to have it. If you don’t believe me, then come have a look for yourself.”

It wasn't an idle invitation, he knew, and so he took it, needing to be sure. A wand wasn’t necessary for him; neither was opening his eyes or his mouth. He just felt for her behind his lids and whispered the word to himself, slow and curling. Legilimens.

She’d been ready for him; had the image front and center for his consumption. He devoured it. 

A view down her abdomen, muscles tensing, legs wide, the toy in her hand glistening with every retreat, every thrust forward met with a burst of pleasure. Thick. Almost as thick as her wrist. 

”It’ll fit,” she whispered, in his mind and out loud. “See? I’m so good at taking it.”

The reality of his present circumstances hit a moment later. He was inside her mind; she’d let him in and wanted him to know—

He was on the bed a moment later, crawling over her, pushing her thighs wider to fit himself between them, scrambling to get out of her mind before he fully lost control. He had just enough coherence left to look down, wanting to memorize the sight of himself resting over her pelvis, when she instantly foiled any plans at retention by dropping a hand and pressing his length solidly against her. He felt the soft heat of her belly, the raw need conveyed in her touch, and groaned, oozing precum into her navel.

“Gods,” he whined, hips jerking forward involuntarily. “Please, can I–?”

She encircled him, pushing him lower. “Absolutely, yes.” 

He took over, as she’d requested, but despite the memory she’d shown him, knew she needed preparation. Lips pressed to her throat, and then her collarbones as he supported himself on a forearm beside her head and sank a finger deep. She rocked up against his wrist, keening again, and grabbed for him, fingers raking into his hair. 

One was easy, two were snug, three were a stretch. 

He panted against her breast then withdrew his fingers to work them over her clit, licking his way up to her mouth, muffling her moans. 

She nipped at his lip, sucked it, then broke off to pant, “Inside.”

It was overwhelming. To stroke himself and feel her arousal coat him; to push against the source of it and be slowly welcomed in. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his back as he eased himself inside, the way made easier once she’d taken the broad head. 

Her breath left her in a gasp as he reached under her lower back to lift, adjusting the angle until he could sink in to the hilt. It was better than even his most careful fantasies, the ones that he sat with for days, stitching together until it felt real enough that when he fucked his toy, it truly felt like her.

It hadn’t though – not even close. Where the silicone gave way, she hugged. Where it dried, she was soaked and getting wetter. And when he reached between them to thumb at her clit, she stuttered out his name.

It was the response to his call that he’d yearned for; he kissed it off her tongue, then called it forth again and again until her nails were biting into his skin and the end was reaching for him with two, tight fists. 

“You feel–” There weren't any words. “You’re so–Is this–?”

“So good,” she panted. “Gods, you feel so much better.”

He didn’t need to ask than what, not when his own toy would now be relegated to second place; to the bin. But despite all his fervent practice with it, it seemed the toy had been insufficient stamina training when he was inundated with her. The barrage of sensation – her scent, her touch, her sounds, her pleasure – was breaking him down until he was careening to the edge, doing whatever he could to pull her over with him. 

“Is it enough?” He worked his thumb over her clit, palm warm and heavy above where he could feel – fuck – feel himself thrusting inside. “What can I do?”

“Just don’t stop,” she moaned.

Well. Then he was about to fail her. 

If only he could get his tongue between her legs without needing to move–

He dropped his forehead to hers and offered her a thought, rich in detail, saturated with desire: the slow, steady suction of a mouth, the wet curl of a tongue strumming; relentless, endless pressure.

“Draco,” she whined. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck.”

Her body closed down around him, arms and legs and inner walls until she was shaking and, blissfully, miraculously, coming. The constriction was like nothing he’d ever felt, the pulses strong and coaxing until he was stammering out her name, orgasm wracking through him and into her, mind and body. 

When coherence slowly returned, he eased out of her mind but let his hips rest heavily against hers, luxuriating in the little aftershocks. Her arms were slack around his shoulders, mouth ajar against his, catching her breath.

“Holy shit,” she panted. “Jesus, that was–holy shit.”

“Should have asked,” he mumbled, giving her a lazy kiss before slipping sideways to nuzzle into the crook of her neck. “The mind thing. And the coming inside thing.”

“Both were…” She huffed a laugh, sliding an arm up his back to card through his hair. “Gods.”

