#plain and fancy fucking

[shitpostroundhouse]

[broadwaydivastournament]

Broadway Divas Tournament: Round 2A

Laura Linney (1964) "LAURA LINNEY (Diana) Broadway credits include My Name is Lucy Barton (Tony nom. dir. Richard Eyre): The Little Foxes (Tony nom.) Time Stands Still (Tony nom.) and Sight Unseen (Tony nom.) all directed by Daniel Sullivan at MTC. Other credits include Les Liaisons Dangereauses, The Crucible (Tony nom.), Uncle Vanya, Hedda Gabler, Honour, Holiday, The Seagull, Beggars in the House of Plenty, Six Degrees of Separation. Television credits: "Armistead Maupin's Tales of the City," "Ozark" (SAG, Emmy nom), "The Big C" (Emmy, Golden Globe Awards), "John Adams" (SAG, Golden Globe, Emmy Awards), "Frasier" (Emmy Award), "Wild Iris" (Emmy Award), "The Laramie Project," "Tales of the City" trilogy. Film: Falling, The Dinner, Nocturnal Animals, Sully, Sympathy for Delicious, Morning, The Details, The Savages (Oscar nom), Kinsey (Oscar nom), You Can Count on Me (Oscar nom), The Other Man, City of Your Final Destination, The Squid and the Whale, Jindabyne, Love Actually, Mystic River, The Nanny Diaries, Breach, Man of the Year, The Hottest State, Driving Lessons, The Exorcism of Emily Rose, P.S., The Life of David Gale, The Mothman Prophecies, Maze, The House of Mirth, The Truman Show, Absolute Power, Primal Fear, Congo, Lorenzo's Oil, Dave. Training: The Julliard School, Brown University. Member: AEA, SAG." - Playbill bio from Summer, 1976, June 2023.

Audra McDonald (1970) "AUDRA MCDONALD (Suzanne Alexander) is honored to take part in Adrienne Kennedy's historic and long overdue Broadway debut. A board member of Covenant House International and co-founder of Black Theatre United, McDonald is a singer, actor, and activist who lives in New York with her amazing husband and children." - Playbill bio from Ohio State Murders, December 2022.

NEW PROPAGANDA AND MEDIA UNDER CUT: ALL POLLS HERE

"Do you ever think Laura Linney reads her playbill bio and cries? Does she dream of the day when she too will hold a Tony Award aloft in triumph, or has she resigned herself to being one of four actresses with the biggest fail rate and will one day hold the record outright? (Given that Estelle Parsons is in her nineties, Dana Ivey is in her eighties, and Jan Maxwell, my beloved, is dead?) Anyway, the point of this isn't to rub salt in the wound. Love you, Laura Linney."

"It's too mean to title this poll Biggest Tony Winner vs. Biggest Tony Loser but it's pretty damn accurate, and given the overwhelming whiteness of award shows overall, it's damn satisfying that the Black woman is the one with a record-breaking Tonys on her shelf and the white blonde woman is not (no matter how talented she is). Audra McDonald, my beloved, you're going to sweep this entire tournament."

[gloriousmonsters]

does anyone know how 2 make poetry posts that look good. like when it's pictures of text or w/e. I feel like every time I try to upload images of words to tumblr they get blurry as hell

[lighthouseborn]

i understand and even like carrd as info host for its mobile accessibility but it's genuinely so bizarre to me that people ever made the move to go/ogle doc.s over just. having pages on your blog theme.

[antlereed]

laudna in a suit. laudna in ripped jeans and a leather jacket shes been putting spikes on. laudna in a denim jacket she stole from imogen and refuses to give back. laudna in a hoodie that swallows her whole because its so large. laudna in increasingly goofy beanies and hats

[hermitsdump]

So I have this spreadsheet of scents that I would use to make candles that smell like different characters, right

But it's hard to decide on a vessel for some of them

Anyway I went back to the candle shop today and a good bit of them were cycled out for other scents (maybe Choso will get his next year)

So I wanted to use the seasonal scents while they're here, yk

And I came out with one inspired by Sukuna's milk

[planetaryupscaled]

Sharing is Fun!

Male Reader x Yeji x Yujin x Kazuha x Karina

Tags: 12k, smut, threesome, oral, anal, creampie

I didn’t know if we had ever put any labels on our relationship, simply because Yeji was always so busy. But I always considered myself lucky when I had a chance to be around her. And after all the airports, all the hotels, and many hours on stage. The fact that she decided to spend her free time with me calmed my nerves just a bit.

It was Tuesday. We were cuddling up on the couch under the comforter, my arm wrapped around her body. Yeji was watching but I was staring down at her lovely face. Everything about her is perfect.

Yeji noticed my gaze out of the corner of her eye. She looked up at me and kissed me on the cheek. My left hand travelled from her bare shoulder to her breast.

“Babe, we just had sex” Yeji said, she adjusted her body so my hand went back to her shoulder. “You just fucked my brains out.”

“Hmm.” I shrugged. “I think it’s quite the opposite.”

Yeji slapped my chest playfully. We woke up early, and let’s say it took us a while to get out of bed. Yeji gave me a knowing smirk.

“I’m just touching.” I said.

“We’re gonna be like one of those couples that can’t take their hands off each other.” Yeji laughed.

My eyes wandered down to her silky-smooth legs. Yeji wore a plain white thin-strap tank top and grey athletic shorts.

“Someday we’re gonna have a whole day without sex.” Yeji began to giggle before she could even get half the sentence out.

“See? You know you’re lying.” I laughed with her.

“Shut up.” Yeji grabbed the side of my head and kissed me softly. I kissed her back with my hands moving towards her sides. Yeji moaned into my mouth until her phone rang.

Yeji quickly broke the kiss and nearly kicked me in the chest to reach her phone. She read the message and then stood up, giving me a little happy dance with her hips swaying.

“What happened?” I asked, a small part of me was nervous she’d just gotten a new gig. Yeji turned around with a smile.

“A very special guest.” Yeji said with a sexy purr.

“Special guest?” I asked, raising my eyes and wondering who it could be.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“It’s a surprise.” Yeji grinned.

“C’mon…” I whined.

“I’ll give you a hint,” Yeji said and proceeded to do a little dance. “You’re gonna need a lot of energy.” She then got up and walked away towards the stairs.

“Hey, that’s barely a hint!” I jokingly shouted.

“She’ll be here in an hour. Can you cook something?” Yeji asked.

“I… Sure.” I shrugged.

“Thank you, babe.” Yeji blew a kiss and trotted upstairs.

I didn’t have the ingredients or time to make something fancy, so I just decided to make spaghetti. Yeji came downstairs with black heels clicking against the steps. My cock twitched when I saw her outfit. She wore a tight black strapless dress that showed off her long legs and pushed her breasts upwards. Her hair was styled to wavy perfection and her lips were a sexy and classy bright red.

“Wow.” I said, staring up at her phenomenal figure. Yeji smiled cutely and spun around when she reached the bottom of the steps.

“Should I get my suit?” I asked.

“If you want.” Yeji smiled. “I think you’re fine.”

“You just seem a little overdressed compared to me.”

“You want me to take it off?” Yeji asked with a fake pout.

“I mean…”

“No. Not yet,” Yeji smiled and made her way towards me, her eyes locked onto the display of food.

“Mmm… Looks good.” Yeji hugged me. She placed her face against my chest. I wanted to grab her ass, but the doorbell rang.

“She’s here!” Yeji backed off of me and pushed me towards the door.

“Coming!” I shouted. I opened the door to find Karina standing there.

“Hey! It’s good to see you!” Karina beamed. She wore a simple outfit, a pair of form-fitting blue jeans and a loose-fitting black shirt that showed off her long line of cleavage. Karina gave me a big hug before I let her in the house.

“Yeji!” Karina yelped after placing her purse on the table. Yeji wrapped Karina up in a hug. Yeji giggled coyly and broke the hug.

“Now as much as I’d love to catch up, I need to take a quick trip to the loo.” Karina gave us a polite smile and shuffled off to the bathroom upstairs.

“You didn’t tell me it was going to be Karina…” I mumbled.

“I told you it was a surprise.” Yeji shrugged.

“I mean, I’m not complaining.”

“Good.” Yeji kissed me on the cheek. Karina came back from the bathroom and let out a deep sigh.

“How was the flight?” Yeji asked.

“Argh.” Karina sighed. “Anything negatives you can think of, you know the drill.” She said as she ran her fingers through her hair.

“Well, you can finally relax. How long do you plan on staying?” I asked as Karina sat down on the couch and kicked her shoes off.

“A few days,” Karina said. “Then I have to go back to Milan.”

“That’s great.” Yeji smiled.

“I made spaghetti; do you want some?” I asked.

“Oh yes!” Karina jumped off the couch and made a beeline for the kitchen.

“This looks amazing!” Karina smiled as she grabbed a plate and walked back to the couch, holding her plate and fork.

We ate together and chatted casually about our jobs. Karina finished her meal first and kept an eye on me and Yeji as we talked. I was sitting next to Karina, with her hand on my inner thigh.

“How’s your sex life?” Karina asked casually. Yeji just finished talking about her solo comeback.

“It’s good.” I replied, clearing my throat awkwardly. Karina’s cleavage and her sexy smile were right in my peripherals.

“Just good?  I was asking you both.”

“Well, we certainly do it a lot.” Yeji laughed.

“Look. You two are cute couple,” Karina said. “But I’m nice, full and horny.” she said. Her voice was full of anticipation.

I smiled at Yeji. Yeji shrugged and smiled back. When I turned my body towards Karina, she immediately pulled me in for a kiss.

I groaned as her soft lips, and even softer, much heavier breasts pressed against my chest. Karina’s hands slid down to the waistband of my shorts, tugging hard while trying to maintain the kiss. I broke it to help her.

“Thanks.” Karina grinned as she got off the couch to move me along. Karina was on her knees in between my legs, pulling my shorts down my legs with a smile that could only be described as sophisticated sluttiness. She moved with the elegance of a woman of her status, but pulling my shorts down like a cock-hungry whore.

“Yes…” Karina groaned as my underwear came into view. She kept those gorgeous eyes of hers on mine as she kissed my shaft through the fabric. Karina placed her fingers in the waistband of my underwear as she trailed her kisses lower towards my tip. Karina purred as she yanked my underwear down my legs, freeing my rock-hard cock.

“Oh, you’re huge…” Karina bit her bottom lip in the sexiest way possible. I kicked my discarded bottoms to the side as Karina grabbed my throbbing cock with both of her tiny hands.

“You’re one lucky girl.” Karina smiled at Yeji direction.

“Oh, I know.” Yeji laughed as her hands crept under her dress. Karina swallowed my cock while keeping her eyes on me. She slowly, oh so slowly began to bob her head, her soft lips sliding up and down my cock. Karina moaned tenderly into the wet skin of my shaft, a slick trail of spit shining up my cock.

“Fuck…” I moaned as Karina went deeper. She gags a little but doesn’t even slow down as her nose met my pubic bone. Karina was smiling with her eyes as every inch of my dick was buried down her throat. I groaned and hissed in pure pleasure as my cock was trapped in the warm mouth.

“That’s so hot…” Yeji moaned, now clearly touching herself. I heard the sound of her fingers working her slick pussy over my heavy breathing. Karina held my cock for a while before pulling back and gasping for air.

Karina smiled as she stroked my spit-soaked cock with both hands. Karina kissed and licked at the tip while giggling to herself. I reached down to appreciatively rub the top of her head, running my finger trough her hair.

“Do you have any lotion?” Karina asked Yeji.

“Yeah…”

“I have an idea I think he’d love.” Karina said, her eyes shone as she continued to absentmindedly stroke me.

“On it.” Yeji quickly rolled off the couch and made her way upstairs. Karina removed her hands from my cock and grabbed the hem of her shirt, quickly pulling it over her head and leaving her in a lacy black bra.

“What’s the idea?” I huffed.

“I can’t just tell you.” Karina giggled.

“You two just love to tease…” I groaned.

Yeji came downstairs with a bottle of lotion and handed it to Karina. Karina squirted it in between her cleavage with a few pumps, creating a thick layer of lotion to cover the slopes of her big tits. Karina gently rubbed the lotion into her skin, her smile and eyes fixed on me like glue.

Yeji decided to spring into action. She kissed the tip of my cock before grabbing the base and stroking it delicately. Yeji then swallowed my cockhead, wrapping her lips just where the foreskin ended and swirling her tongue over my crown.

“Hmm…” I groaned. Yeji kept her head still, clearly fighting her urge to take me all the way in an attempt to one-up Karina. Karina, after thoroughly moisturizing her glorious breasts, gently pulled Yeji away from me and lifted her bra.

My dick tip disappeared under the cups of her bra, sliding into a prison of soft and warm of her tits. Karina giggled as she lowered her massive, glorious tits down the length of my shaft, the lotion making it so slick and smooth.

“Christ…” I groaned. My swollen, sticky cockhead poked through Karina’s mass of pale tits. Karina lowered her chin to swipe her tongue over it, getting a taste of my precum and the lotion. I let out a low moan as Karina started pumping her tits up and down my cock.

Yeji crept up behind Karina, staring at me with devilish eyes as she planted a series of passionate kisses along Karina’s shoulder and neck. Karina moaned and increased the pace and pressure of her tit job. Yeji’s kisses turned to long licks against Karina’s skin as Yeji’s hands slid around behind her.

I felt my balls churning and my stomach tightening. I rarely felt my orgasm this early, but Karina was really good. Her plump breats smacking against my pelvis and massaging my dick were borderline unbearable.

“Getting close?” Karina asked with a smile.

“Uh huh…” I mumbled.

Karina came to a complete stop as Yeji removed her bra. Karina slid her tits off of me with a slick sound before letting the straps fall down her shoulders and off her chest. Karina’s glistening tits were finally free and my mouth watered at the sight of them. Karina then turned to the side so she was facing Yeji.

“Mmm you look so nice in that dress…” Karina moaned as her fingers gripped the top of Yeji’s dress. Yeji smiled giddily at Karina’s compliment. That was one of the rare times when Yeji was speechless and silly. Yeji finally understood how her own gravitational pull worked.

“Thanks” Yeji blushed.

“But I’d like it off, He would too…” Karina said as she quickly yanked Yeji’s dress down to her stomach, freeing Yeji’s tits. Yeji’s breasts were obviously nothing to scoff at but they were small in comparison to Karina’s. Karina wrapped a hand around the back of Yeji’s head.

Yeji huffed lightly in quiet surprise. Karina smiled and pulled her in for a kiss. Yeji moaned and melted underneath Karina’s lips. Yeji’s tits were pancaked by Karina’s much, much bigger ones. Karina’s body overpowered Yeji’s as their tongues, lips, and sweet tender skin connected.

I fought the urge to start jacking off at the sight of the two gorgeous women passionately making out. Karina broke the kiss and eagerly placed her thick, plump lips back on my cock, sucking and bobbing with extra spit to make it really sloppy. Yeji giggled at the sight of Karina’s messy fellating while reaching underneath Karina to cup her swinging pendulous tits.

“You like that, babe?” Yeji purred.

I moaned and nodded, my cock once again on the edge of exploding. Karina upped her speed and loosened her lips so her endless wash of saliva coated my cock.

“Fuck…” I groaned and popped inside Karina’s mouth. Hot, thick blasts of cum battered her tongue and the roof of her mouth. Karina held my cock against her lips as I fired spurt after spurt of seed into her throat.

Karina slowly and carefully slid her lips off of my drained cock, careful not to spill a single ounce of my cum. Karina then turned to Yeji. Yeji’s eyes widened in excitement. Karina held Yeji tight and lifted herself slightly. Yeji kept her mouth wide open while running her tongue over her top lip. Karina opened her mouth and let the waterfall of thick cum fall into Yeji’s mouth.

Yeji closed her eyes and savored the flavor of my cum mixed with Karina’s spit. Karina slowly lowered her mouth down to Yeji’s, causing a small amount of cum to leak down Yeji’s chin. Yeji moaned softly as her lips finally connected with Karina’s. Both girls made out with my cum sloppily dripping down their chins, the corners of their lips, and dripping down onto their breasts.

When Karina and Yeji were done swapping my thick load, Karina got to her feet., and quickly unzipped her jeans before gripping the waistband and yanking them down with eager tugs. The way Karina’s wide, womanly hips came into view as the fabric of her jeans fell down her legs forced me to get hard again.

Karina stepped out of her jeans and I noticed the massive damp spot on her light blue panties.

“What?” Karina smiled.

“You’re so sexy…” I said as I removed my now sweat-stained shirt and made my way towards Karina’s backside. Yeji grabbed Karina’s panties, pulling them down slowly so all three of us could see the trail of wetness sticking to the fabric. Karina’s pussy was literally dripping wet.

“See what you do to me…?” Karina moaned as the air hit her soaking cunt. I dropped to my knees and placed my hands on Karina’s asscheeks, kissing the smooth skin.

“Ohh…” Karina moaned as I admired her delicious, perfect body. I spread her asscheeks, giving me a clear view of her pussy and asshole. Then I plunged my tongue, deep inside her pussy, causing her legs to shake and her breathing to speed up. Then my tongue moved upwards, so close to her asshole.

“Mmm, just do it,” Karina huffed, turning her head to look down at me. So I stuck my tongue up and slipped it into her asshole.

“Nghh fuck…” Karina wailed to the rooftop as my tongue invaded her asshole, bucked her convulsing hips, and pressed her ass into my face.

“Yes! That’s… Ugh! You’re gonna make me cum!” Karina screamed in pure pleasure, her asshole clenching my tongue.

“Anghh…!” Karina cried. She was coming, I could tell because I felt her fingers roughly digging into my scalp to pull me away. Karina shuffled away and collapsed onto the couch to ride out her orgasm. Yeji spread her legs and played with herself, with her usual ‘fuck me’ expression plastered across her face.

“Come here…” I beckoned to Yeji. She smiled and crawled towards me. I placed her on her back and started to admire her body the way I always did. Kissing and licking over her tasty breasts and moving my lips up to her collarbone.

“That’s it…” Yeji moaned as I sneakily slipped my cock inside of her tight pussy. Yeji moaned gratefully as my kisses moved to her neck. I fucked her with slow, sloppy strokes while passionately kissing her chin and finally moving to her lips. Yeji wrapped her arms around my neck as we fucked each other like there wasn’t a convulsing Karina on our couch.

“So good…” I groaned when I broke the kiss.

“I invited Karina for a reason…” Yeji laughed and kissed my nose.

“So you want me to stop?” I asked.

“Mmm, No…” Yeji moaned and returned to kissing me. At the slow and sensual pace I was stroking Yeji with, I knew I wasn’t going to cum anytime soon. I just enjoyed fucking her, how her tight walls wrap around my cock, wrapping my arms around her soft, perfect body and just giving her all. Yeji came softly, moaning as her pussy was strangling my cock.

I broke the kiss and slid my cock out of Yeji’s pussy when I heard Karina moving around on the couch. Yeji was on her back, moaning and writhing slightly.

“She made a big mess…” Karina said with a pouty expression as she got off the couch and crawled towards me. I was sitting with my legs crossed, my eyes locked onto Karina’s big, swinging and sweaty tits. She placed her head on my inner thigh, her long hair tickling my skin.

“Oh yeah…” I moaned as Karina stuck her tongue out, rolling it around the thick, creamy ring Yeji had made around my shaft. Karina teased my cock with a smile until she suddenly rolled around so she was on her knees. Karina leaned in to kiss me softly before placing her hand on my chest to push me to my back.

“I need this cock in my pussy.” Karina cooed as she raised her legs to straddle me. Yeji quickly crawled around me.

“Just gonna help you out.” Yeji said to Karina. She spat on my cock before slipping it into her mouth and sloppily blowing me. Karina was clearly getting impatient, but Yeji was trying to clean me off. After Yeji glazed my cock in spit, Karina finally lowered herself down onto me.

“Hmm…” Karina yelped as she slid all the way down my dick. Yeji’s earlier blowjob clearly helped.

“Sooo huge…!” Karina giggled as she rocked back and forth, her hands gripping her glorious breasts and squeezing them.

“It almost feels like too much.” Yeji purred.

“Never too much…” Karina grinned before removing her hands from her breasts and placing them flat on my chest. Karina’s face twisted from her gorgeous smile to a look of determination as she began to bounce herself up and down my cock.

“Ohh fuck!” Karina moaned in ecstasy as my cock was melting under the onslaught of her constantly driving, hot pussy. Her tits bounced so fast they smacked her ribs with rapid thuds. Sweat caked her skin, her breathing was at the same pace as her bouncing ass.

“Nghhh…” Karina cried as her big, jiggly tits bounced in a blur and her slick, saven pussy continued to batter my cock into dust. Yeji crawled around to kiss my chest and neck. I reached upwards to cup Karina’s breasts, stopping the hypnotizing bounce and filling my hands with the hot and doughy flesh.

“Yeeessss…” Karina moaned as her bounces shifted into a smooth, gentle grind of her hips. I squeezed her tits tight, causing her pussy to clench onto my cock with a series of wild, random pulses. Karina’s orgasm rocked her silently, causing her to fall forward, breaking my grip on her tits and letting them sandwiches against me. Karina moaned loudly as she arched her back. I raised my legs so my knees were up in the air.

“Aaahhh!” Karina moaned as her perfect breasts pressed against my face. I greedily sucked on her tits, slobbering all over her areolas and wiping my lips over the succulent skin. Karina’s pussy was gushing all over my cock as she rolled her hips on me. I saw Yeji watching us in awe out of the corner of my eye.

Karina came hard with another wave of high-pitched yelps as she smothered me in her tits. I couldn’t hold back. As Karina lifted herself slightly, I fired a shot of cum straight inside of her. Karina immediately dropped herself back down as I filled her up with ropes of cum. Her fat tits were crushing my head and I was drooling while flicking my tongue out back and forth, desperate for a taste.

“Ohhh that feels so good…” Karina huffed as her body went limp. I kept filling her up until my legs fell to the floor, causing Karina’s body to slide back so her head was on my chest. I was no longer being suffocated by her tits, my disappointment loud and clear in my groaning. Yeji crawled towards me and turned my head to pull me in for a kiss.

Karina crawled away from me when Yeji broke the kiss with a smile. We both watched a few drops of cum come out of her pussy. Karina took a deep breath and reached down to keep some of cum inside her cunt.

I didn’t give Karina time to rest as I shuffled towards her, my cock jutting forward.

“What are you…” Karina said.

“Oommff!” I cut her off by slipping my cock into her mouth, my crown sliding over her slick tongue and rubbing against the roof of her mouth. Karina opened her eyes and tightened her lips around my shaft. She smiled with her eyes as she began to slide her lips over my cock, keeping them sealed tight around the skin.

I slowly pushed my hips forward, stretching her lips. Karina rolled her eyes in ecstasy and moaned around my girth. She placed her hands on my thighs to push me back, leaving my cock dripping with spit. Karina pursed her lips and turned her head down to let a thick line of slime leak out of her mouth.

“Fuck my throat…” Karina begged, staring up at me with her beautiful brown eyes. I immediately obliged, grabbing the back of her head and cramming my cock deep inside of her mouth. I slammed my dick into her gullet, against her chin and my tip battering the back of her throat. Karina gagged hard, causing spit to trickle down her chin and my shaft.

I wrapped her hair and gripped it tightly, pulling her face deeper into my pelvis, relentlessly jackhammering my dick into her wet mouth. Karina’s hands wrapped around my back, pushing my cock deeper down her throat, just when I thought she couldn’t take it any longer.

