#read it for 'my bones will rest easy next to your bones'

[zombified-queer]

Okay if you need me I'll be writing the "Mercymorn and Augustine live" AU.

[navybrat817]

Pencil You In

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: Bucky thinks you've been working too hard and need a break. Word Count: Over 1.3k Warnings: Fluff, crying, reader is tired, slight insecurities, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Partially inspired by an image the beautiful @bucksangel sent me and life stretching me a bit thin, here's a little ficlet. Lovelies, take breaks. You deserve them and you are more than enough! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You slumped in your chair of your home office as you reread the sentence on the screen for what felt like the hundredth time. Weariness had already settled deep in your bones long before you looked over the document, the words blurring together the longer you stared. Blinking a few times didn’t help as you reached for your mug, only to remember that you had finished your extra helping of caffeine an hour ago. Begrudgingly, you set it down and huffed as if it was somehow the fault of the cup that it didn’t automatically fill itself.

“Almost done,” you whispered to yourself, straightening up so you could do one last readthrough.

It was a long week in what felt like a series of long weeks. Almost every minute of your schedule was accounted for lately and all you wanted to do was relax. People were depending on you though and you could relax over the weekend.

Hopefully.

“You should take a break.”

You didn’t turn around immediately at the sound of Bucky’s gentle voice, but you did manage a smile when you glanced over your shoulder a moment later. He didn’t return the smile, concern swirling in his blue irises. You were afraid to stare into the pool of his eyes for too long out of fear of drowning.

And, god, you were drowning. It would be so easy to reach out and take the lifeline that was his hand. To just admit that you need some time to rest because you were tired. Hadn’t you earned it? Didn’t you deserve a break after the hard work you put in?

But maybe you didn’t deserve it. What you did wasn’t as important as someone like Bucky. You firmly shut the door on that thought before the words could make their way out of your mouth. If he could’ve read your mind and known you thought that, it would’ve disappointed him. Not in you, but whoever made you decide that what you did wasn’t enough.

Because you were always expected to do and be more.

“I will in a few minutes,” you said.

He let out a heavy sigh as he crossed his arms, making you tear your gaze away. You didn’t comment on his disheveled hair, like he kept running a hand through it. Likely because he worried about you stretching yourself too thin. “That was what you said a few minutes ago,” he reminded you, his voice light instead of accusatory.

You shut your eyes in the hopes that the tears wouldn’t come and took a breath. “I really will this time,” you promised, giving the document one last readthrough once you got your emotions under control.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said.

If you wouldn’t take a break for your own sake, you had to do it for Bucky.

“Okay. I think that’s at a good stopping point,” you said, making you saved it before you closed it out. If you lost all of that after everything you put into it so far, you would’ve lost it. Before you could move to the next task on your list though, an alert popped up on your screen. Your heart dropped to your stomach because you didn’t remember scheduling anything else today. You didn’t have the mental or emotional capacity for more. “What is this?” You mumbled before you opened it.

Reading the subject line, you did a double take.

CUDDLE WITH BUCKY

You covered your mouth to smother your giggles. “I don’t remember scheduling this meeting.”

“It’s a good thing I remembered, baby,” he said as you spun around in your chair, sauntering over to you with a smirk as you tried not to laugh again. “It’s a mandatory meeting in our bed. No rescheduling. And I expect it to go the full hour. Maybe longer.”

“How did you manage to set up an alert on my computer?” You asked as he grasped your hands and helped you to your feet, having to steady yourself a bit when your head spun.

At least you remembered to eat. Well, that wasn’t technically true. Bucky brought you your meal earlier because he was the best boyfriend you could ask for.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” he winked before he brought a palm to your cheek, his gaze shifting to something more serious. “But it seemed to get your attention.”

Your cheeks burned as you averted your gaze. “I wasn’t…” you trailed off, an apology on the tip of your tongue. Had you neglected him this past week? Or the ones before that?

Did he think you were a bad girlfriend?

Bucky slid his hand to your chin so you’d look at him again. “Hey,” he whispered when your lower lip trembled. “I didn’t mean anything by that and I’m not upset with you. I don’t think I could ever be upset with you. But, baby, you’ve been working your ass off even more than usual. I’m so fucking proud of you, but you need to take a real break.”

Your eyes burned, but no tears surfaced as he searched your gaze. “But-”

“What is it you always tell me about work?”

“That it’ll be there tomorrow, but we may not be” you answered, sighing. He was right. You couldn’t let work and expectations others set for you take control of your life. “I told you that the last time you ran yourself ragged with missions.”

He brought his mouth to your forehead to kiss it, his scruff tickling your skin. “And now I’m returning the favor,” he said against your skin. “So, come to bed. Lay with me. Just…”

“Be present,” you finished.

No phones. No work. No outside forces interfering. Just the pleasure of being with each other.