“Good.” He exhaled, exhausted and the most sated of his life. “Good.”

“Better than good.” Her fingers swirled through his hair idly. “You ought to be up there leading the seminar.”

He huffed a laugh against her curls. “Ah, yes. How to Make a Witch Come with Thoughts. Lesson one: be pathetically desperate for her, and uninhibited with letting her see it.” He raised his head to slant a grin down at her. “Think it’d be well attended?”

“Hmm, I’m not sure.” Her responding smile was cheeky, the edge of her lip caught in her teeth. “Should I practice the first lesson, and you can give me pointers?”

She kissed his cheek then encouraged him over onto his back, following him over to sit over his hips. “Okay, Draco. Lesson one. Ready?” 

Mouth dry, he nodded. Her eyes were fond as they held his, the amber as warm and inviting as her soft word.

“Legilimens.”

(fin)

[a-memory-a-distant-echo]

ok, i'm being so brave and making the rec post that i told anon i would do like three days ago.

the obligatory caveats. this is not comprehensive—i haven't read all the fic in this fandom, and i've barely looked at anything not in english. my reading habits are pretty broad—i'll read almost any pairing, and am generally willing to suspend my disbelief to do so. i am not usually an au person, though this fandom is doing its absolute damndest to prove me wrong on that point.

also i have…more…fics that i felt i should rec somewhere, so probably this is rec post one, but ten felt like enough and also saying things in public where people can hear me is, it turns out, absolutely excruciating. please no one be mean to me about this post, especially if you wrote one of these fics, because if you are i will simply fill my pockets with rocks and take to the sea, ok? ok.

excited to find out what i manage to do that ruins the formatting, links the wrong fics and/or people, or otherwise breaks things in this post. please tell me if i've fucked up, or if your fic is on this list and you would rather i keep your name out of my mouth, or whatever.

first, a very special mention to the mlc reference guide by @yletylyf. this is such an incredibly comprehensive and generous resource. you want a timeline for this show that does an incredibly poor job of maintaining its own timeline? it's here. you want episode summaries? they're here. you want all the people and places? they're here. if you're writing fic, you want this guide, because it's so much easier and faster than scanning episodes or subs files to figure out the name of one specific guy or whatever. it also means that at least occasionally you work on the thing rather than accidentally rewatching the same scene five times, or hypothetically watching two to four episodes without even really thinking about what you're doing. the reference guide is the unsung mvp of fandom.

beyond porch and portal, difanghua, teen, by willowdream. this is the vampire au that i didn't know i wanted? the author posted it and their note was like 'i'm trying to be the change i want to see in the world,' and i was like ok sure, i'm not really convinced that the change i need is vampire aus, but i'll give it a go, and then i did and was like, oh shit, i'm eating fucking glass about this vampire au, i'm chewing on my own fucking fingers, i'm so fucking normal about this, i need another hundred thousand words of this and also seventeen more vampire aus in my inbox by monday morning. i literally finished reading it and scrolled right back to the top to read it again. i have no idea why this fic hits so hard, but it took me out at the knees. the voices are perfect. something about it is just impossibly compelling.

不安的遠離，再无歸期 | restless distance, without return, fang duobing/qiao wanmian, mature and teen, by @difeisheng. this is technically two fics but they're short and you should read both of them because they're such a brutal, perfect encapsulation of grief, and a really beautiful acknowledgement of the ways that fang duobing and qiao wanmian can be read as reflections of each other, separated by a decade, and it just fucking guts me. i dunno. it's about the grief! it's about the yearning! it's about someone who understands parts of you that you wish didn't exist! i think i've reread this like once a week for the last six weeks and i feel like it gets overlooked because it's not A Ship but like. it could be. it should be.