Karina pressed her nose to pubic bone and held my back for nearly a minute. She then slowly slid my cock out of her mouth with a pop, coughing and gagging as she craned. She wiped sweat from her brow before extending her tongue and quickly rolling it over my cockhead.

“My turn…” Yeji said.

I looked over to Yeji and pushed her legs up until her knees were on either side of her head. I positioned and rubbed my cock over her slit before penetrating her. Yeji screamed as I penetrated her most sensitive area. The I began pumping in and out of her until our hips literally merged. I felt her quiver as I slid my cock in and out of her dripping-wet pussy. This quickly sent her over the edge.

“Ahh fuck…” Yeji moaned.

I kept my cock stationary inside of her gripping pussy lips before I felt my stomach tighten. Yeji’s legs shook wildly as I returned to fucking her with deep strokes.

I slipped out of Yeji’s pussy and Karina’s mouth immediately latched onto my cock. She bobbed her head quickly, cleaning off Yeji’s juices and leaving the tip dripping with spit. I angled myself to slide my cock back into Yeji. She screamed again.

Then it was back and forth. I fucked Yeji with three or four deep strokes before pulling out and letting Karina suck me. While it briefly helped me fend off my impending orgasm, Karina’s lips and tongue were like torture devices.

“Ohhh…” I popped my cock out of her mouth, planning to cum all over Karina’s face. But she quickly grabbed my base with her left hand and placed her right hand over and above my back to force me back inside Yeji’s pussy.

I groaned as I filled Yeji’s pussy with cum. My cock pulsed and stretched inside her as I took a series of deep, shaky breaths. When I finally stopped cumming, I crawled back to admire the thick glob of white oozing from Yeji’s cunt.

Karina muttered as she pushed me forward and sucked my cock. Karina sucked the mixture of Yeji’s cum and mine clean from me, leaving it slick and shiny.

“That was fun.” Karina gigled.

“Yeah, it was…” Yeji sighed.

“You two wouldn’t mind if I stayed the night?” Karina asked.

—

Later that night, we were cuddling in bed watching TV, with a naked Karina and Yeji on either side of me. Yeji’s head was on my shoulder, while Karina’s rested against my inner thigh. I felt her hot breath against my skin. She purposefully adjusted herself to place her breast against my skin. I don’t mind, they feel soft, nice and huge.

Karina kept moving, her soft and supple body rubbing against my leg. Yeji’s hand went to my chest, rubbing it slowly until she let it wander down my stomach. Yeji’s finger brushed over the waistband of my boxers. I heard her let out a quiet giggle when I froze up.

Karina moved her head from my inner thigh to my now already hard cock, her cheek resting against my shaft. She knew exactly what she was doing. Both of them did.

I grunted. “Eyes on the screen.”

“My eyes are on the screen.” Karina said, now rubbing her cheek over my erection.

“Mine too.” Yeji said, her hand still resting on my lower abdomen. I wanted to say something, but I kept quiet as Yeji’s hand moved slowly into my underwear. Karina raised her head as Yeji grabbed the base of my cock and lifted it to form a tent in my underwear.

Karina expertly reached back to pull my underwear over my throbbing cock, keeping her gaze fixed on the screen. Yeji’s hand was gently gripping my shaft, and Karina turned her chin to the side, leaving her hot breath on my swollen head.

“Keeping my eyes on the screen…” Karina said softly. It was obvious she was holding back a giggle. I turned my head to face Yeji. She briefly looked up at me as she began to stroke my cock.

“Eyes on the screen, babe…” Yeji purred with a devilish grin.

“You’re not making it easy…” I groaned. Just as I turned away from Yeji, Karina wrapped her lips against my tip. I moaned softly as she rolled her tongue over my crown, licking away at the cum that had leaked out due to Yeji’s gentle touch.

Karina kept her head and eyes fixed on the screen, expertly lowering her head up and down the first few inches of my cock. She hummed softly as she lowered her head up and down the length of my cock, my sensitive tip grazing the roof of her mouth at the perfect angle, causing a groan to escape my lips.

Thin lines of spit escaped the corners of Karina’s mouth, causing Yeji’s strokes to gain a hypnotic slick sound. Karina knew she couldn’t go any further down without taking her eyes off the screen, so she opted to continue torturing my tip with her tongue and mouth.

I could not take it anymore. I reached behind to grab the remote and turned off the TV, leaving my lamp as the only source of light in the room.

“Hey! I was watching!” Yeji said, immediately turning her head towards me. Karina pulled her mouth off my cock and shifted her body so she was facing me.

“You are mean.” Karina smiled.

“Trying to be funny, huh?” I huffed.

Yeji’s hand was still holding my wet cock, and Karina’s thick lips were barely an inch away from the tip. My cock twitched slightly as I watched her lovely, full breasts jiggle with her slight movement.

“I liked it,” Yeji said as she removed her hand from my cock and crawled forward. She had her bare ass in my face and her mouth close to my cock.

Yeji then shoved my cock into her mouth, wiggling her ass to give me a hint. I focused my attention on Yeji’s beautiful, glistening pussy and ass. I wrapped my hands around her waist and pressed my face against her backside.

“Nghh…” Yeji slipped off my cock and squealed. I felt Karina’s mouth on my cock. I worked my tongue in Yeji’s pussy at the same pace Karina’s tongue was coiling around my girth. I heard Yeji’s desperate moans as I rolled my tongue around inside her slippery folds.

Karina slid her mouth off of my cock and Yeji pounced on it again. Yeji sucked with more speed and aggression than Karina did. I squeezed Yeji’s soft, sweaty flesh as I pushed my jaw forward to force my tongue even deeper inside her pussy.

Yeji popped her mouth off my cock and Karina greedily slurped it into her own mouth. The girls went back and forth sucking me, creating a thick layer of warm spit around my shaft. Every time I came close either Karina or Yeji would pull back at just the right time. The difference in their blowjobs eased the tension.

Yeji came softly in my mouth multiple times, but when I changed my tongue movement to long, aggressive licks along the length of her cunt, she exploded.

“Mmmpphhh…” Yeji mumbled around my cock before violently spitting it out. Karina immediately placed her mouth on my cock, but this time she changed her rhythm. Her blowjob was looser and wetter as Yeji moaned loudly.

I pulled my wet lips free from Yeji’s pussy, watching her legs squirm and almost kick me. Karina’s blowjob was getting even sloppier as her hands caressed my balls. Yeji, after somewhat recovering, turned her body so she was facing me. I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her, giving her a taste of her pussy juices.

Karina’s blowjob was loud, over the top, and nonstop. Yeji broke the kiss and wrapped her arms around my neck. I dug my nose into her neck, taking in her scent.

“You like the way she sucks that cock, babe?” Yeji purred in my voice, that sweet honeyed accent sending electric shocks through my body. I barely mumbled a word.

“You gonna cum?” Yeji asked before biting my neck.

I nodded slowly. Karina took my cock all the way down to the base, her sloppy tongue somehow grazing my balls. I felt Karina’s hair tickling my skin as she kept my cock buried deep in her throat. Yeji planted wild kisses along the side of my face towards the corner of my lips.

Yeji then backed her head up slightly and smiled down at me. I was seconds away from bursting in Karina’s mouth. Yeji then leaned down to pull me in for a passionate kiss. My toes curled and my body shook wildly as the waves of pleasure that were inside of me all flew towards my cock. I came hard in Karina’s throat and she gagged loud enough for both of us to hear it.

I felt Karina’s lips move up until they were just at the tip. Karina pursed her lips tight around my cock, almost like she was milking every last drop. I melted in Yeji’s embrace, my body had gone numb and the only feeling was in my constantly spurting cock. After returning to the land of the living, I was greeted with Yeji’s heavenly smile.

“Woah…” Was all I could mumble. Yeji gave me a little kiss before crawling off of me and moving towards Karina.

“Awh… You swallowed it all?” Yeji moaned as she grabbed the sides of Karina’s face.

“Sorry… It’s just so exciting to drain a cock dry. Especially such a big one.” Karina giggled softly.

“Oh, believe me, I know…” Yeji purred. Then she got on all fours.

I caught a glimpse of Karina’s sopping wet pussy before I got to my knees and placed a hand on Yeji’s ass, rubbing my second favorite part of her. My favorite part of Yeji is her smile, but her ass is a close second. I tapped my cock head against her entrance before slipping it inside of her perfect pussy with ease.

“Ahh…” Yeji moaned as I spanked her ass and crammed my dick deep inside of her. She went wild, a hard dick driving into her, and a throughout spanking was all of her favorite sexual things rolled up into one.

I then reached down and pulled Yeji’s hair and pressed her back until her head touched the bed before relentlessly pounding her tight pussy with long, deep hard strokes. She let out a surprise, followed by a weak moan to end it off. Her pussy was gushing all over, staining the bed, and drilling down my shaft.

Yeji looked back at me with a surly smile on her face as she began to fuck me back. I groaned and let go of her hair. Yeji caught herself with her hands as I let her grind her ass back against my pelvis.

Then Karina made her way around Yeji. She kissed me on the cheek before standing up on the bed to smother me with her big soft tits. I slowed my thrusts to halt as Yeji took control, fucking herself on my cock. I mumbled into Karina’s massive tits, losing control while being crushed by them for the second time today.

I felt my orgasm rising with Yeji’s warm, gripping walls putting my dick in a blender, Karina’s soft tits wrapped around my head weren’t making it easier to hold back. I was close, but I couldn’t say anything. My head was filled with moans and groans, making it impossible to focus on anything other than finishing.

I let out a deep groan that alerted both of them. Karina pulled her tits from my face and Yeji crawled off of my throbbing cock. Karina crawled in front of me and got to her back, spreading her legs high up in the air. Yeji was at Karina’s side and kept her hands on Karina’s legs to keep them straight.

“Get in there…” Yeji huffed, her eyes wide and locked onto Karina’s dripping pussy. I huffed and moved forward to slide myself inside of Karina.

“Nngaaahh…” Karina moaned when I finally bottomed her out.

“I’m close…” I groaned.

“Cum inside me....” Karina whined while biting her bottom lip. I began to work my hips with short and quick thrusts, giving her just enough to make her cum before I did.

“Yess…” Karina grinned and grunted as I kept pumping my cock in and out of her, the sound of Karina’s slippery pussy the only thing keeping me going.

“Nghhfuckk!” Karina huffed, her eyes tightly shut and her back arched. Her pussy was squeezing me really tight. Then came hard, but she bit her bottom lip to keep quiet.

A minute later I came hard, flooding Karina’s pussy with the last bit of seed I could muster.  Karina sucked in air as she gazed at my cock pulsing inside her.  I kept cumming inside of her until nothing remained. Then I pulled away from her, nearly collapsing from exhaustion.

“Soo good…” Karina moaned in pleasure as my cum leaked out of her freshly fucked pussy.

I watch the clock and it’s already past midnight. I fell to my back and was just on the verge of falling asleep when Yeji moved her way up to my neck.

“Did you like the surprise?” Yeji whispered in my ear.

“I- I wouldn’t mind any other surprises.” I huffed.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Yeji grinned and kissed me on the cheek.

“Happy birthday.” She said.

It was Thursday when I awoke from what may have been the best sleep I’d had in weeks. All I remember is that last night Yeji invited some her friends to throw me a small birthday party. To be honest, I was not the type to throw a party, but since it was Yeji, I didn’t mind.

I rolled over and checked my analog clock. It’s already 10 a.m.

Crawling out of bed and cracking my back. I grabbed my phone from the dresser and saw a message from Yeji stating that says she went on with her schedules, as well as two missed calls from Kazuha.

It sent a shock through my system. It’s been a while since we’ve seen each other. I called her back, the excitement of hearing her voice jolting me out of my usual early morning brain fog. The phone rang and rang until I heard footsteps in the hallway.

“Good morning, birthday boy...” Yujin said with a smile as she leaned against the door. I didn’t know where to look. Her hefty, braless tits pressed against the door frame, or her gorgeous smile. She wore a plain beige shirt and nothing else. I swear I can only remember Me, Yeji, and Yujin making out, but not about fucking them.

“Did we…?” I tried to ask, almost forgetting that my phone was still ringing. I put it down, assuming Kazuha was busy.

“No, Sort of. You were drunk when you ate my pussy. Then you fell asleep.” Yujin smiled while pointed to the bed with her hand. I noticed the white pillowcase had a deep red lipstick imprint on it and a faint bite mark.

“Sorry…”

“It’s fine,” she said. “Yeji said you wouldn’t mind if I stay for a bit?”

“Sure,” I shrugged. “Besides… with you, I doubt she mind with anything.”

Yujin then walked into the room until those legs of hers were against the side of my face. She ran her fingers through my hair and cupped under my chin.

“You’re really good at it even when you’re sleep deprived and three bottles deep.”

“Only three?” I cleared my throat and looked up at her.

“You’re kind of a lightweight.” Yujin said with a smile.

“Me?” I laughed. “And You aren’t?”

“Not really. I assume you don’t drink that much since you’re always working on with those JYP sluts you have over there.”

“Hey, be nice,” I said. “I’m just tired.”

“Yeah, tired fucking Yeji and Karina’s brains out.” She retorted.

“Hmm…” I hummed. I lazily kissed her inner thigh, her bare and clean-shaven pussy right in front of my face. Yujin pulled my head away from her creamy legs and bent down to kiss me on the lips.

“I thought about sucking you off in your sleep, but you definitely needed all the rest you could get.” Yujin’s beautiful eyes were wide and alluring. Her hands moved from my face down my neck and then the top of my plain white shirt. She tugged at the fabric while biting her bottom lip.

“Take your shirt off...” She cooed.

I did as I was told, quickly slipping my shirt over my head. I started to remove my boxers, but Yujin cut me off by gently grabbing my arm.

“I’ll do it.” Yujin said before grabbing the sides of my boxers, her cold hands tickling my skin. Yujin pulled my underwear down slowly, her eyes getting wider and wider with every bit of my cock that was revealed. She had my boxers down halfway before planting a tender kiss on my shaft, moaning when she pulled my cock all the way out.

“Hmm...” Yujin beamed as my underwear met my ankles and her lips met my shaft again.

“Such a nice cock.” She said.

Yujin then peppered it with timid little kisses and licks, causing me to groan and pat her head. I felt her warm tongue slowly moving up and down my veins until it reached my tip, just barely touching it. I looked down at her as her lips wrapped around my glans, her eyes big and expressive as my cock widened her lips.

Yujin used her finger to brush her hair from her face and behind her ear. She then began to bob her head up and down, sucking my cock rhythmically as her tits jiggled wildly underneath the confines of her thin top. Yujin took herself all the way to the base with every third bob of her head, sending warm spit traveling down the length of my shaft. As Yujin suck me good, Kazuha returned the call. I picked up, swallowing a groan as I covered my ear to block out Yujin sloppy blowjob.

“Hey!” Kazuha greeted me.

“Hey Kazuha,” I huffed. I knew Yujin was sucking me even better because she heard a cheerful tone over her blowjob. That sloppy wet sound went way over the phone.

“Are you getting your dick sucked right now?” Kazuha asked, clearly smiling into the phone.

“Um- yeah...” I admitted.

“How is it?”

“Ng- Pretty…” Yujin’s eyes stared at mine, a slight smirk forming around her lips with my cock deep in her mouth. “…Good.”

“Yeji?” Kazuha asked.

“Yu- jin. I’m... uh, we’re just... fuck...” I groaned as Yujin started to deepthroat my cock, impaling herself and gagging as her eyes stayed locked onto mine.

“Oh yeah... she sounds like she’s sucking your cock good.” Kazuha cooed. Her voice, especially the way she said cock, sent chills down my spine and an extra spark to Yujin’s work.

“Is she naked?” Kazuha asked. I reached down to lift Yujin’s shirt, but she pulled herself away from my cock and lifted it to her collarbone herself.

“Now she is...” I grinned as Yujin’s tits came into view. She immediately wrapped her messy mouth around my hard coke, returning to sucking me nice and deep. Yujin put her entire body into her bobbing, sending her tits flopping as her fingers crept down between her legs.

“Can I ask you something?” Kazuha said casually.

“Sure...” I groaned as bubbles formed around my base and Yujin’s lips.

“Can I come over? I just got back from Japan and I’m a little... jet lagged,” she explained. “I know you’re super busy but if you could…”

“Of course you can.” I interrupted her.

“Really?”

“Yea- I’m... Oh yeah... I’m free right now...” I explained as my toes curled against the carpet. Yujin had both hands on my shaft, working her wrists and fingers as her fellating got even sloppier. She was also undeniably loud.

“What. All week?” Kazuha asked.

“Yup...”

“Give me forty minutes,” Kazuha said.

“Sounds good... see you then...” I was close. Yujin’s eyes were closed and I could tell Kazuha was getting turned on with every second that passed.

“See you then...” Kazuha cooed before hanging up. God, Yujin had me on thin ice. Her hands, neck, mouth, tongue, and lips worked tirelessly on my cock. She then slid her lips back, leaving only the first two inches of my spit-soaked cock in her mouth. Yujin then grabbed my knees with her wet hands before opening her eyes. That’s it.

I let out an odd hissing sound as I emptied my balls into Yujin’s mouth. I came so much that it overflowed from the corner of her mouth and down her chin, a few mixed drops dribbling down her tits. I kept cumming, the force so powerful I had to lift myself a few inches off the bed. Yujin swallowed as much as she could as the rest of it peppered her neck and tits.

Yujin popped my cock out of her mouth with a huge smile and a few drops of my cum were dripping down her bottom lip. She then stood up and wordlessly pushed me to my back.

“You got more in you?” Yujin asked despite knowing the answer. My cock pulsed when she slid her shirt over her head and straddled me, her heat and wetness right on top of my shaft.

I smiled as she lowered herself down on top of me. I usually needed a short break after finishing, especially from such a good blowjob, but seeing Yujin’s firm tits bounce uncontrollably as she rode me could make any man keep going. Yujin creamed on me multiple times as her ass bounced against my pelvis. I reached up to cup her incredibly soft tits, massaging the globes as best I could despite her hyperactive bounces.

“Oh yess, I’m gonna cum on your cock!”

Yujin face curled up into a blissful smile as her first orgasm ran through her. My hands were still glued to her tits as her sweaty form convulsed on top of me. Yujin came even harder than I did, her hair falling in front of her face as she let out what sounded like cries of fear.

She fell on top of me and cupped my face before kissing me. Her hair against my skin, her tits sandwiches against my chest, her sweet kisses. Yujin was a really good fuck. Plain and simple. My hands were on her back and I moved them down to her supple ass, squeezing hard and giving her right cheek a firm smack.

“Ah!” She squealed and giggled into my face. I kissed her nose as she smiled down at me.

“God this pussy is so good...” I said with a lustful groan. Yujin smiled harder at the compliment.

“Then fuck it good...” She said through her kisses.

I flipped her over onto her back and began digging my cock deep inside of her. I grabbed her arms and pressed them against her tits, causing them to squish together and jiggle erotically. Yujin threw her head back and moaned. I leaned down, causing our foreheads to collide as we breathed heavily in each other’s faces.

I usually needed to eat breakfast and get at least a little bit of water in me before morning sex as intense as this, but this was Yujin. She needed, no, she deserved a good fucking. The time of day didn’t matter when it came to her. I was also definitely spurred on by the fact that Kazuha would be showing up today as well. I feared my cock wouldn’t be able to get up when Kazuha showed up.

Then again, it was Kazuha. If my cock couldn’t get up at the sight of her it couldn’t get up for anyone.

Yujin’s hands gripped my arms as she yelled against my collarbone, her pussy squeezing me tightly. I kept pounding until I slowed down and rolled over so we were both on our side. I slipped my cock in and out slowly, hypnotized by the sound of Yujin’s fat and creamy pussy being stretched out by me.

“Such a good fucking cock...” Yujin groaned in my face. “I can’t... Why can’t I find anyone like you?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” I smiled, still fucking her slowly.

“Sort of... You got any friends?”

“No real ones anyway... If they knew what I got up to...”

“I doubt... I doubt any of them would be as fucking good as you are...” Yujin said as her eyes rolled. My cock throbbed inside of her as I came unexpectedly, this time filling her pussy up with another round of cum.

“Auugh... yeah...” Yujin beamed breathlessly. I kissed her neck as I curled my body to really fill her up. Yujin of course took it all like a champ. I held my cock inside of her for a few more seconds until I pulled out. We both groaned, admiring the deep creampie I made leaking out of her red and messy pussy.

“I- I should really eat some breakfast...” I said, feeling slightly lightheaded.

“Let’s take a shower first.” Yujin smiled.

“I feel like you just want to go at it again in the shower.” I said smirking.

Yujin rolled out of bed with my creampie leaking down her legs as she got to her feet. “Really? What gave you that idea?” she said.

Yujin looked at me over her shoulder, an adorable smirk on her flawless face, gripping her asscheek and spreading it to spill the last bit of my creampie onto the floor. I followed her to the bathroom. Something about the double showerhead and frameless sliding shower door had a special appeal.

Yes, we fucked again in the shower. I had Yujin’s tits pressed against the glass as I fucked her standing up, the water flying off our frenzying bodies. Neither of us really focused on getting clean after the first two minutes of lazily applying body wash to ourselves. I turned Yujin around so her back was on the glass in order to see her soapy, wet tits bouncing under my onslaught. When I got close again, I pulled out and she dropped to her knees. I blew my load into her mouth until Yujin cupped her tits so I could glaze them in cum.

—

We had a big breakfast. I made eggs, bacon, toast with jam, and hashbrowns. While I was cooking, Yujin prepared a fruit platter with oranges, grapes, pineapple, and bananas. Yujin was very keen in sticking the banana down her throat while I was watching the toast cook. I made a jerking motion with the salt shaker as I put it on the eggs. We laughed as we continued to share silly sexual innuendos with our food.

It was a beautiful day, so I suggested we eat outside on the deck. Yujin quickly arranged her plate and followed me outside. Yujin wore a thin tank top and shorts that barely concealed her lower body. Yujin was admiring the view of the city, while I was admiring her backside just before She turned around and grinned when she noticed me staring at her ass.

“Round four?” Yujin giggled.

“You got anywhere to be later?” I asked with a light smirk.

“Nope.” Yujin said before grabbing an orange slice from her plate.

“Good. Let’s just wait for Kazuha.” I said.

“We’ll get to ten more rounds with her.” Yujin laughed. I chuckled lightly. Just then, the alarm system alerted me to a knock at the front door.

“I got it!” Yujin quickly skated across the deck and inside the house. I grabbed her now empty plate and followed her inside, dropping the dishes off on the kitchen counter.

“Hey, Kazuha!” I overheard Yujin. I made my way to the front door, cursing myself now for having a big house. All of this extra room kept me from seeing Kazuha, which should be considered a crime. Kazuha hugged Yujin as they stumbled backward into the house.

“Hi...” Kazuha said, her eyes effortlessly drawing me in. She looked simple yet so stunning. Yujin released the hug and went to bring Kazuha’s bag inside before closing the door.

Kazuha wore black leggings with white stripes on the sides. The leggings were tight and clearly intended for someone with a little less meat on their bones, but on Kazuha, they were fit like a second skin. Her top was a simple soft white shirt with her nipples visible through the fabric, indicating she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her shoes were a worn-down pair of all-white Nikes.

When I reached out my arms for a hug, Kazuha jumped and wrapping her arms and legs around me. She kissed my cheek and whispered something in Japanese into my ear. Her voice dripped with lust, it was something sexual, I guess.

“God, I missed you.” Kazuha purred into my ear before biting it. I kissed her lips and brushed her long hair from her face.

“Whoa…” I said. “You’re in good spirit, no more boys problem?”

“Nope,” Kazuha laugh. “Sorry I missed your birthday.” She pouted.