“Exactly,” he said, tugging you by the hand. “C’mon. We’re both late for our meeting.”

“Yes, Sir,” you teased, smiling when he groaned.

“This is a cuddle meeting, but it’ll turn into gently fucking you to sleep if you keep talking like that,” he warned you, pulling you to bed a bit faster.

“You say that like that’s a bad thing,” you smiled, gasping as he gently pushed you onto the mattress.

He braced a hand on each side of your head as he leaned down, his breath fanning your face when you whimpered. “Sex after we cuddle,” he breathed, sending a shiver down your spine. “Then we can cuddle again.”

You leaned up to brush your lips against his. “Deal,” you agreed.

Once he maneuvered you to the middle of the bed, his large body spooning yours, you couldn’t stop the tears that came. You bit your lip so he wouldn’t hear your soft sobs, but he must’ve sensed them as he grazed his nose along your neck affectionately and pulled you closer in his arms. You didn’t realize just how much you needed to be held until then.

It was as if all the stress faded away.

“I really am proud of you. Hardest working woman I know and always taking care of me,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your pulse as more tears hit the pillow.

“Because I love you, Bucky,” you whispered. Who wouldn’t want to take care of someone as amazing as James Buchanan Barnes?

“And I love you, too. So much,” he swore to you, turning you in his arms so he could kiss the tears away. The first kiss lingered on your cheek as he let out a shuddering breath. The sight of you crying likely broke his heart, but he didn’t say anything about it for your sake. “So let me be your personal hero today, okay? Let me take care of you and show that you’re more than enough.”

The words were so heartfelt and touching that you were surprised you didn’t melt on the spot. “You already are,” you promised before his lips met yours.

And he could pencil himself in for cuddles and more whenever he wanted.

I'll say it again, lovelies, you deserve breaks and you are more than enough. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[zorrxchicle]

the girlies (s. n.) over at the locked tomb really have made it so i can't listen to two slow dancers without thinking of Those Old People and their fucked up ending*

[netherfeildren]

Pink : Part II: I See Your Father as My Father

Series Masterlist : Part I : Part III

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Content Warnings: No outbreak AU; Welcome to the father-in-law suck and fuck extravaganza; Fix-it-fic but the thing that needs fixing is a person; Daddy issues; Daddy kink; Divorce; DD/lg dynamics; Older man/Younger woman; Inappropriate relationships; Self esteem issues; Discussions of emotional and mental abuse; Unhealthy coping mechanisms; Ass play lite; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Praise kink; Aftercare; Size kink; Spitting; Come eating; Thigh fucking; Oral sex

A/N: Check the tags on the masterlist, as well!

Word Count: 12.3K

Rating: Explicit 18+

Read on AO3

Ko-fi

2. I See Your Father as My Father

When he swings the door open, he’s still half pulling a t-shirt over his curl messed head, faded gray, rust orange longhorn across the front, a flash of hair sprinkled belly. All man, man, man. It stretches over his broad shoulders so the holes strewn there stretch and gape wide making your face heat unbearably. And he’s struck silent for a second, realizing it’s you taking up space on his front porch, trying to hide against the shadow of the wooden beam at your back, ringing his bell in the middle of the night like the Devil’s on your heels. Brow pulled low, he steps out onto the porch, into the shadows with you, his gaze flashing back and forth between your eyes. He says your name, and you hate it. “Did somethin’ happen? Are you alright?” And you want to say no, that nothing is alright. That you know you shouldn’t be here, but you’re here anyways now, and so he needs to tell you what’s going to happen next because this is as far as you’d planned. The sound of his voice, the sight of him, that’s as far as you’d planned. The rest is up to him now, even if he doesn’t know it. Your eyes fall down the long, broad length of him. Rumpled jeans, hastily pulled on, and his bare feet, oddly erotic. They’re paler than the rest of him, sun deprived, and briefly, ridiculously, you wonder if he has that funny sock tan men get around their ankles. The skin stretched over strong tendon and bone, beautifully arched. You give a tiny shake of your head, something like a whimper slipping up your throat. And you think he must realize or understand because he sighs, long and drawn out, dragging his palm over his mouth as he watches you struggle. You think that’s his tell, that dragging hand; he does it when he’s thinking, confused, worried, upset which leads you to worry that maybe he’s upset you’re here now, but it’s done, you’ve come. There’s nothing either of you can do to undo it now. Your eyes move back up to his face, and he’s taking stock of you now also. The soft, loose jersey shorts, too big pullover almost covering them entirely, the sleeves twisted around your clenched fingers. “You gotta tell me what you’re doin’ here, sweetheart. You gotta say it out loud.” You let out a rough, frustrated sound through your clenched teeth, looking away from him for a second. 

“We never talked about it,” you say instead because you want to hear him acknowledge it, you want that to be said out loud. 

He understands immediately, “You never gave me a chance to.”