dance the silence down, fanghua and feihua, explicit, by @momosandlemonsoda. this fic. ugh. ok. i'm breaking my own rules. i had two when i started writing this post: no works in progress, and no reccing things that i haven't left a comment on, like a goddamn grownup. this one fic is breaking both of those rules and i feel bad about it and will hopefully spend like, all day tomorrow just commenting on every chapter or something, but i have to do this. this fic is so good. this fic ruins me. this fic is 63k, still a work in progress, and also if i were losing the whole internet tomorrow and i got to keep one fic in all the world and it was the only fic i could have for the rest of time, it might have to be this one, even as a work in progress. i ignored this fic for so long—by which i mean probably two of the four months since i first watched mysterious lotus casebook—because i was like, i don't like aus, and i especially don't like rock star aus. (or sex work aus, and you're never gonna fucking believe what else this author is writing and what else i absolutely cannot get enough of—this is a sneaky bonus rec for all i wanna do is wrong, another fic that i feel so so so normal about!) but then i was like okkkkkkk but. maybe i'll try it. people seem to be nuts for it. and then i read it and i was like OH HOLY SHIT PEOPLE ARE FULLY CORRECT TO BE ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED ABOUT THIS and normally, honestly, i wouldn't bother posting a rec like this because it's like 'oh haha have you read the five most popular fics in this fandom?' and it feels so redundant, but i know for a fact that a friend of mine who finished watching the show yesterday is reading this post, and even if everyone else has read it, she has not! anyhow as a former music person and a former diner cook, this fic like. i don't know. i feel like it broke me but also fixed me? i literally criticise writing professionally and every time i try to talk about this fic i find myself speechless because it's so perfect to me. i am deeply unwell about this fic. every time a new chapter comes out i sit down and read the whole thing again, yes, all sixty-thousand-plus words of it. some nights you go to bed and you're like 'what's the fucking point?' and then you're like 'no wait, there will eventually be more of dance the silence down,' and somehow that makes things suck a tiny bit less. my wife has made me take out like six sentences from this rec because they're too intense and too weird about it but i need you to understand: you have to read this fic.

in this dream, there is a lover to share this life with, fanghua, g, by @lianhuajing. alternative ending for the end of episode 27, in which li lianhua—precious man who has yet to discover a hill he's not willing to die on—apologises to fang duobing the only way he knows how, and it's wildly upsetting for everyone (but it's ok and it doesn't end miserably, no one panic). this is a delightfully angsty treat, and i love how conflicted fang duobing is in it—i feel like it's not something that i've seen explored a lot, but this poor boy really fuckin goes through it—his best friend and his childhood idol are the same person but are lying to him about it, and his dad's not actually his father and has been lying to him about it, and his best friend/childhood idol may have killed his father, and—yeah, is lying to him about it. like? someone give this poor man a hug and a cup of tea and a snack and a blankie. i love that we get to see some of his internal conflict in this.

quintessence of dust, feihua, teen, by justthereforit. this plays with one of my very most favourite tropes in the world, which is the one where the heart is a physical object and a physical form of trust and control and surrender and—like. this is so good. it's set in episode 13, which is, for me, one of the absolute peak angst points, and it absolutely nails it. di feisheng who's upset and vulnerable and frustrated and angry, li lianhua who knows he's going to die and can't bear the thought that he's going to take anyone else down with him, and they're both just so fucked up. chef kiss. i love it when everyone is emotionally wrecked and continually like 'ok no, i can take one more knife in my soul to protect someone else', and this absolutely delivers on that.

under moonlight, we change our futures yet again, feihua, explicit, by @thesilversun. the wedding room! obviously we have to have a wedding room fic, right? i'm not going to lie: i'm willing to suspend a lot of disbelief for wedding room fics, but in this one, it's actually a wonderfully, horrifyingly plausible setup. it walks a really fine line of keeping people in character, and acknowledging the inherent horror and seriousness of the situation, and also providing some desperately hot sex, and also managing to get the emotional beats of it, too. it has a sequel, which imo really has to be read as the conclusion to this fic, and it's just as good. it's possible that some of what i'm saying here is 'i love vulnerable-inside crusty-outside di feisheng' but like. i do. i love it so much.

what's sealed away, feihua, teen, by @bbcphile. AMNESIA FIC yessssss, a-fei my beloved, fics that handle brain damage/memory issues/amnesia well my beloveddddd. i love the a-fei arc, but i also have had a number of brain injuries and some other stuff that means that my own memory is…not so great, so i sometimes really struggle with how often amnesia in fiction is played off either as nothing to worry about or as a funny thing where everyone's in on the joke except the person who has amnesia. this fic is a great and sometimes very visceral exploration of a horrifying experience, and a really fantastic study of a-fei/di feisheng as a character, as well as the relationship that he has with li lianhua. a-fei trying to balance the trust he has in the sense memory of his body with his understanding of his relationship with li lianhua with li lianhua's reaction to—everything, really—is really well done and wonderful/terrible to read.