“Oh, don’t worry, I know you’re busy,” I waved at her. “I missed you too.”

“Say that again.” Kazuha said, she was still in my arms and I was gladly just holding her up.

“I missed you too, Kazuha,” I said, this time adding just a tiny bit more base to my voice.

“Ohh... I know you’ve been putting her through the ringer...” Kazuha grinned cutely while pointing her head in Yujin’s direction.

“She’s been putting me through the ringer. You heard the phone call.” I smiled.

“Yeah I did,” Kazuha removed her legs from my waist and I let her fall gently to the floor. Yujin was behind her, smiling brightly.

“You’ve been keeping Yeji’s man in good spirits?” Kazuha asked Yjin jokingly.

“Of course I have.” Yujin grinned as she leaned against the back of the sectional.

“Something smells good.” Kazuha’s head shot to the kitchen.

“Did you eat?” I asked, gently rubbing her shoulders.

“Nope.”

“Let’s fix that.” I guided her to the kitchen.

“Looks good.” Kazuha smiled at the large amount of food.

“It’s not too much? I know you don’t really...” Kazuha made me lose my train of thought as she walked up to me and wrapped her arms around my neck. She then leaned forward to kiss me sweetly.

She then got off me and grabbed a plate from the cabinet. I looked away from Kazuha to see Yujin making a handheart with a silly look on her face. I smiled at her and walked over to shamelessly grab her ass with my left hand and grope her tit with my right.

“What’s wrong? Trying to prove you don’t have a heart?” Yujin grinned.

“Nothing wrong with having a heart.” Kazuha mumbled as she wolfed down her breakfast next to the microwave.

“She’s right.” I added.

“I’m just saying. Cupids got you good.” Yujin teased.

“No. Yeji’s got me good.” I said as I squeezed her ass tighter before dropping my hand down from her chest and under her top to feel her warm skin.

“Speaking of Yeji, where is she? I thought Karina would be here too.” Kazuha asked.

“They have schedules.” I replied. “The life of an idol huh?”

“Aww…” Kazuha pouted, “Don’t worry, we’ll keep you company.” She smiled.

“Thanks.”

“Round four while she’s eating?” Yujin moaned.

“You two have already gone three times?” Kazuha asked as she finished off her plate.

“We were in the shower for a while.” Yujin smirked.

“And leave me out to dry?” Kazuha cooed.

I let go of Yujin immediately and made my way towards Kazuha. “I will never leave you out.” I said as I gripped her waist and kissed her.

“I mean... three times is a lot.” Kazuha teased.

I cupped her chin to turn her face and leaned down to really kiss her open mouth. My right hand roamed from her waist down to her crotch, running my fingers over her pussy. Kazuha moaned into my mouth as she pressed herself closer to me.

“I want you so bad...” Kazuha groaned in my face.

“Right here?”

“Maybe not here. Upstairs?” Kazuha said.

We rushed upstairs to the same room where I had creampied Yeji, Karina, and Yujin.  Yujin was behind us when Kazuha stood in the center of the room, and I began to take off my shirt and shorts.  Kazuha pounced on me, her tongue moving from my neck to my lips.  I enjoyed how she moaned against me with every kiss.

Kazuha’s left hand found my hard cock, gripping the base and jerking me slowly.

“Fuck zuha...” I groaned. Kazuha giggled as she sloppily kissed all around my midsection and waist until she fell to her knees. her eyes widened as my cock throbbed in front of her face, a small bit of precum leaking from the head and hitting the floor.

“I missed this so much…” Kazuha purred before licking the seed from the tip. I reached down to grip her hair into a makeshift ponytail. Kazuha smirked with her eyes as she swallowed my cock with ease, rocking herself back and forth to suck me with intensity.

“Fuck...” I groaned. I felt Yujin’s head on my shoulder. When Kazuha noticed both Yujin and I staring down at her in awe, she sucked me in even faster. Kazuha’s hands moved to my balls, gently massaging them as she pressed her tongue against the underside of my cock. Her lips were skintight around my shaft. I began to buck my hips in her throat, knowing she could take it.

Kazuha had her hands on my legs and started to push herself into my thrust so I could fuck her mouth. She kept those startling eyes on me as my tip jabbed the back of her mouth. I fucked her face for a minute straight, the sound of my thickness punching her hungry and slippery throat filling the room. Kazuha’s shirt was already ruined with multiple thick lines of spit darkening the neckline and her chest.

Kazuha had her hands behind her back as the spit from her chin battered my balls, turning them into sticky sacks.

“She’s pretty good...” Yujin whispered in my ear. Kazuha pulled off my cock with long trails of spit clinging from her mouth to my shaft.

I let go of her hair, causing it to fall against her wet lips and cheeks. Yujin backed up to lift her tank top over her head, causing her tits to bounce sexily. I turned my body slightly and groped Yujin’s tits while she forced her tongue into my mouth.

Kazuha increased her pace as Yujin and I made out. I squeezed Yujin’s soft tits as she pressed her warm and delicate body against mine. We kissed each other harder than we did this morning until I felt my balls churning. I broke the kiss and looked down to see Kazuha still staring at me, her sloppy mouth still working hard on my cock.

“I’m gonna...” I groaned as I felt my cock throb.

Kazuha pulled back and gripped the base to squeeze as much cum as possible from my cock. She hit me with her gorgeous smile as I busted all over her face, a wild line smacking her forehead and nose. Kazuha kept smiling as I slathered her in cum. A blast landed over her left eye, causing her to close it and the rest battered her forehead. Kazuha opened her mouth wide and wobbled my cock to milk me dry.

“Aahhh...” Kazuha moaned as my waterfall of cum fell onto her tongue and down her throat.

“Holy shit...” I huffed as Kazuha licked her cummy lips and wiped away the line that hit her eyelid. She giggled and licked my cock clean as Yujin slid her shorts down her legs, leaving her fully nude.

“I need to cum...” Yujin mumbled to herself.

“It’s my turn, haven’t you had enough??” Kazuha said. “You already fuck him, three times!” she giggled.

“With a cock like that? It’s never enough.” Yujin purred, her eyes fixed on my cock.

“Now, I want you on your back.” Kazuha turned to face me as she removed her black panties. We were all nude and ready to fuck each other’s brains out. Kazuha pointed to where she wanted me to be. I lay on my back, legs spread and resting against the bedframe. My cock stood straight up as Kazuha straddled me. Her face was right in front of me as she dropped herself onto my cock with no hesitation.

“Ohh...” I groaned as Kazuha buried herself on top of me. Her pussy was so tight and wet. She looked back at me and smiled, causing me to nearly fill her up with cum without a single movement. She leaned forward into the crook of my neck, pressing her tits against my body. My hand moved towards her back, holding her tight. This also gives me a clear view of Yujin playing with herself on the side of the bed; it’s hot.

“Argh, I love your pussy…” I whispered to Kazuha as I continued to pump my cock into and out of her tight walls.

“Y- Yeah? I fucking love your cock, too,” Kazuha said between moans as her breasts shook wildly on my chest. I already knew how creamy Kazuha could get and based on her moaning and whimpering, I could tell that I was hitting all her right spots. My hands roamed over Kazuha’s ass, but she started to grind her hips in a fluid motion.

“Fuck, Kazuha...” I groaned, forgetting that I wanted to feel her up. Kazuha was bouncing on my cock at high speeds, sweat coating her body. It almost send me over the edge.

Kazuha smiled sweetly at me before crunching down for a kiss. I slid my legs up, keeping my feet firmly on the ground and my knees up in the air.

“Yes... Please fuck me good...” Kazuha begged in my ear, her moans were like music to my ears. I immediately complied. There was no teasing or pause. I thrust up, driving my dick deep into her tightness.

“Anhhfuck!” Kazuha roared as my hand gripped the back of her head, pulling her closer. I wanted to feel her shudder against my skin as I pounded her into oblivion. Every forceful clap of my pelvis against her body caused shivers down her spine and squeaks from her mouth. I kept going, staring into her eyes and losing track of how many times she came.

“Anh, Nghh, Ohh, Fuck…” Kazuha kept coming. I did not stop. I rolled her over onto her back and pulled my cock out of her pussy briefly. Kazuha let out a disappointed moan until I grabbed her ankles and flipped her over onto her stomach.

Slap! Right cheek. I spanked her ass.

“Aww!” Kazuha squealed.

Slap! Left cheek.

“Ahh!”

Slap! Right cheek.

“Nghh!”

Kazuha’s entire body was shaking. What I’ve learned about Kazuha and Yeji is that they both enjoy getting spanked.

Slap! Slap! Slap!

“Auughh!” Kazuha moaned. I wasn’t hurting her, but I definitely leave bright red handprints on her ass cheeks, which I knew she love. It was the reason I had her on her stomach. Kazuha enjoyed the sensation of my pelvis slamming into her spanked booty as my cock split her open. I inserted the head of my cock deep inside and rested my hands on the floor. I then slid all the way in, putting my weight against Kazuha’s ass.

“Shit!” Kazuha wailed. We were both drenched in sweat as I pounded her into submission. Kazuha took it like a good girl that she is, shaking her body with each clap of my perlvis. She pushed her hair to one side. I closed my eyes and leaned down to gently kiss the back of her neck, still pounding my cock deep inside her pussy.

“Fuck!” I groaned as my orgasm flared up again. I felt Kazuha’s legs around my back. And I just let go, unloading my cum deep inside her. Kazuha arched her back and let out a wheeze as I flooded her tummy with my cum. I pulled out and leaned back to watch my cum overflowing out of Kazuh’s freshly fucked pussy.

“That’s amazing.” Yujin said from the bed.

“I- it was...” Kazuha said breathlessly.

I crab walked around, spreading my legs in front of Kazuha’s face, and she quickly swallowed my spend cock. She bobbed her head while sucking our mixture of cum. I bucked my hips to see her reaction. She smiled and took me all the way down until my balls hit her chin. Kazuha looked up at me with her luscious lips wrapped tightly around my shaft. I slowly pushed to get my cock out of her mouth before sliding it back up.

“Gluh...” Kazuha moaned. Or was it Yujin? My eyes were closed, so I had no idea who was making the noises. The only thing I could concentrate on were our moans. The air in the room was hot and getting hotter.

I had a little more in me before I was complety done. And I wanted to make good use of that time. I opened my eyes and gently grabbed Kazuha’s head, my fingers entwined in her hair. I pulled her head up, causing my cock to fall out of her mouth and smack me in the stomach.

“I’ll be right back.” I said as I got to my feet.

“Don’t take too long.” Kazuha said.

I smiled to myself as I hobbled to the hallway bathroom. I kept a large bottle of lube under the sink. It was a gift from Yuna. She sent it a few months ago, and I saved the naughty message on a yellow sticky note that sat on the cap.

‘Use this for the other hole.’ Written in pretty, handwriting with little hearts around the edges of the note. I smiled and gently placed the sticky note on the counter before making my way back to the room.

I walked in and saw Kazuha with her face down and her ass slightly in the air. Kazuha had her head turned towards me with a lustful look in her eyes. A look that could kill.

“What’s that?” Kazuha asked, her voice shaky.

I removed the bottle’s cap before spraying it over my hand. It smelled of vanilla. I didn’t care about the mess it would undoubtedly make.

“A little bit of help.” I explained before spraying it on Kazuha’s back. She giggled as the oil touched her skin.

“You wanna fuck my ass?” She asked casually.

“Of course I do.” I said.

“No you don’t.”

“Sure am.” I put the plug of the bottle in Kazuha’s ass and sprayed.

“Anhh…” Kazuha giggled as the oil soaked her ass. I sprayed for a few seconds before taking it out of her. I put a little more on my already-soaked cock, causing it to drip down my shaft and onto the carpet. I was ready to fuck Kazuha’s ass.

I lined up and slid my cock deep inside, my thickness splitting her open.

“Oh God!” Kazuha shrieked as her oil-coated body convulsed beneath me.

“Just slide it in...” Yujin whispered in my ear, pressing herself against me from behind. Her hands moved across my chest as she watched me fuck a gape into Kazuha’s asshole. I picked up the pace, knowing that my movements were energizing Kazuha. The red marks on her buttcheeks were stretching and dripping oil.

“It’s soo... oh!” Kazuha yelped as I dropped myself balls deep inside. I grunted low and moved my hips to keep my cock inside of her. I could feel and hear Yujin’s shallow breathing next to my ear, as well as the slick sound of her playing with herself.

“Eeuugh, Just fuck me...” Kazuha begged. I did as instructed, dropping myself up and down in her asshole. Every time her wet ass touched my pelvis, I grunted with delight. Kazuha’s lower body pressed against the carpet, making her ass look fat than it already was. A deceptive work of physics that captivated me to no end.

“So good...” She muttered, her teeth digging into the carpet. I kept fucking Kazuha’s ass at a ridiculous pace, banging her with delicious thrusts. She writhed and groaned, desperate for more. I wrapped my hands around Kazuha’s waist, digging my fingers into her slippery skin and holding on tight.

“Fuck! What a fat ass!” I grunted as I continued fucking her ass with vigor.

“Aughh…” Kazuha’s voice was hoarse and ragged from screaming and moaning. I kept going. Yujin moaned behind us, rubbing herself into a quiet orgasm. I kept going. Sweat trickled down to my left eye, blinding me. And I kept going.

My oily balls pounded her dripping pussy.  Her ass was strangling my cock while I buried myself inside of her.  She gasped each time my balls slammed into her precious slit.  Kazuha mumbled something I couldn’t quite understand because of the sound of my cock digging into her asshole.  I stopped thrusting with my cock halfway inside her.

“What’d you say?” I asked, leaning in close to her, letting myself slip all the way inside of her.

“I-  I want you to spank me more...” Kazuha let out a gasp.  I leaned back, raising my right hand into the air and let it fall with force.

Slap!

“Oh!” Yujin squeaked behind me.

Slap!

Wild drops of oil flew everywhere as Kazuha’s asshole gripped my cock so tight it almost hurt.

Slap!

“Cumming…” Kazuha roared as she used up what sounded like every last bit of energy she had. I pressed myself deeper into her asshole. Kazuha could barely breathe, pushing her head to the side in order to get some oxygen.

And I felt something spray on my legs.

“She squirted!”  Yujin let out a gasp.  Until now, I had no idea Kazuha was a squirter.

I pulled my cock out of Kazuha to give her a break, but the moment my hot tip exited her ass, Yujin jumped into action. She was on all fours, moving around me. She then placed her mouth directly on my leaking cock, sucking sloppily and staring up at me.

Her lips moved with the flow and expanded lewdly.  My oil-covered nuts wobbled, sending slippery fluid and Kazuha’s cum flying.

“Oh Yujin, that fuckin mouth...” I groaned and stopped thrusting, content to let her do her own thing.  Yujin sucked my cock and reached back to play with cunt, slobbered all over my cock, dramatically rotating her head to allow a thick line of bubbly spit to flow down her chin.

I wanted to cum inside Yujin’s mouth.  That was until she took my cock out of her mouth with a loud ‘pop’.

“Get on the bed. I want you in my asshole now.” Yujin said casually. I immediately climbed onto the bed and lay on my back. Yujin got to her feet without stumbling, oil dripping from her glistening tits and ass. Yujin stood there, eyes closed, reaching back to finger her asshole.

I stroked myself as I watched Yujin’s body jiggle, dripping wet, and shining.  She heard my stroking, opened her eyes, and extended her hand to silently tell me to stop.  Yujin then pulled her finger out of her asshole and approached me.  She climbed onto the bed and bent her knees to straddle me.

“I’m gonna fucking ride this cock...” Yujin said. I held my cock so she could drop herself down onto me. Her rosebud had wrapped around the tip of my wet shaft.

“Woah...” Yujin shuddered as she lowered herself onto my cock. Her pussy juices were leaking into my stomach. Yujin bit her bottom lip and looked at me with the most sultry expression. Almost as if she was trying to show me that she could fit all of my girth inside her asshole.

My entire body became limp when her butt was fully resting on my base.

“You’re not tired...” Yujin said as she began to bounce herself on her knees. Her hair clung to her body. Her asshole was tight and hot. Her shiny tits were bouncing in perfect rhythm. Her eyes and mouth were both open and lustful. The sound of her sticky and soft ass slamming against me filled the room.

If She said I wasn’t tired. I wasn’t tired.

Yujin was bouncing herself up and down my length all the way, her asshole somehow getting looser and tighter at the same time. She put her hands on my shoulders and laughed excitedly in my face as she sank down onto my dick with all her might.

I looked down and saw Kazuha was gone.  I assumed she went to the bathroom to recover.  That was until I felt a hot tongue against my balls.  Yujin turned her head and laughed even more.

“Oh yea, drain those fat fucking balls!”  Yujin roared, her mouth moving faster than her brain while continuing to fuck me hard.

Kazuha put her lips around my balls.  I clenched my teeth and squeezed my eyes closed.  Yujin was exhaling rapidly, her high voice echoing off the walls.  The way her pussy sprayed made me feel like she was peeing on me.  I heard Kazuha violently spit on my shaft, and Yujin’s ass absorbed it like it was nothing.  Yujin pressed her ass against me, finally slowing down.

“I- I can’t... I can’t stop cumming...” Yujin giggled. I gave her a weak smile, noticing her leaking all over me.

“What, you getting tired?” I laughed lightly.

“Fuck you...” Yujin huffed, now just rocking herself on me.

“Been doing that all day.”

“Ju- just hurry up and cum...” Yujin begged.  She took a deep breath and began to grind against me, massaging my cock with her ass and rolling her ass against my thighs. Having inside Yujin’s heaving, curvy body was simply too much.

“You gonna cum?” Yujin teased, smiling devilishly.

“Yes...”

“Go ahead and fill my ass...” she hissed.

I placed my head flat on the bed as Yujin collapsed on top of me, and… I came in her butt, my worn-down cock finally done for the day. Yujin dug her face between my neck, kissing me softly. Before she found the strength to slide off of me.

Yujin flopped to her side, her head resting against my chest. Kazuha crawled over both of us. I wrapped my arms around both of them.

“So...” Kazuha started. “You think I can stay the night? Or… maybe the next few days?

“Of course.”

“Good,” Kazuha kissed me on the cheek.

“Oh, this is gonna be fun.” Yujin sighed.

[cosycafune]

'CAN'T YOU HANDLE ME, BABY?'

0.8k words. sleeping with a man, Toji, double your age wasn’t on your bucket list. however, a tinder match up leaves you sexually curious — throwing away your sanity.

synopsis of acts: back shots, multiple creampies, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, orgasms, him fucking you, whilst watching through the mirror, size difference, big balls, teasing, taunting, crying, mentions of oral, picture taking, infedelity and potential more. not proofread.

NOTHING within you knew what you did to end up here, struggling to take the man that you met on plain, old Tinder. A cum bucket wasn’t your first thought, even if you were a bratty mess.

A writhing mess, you’re mindlessly arched — Toji’s thick, heavy walls slapping against your filled cunt. Strings of thick, warm cum had filled you for hours, but Toji wasn’t willing to let you go. Unable to cry out anymore, consumed by Toji’s brutal pace, your body quivers heavily.

Not a sound fled from your lips, simply broken moans that barely surfaced — a symbol of your worn out self. To you, finding a man on a dating site, like this was extremely rare. However, nothing within you could decline the bulky, gruff, athletic man who kindly matched with a frail, doll-like you. No matter your weight, you still remained something miniscule, in need of conquering before Toji.

“Toji, can’t…last,” Stuffed effortlessly with Toji’s ropes of cum, his thick cock mashing your insides, you falter upon the ample bed with your strained words.

A large, overwhelming pile of saliva remains upon the sheets while Toji grins at you collapsing upon the blankets, being sure to drill into a quivering you. Shit, his ample smile never once faded within the mirror — a wicked grin licking upon his features with every ample thrust.

Innately, Toji’s girth exceeded anything you had ever experienced before, along with his length. Therefore, taking him for this long completely consumed you. Nonetheless, you never listened to your internal thoughts — warning yourself that you couldn’t handle him.

Even with him so deeply within your stomach, pulverising you, your cunt desperately sang his rough praises. Even as your beaten upon bubble butt weakly remains up, Toji can’t help but roughly steady your hips — colliding with a silently moaning you with glee.

Never had you been so fanciful with men who remain significantly older, but you couldn’t help but grind against him when he first entered your home. The restraint you once garnered wavered the moment Toji aligned his ample cock against your lips, throat fucking you recklessly for an hour. Wickedly, he tore into you immensely — so pleased with a teary, bubble-lipped you still yearning to take more. Fat globs of tears streamed down your face, but you couldn’t help but continue to let him throat fuck you — taking a picture and sending it to your toxic boyfriend.

Even whilst you almost choked, his cock lewdly smacking against your lips, Toji contently pushed you into intaking more. To you, you knew he discovered sadistic pleasure in seeing a naked, kneeling you — scattered with a sea of hickeys — obediently before his cock. Seeing you worship ever vein, the beads of cum that spew, the length of it, your battering doe eyes, completely consumed Toji immensely.

“Shit, I know you can…take it!” Toji bellows as he continues to flaunt his almost unbearable sexual drive, his sculpted hips prompting lewd sounds to flow from your squelching cunt. Squelching sounds cut through the serenity of the room, along with the straggled sounds that flee from your lips.

“‘Can’t believe you’ve been taking it…this long,” Knowing you’re flowing with Toji’s cum, even though you’re still being slip open by him, Toji grins with unfathomable glee.

“Fhm,” Wordlessly, exhausted, Toji softly tugs on your hair — forcing you to admire your teary, mascara-stained features in the posed mirror.

“A mess, and I’ve barely started,” Scoffing with his murmurs, Toji hums whilst your features are out of focus — completely corrupted by his cock.

“‘Can’t you… handle me, baby?” Grunting, feeling your walls tighten for the millionth time, Toji’s question falls pointless to a cumming you.

“Ohh,” Only bringing yourself to mutter something so useless, Toji realises the only thing holding up your conquered physique is his thick, veiny arm.

“Mhm! Yes!” Picking up his pace, Toji bellows while his ample balls bash against your buzzing clit — pushing you down on the bed.

“Ahhh!” Finding might to cry out, you gasp at Toji’s body weight falling upon you whilst he thrusts his deepest — pushing you further down on the bed.

“You’re…cute,” Moments away from finishing, Toji thrusts his deepest within you — his thick cock causing you to let out a struggled gasp.

“S-So…deep,” Muttering, Toji grins at your subtle coherency — drawing himself cumming his deepest within you once more.

“‘Better not…take birth control,” Remaining tattered, cum-stuffed vigorously, Toji admires his work — bringing his words to your ear.

“‘Didn’t stuff you…to not carry my…baby,” Not longing to pull out, Toji carves himself into moaning loudly through his words — his eyes rolling back at his cum shooting within your womb.

“Ngh!” Jolting at Toji’s bucket-load of cum punch your gut, you feel yourself accidentally come undone — endlessly filled with his prestige baby batter.

“Hm, weren’t you…saying you’d take me for hours?” Tiredly mumbling, Toji glances at an almost asleep you within the mirror — drool departing from your parted lips.

“Can’t you handle more of me, baby?” Desperation tinting Toji’s voice, he continues to conduct his slow pace — so content by the warmth of your clutching cunt.

do not modify or reupload any of my works. all works are written by me. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024.

[ghoulphile]

sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | masterlist | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position. 

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.” 