You look back at him, he’s taken a step closer, and you wrap your arms back behind the beam, trying to meld yourself to the wood, keep yourself away from him.

“What else was I supposed to do? If we talked about it, it would’ve happened again.”

“Well, then that’s why – that’s why we never talked about it.”

“But did you want to?” And your voice breaks a little at the end, “Did you want to talk about it?”

He sighs again, a muttered curse under his breath. He isn’t going to give you the easy way out. “Tell me why he left you,” and you flinch. He, his son. It’s the truth, no reason to cower. You were left. You have to look away again, unable to confess this when looking into the kinder version of eyes that never loved you. 

“I think you know. I think you could tell from the very first moment you saw us together.” He hums his agreement, and the sound fucking hurts. “He never loved me. He never even really liked me, I don’t think. But that became okay after a while.” A tear falls, and you listen to the sound of him suck in a sharp breath; it makes you smile just a little, that small sound. You look back at his face, “I don’t want you to think I’m not okay with that now because I really am. It made me realize that he’d never been what I wanted or needed either. That he couldn’t ever give me what I wanted either.”

“And what’s that?” His voice sounds gentle, but you know that it’s put on. You know there isn’t going to be anything gentle about this. 

You choose to ignore that, “You know he said once, that I’d lied to him about who I was. But I didn’t– I really didn’t, Joel,” and you say it with such panic, or fervor, or something that’s desperate to ensure that he doesn’t think the same of you. That he doesn’t take you for a liar also. “He just couldn’t understand that this is the only way I know how to be. Being scared all the time makes you a liar. It makes you what the moment needs you to be no matter what that is. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “I know what you mean,” but he looks nervous, the truth of him too close to the surface, and it soothes you. The two of you are the same, you knew it. 

You peek down at your twisted fingers, nails gnawed raw and bloody and disgusting. “I don’t think he ever loved me and that made me sad. But now, I don't think I ever loved him either, and that makes me sadder. It was all for nothing, I let him turn me into that thing for nothing, and I was always waiting for him to treat me better, different. But a person who can treat you badly once usually finds it quite easy to do it again.” You look back up at him, shocked for a moment at your sharp honesty. “I’m sorry. He’s your son. I shouldn’t say these things to you,” even thought it sounds like hypocrisy, for look at where you’re standing in the middle of the night.

“And you’re you.”

And the sober way he says it sobers you, recenters you. “Yes. I’ve always been only myself.” And it’s the truth, the most difficult one. That despite Sam’s claims that you’d made him believe you to be someone you weren’t, despite the sick desire for complacency, to please all those around you, you have always been only you. Even when they’d tried to force you to be something you weren’t, you were still always only yourself. You say it again, just to hear the sound of the words. 

“You gotta tell me what you’re doing here then. You want to talk about that? About what happened that night? Is that it?”

“Yes.”

He sighs, that telling gesture over his stern mouth again. “If we do this, there’s no goin’ back, and I–”

“There already is no going back for me. I can’t forget. I can’t stop remembering.”

“It would be different– if we– if I take you, it’ll be different. You get me? I won’t be able to stop. I know myself well enough to know that. I won’t be able to stay away from you after.”

“I don’t care.”

“So that’s what you want?” But you can’t say the words out loud, you can’t, you can’t. You’re ashamed, embarrassed, humiliated by your own desire, small and slanted. Despite all your progress, and as much as you want it, you still know you shouldn’t. “I gotta fuckin’ hear it, sweetheart. Is that what you want?” You shake your head a little, another tear, wrapping your arms around yourself. You can see the fight in his eyes, trying to hold you off from the inside out. I don’t know, another tear. He makes a frustrated noise, turning to pace to the opposite end of the porch, hand fisted in his hair. When he turns back he seems to deflate, eyes going cool and steady and then, suddenly, like a ricochet, bright and light, a flash fire. Once more: “What do you want?” To be wanted. To be good. “You want me to kiss you? You want me to fuck you?”

And your eyes flutter closed in relief, there it is, finally, the hard part’s over. It’s been said out loud. “Yes, that’s what I want.” He’s on you in three ground eating strides, big hand wrapping around the contours of your jaw, the other fisting in the hair at the back of your head, pulling you up so that you’re balanced on the tips of your toes. Your eyes fall shut, mouth parting embarrassingly ready for him to kiss you, but he gives your head a little shake between his palms. “You’re supposed to belong to my son, goddamnit. I’m not supposed to want you like this. This is wrong.”

“I never belonged to him,” and then bitter truth, honesty laminated in humiliation, “And I don’t care if it’s wrong.” Followed by a thought, a wash of shyness, held in his hands as you are, large strong hands: there is a part of me that feels very innocent still, naive, experienced hands that will finally teach you how to be good. You watch the bob of his Adam's apple beneath the sun roughened skin of his throat, and when you look back up at his eyes, there is nothing like innocence, nothing like naivety in them, only the reflection of something complex, something more. He goes very still, almost vibrational with restraint, his fingers clench around you once, and then, with unbearable control, his hands flex open, releasing you. 