我只愿面朝大海 | i wish only to face the sea, g, by foreverstudent. ok so you wanna fuck yourself up some more? go read this. this is canon divergence from episode 39, and fang duobing has learned too well the lessons he's been taught, and sees the shape of things before li lianhua ever touches the wangchuan flower—so he sets about making sure that he won't be able to throw it away. this is agonising and gorgeous and maintains the canon relationships while developing the narrative differently. i wept literal tears. i was like 'ok that's it the worst part is over!' and then i remembered that there was another part coming and then i started crying. anyhow, it is—as ever, with me—about the devotion.

我住長江頭, 君住長江尾 -- i live upstream, you live downstream, fanghua, teen, by @rimbaudofficial. ok so this is Not a fic that i should like, because i am a massive academic failure and despite being in my forties have regular nightmares about having to re-engage with academia for like. any reason. HOWEVER. as noted, i read indiscriminately, even when i'm like 'reading this is a terrible idea and will be upsetting for me personally!', so i was like 'well, how bad of an idea can it possibly be?' and then instead! it was. incredibly charming? it was so fucking cute? the fang duobing characterisation in this is somehow just perfect to me—he's simultaneously confident and vulnerable, and also just so deeply committed to the weird clueless guy who he's decided is meant for him. di feisheng and li lianhua have a perfect weird-bros friendship. i would read another ten chapters of this and i would love it.

[shewritesallnight]

Cell Block Tango [BSD]

YN is sick of listening to Dazai’s and Fyodor’s prison mind games. Locked away underground, she yearns for a distraction and decides that it’s time for a special game of her own. But can she keep control while playing against not one but two demons…

Rating: 18+, NSFW

3.5K words

a/n: Spoiler alert for anime fans but if you are up to date with manga translations then it’s nothing new. For the sake of this fic we are gonna pretend that the prison suits are two pieces rather than the jumpsuit. We are also sticking to the manga version of the prison, not the hamster balls :p

There was a dull throb at the back of her skull and she was pretty sure she was about to have an aneurysm. That or she was finally going insane. It had been bad enough that she was stuck in Meursault; but being trapped in a box between two maniacs made her mind spin.

How she got in this mess, YN wasn’t entirely sure, but she was willing to bet Chuuya’s entire wine collection that it had to do with one of Dazai’s little schemes. She had hoped to never find herself again playing pawn to the former Executive once he disappeared from the Port Mafia.

Apparently, that was just wishful thinking.

The Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia and the Demon Fyodor faced off in front of her. Sitting in ridiculous plexiglass cells like Hannibal Lector; and she had been graced with the misfortune of being stuck next to both, completing their little block in the shape of a U.

She had tried, when she first arrived, to question the males; an attempt at getting some idea why she had to be thrown in here. To no avail.

At some point, boredom pushed her to start a guessing game between the two of them to see who could recognize songs as she hummed the tune.

Dazai was up to date with the most current pop songs and seemingly a fan of country music. Fyodor was calling out titles before she even got to the second note of anything remotely classical or rap related.

She wasn’t sure if he called out the latter so quickly because he enjoyed the songs or he just didn’t want to hear them.

Once the conversations evolved to apparent mind reading, she left them to their devices. For all she knew they were absolutely bullshitting and toying with her mind as a form of entertainment.

She wouldn’t put it past them.

How long had they been going at it? Was it days? Weeks? It was so hard to tell in this place, though she had no doubt her two prison mates would know.

She craved stimulation, a new book, real music, or a conversation with a normal person. Hell, she was ready to attack a guard for a change of pace. Though they rarely came around save to drop off food and when they did, they remained silent and out of reach.

No doubt a stipulation to prevent any secretive communication to the outside world.

"97,462."

"4,475."

YN groaned, slamming her pillow over her face to drown out the ceaseless stream of numbers. It would put her out of her misery, if she suffocated herself with the pillow. Better yet, would be to suffocate the two of them.

She giggled into the fluff, building the scenario in her mind but frowned when her imagination came to Dazai.

The suicidal maniac would probably enjoy it.