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

[iannmin]

HEAD OVER HEELS | p.sh 박성화

pairings + warnings: heels!obssessed!hwa x fem!reader, creampie, breeding kink (literally breeding everywhere >_<), just pure smut so mdni! 18+, unprotected sex, exhibitionism (?)

synopsis: “get hot on ya heels”

a/n: just got some inspiration looking at some of the reblogs from my previous works on hwa and one of them said that hwa may have a kink of loving to their s/o in heels, so credits to whoever who said that i love you

୨୧ ‘ masterlist ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

you owned a lot of heels, but “a lot” would definitely be an understatement. the heels came in tens, even dozens - from the classic YSL’s to the fancy Dolce & Gabbana’s, but regardless the type, it all boiled down to a single reason: park seonghwa.

hwa would always buy you heels everytime he goes out for shopping with his bandmates. his poor and innocent friends thought that it was “nothing more than an act of love” but oh,, you knew for sure that it wasn’t. it was simple, really, he loved how you looked in them when you two were having a lil baby making session <3. so when he hastily kicked off his shoes and fumbled his way over to the bedroom at one in the morning where you were just about to tuck yourself to bed,, you weren’t surprise at all.

“jagiya, look hehe” he shook the huge shopping bag, smug look smeared all over his face. “let’s do it now” don’t get mistaken,, hwa had his priorities set straight so he didn’t care one bit when he carelessly tore the luxurious Louis Vuitton wrapping in half like a spoilt child. you barely uttered a reply but he was already holding both of your ankles, slipping on the wine red heels on your feet. it took a few moments for hwa to soak in the sight - you in his plain white tee with your lace panties coupled with the pair of high heels….god,, and when it finally came to him, hwa could only mumble “f-fuck…s’pretty….gonna ruin you princess” before instantly reaching for the buckles on his belt.

jeans and belt pooling around his knees with his veiny cock slapping against his abdomen, he set you up in a mating press, hooking both of your legs over his shoulder. gently kissing each side of your ankles, he aligned his girthy tip against your hole.

“hah…fuck…wanna breed you so bad…you’ll be such a pretty mommy f’me” *schlop!* in an instant, his hips slammed tightly against yours and his girthy base came into contact with your folds. that’s it. seven-inch all in at once. this was the feeling you’d never seemed to get used to no matter how many times the both of you did it, so it got you instantly gripping on hwa’s shoulder blades. “nnnggh….hwa…feels s’full…s’good...” tears were threatening to spill from your eyes, so he reached in for a sloppy kiss, a string of saliva connecting from both of your coated lips.

but,, of course you were wrong to think that it was the end because hwa was pussy-drunk. extremely drunk with the thought of you. all he desired was to pound that tight pussy loose and watch it seep with his cum. so he did exactly that. with sweaty bangs sticking to his forehead, he buried his head into your neck, deep groans casting vibrations against your skin. with every hard thrust, your nails dug deeper into his shoulders, whimpers turning a pitch higher. "h-hwa...gonna cum..."

"hold on for me princess, i wanna try something.." hwa instantly flipped you on your stomach - ass up, face down in a doggy-style position, and when he entered your sensitive hole again to continue his pounding ordeal, you swear you felt his cock reach in about an inch deeper. oh boy,, you were going to lose your mind very soon.

it took the both of you no more than half a minute to reach your highs and when it did, it felt straight out of a porn scene. with hwa's groans turned into nothing but an endless chant of curses and high-pitched whimpers, and your moans turned into broken sobs, he pressed his hip as deep as it could have gone against yours, releasing loads and loads of hot white cum, filling you up full. and when hwa finally pulled out, his cum was everywhere - seeping out of your hole, dripping down your thighs and heels, coating your wine-red heels in a layer of translucent fluid. he hate to admit it but the sight of you nearly got him hard again.

"fuck...princess, i love you so much, could do this everyday"

[damneddamsy]

falling | joel miller x fem!oc (part iv)

MINIMUM VIABLE HOPE—The smallest form of belief, enough to go on.

summary: It's a day out on the town, and Jackson has much more to offer than just a home and traded goods. Perspective, comfort, and a nice helping of lovesickness—all of which catch Joel's eye.

a/n: did you know you can only mention fifty people in a post? that's just plain boring. and no more than five people in a comment? RUDE. and did anyone else see that SNL episode with Pedro and his hip thrusts, and just fucking die? yeah, me too. also - i had so much FUN writing this chapter, the feels, the angst, the yearning, the loooove. thank you all so much, and I hope you like this long ass chapter!

Joel didn’t like looking in the mirror for too long.

It wasn’t vanity—never had been—but it showed too much. Told the truth in ways he didn’t much care for. The deep lines, the greying scruff, the years stacked on top of each other like weathered wood, each one heftier than the last. He preferred the delusion, the easy forgetfulness that came with living day to day, not thinking too hard about the good ol' days or how much he wished time hadn't gotten his hands on him. But today?

Well, today he damn near felt good in his own skin.

The clothes, that Leela generously offered, helped. Goddamn, they smelled amazing. Fresh. Worn but not ragged. The denim was sturdy but soft, the fleece underlayer warm and snug. The shearling jacket fit like something out of another life—one where he had more time, where he cared about how he looked. Even his boots, though a little tight, made him feel like he was standing taller. He couldn't even pronounce the brand of the damn thing—French apostrophes, all that fancy bullshit—but whatever it was, it smelled nice, felt nice.

Oh, for sure: Ellie was bound to give him shit. Tommy even more so.

But really... he couldn't give a flying fuck. Today he felt like he was Joel from Texas again. Like he wasn’t some worn-down relic with a bad knee and a worse past.

On the note of Leela, the big, white house across the street was officially back in order. Finally functional after hours of wrestling with the complex fucking wiring, one of the few cons of such a massive home. Not that it had been much of a fight after the resident brainiac showed up—Leela had already pinpointed the problem in minutes and quietly rattled it off like it was second nature. All he had to do was be her muscle, follow along and weld it. It was more attractive than any love or sex this world had to offer.

Catching his reflection again in the front mirror of Leela's home, Joel ruffled the front of his hair, combing down the longer strands at the back, brushing at his jaw, at the scruff that had grown heavier these days, adjusting the collar, smoothing out the sleeve.

He hadn’t meant to get this caught up in it, hadn’t meant to feel this—what, good? Yeah, good. Christ, what a joke.

He’d just turned to grab Maya's baby blanket off the couch, the breathy voice from the stairs made him stiffen.

“Jesus, Joel.”

He looked up.

Leela was halfway down the staircase, cradling Maya against her chest. She wasn’t wearing the usual loose nightgowns or sweats she’d holed herself up in for months. No, this time, she was in clean, fitted jeans, and a long-sleeved shirt in that same soft blue he liked on her. Her hair was brushed smooth down her back, tucked behind her ears, not tangled and loose like usual.

For the first time, he really saw her. Not just the soft, exhausted mother. Not just the lonely woman who never let anyone too close. Her. Tall and breathtaking. Arch calves, thighs, the swell of her hips, the softness at her love handles that hadn’t quite gone away after childbirth.

And because life had a twisted sense of humour, because the moment was already damn near suffocating from seeing her, she had to go and hit him with—

“I thought you were my dad from the back.”

Joel took that one like a sucker punch straight to the gut. He had to fight the instinct to wince, to let it show. At least she didn’t say granddad, he reasoned, trying to patch up what little was left of his dignity. Small mercies.

He exhaled, fixing his fist into the coat pockets, forcing himself to smirk. “Yeah? He must’ve been one hell of a good-lookin’ guy.”

Leela huffed out a laugh, resting the baby’s cheek against her shoulder. “He loved suede. A huge show-off.”

“Well,” he drawled, tugging at the sleeve, “that's where we disagree. At least the man had taste.”

“He also loved polka-dots,” she pointed out.

He clicked his tongue. “I take the fifth, thanks.”

That earned him another laugh, light and easy, like he’d actually said something funny. He didn’t think too hard about how that was probably all he was to her—just some seasoned guy lending a hand. A reliable acquaintance. Nothing more, nothing less.

But then, feeling excluded, Maya let out a breathless little giggle—one of those soft, airy sounds she always seemed to save just for him—and he feared for whatever was left of his soul, crushing.

Maya was grinning up at him, tiny fists wriggling in her mittens, legs kicking against Leela’s side, looking like a baby worth a thousand pictures in a camera. Bundled up in a white cotton onesie, all warm and snug, her beanie perched on her head with those stupid little ears sticking up like a baby bear. Everything was a size too big like she was still growing into the world.

Joel clutched at his chest, mock-staggering back. “You’re breakin’ my goddamned heart, doll,” he murmured, unable to resist a toothy grin, as he held out his arms for her. “Look at you. C’mere, beautiful girl. G'morning.”

Maya squirmed excitedly, tiny mitten-clad hands grasping the air, and as Joel habitually pressed a warm kiss into her cheek, tempted to steal four more, he caught a glimpse of the gold ‘L’ embroidered on the chest of the onesie. Leela’s old hand-me-down that had survived the test of time.

“Lost an eardrum trying to get her into that,” Leela admitted.

She shook her head but passed Maya over, cracking her knuckles absently as she stretched out her arms, unease becoming her. He adjusted Maya against his side, settling her little weight against him. That was her seat for the rest of the day today.

Then, as if debating something, she asked, “Do you really think it’s fine? Bringing her outside? I'm worried she'll fall sick or...”

Joel arched a brow. “I told you. You’re not goin’ there without me, and Maya’s not goin’ anywhere without either of us.”

Leela chewed on that, still unsure.

Maria had been insistent about her showing up, about giving her insight into the lightning harvester with workers—the innovation she’d designed, the one they were planning to station right outside the dam. The whole quadrant was already in progress, groundwork was being laid, and people getting involved. The biggest project Jackson had taken on in a long while.

Even after Joel had warned Maria that Leela was banged up and still on the mend, she'd cherry-picked the argument and cornered him by labelling him an 'overbearing son of a bitch who was getting on her last nerve'. He'd essentially shut up after that since Maria still scared him witless.

"Look, I've got the kid. You do your thing," Joel said, adjusting Maya as she wriggled against him. "I'll just hang back at the square with Tommy and the rest, stay close by. I'll check up on you after."

Leela pressed her lips together, clearly thinking it over.

Joel tried his hand at persuasion. “Y'know, you've been holed up here for three months.”

Leela blinked. Like she was only just realizing it. Her brows furrowed, fingers lifting as she counted—one, two, three. Each number dropped a new rock in Joel’s stomach.

“More, actually.” Her voice was distant like she was doing the math in real time. “I delivered Maya at home. Nearly... eight months now.”

Eight months. Eight months since she’d stepped beyond these walls, since she’d breathed fresh air, and been around people.

He hadn’t let himself think about it before—hadn’t wanted to—but now the image was there, unshakable. Leela, alone. Covered in sweat, spasming in pain. Bloody, weak, feeling like she was dying, like the walls were closing in, like no one in the world could help her. The raw struggle of it.

His stomach turned. No—Maria would’ve made sure she had someone. She had to have. Someone must've heard her.

Joel was aware of what that kind of loneliness did to a person. How it made you shrink, made you start believing that was all there was—that the world outside didn’t need you anymore. And she’d stayed in here. For eight goddamn months. That wasn’t living.

He cleared his throat, forcing the thought away. No use stewing in it.

“Well,” he muttered, his hand reaching for the door handle, “’nuff said. Let’s get this show on the road.”

X

People in Jackson knew Joel Miller.

Same as Maria. Same as Tommy. They knew him for his angry brow, the way his mouth rarely broke from that grim, set line. They knew the sharpness in his eyes, the way he cut through a room without saying a word. They knew he was a hardass bastard. He didn’t make small talk. Didn’t go out of his way to be liked. He knew he scared off plenty of folks just by standing there, arms crossed, expression set like granite. And that suited him just fine. People left him be.

So seeing him now—walking through town cradling a baby instead of a rifle, with a woman most thought was a ghost at his side—that was gonna be the topic of the damn day.

He could feel the looks, hear the murmurs, the way conversations stuttered as he passed. And he did not give a shit. Let ‘em talk. Let ‘em wonder.

It wasn’t like he was breaking news—his neighbours saw him come and go from her big white house as he pleased. Enough times that people could put two and two together. But this? Out in broad daylight, baby in tow? Now what the hell was going on?

Joel wasn’t the kind of man people expected to be carrying a baby. Much less one that looked at him like he hung the damn moon. And yet, here was Maya, snug against his chest, her tiny fingers curled into his fleece collar, drooling on his coat like it belonged to her.

And Leela—well. She was another matter entirely. She wasn’t just quiet. She was tense. She kept close, but not close enough to touch. Her shoulders were drawn up, her hands flexing and unflexing like she was trying to shake off the feeling of being watched.

And it wasn’t hard to guess why.

People hadn’t seen her in months. Half of Jackson had probably forgotten she even existed. The other half had started whispering about why. Joel had heard it in passing, plenty of rumours. Theories. That she was still sick. That she was holed up with her baby because she was too ashamed to be seen alone. That she was broken, not quite right in the head.

He knew better. He knew she was just trying to get by. Trying to put herself together while holding onto a child that didn’t feel quite like hers yet. And this? Being out here? This was the most out of her comfort zone she’d been in a long time.

Joel kept a steady pace, letting Leela take in what she hadn’t seen in months. He pointed things out as they walked—the grocery store with the fresh carrots now, thanks to the greenhouse. The bar with the good music. The repair shop he visited often. The little barbecue place that always smelled so mouthwatering it was damn near criminal.

He did it all for her. To keep her focused on something else—something that wasn’t the way people watched her. Wasn’t the way she was already winding herself up, bracing for something bad that wasn’t coming.

Joel kept a close eye on her, shifting Maya in his arms, pretending not to notice the way her breathing went uneven. The way she stiffened every time someone got too close. The way she gripped Joel’s elbow a little tighter like she had to remind herself he was still there.

Then, like it was nothing, like this was any other day, he muttered, “Y’ever had barbecue before?”

Leela blinked, like the question startled her. “Yeah?”

“Yeah?” He echoed with a smirk, shifting Maya higher in his arms who was listening to his voice drum in his chest. “That didn’t sound real confident.”

She let out a breath, still gripping his jacket tight. “I have, just… not in a very long time.”

“Well,” he drawled, eyes on the path ahead like this was already settled, “when you’re done with work, I’m takin’ you out. Get you a nice smoked brisket. A big slice of pecan pie with cream. How 'bout it?”

Leela glanced at him, agape. “I don’t... you don’t have to—”

“I know,” he cut in. “I want to.”

She didn’t say anything. A moment later, he felt her hand slip lower, brushing against his wrist. Just a light touch, nothing much. But Joel knew what it meant. The world around her was too much, too fast, too loud. Drowning in the noise of it all.

So, soft and low, he asked, “D’you wanna head inside for a bit?”

Leela barely hesitated. Just nodded once, fast, reaching for Maya like she needed something to anchor herself.

But Maya wasn't having it at all. She whined a stubborn noise, little hands grasping at Joel’s coat, face burrowing into the material, refusing to be handed off when she had just gotten cosy.

And maybe Joel imagined it—but he thought he saw something in Leela’s eyes splinter, that little rejection cutting deeper than it should’ve. A flicker in her dark eyes she buried quick. It looked a hell of a lot like hurt.

But she didn’t say anything. Didn’t react. Just let her hands fall, face blank and turned for the closest door.

Joel followed without a word, close enough, an arm outstretched around her, never touching, his presence simply a buffer between her and the rest of the world.

Inside, it was quiet. The clothing store, he quickly realized. The shelves were full but mismatched, stocked with whatever could be traded, salvaged, or repurposed. Nothing had price tags—Jackson ran on barter. Jackets, boots, canned food, and old records. Everything was up for negotiation. You talked it out with the shopkeep and settled on a fair deal.

Leela didn’t say a word. Just let out a slow, shuddering breath, stepping into a corner aisle, hidden away, and pressing her slick palms against the wooden shelf.

Joel watched her quietly, stroking Maya's back. Eight months locked up in that house, barely speaking to a soul. Now, she is back in the thick of it, remembering how to breathe in open air. No wonder, she looked like she was trying to find her footing. It made sense; people forgot how to be around people.

It was something he'd seen before. The way a person stepped out of the dark after too long, how the world suddenly felt like it could swallow them whole. Some folks got jumpy. Some shut down. Leela was somewhere in between—standing still, silent, stiff as a board, like she was trying to keep herself from bolting.

He’d seen that before, too.

Her fingers curled into the edge of the shelf at her back, grip tightening, knuckles white. She shut her eyes, breathing slow, deliberate—like she was trying to disappear inside herself. Trying to access some space within herself where the world wasn’t pressing in on her.

Yeah. He knew that look all too well now. She was trying not to cry.

Joel shifted his weight, glancing down at Maya, who was blissfully unaware, busy gumming the edge of a scarf she’d pulled off the shelf.

He cleared his throat. “Hey.”

Leela flinched—not much, just a little twitch of her shoulders—but it was enough to tell him that, for a second, she’d forgotten where she was. She blinked, pulling back from wherever she’d gone in her head, and looked at him.

Joel didn’t do the whole let's-address-this-nonsense, so he reached for the first thing that might pull her back. He grabbed an old record from the shelf and held it up. “Wanna put that fancy record player to use?”

Her expression softened instantly. She reached for the record, fingers tracing the edges like she was handling something precious. He eventually noticed the label—The Beach Boys, Wild Honey. What was with him, her and the sixties music?

“I have this one,” she mumbled.

An unsurprising turn of events. “’Course you do.” Joel sighed, sliding it back onto the shelf. "Hard to spoil a rich girl.”

She huffed out a laugh, tired, but at least it was real. She picked up a cloudy snow globe next, giving it a shake, eyes tracking the upending snow inside. “Don’t care for money anymore.”

Joel watched her, watched the way her fingers moved over the glass, trying to wipe away the dust. The way her shoulders had started to relax, just a little. He figured now was a good time for a distraction.

He tipped his chin at her. “You’re sittin’ on a gold mine, darlin'. You got salt. Basil or whatever.”

Her head tilted. "Seasoning makes me rich?"

"You ever eaten twenty years’ worth of QZ ration packs?" He scoffed, thumbing through the record covers. "Tryin’ to remember what real food tastes like while chewing expired crap they call 'dehydrated bolognese'?"

She actually laughed at that—not a breathy little huff, but a real laugh, short and amused. Then her eyes picked up that spark, a sharpness brightening her. “I make my own salt, actually. It’s a chemical reaction. It's fascinating, the sedimentation from caustic soda and—”

Joel lifted a hand to interrupt her, making a 'whoosh' motion over his head. “Alright, you lost me at ‘chemical.’ But if you got some to spare, I'd love to start saltin' my eggs in the morning.”

Her grin widened, but before she could respond, the door clattered open.

Maria swept in like a windstorm, hardly stepping inside, just enough to hold the door open. Clipboard in hand, she scanned the shelves, eyes flicking from one thing to the next, already onto whatever task she had next.

When she finally spotted Leela, she barely paused. “C’mon, kid, people are waiting for you. Let’s go.”

Leela stiffened, a shallow breath catching in her throat.

Joel caught the way her fingers tightened around the snow globe. The way her gaze flickered toward the door, then away just as fast—like she couldn’t look at it too long like it was something too bright, too overwhelming. She had just started breathing again.

He was about to say something—tell Maria to give her a damn minute, at least—but Leela nodded at her before he could get a word out. “I’ll be right there.”

But he saw the way her throat worked, how her hands wouldn’t quite let go of the shelf behind her. Then, she glanced back at him. A flicker. Hesitation. Like she was searching for something—a push, a reason to stall.

Joel had no goddamn clue what to do with that. Flash her a thumbs-up? Offer some dopey, generic shit like, “You got this”? None of it seemed right.

Maya—still happily oblivious, still gnawing on that damp, probably filthy scarf—grinned up at her mother with a gurgle, all gums and trouble. Her small hand finally reached out to her mama like her own little vote of confidence.

Leela’s expression softened, melting at that. She pressed a kiss to Maya's mitten, cupped her cheeks, and pressed another kiss to her head, lingering for a moment, breathing her in. “Don’t miss me too much, baby girl.”

And Joel—who was just holding the kid, who had nothing to do with that kiss—felt it all the way to his goddamn toes, until he curled them tight.

His throat closed when Leela straightened, and before he could react, she reached out, squeezing his shoulder. A quick thing, warm, shocking and grounding, there and gone.

“Take care of her, Joel,” she murmured.

She didn’t wait for a response. Didn’t hesitate this time. Just turned and walked toward the door, already steeling herself for whatever was waiting outside. Maria scarcely gave Joel a second glance as she hooked an arm around Leela’s shoulder, guiding her down the street, toward the dam.

Joel let out a slow breath through his nose, shifting Maya in his arms. Take care of her. Like that was even a question.

X

So, this was it. Joel hadn’t done something like this in a long time.

Running errands. Moving through town without it being about work, about survival, about making sure no one was about to freeze or starve. Just walking, going slow, letting himself ease into the rhythm of a day.

It was stupid how much he liked it. Maybe it was Maya in her room that was his arms, the warmth of her little body tucked up against him, the soft sighs and quiet sounds she made as she drifted in and out of sleep on his chest. Maybe it was the feeling of just being—going from place to place with no rush, no urgency, no reason to keep his hand near a weapon. It had been a while since he felt this liberated.

And yet, for all that, it was also the most uncomfortable he’d ever been. Because everywhere he went, people noticed him.

Or more specifically, they noticed her.

Maya was the newest baby in town, and in a place like Jackson—where everyone kept track of every fucking thing—that meant she was an instant celebrity.

It started at the main square. Joel had barely stepped inside before an older woman behind the counter lit up, clasping her hands together. “Oh, well, would you look at that.” She leaned forward, peering at Maya like she was a new puppy. “Aren’t you just the prettiest little thing?”

Joel braced. He was never good at shit like this—casual conversation, polite interactions. But he was prepared to nod, maybe mutter something noncommittal. Didn’t get the chance.

Before he could step away, the woman moved in.

“Can I see her?” She was already reaching like she might touch her, and instinct had Joel stepping back, moving Maya’s weight against his chest, his free hand flexing at his side.

The handsy woman noticed, laughing lightly. “Don’t worry, hon, I won’t take her from you.” But then she looked up, past Maya and her face dropped like a corpse wearing boots. “Oh. Joel.”

Yeah. Exactly. People never approached him. They let him pass, they let him do what he needed to do, and they didn’t ask for more than what was necessary. But now? Now he had her snug to his chest, and people suddenly thought they could get in his space, that they could smile at him like he was one of them.

“Right,” Joel muttered, clearing his throat. He took a step back, putting more space between them. “Gotta—uh. Got things to do.”

And he left before she could say anything else.

But it kept happening. Like having a baby made you instantly likeable. Erased everything that people deemed you unlikeable for.

A pair of young women on the street whispered to each other behind their hands. The Miller baby. Even some guy he didn’t know—a carpenter or a repairman or something—told over his shoulder to his friend while passing him, “Is that the little Miller baby?”

He didn’t answer. It wasn’t. But he hated how the words stuck to his skin, how they lingered. Feeding him false truths.

Maya, for her part, handled the attention in the same way she handled everything. She stared, wide-eyed, for a few seconds before burying her face in his chest, hiding against him.

Which—fair. Joel had the same damn instinct.

After a while, he just stopped slowing down, stopped making eye contact, and stopped acknowledging the people trying to grab his attention. By the time he hit the shop that traded in home goods, his patience was running thin.

He bartered for his coffee first. Priorities. He was low on supply, and he didn’t feel right starting a morning without it. Then, a stop at the shelf where he found some candles. The kind that a hifalutin name, like lavender or some other flower he couldn’t name. He wasn’t proud of what he’d had to trade to get them, but if they helped Leela sleep, he figured it was worth it.