“Get in the house,” he says very, very quietly. You cup your own palm around the space of your chin where he’d gripped you and turn on your toes, scampering inside, into the home of the man who would have remained your father-in-law for the rest of your life had his son ever decided to love you. The door slams shut behind him. 

-

He steps into the dark restroom with a staying hand out and ready, as if approaching a wounded, rabid animal. 

His son, his son is a cruel and small man. Joel is coming to realize this with something like horror running in currents beneath his skin. Quick to anger, quick to aggression. And you, his daughter-in-law, no one knows this better than you do. He’d naively thought, when his fully grown son had appeared at his door steps all those months ago, that the question Joel had carried on the tip of his tongue for half of his adult life had finally been answered. Alone but never necessarily lonely, something like a film of boredom and monotony over his life. He was content with the place he’d made for himself; he had his business and his brother and friends, and Joel was fine. But a child of his own, he’d never expected it, never even considered it a possibility. And what he’d come to discover: his son, who shouldn’t still be a child, but in many ways, was. 

He licks at the groove of his molar as he watches the tremble of your back, trying to hide your weeping face in the shadows of the bathroom wall. A small, anxious thing that had been, out of everything, perhaps the biggest shock of all. To learn that he had a son, an entire life lost to time, and that there was someone in the world that his son should have loved enough to tie himself to – it was shocking. To discover that his son was married when Joel was not, disorienting. 

He says your name softly and watches the jerk of your frame, that vein of anxiety he’d sensed in you from the get go that he was fairly certain Sam had a large part in sowing. You’d shown up with your hair picked up today, only the second time you’ve ever worn it so. Piled messy at the top of your head, a few strands laying against the nape of your neck, the vulnerable slope of your shoulder. He feels strangely afraid of you, afraid for you. Unsure of what to say, heart beating out of his chest, rebounding against his ribcage so hard he’s sure you can hear it. “I’m sorry. He didn’t mean it. He–”

“Please, don’t apologize for him.” A tiny sniffle. “Don’t apologize for him,” you say again, and there’s a hum of exhaustion in your voice, brokenness, it makes Joel go from afraid to entirely terrified, but then angry too… angry too. He takes a step forward, another, he’s an arms length away from you now. He could touch you if he was brave enough. If the intent behind it wasn’t as wrong as it is. Angry because he’s looking at that vulnerable nape, imagining the fit of his palm molded over the delicate column, and you’re something to be taken care of. Something like a gift. Even though he doesn’t know you well enough to say such a thing yet, even though he shouldn’t be thinking such a thing about his daughter-in-law. Even though you hold yourself with a hard rigidness most of the time, quiet dignity and cold vulnerability that seem almost impossible to get through. And yet he suspects that with enough care and patience you could become immediately soft, easily penetrated. He should see his son as a gift, and he does, he does, he does, he swears he does. If Joel repeats it enough times in his mind surely he’ll come to believe it with his whole heart, but what he sees more than the gift of a child that was kept from him, is nothing but a boy beating down a creature that was not taught to defend itself. And that makes him angry beyond belief. 

Joel can be a hard man. He is a hard man. Perhaps, a large part of the reason why he’s still alone, why nothing more than a quick fuck ever seems to work out for him. Women like him, they enjoy his company, they come to bed with him easily. But Joel is hard and cold, and he’s never much minded his aloneness, a difficult thing to sell to a woman, the reality that he doesn’t really care to need anyone else. And so perhaps, this is his son’s inherited vice, that coldness, but despite Joel’s preference for solitude, for the fact that he doesn’t care about making a person stick around, he tries to never be cruel, and he is sure to never hurt those that are more easily hurt than himself. He doesn’t think there’s any worse sort of sin, and so he knows that this cruelty he’s witnessing didn’t come from him. But then he thinks that if it didn’t come from him, then it surely came as a consequence of him, of his absence, and so he is just as responsible for it. So he can’t help himself when, instead of more platitudes in favor of his gift of a son, he says: “You should leave him.” You let out a bitter sound of a laugh, something that pokes at that wound of fear of his. 

“Should I? I don’t think that’s what you’re supposed to say.”