"Uhg," with a huff, she dragged the pillow down from her face and onto her chest.

Her breath stuttered. A delicious jolt shot down her spine at the feel of the pillow brushing over her clothed nipples.

Were the prison uniforms that thin?

She tugged the pillow down another inch and her toes curled at the friction. She chanced a glance towards her cell block mates, still locked in their staring death match and spouting off numbers at a rapid pace.

Maybe they wouldn't notice. Or maybe she wanted them to, her face flushed at the thought.

Maybe she really was going insane.

Either way, it would be a much needed distraction and if it threw those two off their game while working off some frustration, even better.

Decision made, she returned her pillow behind her head and settled against the sheets. As a test she brushed her thumbnail over a nipple and keened.

Fuck, that felt good.

She slipped a hand under her top to cup her breast, gently squeezing, and groaned. Her other hand traveled down to rub over the clothed apex of her thighs.

Once. 

Twice.

Three times, just to feel the delicious friction.

She moved to tug on the band of her pants.

"What do we have here?" "What do you think you're doing?"

Her body froze at the overlapping voices. Caught, like a deer facing off with two wolves. 

She flicked her eyes first to Dazai then across to Fyodor. The duo had their gaze burning into her. She could only imagine her appearance to them. One hand hidden beneath her shirt with the other poised to slip beneath the fabric of her pants.

"I-i,” she paused. 

Honesty was out of the question, there was no way she was going to tell them that she was so bored that she accidentally made herself horny with the idea of them watching her masturbate.

A half-truth then, just enough to placate them.

She cleared her throat before speaking again, “While your little numbers game has been stimulating. I crave a more carnal distraction.”

Not breaking eye contact with the Russian, she slid her hand into her bottoms. YN bit her lip to keep from moaning when her fingertips brushed against her clit.

Was the base of his neck turning red or was that a trick of the prison lights?

"Tell me, Bella," her eyes darted to Dazai, "who brought about these carnal desires?"

Neither of them.

She hadn't been thinking of anything but the sweetness of release.

Lies.

Both men were at the forefront of her mind. It was no secret that the two of them were quite handsome in their own aggravating way. It wouldn’t be the first time she had thought about-

Annoyed, she huffed out a quick, "The both of you seem to be skilled at guessing games, why don’t you figure it out?”

She knew she made a mistake when his eyes darkened.

Holding her gaze, Dazai spoke to his rival. "Shall we find out which one of us makes her pant like a common whore?"

Heat rushed to her face.

"Seems a pointless competition when we already know who it is."

Dazai’s eyes cut to Fyodor and she felt the tension settle around the three of them. 

Taking advantage of their distraction, she took the time to take in the two figures. Dazai had a prominent tent in his pants. While Fyodor sported a large bulge; his very real flush had darkened at his neck, she wondered how far down his chest the color spread. 

It was intoxicating.

The idea of these two men arguing and turned on because of her. She felt a rush of wetness at her entrance, slipped a finger in, and moaned.

She didn't notice when she became the focus of their attention again or that Dazai had pulled his cock from his pants. Nor did she notice how Fyodor tugged his bottoms down mid-thigh and started rubbing at his own.

She was lost to the brush of her finger against her inner walls until Fyodor cut through the haze with his words.

"Myshka, look at me."

She looked up to Fyodor and sucked in a breath. He leaned back on his bed with one hand, the other working around his cock. From what she could see, the tip was the same pretty red color and smeared in precum. 

Dazai had stood, now leaning against the corner of his cell, fully facing her. She had a clearer view of his cock and could see his fingers run across the prominent vein underneath.

He looked delicious and she clenched at the view. She wanted to wrap her lips around the head and swallow him down till she felt him at the back of her throat. 

As if reading her mind, Dazai smirked. He picked up the pace of his hand when a small sigh fell from her lips.

"Do you imagine my fingers replacing yours? Reaching places you can only dream of?" She whined, eyes closing to get lost in the scene.

Yes, she wanted it.

"She would prefer my tongue working her open, tasting her until she screams." 

"F-fuck," she stuttered at Fyodor's words, curling her finger and imagining his tongue in her. 

She couldn't decide which scenario she liked better, riding his face until her body gave out or seeing Fyodor below her, worshiping her cunt from his knees. 