Then, while shifting the baby bag on his shoulder, he saw it—some worn-down, wooden playthings on one of the shelves, a sad little collection of toys no one had much use for.

The kid had nothing. Leela didn’t seem to know enough to engage her in play. Honestly, Maya’s biggest laughs came from him, from just seeing him come in through the door and the way he bounced her when no one was looking. She didn’t have a stuffed animal to chew on, a rattle to shake, nothing. That sat wrong with him.

He reached out, fingers brushing over a carved horse with rounded edges. But before he could test it in his palms, Maya twisted in his arms, a tiny frown forming on her face.

The warning signs.

Joel sighed. “Ah, shit. Really, sweetheart?”

The fussing started slow—grunts, little unhappy noises, fidgeting with her mittens. It was hunger, he knew that much, and he hadn’t exactly planned on stopping somewhere good for it.

He glanced around, eyes landing on the worst place he could think of to feed a baby. He looked up to the sky instead, hoping for some cosmic assistance. Test him, test him, and test him again.

The fucking bar.

Well, then. It should be empty at this time of day. He'll take what is given.

Joel stepped in, scanning the dimly lit space for judgmental stares, the door swinging shut behind him. No one. It smelled like old wood and stale beer, the kind of place that felt settled into itself, like it had been standing for a hundred years and would stand for a hundred more. Even Tommy was behind the counter, rummaging through shelves, looking for something that clearly wasn’t there.

Joel exhaled sharply and shook his head. “Caught you at the right time.”

Tommy barely glanced up. “Look who it is. Papa Joel.” Then he did look, properly this time, and his smirk widened. “And look at you. Hell, you wearin’ cologne?”

Joel grunted, shifting Maya higher in his arms. “Shut up.”

“Not my fault you look—” Tommy gestured vaguely at all of him, “—like you popped outta Sears catalogue.”

Joel scowled. The swanky clothes. Right. But leave it to Tommy to make a damn thing of it.

Instead of answering, he settled onto a stool, already halfway to getting Maya’s bottle ready. She'd gone quiet, watching him move, which was never a good sign. Not for long, anyway.

Joel gently adjusted her in the crook of his arm, tucking the bottle against her lips, and that was it. The instant it was him feeding her, the second she got comfortable, her hands started roaming. She did this thing every single time. Feeling. Grabbing. Claiming.

And today, like always, they landed on the scar on his wrist. That big, pale line that ran jagged up his wrist into his forearm, from a blade that had nearly done more than nick him. A raider that he'd shivved in less than two seconds once the bleeding started.

In cruel irony, Maya was obsessed with it. She smoothed her tiny mitten over it, again and again, like she was trying to figure it out, her hand bare speck against the scar. Then she started digging her little hand into it, gripping it like she could peel it off him like it was something separate from his skin.

If Joel took his arm away when she got her claws in, her hands floated after it, waiting. A small whine, and she even gave up on the bottle.

“What?” he asked her, a single brow arched. “Aren't you hungry?”

She moved her head when he tried to push the sipper against her lips. Little smartass. A small, give-it-back-coo, brows furrowed, fists still waiting within her mittens. He missed seeing those little fingers already.

“Yeah, yeah. I ain’t goin’ anywhere, baby girl,” he sighed, letting her have his hand again. His voice was barely above a rasp, more to himself than anything. Not like she could understand, anyway. But talking to her—talking at her—had become something natural. Like breathing.

Immediately, she latched onto it again, tiny fingers curling around the scar like it belonged to her. Just let it happen. Couldn’t do a damn thing with her around. She had all his attention.

The silence between them stretched, like something Joel could settle into. Maya kept her hold on him, even as she finished eating, even as her round eyelids drooped with sleep.

His free hand, the one that had been absently nursing the cold whiskey glass, came up to trace down her nose. That tiny little twitching nose. She scrunched it at the sensation, gave the smallest little sigh—then she was out. Just like that.

Ahead, Tommy took a sip of his drink, still watching. Not saying anything. Not yet.

Then, after a beat, he sighed. “So, you’re really gonna do this?”

Joel blinked, caught mid-motion, his fingers coming up against the cool glass of his drink. He knew what Tommy's 'this' implied, he didn't even have to point it out. Joel hadn’t thought about it, not in words. Not in the way Tommy was asking. But the question hung there between them, waiting to be acknowledged.

His first instinct was to scoff. Shake his head. Deflect. Like he always did.

But instead, he just sat there.

Maya was still curled against him, warm and impossibly small. Her fingers had loosened in sleep, no longer gripping his wrist so fiercely, but every now and then, she’d twitch, like she was reaching for him even in dreams. Like she knew exactly where she belonged, in the arms that were always ready to catch her.

Joel swallowed, jaw working, eyes fixed on the grain of the counter. He could feel Tommy watching him, waiting.

Then came the shrug. That half-assed, useless shrug. A non-answer, because he wasn’t ready to say it out loud.

Tommy snorted, shaking his head. “Bullshit.”

“Ain’t that simple. You know how it is with her mom.” The words came out rougher than Joel intended like he was trying to shove them between himself and whatever his shitty brother was about to say next.

Tommy, of course, wasn’t buying it. He leaned against the bar, arms folded, giving Joel that look—the one that said he was already ten steps ahead, already seeing straight through the seven layers of crap. Joel hated that damn look.

“It’s already simple,” Tommy said, voice even. “You just don’t wanna admit it.”

Joel scowled, shifting Maya higher in his arms, adjusting her like it was nothing. Like she wasn’t the thing anchoring him in place.

“The hell does that mean?”

Tommy huffed a laugh, shaking his head. Then he just gestured—a lazy flick of his fingers toward Maya, toward the way she was curled into Joel’s chest, tiny and warm and completely at home.

It made Joel pause. The way Tommy was looking at him. The way he didn’t say what he meant, just let the silence speak for itself.

Joel swallowed, jaw tightening.

“It means you already decided,” Tommy finally said. “You’re just waitin’ on someone else to say it first, you pussy.”

Joel’s fingers curled tighter around his drink. A muscle jumped in his jaw. Because Tommy wasn’t wrong. He fucking hated that Tommy wasn’t wrong.

This was what he did. This was how it always went. With Ellie. With Sarah. He didn’t decide—he just let it happen. Let them carve out their space in his life, let them claim him before he ever had the guts to admit it. Because once you said it—really said it—that was it. No taking it back. No pretending you could walk away.

And Maya… she was already there. Already in. And fuck. Tommy must’ve caught the shift in his expression, because his posture eased, his voice dropping into something quieter, something real.

“Y’know,” he said, softer this time. “I’ve missed seein’ you like this.”

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose. “Like what?”

Tommy tilted his head, studying him. “Like you still give a damn.”

Joel scoffed. “That’s real cute, Tommy.”

“I’m serious.”

And Joel knew he was. Could hear it in the way Tommy’s voice had lost its usual sharpness, in the way he wasn’t teasing anymore.

Tommy wasn’t just looking at him now—he was seeing him.

The way Joel had melted into this. How he hadn’t put her down, hadn’t even tried. How his hand, scarred and mangled, still rested against the small of Maya’s back, gently rubbing circles as if he needed to make sure she was still there.

Joel looked away. Something crawled up his spine, sharp and unnameable. He didn’t like being seen. Not like this. Not even by Tommy. So he went for the easiest thing—the simplest way to cut the tension.

A half-hearted mutter. A low, unconvincing, “Yeah, well.”

Tommy’s smirk returned, slow and knowing. “Poetic,” he drawled.

Joel shook his head, finally taking a drink. “You talk too damn much.”

Tommy chuckled, tapping his fingers against his glass. “Yeah, well,” he mimicked before his voice softened again. “You don’t gotta say it, Joel.” He gestured toward Maya, still curled against his chest, safe, home. “You’re already doin’ it. Even if you got fuckin’ old.”

“Guess I had to, didn’t I?” he muttered, adjusting Maya against his chest, making sure her head rested easy against his chest.

Tommy didn’t argue. Didn’t need to. They both knew the truth of it.

Joel had aged in ways Tommy never would, in ways no one who hadn’t lived what he lived could understand. His life had been gunpowder, dirt and blood. But still—there was something about this, about sitting here, not rushing anywhere, not killing anything, not surviving, just existing.

Something about her. She had her little hands on his shirt, curled tight in sleep, and he knew without a doubt that when she woke up, she'd reach for him again.

Yeah, this was what getting old was.

X

It wasn’t so abnormal anymore, Joel thought, being here like this. A weekend evening, in nice clothes, at a restaurant, beer in hand, sitting around a table with family. Nothing left to rock the boat.

For a long time, this kind of thing had felt impossible. Something for other people. Other lives. Even in Jackson, even after all these years, he still sometimes caught himself expecting the old rhythm—always waiting for something to go wrong.

But here he was. Sitting in a booth at the barbecue joint, letting the warmth of the moment settle in. Maria was talking a mile a minute, Tommy was stretched out beside her, looking half in disbelief, and across from him—Leela cradling Maya, quiet as ever.

Joel took a slow sip of his beer, tearing his eyes off her, half-listening as Maria went off, excitement lighting up her face.

“—seriously, I’ve never seen anything like it,” she was saying, gesturing so wildly she nearly knocked over Tommy’s drink. “Fixed the whole irrigation backup in minutes, Joel! Got the system running smoother than it ever has, and on top of that—this little Einstein somehow managed to work out a whole fucking ration adjustment in the same damn hour.”

Leela’s face went warm. She waved a hand, dismissing it. “It wasn’t that complicated. The whole system just needed a pressure bypass to reduce cavitation in the main feed lines. And the rationing—honestly, it was just a matter of optimizing caloric allotments based on intake efficiency per household.”

A stunned hush.

Tommy blinked. Joel just stared in amazement. Maria narrowed her eyes like she was trying to do the math in her head.

“Right,” Tommy finally muttered, dragging his drink closer to safety. “I totally knew what all that meant.”

Joel huffed a laugh, shaking his head. And a little proud of her. “Christ.”

Leela frowned, looking between them. “It's all just calibration.”

Maria snorted, nudging Tommy. “I think that just proved her point.”

She was surpassing expectations with Maria fuckin' Miller. That had got to count for something. It was rare, too, to watch her this spirited, this excited. Even rarer that Tommy wasn’t the loudest one at the table.

"Well," Tommy said, smirking as he raised his glass. "Guess it's good to have a genius in your corner sometimes."

Joel smirked too, but his gaze flickered sideways again, back to Leela. He couldn't help himself to another look, and another, and another. Total headcase conduct.

But she wasn’t looking at any of them. She sat beside him, holding Maya close, not engaging much, just keeping her eyes down, drifting between the door and Maya in her bouncing lap. Every now and then, she’d offer a thin, polite smile—one of those distant ones, not real, not reaching her eyes. Present, but not fully there.

Joel noticed it all. The way she sat just a little too stiff, the way her fingers fidgeted lightly against Maya’s back. The way her shoulders didn’t fully relax, even though she was surrounded by people she trusted. She was clearly still agitated with something. Maybe the attention? The restaurant? The smell of the food? Perhaps Maya? Or was it himself?

Joel sipped his beer and let his eyes linger on her for a second longer, about to change the subject, before Tommy—that big-mouthed bastard—broke the moment.

“Leela’s birthday’s comin’ up in a few days, right?” he said, nodding toward Joel like he expected him to confirm. “You two got plans?”

Joel damn near choked. He shot Tommy a glare so sharp it could’ve gutted a man. Wanted to kick him square in the balls. What was this little shit implying? And her birthday? He didn’t even know. Then again, he wasn't big on celebrations anyway.

Leela, to his relief, didn’t seem to care much. She just shook her head. “No plans.”

Maria, of course, had other ideas. Plans. To put that unused, exquisite dining room in her home to good use.

“Dinner, then,” she announced, already scheming, her face bright with it. “Your place. You don't have to lift a finger, the menu’s on me.”

Leela hesitated. “Um...”

Joel was ready to witness Maria take a licking for the first time ever. He could see the wheels turning in Leela's head, the way her fingers curled into Maya’s blanket. She looked down at the baby, who was happily slapping her little hands against the table, amusing herself, laughing that hiccuping laugh, at the sound.

Joel couldn’t help but smile. He reached out, brushing his knuckles over Maya’s chin, and she let out a delighted squeal, and tried to catch his hand before he returned it to his glass.

Leela exhaled, barely a smile on her lips, blindsiding him with: "I think that'd be nice. I could make something, too. With seasoning." And she flashed a knowing grin at Joel.

He bit his smile into the rim of his beer glass, meeting her eye. "Amen."

“Sweet,” Tommy grinned. “I’ll let Ellie know.”

When the food arrived in a leering waitress's arms, Joel didn’t touch his plate right away. He was too busy looking at Tommy’s. A full rack of ribs, juicy, glistening with sauce, looking like the best damn thing on the table. Regret burned in his gut.

Tommy, the smug shithead, was already smirking, rolling back his sleeves. “Something wrong, big brother?”

Joel grunted, reaching for his beer instead of dignifying that with an answer. His brother had no one to impress, Maria was well-versed in Tommy-isms. Joel had played it safe. Ribs were messy. Hands-on. Fucking delicious. If he were alone, or if it was just Tommy, he’d be going to town on them.

But with Maya switching from his lap to Leela's lap half the time? With Leela, this smart, stunning girl, sitting beside him, barely eating, her shoulder brushing his every now and then? He’d gone for the safe, decent option. A nice slab of brisket. Neater. Quieter. Civil. Less of a goddamn spectacle.

Across from him, Maria was already chatting about something—town expansion, hydroponics for the greenhouse, that kind of thing. Leela was listening, but not really. Not engaging entirely. Her gaze stayed down, distracted.

And then there was Maya. For all her adorableness, she was being an absolute menace. Squirming. Reaching. Grabbing. Her big eyes were all stubborn, yet curious. Joel felt her shifting in Leela’s lap, wiggling against her arm, determined to smack her little hands onto her mother's plate.

“Maya, please,” Leela whispered, exasperated, nudging her hands away. Even positioning her farther on her lap.

Of course, it didn’t work. Maya let out a loud, insistent whine—real dramatic-like. Another scream of objection, fists squeezed like she was throwing a fit, and smacking for the plate again.

Maria chuckled. “Kid’s got some lungs on her.”

Leela huffed a small, tired laugh, but Joel could see her struggle even if it was hilarious. Trying to keep handsy Maya at bay while attempting to cut her steak one-handed. She wasn’t doing a great job of it. Fork in one hand, knife awkwardly angled in the other, barely making progress.

Joel didn’t think about it. Didn’t need to.

He just reached over and swapped their plates. Simple. Quiet. Didn’t make a thing of it. Just slid his brisket—already cut—toward her, nudging it a little farther from Maya’s reach.

Leela stilled. And glanced up at him, astonished.

Joel kept his eyes on his own plate, reaching for his knife. Shrugged, like it was nothing. “Go on,” he urged. “The best thing you'll put in your mouth.”

Tommy cleared his throat, catching onto the innuendo. Joel imagined sticking his knife into his eye.

Leela hesitated. Then, after a beat, he heard the soft clink of her fork against the plate as she speared a piece. A grateful smile came alive on her face while she chewed, a genuine one. He'd learned to tell the difference now.

“Thank you, Joel,” she nodded.

Joel nodded back, a tight smile stretching on his lips. Took a bite from his plate. There was nothing else to be said. The message was clear: I've got you.

Oh, Joel didn’t miss the looks either. Maria’s subtle smirk behind her glass. Tommy’s full-blown, shit-eating grin. The two of them watched like they were studying a goddamn exhibit every time Joel so much as glanced at Leela or reached out for Maya.

Fuck them. He ignored it all, chewing through another bite of steak, keeping his focus where it needed to be. Maya was calm now. Full belly, busy little hands—playing with his own hand now, like it was her favourite toy in the world. Leela, finally eating without interruption, though still too quiet.

Joel didn’t say a damn word about any of it. Even when Maria started up again.

“What I'm saying is, that the town’s growing,” she said, wiping her mouth. “More people settling in every month. It’s getting to the point where we’re running low on homes.”

That got Joel’s attention. His chewing slowed, a sliver of suspicion creeping in. Tommy wasn’t looking at him. That was the first red flag that he'd learned from one of the more recent dinners in the Miller household.

“Couple of new families coming in next week,” Maria continued. “One’s got three kids. You believe that? Haven’t had that many young ones in Jackson in a long time.”

Joel grunted. More people. More mouths to feed. Meant the town was growing, sure—but also meant more risk. Running this place with a tight ship was already starting to show. And Maria wasn’t done.

“Thing is, if we keep expanding at this rate, we’ll have to start repurposing old homes.”

There it was. Joel was halfway through his beer when he heard more of this.

“You know, Joel,” Tommy started his tone too goddamn casual to be anything but questionable. “If push comes to shove, we could always put your place up for new tenants.”

Joel’s grip tightened on his glass. He didn’t blink. Didn’t look at Tommy right away. Just kept chewing slow, steady, like he hadn’t heard a thing.

Because he knew what this was. He knew Tommy and that arrogant little edge in his voice, the way Maria was staying too quiet, swirling her drink like she wasn’t waiting for impact.

It was a set-up. Fishing. Looking for a reaction. Confirming some inside hunches. And Maria took the shot before he could load his own.

“We’d put you up at ours, sure enough,” she said, breezy, easy.

“No kidding. You're family, can't just chuck you on the street as much as I want to,” Tommy added, mockingly, grinning like a jackass.

Joel set his drink down with a little too much pressure, the sound a noisy thud. Finally, finally, he levelled a look at Tommy. He didn't need to say a damn thing. Because whatever was on his face? It was enough.

Tommy coughed, glancing away as if he felt the heat of it. He knew what would follow if he spoke another word. Maria, to her credit, held his stare, only raising an eyebrow.

Joel’s jaw flexed, real slow. The urge to tell them both to go straight to hell was right there, burning at the back of his throat. And he would have. Would’ve shut the whole damn thing down, hard. But before he could, Leela beat him to it with—

“I have spare rooms in my place,” she said, casually. Like she was discussing the weather. “If that happens, Joel could take one. Stay as long as he wants.” She used Maya's arm to motion a wave. “Maya would love that, too.”

More silence. She was just full of surprises today, wasn't she?

Tommy, who had been bracing for impact, looked like he’d tripped over his own damn feet. Maria, mid-drink, paused. Chewed on her cheeks. Like she was recalibrating the entire situation.

And Joel? He didn't even know what to do with that. For a second, all he could do was stare at Leela, completely gobsmacked. What she'd suggested was to take it to the next level, in the most casual way. Yeah, just stay with me and my kid, forever, I guess. Doesn't matter.

Leela didn’t look up. Didn’t seem to notice what she’d said. She just kept wiping at Maya's mouth and hands who'd started to entertain herself by blowing raspberries, and bouncing her gently like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Joel exhaled through his nose. A slow, heavy thing. “It's all a big 'if',” he muttered, edged with finality.

Maria recovered first. Pulled a face that said she was perfectly fine with it. “Yep.”

Tommy, still catching up, pressed his lips together. “Just wanted to make sure of something,” he muttered. “Pretty sure now.”

Joel didn’t ask what. Just picked up his beer again, and took a slow, measured sip. His glare at Tommy, though? Firmly in place.

They left the restaurant together, in cackles of laughter that was at the expense of Joel's face, making their way up the same street where their homes resided, boots crunching against the frozen dirt road. The air was sharp, biting, but Joel barely felt it.

Maya had run herself ragged. After all her theatrics inside—her constant wriggling, the battle for the damn steak, the way she’d made herself known to the entire damn restaurant—she’d finally given in.

“You feelin' cold, baby?” he murmured.

She was in his arms now, bundled up and warm, her bunny-ear beanie snug over her head. Her tiny nose was red from the cold, her cheek pressed against the fabric of his jacket, picking at a loose lint on his sweater. He tucked closer, safer, pressing a warming kiss into her sleepy head.

Joel caught up with Maria before she could reach Tommy and Leela ahead. His breath came out in slow, even puffs, but inside, he felt a little less steady. Hadn’t planned on asking. Hadn’t even realized it was sitting there, coiled tight in his chest, until the words were already forming.

"Hey," he said lowly, his voice carrying that weighted kind of hesitation. "Can we talk?"

Maria arched a brow before smirking. "If you’re about to chew me out, it was Tommy’s idea. You know we haven’t had new people settle in for months."

Joel barely registered it. Just shook his head. Not about that.

His gaze flicked toward Leela’s back—small, quiet steps beside Tommy’s like she wasn’t all the way there. His jaw tightened before he spoke. Carefully.

"At the dam today." He paused, feeling the words thick on his tongue. "Did she seem… alright to you? Seem a little off?"

That smirk faded. Maria exhaled, her face shifting into something more careful. "Wouldn’t stay in the room with all the workers," she admitted. "Spooked her out. After that, I just let her stick by my side in the office."

Joel frowned.

"Must’ve been a trigger," Maria added, quieter now.

He only nodded. He didn't need to say what they both already knew.

He watched Leela a little longer, the way her hands stayed tucked inside her coat sleeves, the way she wasn’t engaging much with Tommy’s easy conversation. There was something… too still about her.

"She’s been quiet all night," he muttered, mostly to himself.

Maria nudged him lightly. "She’ll be fine, Joel. Baby steps."

Joel pressed his lips together. He wasn't a believer in the process of baby steps. Either you healed or you rotted in the filth of guilt or devastation for the rest of your life.

Maria gave him a sideways glance, one of those knowing looks. "You look good together."

Joel let out a breath. Not quite a scoff. Not quite anything. "Thought lawyers didn’t bullshit," he muttered.

Maria shrugged easily. "I don't. Sure, you’re," she cleared her throat, shooting him a look. "Let’s say ‘well into your prime’—and she’s… not. But I can tell she trusts you absolutely."

Joel said nothing. Only bit down the small grin that broke through his lips, staring at his boots. Coming from Maria, point-blank like that, it meant a lot.

Up ahead, Tommy was acting like he hadn’t just pulled that shit back in the restaurant, talking easy, hands in his pockets, like he was the picture of innocence.

Joel narrowed his eyes. Yeah, alright. That jagoff needed to be put in his place.

He picked up his pace, stepping just ahead of Tommy, and without breaking stride, swept his leg out.

Tommy didn’t even get a chance to balance before he was airborne—arms flailing, momentum carrying him forward—a sad, "What the fuck!"—then crashing face-first into the snow with a solid thud.

Maria burst out laughing. Full-on, bent-over, hands-on-her-knees laughing. Leela, though—she gasped, her eyes going wide, clearly more horrified than she needed to be.

Joel just kept walking, adjusting Maya, who let out a startled little giggle like she understood the exact kind of justice that had just been served.

"Fuckin' deserved it," he grumbled.

X

Maya was bawling at the big white house’s door, tiny fists clutching his shirt like letting go might break her little heart. And maybe it would—maybe that’s why Joel hesitated, his hands hovering at her back, torn between unwinding her grip and holding her tighter. Damn it, he didn’t want to go, either.

If he peeled her off him and stepped away, she’d do the sweetest thing that always got him—cover her eyes with her hands like she’d seen her mother do, weeping like his leaving was the greatest tragedy of her small world.

“He’ll come back tomorrow, Maya,” Leela tried, rubbing absently at her belly. “He has to sleep, too.”

Maya wasn’t convinced. She wriggled in her mother’s hold, stretching her arms out toward Joel, demanding, no—pleading—to be held. Then she wailed, loud and unrestrained, the kind of cry that could bring a whole street to a standstill.

Joel exhaled, a smile creeping onto his face despite himself. God, this girl was breaking his heart.

Leela shifted Maya against her chest and patted her back. “Do you want to stay a while?” Her voice was softer now. “Until she falls asleep?”