“Isn’t it? It’s the truth. It’s what you need to hear right now,” The sweetheart he adds at the end has a tiny shiver moving down the length of your spine that his own vertebrae can’t help but imitate. You hang your head, bearing more of that lovely nape, head seemingly bowed in supplication for something gentler than what his son can offer you, and he can’t help himself again. He wants to sink his teeth into that soft expanse of skin. You’re too pretty, pretty in all the ways a perfect thing can be, and Joel is a hard man, not a weak one, but he feels weak now. He feels brought to his knees, heavy stone of guilt weighing in his gut as he lays his palm on the back of your bared neck. Don’t touch, don’t touch, don’t touch, this doesn’t belong to you. He tightens his hand, grips the column, presses the calluses of his palm to the soft skin. “Look at me–” he gruffs, turns you by the pressure of his hand, a kitten gripped by the scruff and made to listen. “You deserve more than that shit.” That shit being his son, his blood. Joel is two feet tall and so ashamed he’s nauseous. But your eyes, they look up at him, tear filled and so lost, and he wants to show you how it should be. “You deserve more,” he says again. Later, he’ll tell himself he surely must have said the words out loud, asked for it with teeth and tongue. The blame can only be his, he provoked it, he soothed the wound, incited it, because you’re surging up and against him, fingers clawing at his shoulders and throat and pressing your mouth to his, clumsy and tear stained and open so that the first thing he tastes is your breath on his tongue, then your tongue on his tongue, and then absolution tinged with shame, gross desire like desperation. He groans like a dying man, clutching at you immediately, unthinking, pulling you into himself, soft, full tits against hard chest so that he feels like he’s burning and dying and coming back to life all with the taste of your spit and tears in his mouth. He holds you steady, hand still clamped to the back of your neck and thinks that if he’s going to commit a sin he might as well take his fill. He eats at you. Head held in place, knees bent and arm banded around your waist to bring you level with each other, he pulls your head back, mouth open and tries to swallow you whole. And Joel doesn’t think of his son, not for a single second, while he kisses his daughter-in-law.

His lips slide to your throat, hunting for your pulse, tasting the tiny flutter, going weak at the knees at the whimpered sound you make, cock harder than it’s been in years, a noise like begging, like more. He sucks hard at that thrum, but your noises shift to frightened, protesting, fingers digging into his shoulders to warn him. He can’t leave marks, he can’t leave marks on something that belongs to another. His erection is an iron band down the leg of his jeans, and he has to force himself not to thrust the aching cock into the soft apex of your thighs, feel your warmth there. He has to stop, he has to– to what? To let you go back to a boy that mistreats you? Even if that boy is his son, it’s wrong, it goes against everything Joel is as a man. He presses his face into the blistering heat of your throat, a muttered fuck under the ledge of your little chin. A rattling shiver has started up in you, teeth chattering with the force of it, and he bands his arms around you tightly, pressing the air out of your lungs, hand smoothing up to twist in the back of your hair and force you entirely still. “Don’t,” his voice is so deep he almost doesn’t recognize it coming out of his own mouth, “Don’t be afraid.” The sound of his popping knees as he unbends to his full height, your weight still in his arms. He lets you go in increments, slowly so as not to jar you further, hands holding tight until the last moment when he forces them to unclench, let you go. “Don’t be afraid,” he says again. “You did nothing wrong. This was all me.” Your eyes are huge, but you’re not crying anymore, and that feels like victory to Joel, despite the rest, the only thing that matters.

You run from him after that, because of course you do. What’s the other option? That he’d keep you there in that dark restroom, from his son and your marriage and the world, forever? He clutches at his chest and is swallowed whole by his shame and his guilt, the terrible fear that he isn’t the sort of parent that can blindly see past their child’s faults, love them despite everything else, not the type of man who can keep himself from wanting something he shouldn’t, he hadn’t felt so when he’d kissed you with that sick desperation on his tongue. And once he hears the sound of a slamming car door, and Sam’s truck peeling out of the drive and speeding away, he takes out his hard cock and fucks his fist until the heat of his semen is sliding over his skin, a handful of pathetic strokes and the sound of your name almost like a sob in the dark.

-

You listen to the sound of his bare feet padding across the wooden floor, and your head feels like it’s breaking water, seeing clearly for the first time in years. It’s a rich parquet, gleaming in the dim light of the street lamp glow. You wonder if he installed it himself, like the wallpaper, proof of the care and attention to detail in his home. You think you would like to be cared for as such also. There’s a soft green throw draped over the back of the chocolate leather couch, and you dig your fingers into it, twisting amidst the knitted weave as you turn to face him, and he has that look in his eyes again, the one from before. The one like too much, too much, the one like fear and want. Stopping just in front of you, the tips of his bare toes meet the front of your shoes, and he reaches to drag the pad of his thumb over the high slope of your cheekbone, the fine skin catching beneath his calluses. “You’re too beautiful,” he says, and you wish it sounded like an accusation, but it doesn't, and you want to tell him you don’t believe him, just to be difficult, just to be contrary, but you know he’s not the sort of man that lies. It only sounds like praise. His eyes are so dark in the shadow of the house, the green and brown and caramel striations gone away in the night, and he’s shifting his jaw, chewing on a thought before he spits it out. His other hand comes up to gently, so gently cup the other side of your face, and he holds you there, just so, angling you this way and that, appraising you, chewing, chewing slowly. “Too beautiful – I never even stood a chance,” he says more to himself than to you. This is a man that does things with intention. This is a man that sees you as a complexity, as something more. This is a man. “He told me something – last time we saw each other.” Your heart beats painfully in your chest, you can feel it in your eyes and ears and the backs of your knees.