Dazai clicked his tongue, “It would take more than your slimy appendage to ready her for me. Don’t you think Bella?”

He tapped his tip against the plexiglass. “Let’s see how well you prepare for me. Add another finger.”

Shimming off her bottoms, she kicked them to the floor of her cell. Following his instructions, she slipped in a second finger. It was tight and she knew it wouldn’t be enough to let him in. 

Breathlessly, she began scissoring her fingers, stretching herself.

The feeling was glorious.

She wondered how he would feel, hot and heavy inside her. She’d be lying if she said she never thought of it, of him taking her against the wall at headquarters. It made her whimper, adding in a third finger.

The action wasn’t lost on her audience.

“So desperate for my cock that you can’t even wait for directions. How impatient of you.”

Muffled profanity slipped from Fyodor’s lips as she raised her shirt to her collar, exposing her breasts, to pull at her nipple.

She couldn’t hear their harsh breaths, but she could see them falling apart. Dazai’s forehead fell against the wall, his hips thrusting forward to fuck into his hand. 

Fyodor had leaned forward over his legs, one hand still working his cock while the other fondled his balls.

They continued talking, feeding off each other and the display of her body before them. Speaking into existence all the sordid little fantasies she kept tucked away in the back of her mind.

She would have thought they really did have the ability to read minds if they hadn’t spoken of other darker desires. Words that sat heavy in her core and pushed her that much closer to the edge.

She had never seen either man look so disheveled; and she had never wanted anything more than to be in the same cell as them. To hear and feel their words across her skin as they pounded into her.

“N-nhg” Her teeth clamped down on her lip to prevent the syllables from escaping, a name hanging on the tip of her tongue.

She hissed at the pain but was thankful for it.

When did she start to lose control?

There was no way she was going to give into their twisted antics. She would not say either of their names. No matter how badly she wanted to give in.

She struggled to muffle another moan, pleasure building at her center. A thought drifted across her mind, maybe she could tip things back into her favor.

If they wanted her to call out a name, she would.

It would have to be someone they both knew. Someone who would affect both men.

Someone like- oh.

Like him.

She teetered on the edge, palm grinding against her clit-

“Come for me,” they uttered at the same time.

-and she free fell into oblivion.

“Ah-h-Ango!” she cried out, eyes rolling back as her back arched off the mattress. 

Her thighs trapped her wrist while her walls fluttered around her fingers; barely registering the sputtered choke and subsequent snarl in the background.

She collapsed to her mattress, liquid and loose, and took several deep calming breaths then turned towards her audience. 

Dazai’s cum dripped down from where it splattered against the plexiglass, he looked pained. His hand next to his head in a fist.

A quick glance to Fyodor revealed his hands were covered in his release, a displeased look on his face as he watched her.

Pulling her fingers from her core, she made a dramatic show of slurping and sucking the digits clean, tugged her shirt down, and turned her back on the two.

With a flip of her middle finger towards the demonic duo, she pulled the blanket over her body and settled in to sleep.  

BONUS:

There is a saying, that if looks could kill...

Ango had never understood those words more than in that moment. 

He felt the crushing glare from the two demons on the monitors as if they were in the same room as him. Suddenly, he was very glad to have them locked away.

All the wall monitors of the intelligence room were focused on the three cells, as they had been, since the moment the prisoners had taken their first steps into Meursault.

Sure, he had expected to witness some private moments but to witness that and for YN to call out his name at the end.

There were alarm bells going off in the back of his mind but it didn’t matter. He never dared to dream that she could- that she would- 

His pants felt tight, uncomfortably tight.

Ango could feel the burn of all the eyes in the room, pointedly not looking in his direction.

The triple agent’s face was in flames, a hand covered the bottom half of his face. Trying and failing to maintain a sense of normalcy after the show.

And what a show it was.

The servers would have to be wiped. It could complicate things if he was implicated in whatever Dazai had planned.

Yes, they would have to be wiped. 

But Ango wouldn’t put it past his former friend to have a secret message slipped in. Dazai’s heart rate would need to be compared to the video and decoded. Just in case.

Ango would have to take a copy of the video home to thoroughly examine it.

Fun Fact: Ango was the one to arrest YN. Babygirl knew what she was doing when she fed him to the wolves 💅

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