Joel didn’t even pretend to hesitate. His arms were already reaching for Maya, lifting her effortlessly out of Leela’s hold. The moment she settled against his chest, her tiny hands fisting into his shirt, her cries turned to hiccups, then sniffles.

“Gonna be a handful when she gets older,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to her damp cheek.

Leela rubbed at her eyes with the heel of her palm, stifling a yawn. “Gosh, please don’t remind me.” She nodded toward the stairs. “I’m gonna get changed. Help yourself to anything.”

Joel watched her retreat up the steps, back hunched with exhaustion. At the landing, she disappeared into the hallway, and he found himself standing there a moment longer than necessary, listening to the creak of the floorboards as she moved through the house. He liked that about her—the way she kept reminding him to make himself at home like she knew he hadn’t quite figured out how to.

Maya was still sniffling, the last remnants of her earlier tears damp against Joel’s shirt. She stirred against him, adjusting in his arms like she was making herself right at home. Safe. Where she belonged.

Joel smoothed his palm over her back and felt the way she breaths puffed against his collar, her little chest rising and falling in a slower rhythm now. She was alright. He did that.

"You missed me already?" he murmured, rubbing a thumb under her damp eye.

She didn’t answer, just breathed out a soft, shuddering coo.

Yeah. That was about what he thought.

He bounced her gently as he moved through the living room, shifting his weight as he glanced around, looking for something to keep her mind off whatever had gotten her so worked up in the first place. His eyes caught on something up on the shelf, half-forgotten.

That record player he'd been gawking at for weeks. Not just any old thing, either. Glass case. Dark mahogany. Expensive. Fancy, like the rest of Leela’s place.

There was already a record inside. Percy Sledge. Gold, fucking gold. The glossy cover sat neatly on the side like someone had meant to come back to it and never did.

Joel exhaled, dusting off the lid before flipping it open. “Haven’t heard this in a long time,” he muttered, mostly to himself. Then, glancing down at Maya, "You wanna hear some music, baby girl?"

Maya blinked up at him, her earlier tears forgotten, and let out that breathless little panting laugh she did when she was excited. Her small hands clapped together in that uncoordinated, barbed motion that made her look like she was still figuring out how her own fingers worked.

Joel grinned. “Yeah, me too.”

He brushed away the dust, set the needle down, and let the music cut through the quiet.

The room filled with the low, honeyed croon of Percy Sledge, velvet-smooth, drifting through the air like something out of a different time.

Joel felt her still in his arms, eyes going wide as she stared at the record player, completely awestruck. Like she was trying to make sense of where the sound was coming from.

He poked a finger into her squishy thigh. “Never heard real music before? You like it?”

Maya was so curious, watching the record spin, producing music, head tilting in that goddamned adorable way of hers, like she was putting all her baby brainpower into figuring it out.

Joel’s chest ached. It was a deep, familiar thing, the kind of ache that came from having too much and knowing it was, perhaps now, all his to keep.

He shifted Maya in his arms, kissing the top of her bunny-eared beanie. She smelled like warm blankets, like home, even though he’d never had a home quite like this before.

"You wanna dance with me, darlin’?"

She gasped, her whole body jerking in excitement, arms flailing like she couldn’t believe her luck. Then came that breathless, hitching laugh—the one that made her whole face crinkle, her tiny chest heaving like she could barely keep up with herself.

He’d never heard her laugh like this before. Was that the first?

So he lifted her high into the air, listening to the way she squealed, legs kicking like she was soaring. That same laugh again—bright, bubbling over, pure sunshine—rang through the room as he pulled her back into his chest, then did it again. Twice. Thrice. Oh, his back was going to pay the piper, but for that laugh, it was fucking worth it.

She was weightless, and for a moment, so was he. The world didn’t feel so heavy when he had her in his arms like this.

His eyes caught on something in the doorway.

Leela. She was watching.

She had changed into that same white nightdress, the one with the pearl buttons he liked more than he should. Loose fabric brushing just above her ankles, a sleeve slipping off her shoulders. She was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded, fingers touching her lips like she was trying to trap the smile already there.

Joel didn’t stop moving, just slowed a little, swaying Maya in his arms, pretending his breaths weren't constricting at the look on Leela’s face. If he stopped, the moment might end, and he wasn’t ready.

Leela wasn’t looking at him, not exactly. Her eyes were on Maya, wondering, at the way she was still laughing, still catching her breath, little fingers clinging to the fabric of Joel’s shirt like her whole world was nothing but him and the feeling of flying.

He'd never had anything like this. Complete, natural, all his. Could this moment get any more perfect? And then he had the thought—

He wanted to dance with Leela.

It settled deep in his chest, curling between the cracks. Maybe he’d wanted that for a while now. Maybe that was why his hands always hoped to reach for her when it was without Maya, why his pulse kicked up when she got too close, why he always noticed when she was around—gentle, cautious, like someone who didn’t want to take up too much space.

He huffed, dipping his head to whisper against Maya’s temple—"Gotta give your mama a turn, huh?"

He lowered Maya onto the couch, kissing her nose, making sure she was snug, and safe between the sunken cushions. She was already grabbing for her baby blanket, nibbling on the edge of it, still watching him with that shining little grin. That was enough confidence to power him up.

Look, Joel knew better than to ask Leela. Knew better than to give in to his wants. She’d probably turn him down. Politely. And somehow, that would hurt worse, brushing him off like a stranger.

But he asked anyway. He turned around and didn’t say a word—just held out his hands, halfway to her. Not a grand gesture, nothing obvious, just enough that she’d see it and she’d know. He wants her close.

Leela’s gaze flickered, something changing. Her lips parted, just barely, and for a moment—a long, slow, aching moment—he thought she might step forward, might meet him where he stood. A silly pipedream.

Yeah, Joel was too goddamn old for his heart to be pounding like this. Like some stupid kid, all restless hands and reckless hope, hoping the girl he liked would share that feeling with him. It had been a long time since someone made him feel like this. Hell, he wasn’t sure he ever had—not like this. Not with a girl this soft, a life this easy, a feeling this whole.

He blamed that when she looked away, the moment unravelling.

Blamed the gap, the years that stretched between them, the life he’d already lived, the losses already burned into his bones. The grey in his hair, the angry brow, the lines on his face. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Ever. Not for him, not anymore.

Then—why did he still want? Why, after all these years, after everything, did he still feel this?

The way the muscles between his ribs fluttered when she hesitated. The way his palms itched, waiting, wanting for their other half. The way he caught himself hoping—hoping like some love-struck fool that she might step forward.

He exhaled slowly, convincing himself it was fine. Telling himself he was being ridiculous and she didn’t owe him anything. He should’ve known better, should’ve kept his hands where they belonged, brought his anticipations down a notch... anyways, what else could he offer this stunning girl? His cold, dead heart? His bloodstained hands?

And then she did. She moved a little, leaned off the doorway. She took a few slow, quiet steps forward. Hands knotted behind her back, shoulders tense, reluctant to give in.

His breath hitched in his throat.

She wasn’t looking at him—not at first. Her eyes dipped downward to the boots on his feet, flickering uncertainly, almost like she was working up the nerve to do something.

And then she glimpsed his hands. The callouses. The mangled skin. The years of work, of war, of violence. Of a life that had been anything but easy. The way his fingers curled just slightly, as if he wasn’t sure if he should be offering them in the first place.

For another moment, she hesitated. And he thought, yeah, that’s about right.

And then—oh-so-slowly—she slipped her hands into his. Her fingers were slender against his, lean bones cradled, swallowed within his own, her skin cool and soft where his were rough, ruined. It had been so long since anyone had reached for him first.

He didn’t move right away. He took his time to feel this, remember this as if the next moment she'd vanish into mist. The way she fit there, the shape of her hands in his, like it wasn’t a mistake. Like she wasn’t regretting anything.

All those lifetimes, chipping away parts of him, making space for her hands to be there. If that didn’t scare him more than anything.

The scratchy record spun on, Percy Sledge’s voice melting into the room, velvet-smooth. What am I living for, he sang on, if not for you?

Joel swallowed thickly.

Slowly, he guided her hand to his bicep, barely pressing down. She was tense, wound tight like she’d bolt if he moved too fast. So he didn’t.

"You good?" he checked in.

She nodded, glancing up, baring a gentle smile.

His own hand skimmed her hip—ginger, mindful—before settling there. He let her other hand hang from his grasp, mid-air, not forcing it, not demanding more than she was willing to give. Leela was stiff against him because evidently, this was too much for her. As if it had been too long for her, too. Perhaps she was afraid of him. Of this. My god, it burned.

So he eased. Dipped his head, rested his nose against her hairline, and began to sway to the tempo. Joel couldn't cut a rug or shake his hips to save his damn life, but he could feel. Shit, he felt so good.

Leela was right there. Right where he wanted her, but not as close as he wanted, although he completely dwarfed her. He could feel the tension in her frame, that deep-rooted hesitance like she wasn’t sure she was allowed this.

Joel knew that feeling all too well. So he let her lead without leading. Let her find the pace. Even if it was fucking killing him.

Even though his body ached to pull her closer. Even though his fingers jolted where they rested against her hip, wanting to dig in, to hold, to keep. He wanted her warmth squeezed to him, her weight resting against his chest until he couldn't breathe.

He’d spent years running on instinct, relying on his gut, making quick decisions with deadly precision. But he’d never been this meticulous about anything before.

And then—he felt it. The shift. It wasn’t big, not something he would've noticed a while ago, but now he did. The way her breath came just a little easier. The way her grip steadied, not quite clinging but not pulling away either. She was letting herself be here.

And for the first time in some time—Joel wanted to feel, too.

So he let himself move with her. Not well, not smooth, not anything he’d want anyone else to see.

She laughed like he'd cracked something open in her, when he pulled her in, twirling her under his arm, snaring her against his chest before she could stumble. She laughed again when he spun her out, her head tipping back, black hair spilling like a dark halo.

"Never been spun around, my ass," he muttered against her hair as he spun her back into him, arms curling around her waist, anchoring her to him. "You're a natural."

Leela laughed, breathless, cheeks lifted high into her eyes. "Practice. Mom and I used to spin around for hours when it got lonely."

Joel stilled for just a second. He could picture it then—little Leela, small hands clutching at her mother’s as she twirled, all giggles and untamed joy. A warm, glowing memory, but edged with the kind of happiness you cling to when there’s nothing else.

He hummed low in his throat, muffling a smile. Leela’s fingers curled against his back.

"Joel?"

"Mhm?"

She hesitated, just a beat. "I think you look really handsome today."

He stopped moving altogether. A strange, sharp sensation twisted behind his ribs—maybe arrhythmia or some shit, might as well happen—akin to surprise, confusion, and too damn soft to name.

He was handsome to her. Not tired, crude, or old. Joel Miller was handsome to her. The prickling memory from that morning, her mistaking him for her father went up in smoke.

For a second, he considered brushing it off, making some dry remark, giving himself an out. He wasn’t careful about much or the kind of man who tiptoed around what he wanted. Life had burned that out of him long ago. But right now, he was careful.

So, Joel did what he could; he held her tighter, closer. Let her know he’d heard her.

And when he finally spoke, it was a little rough around the edges. "Thank you, darlin'."

Leela smiled up at him. And Joel—he let himself smile back.

As Percy crooned about his love growing stronger and his lover becoming a habit, they actually danced. However slow it was, there was a wildness to the way she moved, arms outstretched, the hem of her nightdress catching air, cheeks catching the low lamplight. The sharp pivot of her foot against the floorboards, the way her body dipped and twisted, loose and natural. She looked so young, so different from the woman he’d met all those weeks ago, that quiet, anxious thing who always kept herself tucked away.

This was the Leela he was falling for.

And he was so fucked. But for the first time in a long time—he was glad he was.

Joel barely had time to react before she was in his arms, knocking the wind out of his chest. Not swaying anymore, not laughing—just holding.

Her arms locked tight around his waist, cheek pressed firm against his chest like she was bracing herself. Like something in her had finally tipped over, finally let go, and she needed something to catch her.

Goddamn it, Joel wasn’t sure what to do. How to process this. She didn’t do things like this. Not the Leela he’d come to know. She was cautious, always. Kept her distance. Kept everything measured. Even when she let people in, it was guarded. Always one foot out the door, always ready to pull away.

Now, she was holding on. Holding onto him.

Joel hesitated, feeling all of her against all of him, the heat, the muscle, the softness, the realness.

Then, slow and steady, he let himself move. One arm curled around her waist, the other settled at the back of her head. His fingers slid into her hair, clutching her close—not just to comfort her, but to reassure himself. She was here. He was here. They were here.

She wasn’t trembling, but she was tense. Her grip on him was taut, almost desperate. Holding onto something bigger than just this moment, nails digging into his sweater, something that must’ve been clawing at her for God knows how long.

"I needed this a lot," she muttered, voice barely above a whisper, muffled against his chest.

Joel swallowed. Shifted just enough to angle his chin over the crown of her head. "Anytime."

That was all he could say. Because what else was there?

He didn’t know how to tell her that she could stay like this for as long as she wanted. All night, all day, that whatever had been weighing her down before—whatever had kept her small, kept her afraid—it wasn’t going to touch her here. Not while he was holding her.

Although he wished the song could last forever, reality came a-knocking, and they answered. There was nothing awkward left to pick up, just a dreaming baby girl on the couch cushions.

After placing Maya in her crib and squeezing three deep goodnight kisses into her head, Joel left to cross the street. He turned around to see Leela by the big oak door, watching him go, a meaningful smile alive on her face. She waved him goodnight.

The heat in his cabin hit him first as he entered, sighing. Thick and suffocating. The fire in the hearth had burned too hot again, filling the place with a sticky kind of warmth that made his skin prickle.

Joel shrugged off that expensive shearling jacket, tossed it somewhere, and rubbed a hand down his face. It was too damn quiet. No soft breaths ghosted across his skin. No little palms clung to the fabric of his shirt.

Just the crackle of fire. Empty arms. The twisted sheets on his bed. And himself.

Joel sat down at the edge of the mattress, forearms braced against his knees, head in his hands. A million hazy thoughts swirled, smouldering, yet all he could look upon clearly was wanting to close the gap and kiss that girl in her living room.

Was this what he wanted? Would he really go through with it? If it all went to shit—if he fucked it up, if they got hurt, if she regretted letting him in—there’d be no one else to blame, but him. He would have done this to himself, some sort of screwed-up self-sabotage he thought he earned. Someday, when he kicks the bucket, all he is going to leave to that family is grief. Or not even that? Was he worth the suffering? Would they spare him a thought?

His fingers unconsciously drifted down, brushing against the cracked leather of his watch strap. That old, broken dial. The last thing Sarah had ever given him, the last vestige of her memory, hanging off his defeated body.

The hands were still stuck in place—frozen, unmoving. Just like he’d been for all those years. Until now.

Joel exhaled, slow and heavy, dragging a hand down his face. He was already in too deep.

And maybe—maybe he didn’t want to climb back out.

X

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[after-witch]

The Grass is Greener [Yandere Shigaraki x Reader]

Title: The Grass is Greener [Yandere Shigaraki x reader]

Synopsis: Shigaraki Tomura finds something at Overhaul’s base that’s worth taking.

Word count: 7000ish

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, dubcon sex, abuse

It’s not that Tomura Shigaraki thought the base of the once-great–he tucks the once into his molars, savoring it–Shie Hassaikai would be teeming with life. It’s that he thought some of them might have the balls to stick around and fight for the remnants of their organization.

But they must have been paying real-fucking-close attention, because there wasn’t a trace of a living person left in the entire facility. Which was a shame–while killing some stupid underlings wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as destroying the hands of a fear-stricken Overhaul, it would still be a little fun.

Well. At least the rest of the League seemed to be having a decent time sifting through the hallways, the abandoned rooms. Finding things to take home or mock or both. 

The sights of overturned chairs and abandoned posts both sickened and thrilled him. Sickened because, really, what unloyal douchebags. Thrilled because it meant they were afraid–afraid of the League. Afraid of him.

They should be. It was only a matter of time before everyone else was, too. 

Most of the rooms are what they expected, minus any signs of existing life. There’s even some kind of hospital lab–what did that creepy asshole do in there, he wonders–amidst the various bunkers, a kitchen, odds and ends.

Still, there’s one room Shigaraki wants to find–wants to sift through himself, in case there’s anything worthwhile. More money would be nice. More vials, more secrets. More, simply put. 

“Think I found it.” Dabi stares at a door that’s so irritatingly obviously the door that Shigaraki doesn’t hesitate to shove his palm against it, watching it crumble into dust with something a bit like satisfaction. 

Unlike the other doors, plain grey things, this door was a sleek black metal. Probably with some fancy lock system that didn’t matter anymore.

And unlike the other rooms with their scattered papers and overturned chairs, with signs of messy life and abandonment, this room is really fucking perfect. Prim. Proper. Utterly disgusting, really, and Shigaraki is the first one to step in and sweep his hand across a side table lined with perfectly spaced vases and send them crashing to the floor.

Lovely.

“Don’t take anything yet,” he says, glancing at the others. “But tell me if you find something worthwhile.” 

There’s murmurs of agreement that mingle with a general sense of curiosity. He soaks in the feeling in the air–the triumph. The thrill of victory thrumming through everyone’s chests, no doubt, the same way it’s making his whole body tingle. 

Overhaul’s room is just as annoying as he is; it’s entirely expected. Immaculate. Through an open doorway, he can see a bedroom with perfectly pressed black sheets. No doubt in the closet were equally perfectly pressed clothing sets. Fucker probably had perfectly shined shoes, too. 

It’s all too satisfying to plop down in Overhaul’s chair and stick his boots, dirt and mud and blood flecking off the soles, onto the meticulously organized desk. There’s probably something important on there, but Shigaraki doesn’t mind if it’s got dirt (or a boot print) on it for later.

“What’s this door for, do you think?” Toga pokes–literally–at a closed door on the side of the room. 

In the beats of silence after her question, Shigaraki hears it–they all hear it: sound. From behind the door. Shuffling and scuttling. Footsteps–

Someone’s still here.

There’s a curling little thrill inside his stomach as he stands and makes his way to the door. Toga is mid-way asking about looking for the key inside Overhaul’s desk when Shigaraki places his palm on the wood and disintegrates it with his hands. 

He expected an underling’s office. Maybe a second-in-command that had yet to show his face, stationed in some side office next to Overhaul. Probably someone just as organized, by choice or by command.

He doesn’t expect a bedroom. Not just a bedroom, actually, but one that is so clearly not Overhaul’s living space that it’s a bit disorienting. Sure, it’s got that same sort of annoying tidiness as Overhaul’s office and the glimpse of his bedroom. 

But it’s… prettier. Softer. Touches here and there, that place it distinctly away from Overhaul himself. A soft pink comforter with matching pillows. Watercolor paintings taped to the wall. A bookshelf with spines that he vaguely recognizes–some light novels and mangas, fantasies, romances, all pinks and pastels. 

And in the center of the room, a table with some scattered papers, an overturned chair… 

Like someone had heard they were coming and bolted.

There’s only one place for someone to go, and that’s the only other door remaining in the room. He gestures for the rest of the League to stand by as he watches the door turn to ash.

Behind the door is a bathroom, immaculately cleaned, with a toilet room and then beyond it, a room with a tub–and inside that tub, no doubt bleach-cleaned like mad, is you. 

Cowering, of course. Wearing a pretty white dress with pink flowers embroidered all over it–you’re all flounces and frills. Even from the doorway, he can see you trembling, can see your eyes all wide, pupils blown in fear. 

Staring at him like a victim, like a doe. Like some pretty little thing in way over your head.

And you are, aren’t you? You’re like some fish all flopped out of the water, gasping for breath on the sand.

It’s irritating, really. 

“Who are you?” He asks, none too nicely.

He sees your lips press together, and thinks, all instinct: haughty bitch.

But then he reconsiders. The pieces are put together link by link. A pretty little thing kept in a room adjacent to Overhaul’s private office, wearing nice clothes, given nice things…

“You’re Overhaul’s squeeze?”

You furrow your eyebrows, like you’re thinking way too hard. He might add “stupid” to his list of descriptors–doe, sweet, scared. Stupid.

“I don’t know what you mean.” Oh, you are sweet. You’ve got a soft, trembling voice to match your shaking form.

“His girlfriend,” Dabi drawls from behind them. The rest of the League is watching, craning their necks, eager (or indifferent) to see where this goes.

“No,” you say, then seemingly correct yourself. “Y-Yes. I… we’re…” Everything seems to confuse you, and you pull your arms tight across your chest. “Where… is he?”

Shigaraki doesn’t hide his grin. “Oh, he’s a little tied up at the moment.”

And then, odd thing you apparently are, you take a breath in. Almost in relief, he thinks. You stand up and take an unsteady step out of the tub–he finds that he likes that. Likes the way you try to straighten up a little, despite being unable to look him in the eye.

“When is he coming back?” You keep looking to the side, and tuck a bit of hair behind your ear. “Did he send you?”

Shigaraki’s lips twitches. “You ask too many questions.”

You fiddle with the hem of your dress, then. And he finds he likes that, too. Likes the way you look like some sort of bizarre doll in this bunker of Overhaul’s, some little treat he left behind. 

And left behind you were–because there’s no way in hell Overhaul will be able to get you out of here himself. 

“He won’t be coming back,” Shigaraki says, easily enough. “Ever.” 

And oh, you finally look right at him and what is this? Something that looks like joy in your eyes. 

Shit, maybe you aren’t as annoying as you seem.

“Then I…” You swallow, and there’s a crack of a smile on your lips. “I can go home now?”

Go home? Ah. Another piece clicks together. Not a girlfriend, then. A toy; a kidnapped one, anyway. Overhaul wouldn’t be the first creep to resort to kidnapping to get a partner.

“He kidnapped you?” There’s no pity in his tone, and he hopes you aren’t looking for it, because you won’t find it with him. He just wants the confirmation.

You nod, looking down at the floor again. “Yes. Um. And he… I’ve been kept here a while, so…”

While your words drift away, his mind drifts, thinking of the souvenirs from this bunker that the League’s got stuffed in their bags. Remnants of Overhaul’s reign. He ought to take something besides that fucker’s hands. 

And aren’t you the perfect trophy? Some doll that Overhaul wanted and took, kept here in this stuffy bunker. You probably haven’t even seen sunlight in ages. All pretty and soft and maybe stupid, by choice or force.

Why not? He’s earned it. He has a right to anything that shitbag left behind.

Even you–especially you, with your trembling hands and flouncy dress. He thinks about the watercolors on the walls and wonders what happened if you got paint on this dress, or any other; Overhaul probably kept you in the same types of frilly things day after day.

He might, too. Or not. He doesn’t even know what he wants with you, really. He might have fun with you, might just let you go, might just keep you until you’re boring. It doesn’t matter. There’s no sense in plotting so far ahead when the real thrill is in the act of taking what he wants. And right now, in this moment, he finds that he wants you. 

It’s Shigaraki’s turn to crack a smile, but there’s not much joy to be found in it.

“How would you like to live somewhere else?”

It is, of course, a rhetorical question. 

–

What happened in between? You can’t be too sure; the memories are all blurs and fogs, snatches of conversation–a girl complimenting your dress and someone asking if you had any injuries, if he hurt you–and overwhelming noise. 

It was easy to forget how quiet your life had been, when confronted with the outside world. 

Maybe that’s why it’s all fuzzy. Your mind or your body or both went into some sort of shock, maybe, in between the bathroom to the truck to the–wherever this is. Not a bunker, exactly, like where Overhaul kept you. 