“What’s that?”

“That the two of you were havin’ problems. In– in the bedroom. That–”

You try and jerk away, but he holds you trapped. “Stop. Please. Don’t–”

“Is that all this is? Older man – want me to teach you somethin’?”

Cradled as you are, you close your eyes, brow folding in a frown, unable to refute him with a shake for the way he’s captured you. You bring your own hand up to circle his thick wrist, fingers not meeting around it. He has hair here, your palm slides further down, hair here too. All man, man, man. No longer in the hands of a boy, and you’re touching him. Now you’re touching him too. “That very first time I met you– I wondered what you’d taste like. How heavy you’d be inside of me. If you’d be rough, leave marks, or gentle. You know I– I wanted– If he hadn’t been there, if–” Now he’s the one that begs you to stop. 

His hands on you are tighter now, almost strangling, squeezing a moan out of you. “Are you going to tell him?” His grip goes loose again, caressing. “ If we do this– are you going to use this against him? It’s yours to do with as you will, I just want to know beforehand. It won't change the way I have you tonight.”

“Only tonight?” Your voice sounding strange, hungry. 

His eyes move entirely around your face, taking you in, held as you are. His gaze is manic, fevered, but his words are slow, stacked one on top of the other for you. “No. No, I don’t think it’ll only be tonight.”

“I’m not going to use this against him.” For the first time in two years, what you’re doing, the decisions you’re making, have nothing to do with your ex-husband. This is only for you. Joel is only for you. 

“Tell me what you want,” he asks for the last time. 

“To be good,” you finally say, and the rough sound he makes, the flush you can faintly see crawling up the column of his throat, it has a painful knot of want tightening your cunt, the wet drip of slick pooling in your panties, all hot and bruised feeling on the inside. 

He lets his hands slide slowly from your face to hang loosely by his sides, and you take it as your invitation to touch him as you like now. He’s so much taller than you, your neck craning back to look up at his face. You start there, the crest of his cheek, the strong, curved nose, plush mouth that looks specifically made for kissing a cunt until it cries. He makes your thoughts feel savage, he makes you feel like something you’ve never been before. “You’re just a little girl, aren’t you?” He says softly. Your hands move down to his thick neck, and you try and cage him there, hands too small to circle him entirely, the insinuation of a strangling. Too small, too small, too small. You shake your head, mesmerized by the contradiction of your small fragility trying to capture all that strength held inside of him. You look up at his eyes, holding him around the throat as you are, and shake your head. You’re not. “Then what are you?”

“I don’t know. I want you to show me.” And that does something to him. You see the change come over him in that very moment, something chimeral in the change your words provoke. He’s made of nothing but vibrational restraint, giving you your moment of peace to explore him as you need to before he takes you for himself. You’re almost certain you can hear the sound of him grinding his molars to dust inside his mouth. And you want him to show you, it’s the truth. As wrong or whatever it is that it may be, it’s your truth. You’d always felt like you’d done being a woman the wrong way, a grating way, an unappealing way, but you didn’t want to be unappealing or wrong. You only wanted to be yourself. And worst of all, you’d been made to feel like that, over and over again, by the man who should have done nothing but the opposite. And you know it might be bad now, to want to be shown or that there was no right way, but still, but still, you want it. You would still like for someone, for Joel, to teach you how to be better, how to be good. Was that really so bad?

Your hands slide down to the thick muscles of his chest, thumbs dipping into the dents of his collarbones, lower to the soft of his belly, the edge of his jeans. The both of you are trembling now, you in lust, desperation, him in restraint maybe. There are beads of sweat dampening the curls at his temples. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Do you think so?”

He nods, but he’s cupping your elbows in his big hands anyway, pulling you towards him so that your breasts graze the top of his belly. “But we’re doin’ it anyway.” You go up on your tiptoes, hand cupping the sharp edge of his jaw to pull him down towards you, and he’s like a leashed wolf; heavy, hot breaths fanning across your face, and he slowly does as you bid, mint, mixed with something sharp like whiskey. He’s watching you so intently, watching to see what you’ll do with him, but your eyes are only on that soft wet mouth. You want his tongue inside of you, and that first press is so, so soft, barely there. A sound like dying, you can’t tell who it comes from, another soft brush, and you’re taking his top lip between both of yours, sucking on it lightly, hands snaking over his thick shoulders to bring yourself up closer so that he’s finally wrapping his arms around you, pressing you tightly to himself, belly to belly. He still hasn’t closed his eyes, he’s still watching you, and your heart is beating so fast and so hard and you want this so much that you’re sure he can feel it reverberating into his own chest cavity, spurring his own beating muscle on. You press another tiny kiss to his full, open mouth. “I’m scared,” you whisper onto his tongue, and he smoothes a staying hand down your spine, settling over the curve of your ass and squeezing there, holding you in his snare. He’s barely even touched you, and yet, you already know that no one else has ever been like this. 