It’s a bedroom, that seems obvious enough. A messy one. The man–Shigaraki Tomura, he’d told you–dumped you in here and said simply, “Don’t do anything stupid,” before leaving. The door is surely locked, though you don’t have the nerve to try it. Where would you go, if you were brave enough to run?

It would be stupid, besides, and he told you not to do anything stupid. You’re good at following orders. Well, now you are; it took training. Will this Shigaraki Tomura want to train you? What is he going to do with you, after all? 

The question makes you cringe. 

“What am I to do with you?” Overhaul–Kai, he insisted–would ask you, when you did something wrong. The question always carried with it the thread of being remade. Literally. The threat of his hands on you and being blown to bits and put together the way he wanted. So you answered his questions by remaking yourself from the inside out; it was gentler, that way.

Overhaul–Kai?--was… gone. Dead, maybe? They didn’t say. Shigaraki told you that he wouldn’t be coming back for you. Someone else in the truck had quipped–”He’s got his hands full”--which made one person snicker, then everyone else laugh. You didn’t know why it was funny, and you didn’t want to know.

Maybe you’ll be bait. Or ransom. Or maybe he wants you to…

On this messy, unfamiliar bed, your fingers begin to pull at the dingy, faded comforter. The threads come out with a bit of work from your fingernails, and it’s satisfying, to yank on them, as you contemplate.

Maybe he wants you to… 

You know what villains might do to people they kidnap. You’ve read your romance novels. Though Overhaul took some of them away once he’d realized what they were about. Still. The thought of that is–scary, sending tingles down your back.

Overhaul never touched you like that. Sure, he looked at you sometimes. When you were asleep but when you were awake, too. Told you to stand still and ghosted his fingers just above your nightgown, until he’d pull himself away and scrub his hands raw in the bathroom.

You don’t suppose this Shigaraki Tomura will be squeamish. 

As if on cue, the door swings open, and your sort-of-rescuer-but-maybe-also-kidnapper tosses a pre-warmed bowl of noodles on the bed. They bounce against the plastic wrap, and you can see the artificial color sticking to the condensation against the plastic. A pair of chopsticks lands next to the bowl. 

“Dinner,” he says, before plopping down on an upholstered chair shoved into the corner of the room. He tears the plastic off his own bowl, and begins to eat unceremoniously. 

You scooch back on the mattress, your clean, full skirt feeling dingier by the minute on the mattress. That was dinner? The meals that Overhaul made you come to mind–not just the meals, but the dinner itself.

Dinner was meant to be at 7pm sharp. At your table, which you’d cleaned and cleared. Dinner was meticulously thought out, he told you, each element designed to give you the best nutrition possible. Protein, fat, fiber, carbs; vegetables, lean meat, rice. Sometimes a bit of chopped sweet potato as a treat. 

This–this was certainly not appropriate. And to eat it, where exactly? On the mattress? Something tingles in your chest, imagining all the germs seeping into the plastic, settling onto the noodles. 

The noodles themselves were a problem, though. 

You clear your throat. Shigaraki doesn’t notice. You clear it louder, and he sighs.

“What?”

You poke a finger at the bowl.

“I’m not allowed to eat that.” 

As if he should know. 

He blinks at you. 

“Eat it, or don’t. I don’t care.” 

Then he goes back to eating his own meal, and you’re left with something dull inside your chest. It’s not right–the meal. Or the setting. Or any of this, really. 

Some part of you, a selfish part, wishes you were back in your bed inside your clean room; wishes that you were still waiting, colored pencils and paper in hand, for him to get back and continue on with your orderly, if captive, existence. 

Well, if wishes came true, none of this would have happened in the first place. 

You can’t bring yourself to touch the noodles; the thought of them makes your stomach ache. Overhaul (Kai, you remind yourself) would be able to tell you all that was wrong with a meal like that, and you try to envision what he’d say. It becomes too tiring so you simply pull your legs up and wait to find out what this Shigaraki wants.

The answer must come, you think, when he tosses his bowl in the trash bin and shrugs off his coat. It smells of sweat and dust, or is that him? 

Without warning, he flops down on the mattress, almost sending you flying off the side. He snickers, and you feel warmth flush your chest as you try to recollect yourself. But even that brief loss of dignity gets lost when you realize what must be coming now. 

What villains do, when they take someone away.

Will it hurt? Will it take long? How often will he do it?

He props himself up on his elbow and you can feel him staring at you. Sizing you up, probably. Deciding on how and when he’ll take you. The realization makes your heart begin to race, and cold sweat beads against the back of your neck.

When will he do it? Now? Now? 

When you hesitantly glance at him, you can see he is sizing you up–looking at your dress and your socked feet and the way you’ve pulled your knees up to your chest. There’s a flash in your mind of him ripping it off, shoving you down onto the mattress, and then–then. 

But it doesn’t happen. He doesn’t move towards you, despite his leering look. 

Instead of hovering over you and pinning you down to the mattress, he simply scoffs. Then he sits up and grabs a game controller, turning on a system set-up at the far end of the room.

“Be quiet,” he says, “It’s been a long day, and I don’t want to mess up this level.”

Eventually, as your heart begins to settle, you stare at the cooling bowl of microwaved noodles on the mattress. 

Your stomach growls.

But this would make you sick; that’s what Overhaul said. 

And he’d done many things to you, but he never lied.

–

Hunger can be overcome. It can be uncomfortable, true; but you’d dealt with it before. During the days when you hadn’t been good enough yet, and Overhaul refused you anything but water, until you’d given in and behaved yourself.

So it’s not the growing hunger that’s bothering you now, as the day wears on and it must surely be nighttime.

It’s the sleepiness.

Hunger can be ignored–but this? It’s hard to ignore the way your head is starting to slap hard against your knees as you begin to micronap, unable to keep awake no matter how many times you pinch your flesh. 

It’s not a gesture you’ve had to do in so long–bedtime was, well. Bedtime. A set time with set things to do, all designed–or so Kai told you–to get you the best possible sleep so your body could rest and heal. (Heal from what, he never said.)

So sitting on a mattress and feeling your body jerk in desperation as it tries to get some sleep is something new. Something difficult. 

If this Shigaraki Tomura notices, he doesn’t say anything. His eyes are glued to the news, a grin on his face, his palm slapping his thigh at the action. 

The news has him enthralled, so your fights to stay awake are probably not even on his radar. Which means you’ll have to bring it up yourself–that question that’s been pulling at you since you realized it must be well past afternoon and into the night.

“Excuse me…” You say, voice hoarse. You clear it, then realize you don’t know exactly what to call him. He gave his name, but that didn’t mean you were supposed to use it. So when you continue, you err on the side of caution. “Excuse me, sir?”

At this, he finally seems to remember that you’re in the room. He waves a hand at you, vague irritation crossing his features. “Just call me Shigaraki.” Instantly, his gaze turns back to the TV. 

Your tongue feels heavy as you swallow. “Oh. I’m sorry. Um. Shigaraki?”

You can see him push his tongue against the side of his cheek, his eyes still not leaving the TV. There’s some sort of press conference footage playing, though you can’t quite focus on the words. 

“What?” he says, almost a grumble. “Don’t ask for something to eat. I already gave you dinner. Eat it cold, if you’re hungry.”

Oh, that. You’d set the bowl on the floor once you’d decided that it was best not to eat. It would have been awful if it got knocked over and the sauce seeped through the plastic rim, after all. Although given the status of the mattress, maybe it was generous to care about additional stains.

“It’s not–” Your voice is too soft, in this room, with the mess and the TV.  You try to speak up, something you haven’t done in so long. “I was just wondering, that is, I wanted to know…” Directly asking things is no longer in your nature, and your fingers find themselves playing with the hem of your skirt. 

The sound from the TV stops abruptly, and you flinch. He’s muted it. He turns fully to you now, irritation written on his face. “Can you just spit it out already?” 

A shuddering breath escapes your chest as you force the question out: “I just–I wanted to know, what time am I going to bed?” 

You do not ask the rest, though surely it must be a given: What time are you going to bathe me, what nightgown would you like me to wear, do you prefer to brush my teeth for me or can I do it myself, am I sleeping on your bed or somewhere else?

He blinks at you, not for the first time today. “Whenever you bother to fall asleep.” The words come out slow, like you’re some inept child. 

You’re starting to feel like one. Because the words hit you, the way he intends them, all hurtful and condescending. But you can’t make sense of them. Go to bed whenever? Without anything to prepare you? It doesn’t register–you don’t know what he means.

And you tell him so, as plainly as you can: 

“I don’t understand.”

He rolls his eyes, and a pit inside your stomach seems to open up, tossing each irritated expression into it and making you feel worse. 

“What’s there to understand?” He waves at the mattress. “Pick a side and go to sleep. Or don’t. I don’t really care.” 

He turns back to the TV, clearly not interested in any further conversation, and turns the sound back on. Without so much as an order or command or at the very least, an expectation from you.

What a strange man. What a strange place. What a strange world.

There is, at first, a temptation to tell him. To explain what your needs are–why you can’t simply go to sleep. But then come the thoughts about punishment. He’d already gotten annoyed with you for simply asking. What would he do if you, bold thing, insisted on it?

And so, on this new first day of what is apparently the rest of your life, you’re left to curl up on the farthest edge of the mattress and squeeze your eyes shut. There’s a headache lingering at the back of your forehead, and hunger in your stomach, and it’s all so wrong.

If Kai were here–and he’s not, and you can’t deny that you don’t hate that fact even as your mind jolts from the strange turnabout the day has taken–this wouldn’t be happening. But this new one… this Shigaraki, maybe it’s too much to expect from him right now.

He just took you, after all, and it sounds like whatever group he belongs to was involved in something major today. A long day–a hard day. So he must still be thinking on the rules, how to properly manage you.

You need to be managed, after all. That is one thing you learned from Kai.

It’s surprising to you that you’re even able to fall asleep without everything that ought to be done. Without the ritual of the bath, without being handed your nightgown while Kai turns around and swears he won’t look, without your hair being tended to, without being tucked into bed…

Exhaustion doesn’t seem to care about rituals. 

So sleep, you do; and when it takes you, it takes you hard, dragging you into a heavy slumber while the TV plays on. 

–

When you wake up, it’s morning–and you are alone. 

There’s a bright light streaming in through the windows and it’s a wonder you can stand up at all, with your muscles aching and the world itself feeling topsy turvy, as you fumble for the shabby curtains with one hand over your eyes. They rip a little as you yank them over the window, but at least you don’t feel blinded now. 

There hadn’t been windows, before; in the bunker, that is. With Overhaul–with Kai. Just the overhead lights at first, and then eventually, a pretty lamp with a soft lilac-colored shade. A gift, for behaving; for being trustworthy enough to control your own light. It was nice to be able to turn on the light when you had to pee in the middle of the night, at least. 

There are no lilac lamps here. Only an overhead light that, when you peer closely, appears to have a smattering of dead flies resting inside the lamp shade. The thought brings bile to your empty stomach, and it growls in retaliation.

You hadn’t eaten in… was it almost two days, now? 

Maybe Shigaraki was getting your breakfast. That seemed right–that he’d sleep off yesterday’s havoc and spend the morning organizing his rules for you. What you should eat, and wear, and your schedule.

But what should you do in the meantime? 

You stand, stretching your worn-out muscles, and take stock of the room he’s placed you in. It’s not clean, that’s for sure. Messy, to say the least. Used clothes and food wrappers are strewn about, and the whole room has a terrible sense of neglect.

If your room isn’t clean, how could you hope to get anything done?

Kai had told you that, when you argued about his expectations for your room. Everything ought to be perfectly tidy, he’d said. And after a while, how could you disagree? It only made sense. When your room was organized, your thoughts could be organized. When your thoughts were organized, everything else simply fell into place.

And maybe–maybe that’s the trick, here. Shigaraki left you alone in the morning, because he wanted to see what you’d do. Wanted to see if you’d pick up on a classic rule–keep things clean and tidy–without being told.

Before, Kai needed to train you–but now? Now, you knew the game. 

A smile, faint and uncertain though it is, crawls across your face. 

You’d pass this test with flying colors.

–

He’s still not sure what to do with you. The thought comes to him, faintly and then stronger, as he gets closer and closer to the bedroom where you’re being kept. It’s one thing to take what you’re due, another to decide how to manage it–how to manage you. 

It’s a bit like taking in a pet, he realized over the night. You’ve got to be fed and watered and all that. Clothed, if he feels like it. He’s not sure if he does. And if you’re too much trouble, well. It might not be worth the thrill of taking what was once Overhaul’s, in the end.

He almost expects you to still be asleep when he opens the door, but as soon as he steps in, he can see you’re up and about and–

Cleaning? 

The room is almost unrecognizable. He doesn’t bother much with tidying. Not when there are far more important things going on. Yet you’ve picked up every bit of trash, folded all the dirty clothes he’s thrown here and there… even made the bed. You clearly haven’t noticed him open the door, because you’re just finishing up the folding, humming a bit to yourself. 

He can’t decide if he likes it or not. 

“What are you doing?” 

You flinch at his sudden words, and there–he likes that; the fear, the flinching, it’s familiar. He can work with it. He deepens his frown, just to see what you do. 

You swallow, timidly folding your hands in front of you. All proper and prim. 

“I–I thought you wanted me to clean.”

He snorts. He doesn’t know what he wants you to do, exactly, but “tidy up the bedroom” probably wouldn’t be at the top of the list. 

“I didn’t tell you to clean.” And maybe it comes out snarkier than he intends to be, but so what? He’s allowed to be an ass, if he wants. 

Your hands wring together, and your gaze flits down to the floor.

“But I thought… I thought…” You seem to struggle with the words, your voice getting higher, more anxious. You’re like a bird, he thinks, one afraid to fall from some carefully constructed nest in a tree. There’s an instinct to crush you until those brittle bones break–and another instinct, too. One that makes him want to scratch. 

“I thought it was… a test.”

What. 

“A test? Are you stupid, or something?” 

When you don’t answer, just bring your top teeth over your lip and wring your hands tighter, he can’t help the almost cruel warmth that spreads in his chest. This–this is more familiar territory, he thinks. 

He wonders, too, how often Overhaul made you look like that; how often he might want to make you look like that in the future. 

“What did that freak do to you, anyway?” Curiosity mixes with his existing annoyance, and it clearly takes a moment for you to realize he’s talking about Overhaul.

“Overh–” You catch the words in your mouth. “Kai,” you say, and the way you say it so sweetly feels rehearsed–and gross. “He didn’t do anything.” You shake your head, like you’ve said something awful. “No! I mean. He did everything.” He watches your throat bob as you swallow. “He taught me how to be better.”

“Better,” he says, the word coming out all slow and sticky and thoroughly unimpressed. 

“Yes,” you say, staring down at your feet. Your fingers pick at the hem of your nightgown. “How to be… organized.” You seemingly ignore his snort. “How to be clean. Things like that.”

“Why?” He can’t help the sneer in his voice, even if he’s dimly aware that he’s not fully committed to tearing you down just yet. “Were you a dirty girl?”

You frown and swallow and shake your pretty head. “No, of course not. He made me take a bath or shower twice a day.”

So much for teasing. You’re too stupid–or naive, whether it was natural or beaten into you by Overhaul–to get it, apparently.

He’s not sure how long he stares at you. Long enough that you stop worrying at the floor and start worrying at him, your eyes all wide and anxious and getting glossier by the minute. Soon enough, he’s sure tears will start spilling down.

He stops you before you start sputtering out apologies–and teardrops.

“That’s not what I meant.” A finger goes to his neck, scratching. The white dress, the teary eyes, the way you can’t really keep his gaze… it’s annoying. It’s endearing. Both are equally tiresome. 

“You’re giving me a headache,” he says, finally. An end to the conversation, he hopes. Then he digs into the pocket of his coat and tosses its contents at you–a wrapped up egg sandwich someone pilfered a while ago, shoved into the shared fridge and forgotten amidst their recent win. “Here. Breakfast.”

You barely catch the sandwich (your reflexes sure are shit, he thinks; you’d die in the wild) but the way you simply stare down at it, words apparently caught behind your teeth, brings irritation to the forefront again. 

“What?” He almost bites the words out. “Not good enough for you?” Maybe Overhaul fed you on silver platters or something equally ridiculous. 

Perhaps it’s his tone, or maybe you’re just that eager to get him un-pissed at you, but you manage to unstick your tongue and stumble out something akin to an explanation.

“I’m not allowed to have white bread. It’s too processed.” You turn the sandwich over, inspecting. “And there’s mayo… it’s got too much oil, and–”

“Not allowed.” The word becomes a sneer. “Who are you to tell me what I’m allowed to give you?” Captives–that’s what you are, at bare minimum, at least–aren’t usually so damn bold. 

And oh, the way your face seems to fall, the way your mouth perks around your words like a damn heroine in a novel.

“Oh, no. I didn’t mean–it’s that–” The wrapper on the sandwich crinkles as your fingers tighten. It makes his chest tighten, too. How stupid. “It’s not safe. It’ll make me sick. Unhealthy. Kai said so–”

So that’s why you turn up your nose at food? Overhaul, of all fucking people? 

“Kai says,” he repeats, mocking your voice, the soft lilt of it, the way each word mimics the pitiful wringing of your hands. “Kai,” he continues, “isn’t here. So who gives a flying fuck what he said?”

He doesn’t wait to see what you say or what you do. He leaves without another word–he’ll relax somewhere else, without you and your pitiful self to think about–and doesn’t see you sink down onto the mattress. He doesn’t see the way you grip the sandwich until your fingers smoosh into the bread.

He doesn’t see the way you eventually, and oh it takes so long, peel back the wrapper and take a small and slow bite.

–

It’s only been a few days, and maybe you’re imagining it, but it seems like your stomach is finally beginning to settle. The food isn’t–it isn’t right, it isn’t healthy. That’s what your brain tells you, what your mouth wants to parrot. But you’re so hungry and–this is what Shigaraki wants you to eat.

So you should do what he says. You think. It’s still debatable, still churning around in your head. Kai taught you what was best, and now you’re here, where what was “best” seems to be entirely pointless. 

You’re still digesting a microwaved breakfast that definitely wouldn’t have passed Kai’s examination when the door opens. Shigaraki enters, as he always does, without bothering to acknowledge you. 

He’ll probably sit down and eat something for himself. Or start texting someone–the other people in his group, maybe. Sometimes he unwinds with video games. Or naps.

But instead, he approaches you, boots thudding on the hardwood floor. They stop right in front of you and you have just enough time to think about all the germs on the bottom of the soles before he speaks–

“Hey.”

You look up. His face is twisted today, nose screwed over, mouth turned down in a frown. You did something wrong, probably. But what? You ate breakfast, and didn’t even complain about it being wrong today. That was a good step. So what–

“You stink.”

Oh. 

Shame curls in your gut with the half-digested breakfast. It’s… true. You haven’t washed for days, and you know you’ve been sweating. Shigaraki doesn’t open the windows and the room isn’t exactly a bastion of fresh air, anyway. 

He jerks his thumb at the bathroom door. It’s a far cry from your bathroom back home–back with Overhaul. Messy, dirty; the hand towel hasn’t been changed since you’ve been here. And you doubt that Shigaraki cleans the toilet as nicely as Kai did (well, as Kai’s cleaner did, anyway) so the tub can’t be much better.

Still. Still, it’s what he wants, and that’s what should be done–and it would be nice to get under some hot water and have the sweat and grime and overall feeling of awfulness scrubbed away. 

So you dutifully follow him into the bathroom, note a change of clothes that he’s dropped into the open sink, and then–as you should–you stand in front of the tub and wait for him to undress you, so that he can give you a bath. 

But instead of ordering your arms up or having you sit on the toilet so he can peel off your socks, he simply turns away and starts to leave.

“Wait–” You can’t stop the word from coming out, can’t stop the way you stupidly reach out a hand.

He does stop. He turns around, face questioning, irritation starting to creep onto his features.

“What?” He tilts his chin towards the tub. “There’s shampoo and soap in there. Some random brand Toga stole. Is it not good enough for your highness, or what?” There’s a bit of a jeer in his tone that makes you want to sink into the floor. 

“It’s not that,” you force out. “They’re–they’re fine. It’s just…” And your fingers fiddle with your dress, the fabric feeling more thin and frayed from all your worrying it. “Aren’t you going to draw my bath?”

Because that’s how it goes. Kai draws the bath. Kai undresses you. Kai tests the water, and tells you to get in. Then he cleans you or, if you’ve been exceptionally good, lets you do it yourself while he gives the orders.

The jeer in his tone becomes a snort, an almost sneer on his lips. “You really are a princess, you know that? You can draw it yourself. You’re not that stupid.”

And oh, the way your heart pounds. He’s upset, and you’re upset, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s throwing away the natural order of things or if it’s because you’d like him to be nicer to you.

“I’m sorry.” The words feel too loud, in the bathroom, trapped in the small space with you and Shigaraki. “It’s that–Kai says I don’t clean myself up right. So he does it for me. Tells–tells me what to do, if he doesn’t scrub me himself.” 

Your fingers clench hard against your fists–and then harder, when you see the emotions registering on Shigaraki’s face. One emotion in particular–disgust. Disgust, yes, and it makes you feel awful. Makes you feel dirty and stupid, and everything Kai said you were, when you hadn’t yet listened. You can’t look at his expression anymore, so you stare at the floor. At your socked feet, at the dirt between the tiles.

It’s the floor that you see when you hear him sigh, when he steps further into the bathroom and practically pushes past you to turn the water on.

Your heart speeds up–is he going to?--but as if he’s read your mind, he crosses his arms. “I’m just filling the tub for you. You can wash yourself. You remember how to do that, right?” And maybe it’s the way the question seems earnest, no longer weighted down with a mocking tone, that makes you feel better. Not stupid–not dirty. 

So you nod, and smile–just a little. Just to show your appreciation. 

“Good.” He grabs something–a towel–from a hook on the wall and tosses it at you. He glances away when he speaks, and you’re not sure if you’re imagining it, or if there’s really a faint hint of a flush on his cheeks. “Just… shout out when you’re done and I can help you out or whatever. If you need me to.”

He glances back at the tub, filling rapidly with hot water.

As if to burn away the flush on his cheeks, his voice turns jeering again. “I’ll leave once I turn it off. Don’t take forever in here, either, princess.” 

Jeering, sure; but with something nicer mixed in, something like a flush underneath it all that makes your skin tingle. 

Maybe Shigaraki wasn’t so bad after all. 

–

Overhaul had clearly trained you and fucking hell, you really need to be untrained. 

It’s this simple fact that helps Shigaraki decide what to do with you–that is, he’s going to keep you.

Dropping you outside would be like putting some pampered house pet on the streets–you’d be gobbled up. And if you happened to go to the police before you were snatched up by some back-alley criminal, it would complicate things, anyway.

Besides–you’re… endearing. In a way. He likes the way you ask for his permission, likes the way you stammer and stumble over your words when you get anxious.

You’re like a pet. A pet project, that’s what you’ll be. He’ll untrain all the weird fucked up things that Overhaul taught you, and make you into something better.

Overhaul had his kinks, that’s for sure. And while he’s not going to deny that there’s something really fucking hot about imagining you being his mindless doll, letting him bathe you and eating exactly what you’re told and waiting for him to come home in a pretty white dress… it’s simply not very fun.

Or practical, truth be told. 

And more importantly–

He wants you to be his in the right way. He’s not some replacement for Overhaul, some step-in that you’ll simply pivot to because he’s there. 

Sloppy seconds aren’t his style. 

Overhaul is nothing now, a useless, handless fuckup who will rot away and forever regret tangling with him. You should forget about him, forget about what he taught you, how things were with Overhaul. (He makes a mental note: Train you to stop saying ‘Kai,’ especially so damn softly, so damn sweetly. Something Overhaul meticulously taught you to do, no doubt.)

In the end, Shigaraki is better than that failure–so you need to be better than the pet Overhaul created, too. 

–

It’s not exactly clear why Shigaraki wants to keep you–but he does keep you. And he gives you something Overhaul had taken away from you: he gives you choice. 

So much choice. Too much choice, maybe. Foods aren’t off-limits anymore, and Shigaraki doesn’t scold you for any awful table manners. Maybe because you never eat at a table. You’re allowed to watch TV, and even tentatively take up an extra controller to try (and fail) at the video game he’s currently playing.

He even–and it’s got your stomach in knots, as you make your way down the hall–lets you out of the room. To get some air and, today, meet other people. You’re meeting the League, the people you met (so to speak) on the day Shigaraki took you. 

“It’ll be better if you get to know everyone,” he says, almost muttering. “In case someone needs to keep an eye on you while I’m gone for a while.” 

The thought of Shigaraki leaving you for that long, too long, almost makes you feel sick, but you try to force it away. 

“But you won’t be somewhere else too often, will you?” The question comes out too soft. Something else you’re working on; he told you to talk louder. Less like a rabbit, more like yourself. Whoever you were before all this.

Shigaraki glances back at you, something unreadable in his expression. Did you say something wrong, or not? You’re almost bold enough to ask, when he simply snorts and turns around, gesturing for you to enter an open doorway where you can hear chatter already sifting through. 

But you stop at the threshold. At the sound, at the thought of being amongst a group of people. Eating whatever you wanted was one thing; but talking to a whole gaggle of others? 

“Are you sure…” The words are soft, but you can’t help it. It’s easier to slip back into that place from before; to be soft and quiet and let someone else take over everything for you. “Are you sure you want to let me talk to other people? Wouldn’t it be better if I only talked to you?”

And now, you did say something wrong, because his expression twists. His nose scrunches and his lip curls up, like he’s thinking about something unpleasant. “No,” he says. “That’d be weird.”

“Oh.” Something dull hits your stomach. Embarrassment and disappointment, a terrible mixture. “Sorry.” You swallow, and add, quickly. “I don’t want to be weird.”

“Too late.”

The two of you turn your head inside the doorway in time to see someone with a burnt face and dark hair watching you, arms folded, a teasing grin on his face.

It is also just in time to see a young girl playfully smack the air next to his arm–”Dabi, don’t be a jerk! She’s not weird, she’s cute!” 

There’s barely any time to decide if this is a compliment or not, before Dabi–that must be the man with the burnt face, after all–shrugs and grins. “Sorry,” but he doesn’t sound sorry in the least. The fact that the grin is edged by staples doesn’t help. 

The rest of the group is sprawled about the room. On a sofa, on the floor. There’s a card game going on. Drinks on the table, along with takeout. The room looks like it was once some sort of office break room, complete with a microwave and dinged-up fridge. 

The conversations that must have been going on are silent now, and you’re left standing awkwardly next to Shigaraki in the doorway. He nudges you forward, then takes a step out the door. There’s a strong urge to grab his sleeve and ask if you can go back to the room, but he begins walking down the hallway and doesn’t give you the chance.

“Um,” you say, and his footsteps in the hall stop for a moment. “Nice to… meet you?”

There’s a moment before there’s a burst of laughter, and the girl–Toga, you’ll learn later–grabs your hand and pulls you inside the room.

–

That night, Shigaraki climbs into bed with you and instead of turning over and keeping to his side of the mattress, he slots himself against your back for the first time.

The freeze response comes naturally, as your heart speeds up and your breath seems to slow down. Overhaul did this, too. When he thought you were sleeping, though.

Shigaraki knows you’re up and his fingers, pinky jutting to the side, ghost over your clothed side, caressing your hip. His fingers skitter underneath your shirt and rest against your stomach, before trailing up, bringing the fabric with it.

He cups your chest and you think the sound you make must startle him, because he pulls away without a word. But if he’s mad, he doesn’t tell you. Instead he stays pressed against your back, breathing.

Why was he still in bed? 

“Don’t–” And you stutter out the next words quickly, because you’re not telling him to stop touching you. You wouldn’t dare. But– “Don’t you… want to wash your hands now?”

Something between irritation and curiosity lodges itself in his tone. “Why would I wash my hands?”

You lick your lips, and fight the urge to turn around in bed and look at him while you speak. Sometimes, when you told him about–Overhaul–the disdainful expressions he made stirred something awful in your gut. Made you feel ashamed and silly. He didn’t mean to do it, you think; but that didn’t change how you felt.

“Overhaul… when he touched me like this, he always washed his hands in the bathroom after. For a long time. Because–” The word Overhaul would mutter over and over come back, like acid rain pattering on the roof. “I’m dirty.”

You don’t want to look at him, but you don’t get a choice, because he grips both of your shoulders and lifts you up, until the two of you are sitting with your backs against the wall. The curtains are open and the moonlight washes everything out, but you can see him frowning well enough.

“You’re not dirty,” he says.  “Stop saying stupid things.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, but you don’t feel sorry at all. Instead you feel–relieved. Lightened. 

He frowns. “And stop saying sorry, too.”

“Right. Sorry–”

You stop with a breath left in the word and in a single beat, the two of you burst into laughter.

That’s when you lean forward and kiss him, smashing your lips against his in a brief moment before he pushes you off.

Humiliation stings your chest and you almost start crying in an instant. The world before and the world today blur into one awful moment and you apologize for things you’re not even sure about. “I’m sorry, that was–stupid. I’m awful, I’m bad, I won’t do it again-”

“Shut up. You will do it again.”

Oh. What? 

You blink up at him, stupidly, yes, but it’s a nice kind of stupid. The syrupy kind that only gets sweeter when his hand grips your chin and pulls you in. You don’t fight. 

This time, he kisses you. His lips are chapped and so are yours, and your mouth opens awkwardly to let his tongue in. It feels wrong and right and for once, there’s nothing old that dredges itself up with the action. No ghost of Overhaul over your shoulder, no commands, no flashbacks to being locked in closets–

Just you and Shigaraki on his bed in the middle of the night, kissing. 

–

You can be annoying. Too meak, too unsure; wanting him to guide you and taking too long when he tries to give direction. 

You’re a burden, that’s for damn sure, but oh, he doesn’t want to let you go.

The thoughts of releasing you on the streets seem so dim now.

They faded every time you stumbled through eating food that wasn’t perfect by Overhaul’s stupid standards, every time you looked like a deer in headlights at the prospect of washing yourself, every time you suddenly got the ick at his room and scrubbed yourself raw until he stopped you… 

You wanted to be better, though–better for him. That’s what sealed it. Well, that, and that kiss, even though it was mostly teeth the first time. He likes you better for that, he thinks. Because that was you.

You’d once told him that you were afraid Overhaul would remake you, so you remade yourself. And now he’s remaking you. No, that’s the wrong word, isn’t it? He’s unmaking. Undo what Overhaul did and find out what’s underneath, Because what’s underneath–you, the you he’s seeing as he peels away each layer of bullshit–belongs to him.

That’s how it should have been from the beginning. Too bad he didn’t find you first. 

–

He’s been gone for longer than usual. Long enough that Toga came in with something to eat and played a round of cards with you. Long enough that daylight came and went and came back again, and the sound of morning birds does nothing but contrast with how groggy you feel. 

It was too hard to fall asleep, when your stomach was tied up with worry. 

They don’t unravel even when the door opens and he comes in, expression troubled, burdened. You know something about burdens. He smells of sweat and dust, and you long to lift it from him. He’s been… nice, hasn’t he? Nice and kinder, kinder than Overhaul, although his words are often short and he sometimes calls you stupid. 

He takes a look at you, at the darkened circles under your eyes and maybe he can see all the thoughts swirling around in your head, and snorts. “Go to bed. You haven’t been sleeping.”

“I can stay up,” you tell him, sitting up straighter on the bed. “To keep you company.” 

He pauses, drops his coat on the chair. Something in him seems to soften and harden all at once. A vulnerable question left on the edge of a cliff, waiting to see which wait it will roll. “Why? Why would you want to do that?”

Words don’t come easily to you, even now. “I… like being around you.” It’s more than that, but you don’t know how to say it, how to peel it out from your mouth.

He eyes you with something that might be suspicion. “Don’t lie.”

At this, you stand. It feels better to stand, to be on something like stronger footing. “I’m not. I–I like that you let me do things. You don’t get mad if I eat what I want, or if I read certain books, or watch movies with you…”

He doesn’t respond and maybe it’s not words you need. Maybe it’s this–

Maybe it’s you taking a step forward and gripping his shirt and kissing him, just as awkwardly as the first time. This time, when he pushes you away, he keeps his fingers curled on your shirt. His eyes search yours and you don’t know what your expression is saying, but you try to make it say: You make me feel good and I want to make you feel good, too.

“Get on the mattress,” he tells you, but it doesn’t feel like an order. Maybe you’re sugarcoating it. Maybe not. In the end, you’re okay with it; you’re okay with turning around and crawling onto the mattress, knowing what he wants now.

It’s not how you envisioned it happening with him. You remember what you thought that first day, flashes of him taking you while you struggled and squirmed, pinning you to the bed. A villain in a book that Overhaul took away from your bookshelf.

It’s slower. Slower and maybe not sweet, exactly; but there’s some tenderness there that you can’t explain. Tenderness reflected in both your tired eyes, in the smell of dust clinging to his skin, in the way you cling to him and don’t have to worry that he’ll scrub his hands raw afterward.

Tenderness that makes you forget that Overhaul took you and now he took you, and you’re never sure if you’ll ever be your own person again. 

–

When it’s over, he cleans you up. Slow but sure. It’s remarkably soft, but you don’t dare say so; if you did, you think he might push you off the mattress for good measure.

“Shigaraki–” you begin.

“Call me Tomura.” He interrupts.

“Tomura,” you say. 

Something about that makes you want to cry, so you bury your head further against his chest and blink the tears away.

Later–not this morning and not for some time–you will think about whether Overhaul would have ever fucked you. What he might have thought about the mess of it all. The sweat and panting, the warm liquid between your legs that was carefully wiped away with a warm washcloth before he hopped back into bed.

For now, all you think about is Shigaraki–no, Tomura–who doesn’t tuck you into bed like you’re some precious doll but instead wraps his leg across your own, keeping you close on the mattress as sleep begins to overtake you. 

His hand brushes against your hair as the world begins to turn into a formless buzz.

“Do you want to stay with me?” He asks.

It is, you know, a rhetorical question. 

[mywritersmind]

TOUCH ME - LN4

summary : y/n shows her affection through hugs, kisses, and just plain touching. lando is sad when he realizes that she does this with everyone but him.

listen up : no warnings!! cuteness!! singapore win!

word count : 747

⋆｡‧˚⋆

It had been bothering him for months. Lando noticed when he and Y/n started becoming friends. After a long period of not liking each other, the two finally agreed to put their differences aside because of all their mutual friends.

Their mutual friends started becoming the issue for Lando.

She touches everyone. Not in a weird way, she just shows affection through touch… Through touching anyone but him.

Lando watches her in his drivers room, she’s drawing on the small whiteboard; a tiny lando and a tiny y/n in the corner.

“Why do you touch everyone?” He asks out of nowhere, she turns back slightly, giving him a look before turning back to the board.

“My love language is touch… I guess? At least that’s what people tell me.” She shrugs, coming to the end of the drawing.

“But you don’t touch me.” This makes her pause for a moment before finishing off the drawing and turning back around to face the man.

He's sitting on his drivers bed, race suit unzipped half way and water bottle in hand.

“You want me to touch you?” she raises a brow, teasing him a bit.

He looks down at his water, fiddling with the straw, “I just mean- we’re friends, right? You seem to kiss and hug everyone except for me.”

This makes her more uncomfortable, she slips her hands in her pockets and shrugs, “I don’t mean to not. I guess it’s just different with you.”

“How am I different from Oscar or Charles?” He looks up at her again, his eyes so bright, “They both have girlfriends and you don’t seem bothered.”

Y/n laughs, not thinking before speaking, “Yeah because I’m not into them like that.”

Lando’s eyes widen a bit, “But- you’re into me… like that?” Y/n decides there is two options,

1. Confess her feelings for Lando, ruining all the progress they’ve made to have a good and comfortable friendship while simultaneously risking rejection from someone she really cares about.

2. Lie.

Two seems safer.

“Of course not.” she shakes her head.

Lando doesn’t believe her, or he just doesn’t want to believe her, “So why don’t you touch me? Even after I won in Zandvoort you didn’t hug me.” she hadn't realized how much this had hurt him. She was simply thinking about the hundreds of cameras facing them and how she was already blushing.

Someone knocks on the door then, calling out, “Lando, Warm up starting now.” He swallows, looking up at Y/n.

“I’ll go.” She says quietly, wondering how everything so quickly went south, “Good Luck, Lan.”

⋆｡‧˚⋆

Y/n watched the race with Max, on the edge of her seat and sweating. The moment Lando crossed the finish line, a grin was permanently planted onto her face.

After every interview, the podium, a shower, and change of clothes, he walked out to the track where Y/n sat.

She jumped up and hugged him.

“You’re so fucking amazing.” Lando’s heart skipped a beat.

“Enjoy the race?” He smiles as she pulls away, her hands joining and clapping.

“Duh! Everyone else was all boring and whatever but you did so well! Twenty seconds ahead- shit!” even though he was in the race and just had a thirty minute meeting about it, he could listen to her talk about it for hours. “And Lan, about before- I really didn’t mean to hurt you it’s just different and I don’t know why but I swear it’s not to be mean! You’re my friend and-”

“Just friend?” Lando stops her immediately.

She looks up at him, “Well… I always thought-”

“I fancy you. I have for a while.” He just spits it out, his hands on her elbows as she stares blankly at him.

She blinks, “You’re not taking the piss are you because I swear!” He kisses her then.

She’s laughing against him as he pulls her closer, touching her softly and savoring it.

“I like you too.” She blushes. “And fuck you for not telling me sooner!”

He scoffs, “You could have as well! Plus you’re so damn mysterious I couldn’t tell if I should be flattered at your yelling or scared.”

She laughs, kissing his cheek before resting her head on his chest.

He puts his arms around her, his heart beating rapidly, “If you touch your friends like that then i’m damn excited to see how you treat your boyfriend.”

[antlereed]

i have my Cool Pants on and no one around me cares :(

[mamayan]

Shigaraki Tomura

cw: NSFW • Holiday Filth • Crush Shigaraki • Modern AU • dry humping • language • implied alcohol usage • pathetic virgin Tomura

Thinking about being Shigaraki’s little sister’s best friend.

Being invited over to her house and being so excited unbeknownst to your friend to see her nasty older brother. Tomura holed up in his room, feet up and knees bent as he sits in his fancy leather gamer chair spewing filth into the mic of his headset. Being given the most toe curling glare from him as he looks up from under his messy bangs and sees you peaking at him through a crack in the door. Sneering and telling you to “fuck off” and you do, scampering away to shamelessly rifle through the medicine cabinet in the bathroom for any of his hygiene products. There’s not many. It doesn’t matter though, since he left his dirty clothes from last night in a bundle on the bathroom floor beside the shower and toilet.

Your friend babbling on endlessly about family drama but you can’t pay attention as dinner begins and Tomura is forcibly dragged down the stairs, eye bags heavy from lack of sleep, mumbling out vague answers on how college is going. He notices his little sister’s annoying friend though, you, who always seems to be judging him from the way you constantly have your eyes on him. It pisses him off, and he’s not afraid of outing you in front of everyone.

“Why don’t you find something better to stare at bitch,” and cackling as the home filled with relatives and friends erupts at his rude comment and language. His family is comforting you, telling you he’s just having a rough day, he doesn’t mean it, etc. Your friend is intent on vengeance but you assure her it means nothing to you. She’s used to the behavior and agrees he’s not worth the trouble, being pulled away by relatives intent on being nosy into her personal life.

Tomura did mean it though, and you know it too, and it still doesn’t stop you from sneaking away upstairs while the house slowly boozes up and begins to become rowdy. Tomura slunk away to return to his game he’d been playing with friends, some stolen snacks and a cheap bottle of vodka in his hoodie pocket he takes a straight swig from every now and then as he gets heated into his gaming match.

He’s nearly surprised to see you open his bedroom door and not his mom or sister intent on giving him a headache.

“Back to keep staring whore?” He’s snickering as he flips up the mic, his game paused for a moment while waiting on another friend to join the match.

“Yeah.” He doesn’t expect you to lock the door, a brow cocked up as he reassess you.

You’re much cuter now. The baby fat gone and a young woman blooming, barely an adult now but it didn’t stop his eyes from lowering to your chest that was rising and falling quite quickly. He’s always been so used to seeing you attached to his bratty shit sister that he’s never appreciated you before.

“Wanna do more than stare though.” He’s even more shocked to see you tossing the ugly Christmas cardigan you matched with his sister, the plain dress under easily lifted over your head and dropped too. Right in front of him.

“Ha, oh yeah?” He’s baffled but not upset, dropping his feet and manspreading wide as his cock hardens in his sweats. He’s shameless in palming himself through them, setting his controller aside and licking his dry lips as you come closer, cute little matching bra and pantie set doing little to hide your hard nipples poking through the fabric and pussy lips. “Fuck, look at you, all grown up huh?” His eyes on you as you slide the dainty fabric covering your cunt down and stepping out, removing your bra next slowly, letting him drink you in. You’re nearly vibrating with excitement, eyes wide and bright as you straddle him.

“Little pervert, you wanna ride my cock?” You smile, because he’s acting like he isn’t some loser virgin with trembling hands digging into the fat of your soft ass. You can feel he’s just as strung up now, his palms lightly sweating as they slide up and cup your breasts, eagerly pitching and pulling at your nipples while you roll your hips over his chubby cock. “D-damn, where’d’ya learn to act like this?” He’s nearly about to cum from touching your tits alone, but the feel of you grinding down on him is making him lose it.

“I watched porn.” He groans, finally losing patience and pulling his dick free from his sweats, ready to naively try and enter you without any prep. He’s huffing and breathing heavy as he rubs the tip through your folds and trying and failing to hump into you. He’s just bumping uselessly against your tightly closed entrance while he moans and buries his face in your chest, happy when you begin to run your fingers through his hair.

He’s coming a minute later. No penetration necessary for him to spurt his hot spunky load against your pussy as he nearly passes out from how hard he cums.

“Holy fuck—!” You nearly have to muffle his cry of pleasure as he grips you for dear life.

The banging on his door a minute later making you both fumble for clothing as your friend’s voice comes out in a battle cry for your location.

“You fucking asshole! You hurt her feelings and now I can’t find her!”

You both only look at one another in amusement and embarrassment.

“Try looking up your ass since her face is always buried there!” He shouts back, and you have to bit back the comment you want to yell at him. Little does anyone else know the true reason you love going to the Shigaraki house when Tomura is home.

[cvnntagious]

:: babydaddy!matt has no problem sticking up for brat!reader

matt wasn't the type to get easily riled up—especially not to where he felt the need to get physical about it. he was more the type to talk things out, most would say. and that's exactly why it was such a shock when you made your way towards the commotion in the living room to see matt with a guy under him, fists of fury hammering into the poor dude's face.

for a moment, you contemplated if this was something you even wanted to involve yourself in, given is was your child's father. but when matt's hand continued coming down repeatedly with no sign of stopping any time soon, his opposer barely fighting back at this point, you couldn't find it in him to let him just keep kicking this guy when he was so clearly down.

giving a harsh tug on matt's plain black t-shit, you pulled him off like he were a misbehaving dog. his head snapped back to see who had grabbed him, brows unfurrowing the moment he came face to face with you.

his breathing was ragged, waiting for you to berate him as the people surrounding you two scrambled to stop the guy who was once lying on yhe dloor from standing up. to his surprise, you pulled him along with an annoyed grunt, slipping out of the party amidst the chaos of the fight. "where're we going?" matt asked, only to be ignored as he followed behind you until you guys were far from the house.

"i knew this was a stupid idea," you finally muttered, letting go of his wrist to turn and look up at him as you two stood in front of his car. your eyes, scanned his face, maneuvering your head to get a good look at any injuries he may have.

matt's mouth opened, wanting to explain. he knew you didn't want to hear it. "m'not hurt," he replied simply, shaking his head as his eyes finally met yours.

you clicked your tongue, giving him a deep sigh as your eyes rolled for what already felt like the millionth time tonight. "what's your problem?" you asked, addressing the big fat elephant standing right in front of your guys' faces, "forget you're an adult now, hm? have been for almost five years... fighting's how you catch cases, dumbass."

the scoff that left his lips made you want to slap some sense into matt, giving him a look that said, 'are you a fucking idiot?' as you waited for whatever lame excuse he might conjur up. but you should've known better than that. you knew matt had never been the type to go out fighting recklessly, so you should've known something had seriously bothered him. and the fact that something so simple had slipped your mind made his reasoning all the more shocking. "kid was talking shit," he answered, eyes averting to look anywhere but you, one hand coming up to rest on his hip as if he were embarrassed to admit it.

again, you weren't paying enough attention. "yeah? what, he said your fancy little carharts weren't cool enough or something? so you had to go and risk literal jail time?" you insulted, growing increasingly more annoyed with each passing second, "i mean, seriously, i don't know what i'd do if that guy chooses to press charges—you better hope nobody recorded that."

matt looked at you with a softness to his eyes, feeling his chest tightening a bit at your words; for a moment, those last few sentences made it feel like you needed him. of course, he knew in the back of his mind that you were thinking of mazzy, but he'd like to remain at least the slightest bit delusional in the moment. "come on," he scoffed again, "it was about you... the guy was talkin' shit 'bout you. was i supposed to jus' let him?"

the confession made your breath hitch a little, head pulling back and brows furrowing in a mild confusion. then, you came back to your senses, the attitude rising within you apparent on your features. "what'd he say?" you asked with a quick work of your neck.

"s'nothing important." matt was quick to brush you off, a certain coldness washing over him.

"really? then why'd you fight about it," you pressed on, a brow raising as if to tell him you simply didn't believe him.

he shook his head, mouth openining and closing as matt thought of an excuse. he couldn't – or, moreover, he didn't want to lie to you. "jus' spewin' some bullshit about you, like, bein' overly difficult... said you rejected him an' shit earlier. i guess he was upset about it," he answered, realizing he may have overreacted a bit now that he was explaining it out loud.

"that's all?"

matt shot you a confused look, shrugging a bit. "yeah—i mean, i also saw him tryin' t'grab on you earlier, so..." even that that wasn't really all, truthfully. it was the way the guy was so persistent, eager to start some sort of smear campaign against you between all of his friends. his lack of regard for matt as he badmouthed you, knowing what matt was to you. what you meant to matt.

you were quick to push past him, another annoyed grunt as you shoulder checked him. "just let him talk next time," you mumbled through gritted teeth, "that's not your battle."

matt turned and watched you walk away, in utter disbelief that this was how he was getting treated for standing up for you. of course it was his battle. who else was going to fight it? you? absolutely not. that guy got what was coming to him, saying whatever so carelessly.

"stay if you want," you called back, head turning to look at him, "m'gonna stop by your house to pick up mazzy from chris and nick."

w/c : 971 taglist : @mattsturnswife, @br1annax, @x0x0bunny, @m4ttsmunch, @mattsnumberonehoe, @k4yd1, @sturnobsessedwh0re, @sturnstar169, @bxtchboy69, @strnilolover, @little-miss-shay, @sweetobservationface requested by anon.