“That’s alright. Got nothin’ to be scared of – I’m gonna be so gentle with you, baby.”

“I’m not your baby,” hint of an obstinate, provoking whine in your voice.

“But that’s what you are.” He changes the angle of his descent, and now he’s the one moving in for another tiny kiss. “Just a little baby.”

“And I don’t want it gentle.”

“You’ll take it how I say. How ‘bout that?” Another kiss, and now the taste of his tongue. You’d never forgotten it, the slick, hot slide of it, from that other time. He licks into you, takes away your ability to talk. In a single blink of an eye, less than a second’s thought, he’s taken all control from you, made the game his own, and now you’ve finally gotten what you’d come here for. Now you can finally say it out loud. He wraps a massive fist around the length of your hair and eats at your mouth, makes it his more than it’s ever been yours. All tongue and teeth and wet spit, the sound of his pleasure for you vibrating in your ears, and there is it, the pressure of his hard cock as he slides his hand lower, between your legs to feel the heat and damp of the pussy that’s wet only for him, pulls you further into himself. The heft of the bulge has you whining and squirming in his hold, clawing at his shoulders and the skin of his neck to climb up the length of him, get closer, get more. You want that cock, you want it inside of you, filling you with its weight and its come. You’ve wanted it from the first time you’d met him as his daughter-in-law, standing beside his son in the place of his wife. You’d wanted his cock more than you’d ever wanted his sons, and you’re only ashamed that you’re not ashamed at all. And he tastes that desperation on you, nips at your lip with a gruff settle, a little yank of your hair to tug your head back and unlatch his mouth from yours, sliding in a wet trail to your neck, settle, settle. He bites at the line of your throat, hard. Sucks even harder, leaves a mark, leaves a claim he wasn’t able to last time. The deeply rumbled sound that comes from him attests to his intention and your answering, whimpered mewl is nothing but a cry for more; I know, baby, I know, he whispers into your ear. His mouth moves down your chest, pulling the already stretched neck of your pullover wider to nuzzle at the deep groove of your cleavage. You want to ask him if he’s worried, guilty, if he’s wanted you for as long as you wanted him, if he was hard when you kissed him that night in his little wallpapered restroom, but then the heat of his mouth is clamping around your nipple and sucking, wetting the fabric of your top with his tongue, biting down at your breast, the sharp of his teeth clamping down around your sensitive flesh, nothing but your soft sleep bra beneath to protect you. You yank hard at his messy curls, trying to pull his punishing teeth away and pull yourself closer, all at the same time. His eyes flash up to yours, mouth latched at your breast, cheeks hollowing as he takes a hard, wet pull and there’s laughter in his gaze, hot and bright and infectious. “I’ll be gentle, but I’m not gonna be nice, baby.” He nuzzles into the wet spot left behind, presses another kiss, soft and conciliatory now over your throbbing nipple. “You want me to be nice? Want me to be nice to this little pussy?” He rubs the flat of his fingers over that desperate place between your legs as he turns to walk the two of you back towards the front of the sofa. There’s no response to be given, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. He turns to sit, pulling you to remain standing between his spread thighs, hands wrapped around your hips. “Gotta use your words, pretty baby. I wanna hear what you want.”

“I want whatever you want. I want it however you want it,” you say through your flush and your shyness. You want to be honest, not a liar here in this moment with him. 

He lets his head fall forward to rest against your lower belly, nuzzles there, and you hear his whispered, Jesus, fuck, before he pulls back to look up at you, drags his palms down the back of your legs all the way to your ankles, nudging your shoes and socks off, and then sliding all the way back up, scratchy calluses making you shiver until he reaches the edge of your shorts and tucks the tips of his fingers there. “Take your shirt off,” he says gently, and you only pause for a second of timidity before you’re pulling it over your head, left only in your soft pink sleep bra not intended for the eyes of ex-father-in-law’s you’ve come to seduce. Your shyness flushes higher, burning your face, sprouting beads of embarrassed sweat at the nape of your neck. He untucks his fingers from the waistband of your shorts, smoothing his palms up the slopes of your curves, thumbs dragging up the plane of your belly, dipping into the dent of your navel to reach up and squeeze your breasts tight in his big hands, then pulls the straps down over your shoulders, the bra down over the curves of your breasts to leave them bare and heavy. And his eyes never leave yours as he gets you naked for himself, fingers sliding down your sides now to pull your shorts and panties and the scrunched bra down, the flush in his face deepening, heightening even though he’s yet to look at you. Don’t be scared, he whispers again, shaking his head a little when you wrap your arms around your breasts, trying to hide yourself away from him. When he’s taken your shorts from you, gripping each ankle to help you step out of their circle, he finally looks at you, takes in the entire bare expanse of your naked body, gently prying your arms from your breasts. “Lemme see, lemme see, you’re so fuckin’ pretty, baby.” He runs his hands all over you, the slope of your belly, lifts the weights of your tits in his palms to let them fall and sway heavily, down the outsides of your thighs and back up and around to squeeze the lush of your ass. He pulls you further towards him with that clutch on you and presses his nose into the apex of your thighs, nuzzles at the soft thatch of curls there, brings his thumb up to pet at it and breathes deep. “I like this – so pretty,” he tells you again. If it was possible for a person to die of shyness you surely would in this moment, but this was what you’d come here for, this was what you hadn’t been able to say out loud. He presses his nose there again, takes another deep breath, and then starts to mouth wetly, pressing soft kisses and then the wet of his tongue, licking and parting at your slick seam. He groans so deep it sends you to shivering, hands coming up to cover your face, to hide away from that sound of lust, the feral look in his eyes when he looks up at you with the taste of your cunt in his mouth. He starts to lap at you in earnest, closing his eyes in sheer enjoyment as he pets at your clit with his tongue, shifting his angle this way and that to get at you more deeply. He pulls one of your feet up onto the edge of the sofa to open you, and you’re jostled forward, catching yourself on his broad shoulder as he spreads and eats you. His hand on your ass shifts lower, searching for your opening from behind and starts to pet at you there too so that he’s coming at you from the front and the back, and it’s too much, his sucking mouth and probing fingers. Your standing leg buckles, and he’s forced to pull his mouth from you, steady you. You let your knees give out slowly, coming to a folded kneel between his legs. He leans forward, mouth glossy with your slick and pulls your face to his, chin pinched between his fingers to kiss you, and the taste of you on his tongue sets something off within you.

Suddenly, your shy insecurity doesn't really matter as much with the flavor of your pussy on his tongue. You surge up on your knees, pressing closer to him, pulling him to you with your arms twisted around his neck, moaning into his mouth as you taste the sweet muskiness on his tongue. Like kindling catching fire in your veins you start to claw at him, pulling at his clothes, his hair, scratching at his skin. He half pulls you up and on top of him, your steaming hot form, entirely bare and naked on top of his clothed one. You can feel the heft of his cock against your belly, grinding there, trying to find whatever friction possible, and he makes a frustrated noise at the back of his throat, pushing you back down onto the floor and pulling back to open his jeans. He’s panting and sweating, chest heaving and cheeks flushed a bright red. He wants you just as much as you want him. And it’s bad, it’s bad and wrong to compare, God knows, but when he finally pulls his cock out, he’s not wearing anything beneath his jeans, you know that this is a man unlike your husband ever was; long and thick, fucking big, swollen, flushed tip peaking out from soft surrounding skin, leaking a clear slick of drool. He takes it out and sits back, pushing his hips forward to settle into his seat and stretches his long legs on either side of you. You listen to the sound of the scooting coffee table as he shoves it back with his foot. His cock arches obscenely from his open jeans, and you reach up slowly, a little intimidated, to circle it with your fingers delicately. “You’re so hard,” you whisper. 

He drags a gentle hand over the crown of your head, pulling the hair tie from your ponytail as he goes. “This is how much I want you. This is all you.” He circles his big hand around your much smaller one, squeezes his big cock tighter with both of your hands, and you flush with a pleasure so intense it’s almost painful. You can make a man hard, the proof is right here in front of you. 

He’s uncut, and that’s doubly intimidating. “I’ve never seen one like that,” he pulls your hand up slowly with his, squeezes and twists hard at the sticky wet tip. 

“It’s okay, baby,” he croons, looking down at you with a maniacal sort of glint in his eyes. “Just open your mouth,” he wraps his other hand around your jaw, “You don’t need to see it if it’s inside you,” wedges his fingers between your molars over the skin of your cheeks, prying your mouth open. You bend your head forward, tongue hanging out, and he taps the heavy weight of his cock there, jostles the wet tip slightly from side to side, the wet sticky sound of it has your pussy clenching around terrible emptiness. He slides his hand up your cheek, twists his fingers through your hair and directs you how he wants you, slides his cock further back on your tongue, and you wrap your lips around him, give him your first real suck, tongue swirling gently around the fat head. Pulling back with a sharp hollowing of your cheeks, he squeezes his fist around yours almost painfully, and you press an open mouthed kiss at the spongey tip, gently tonguing the slit, lapping at it with the flat of your tongue like a little kitten. The sight of you licking his dick has him groaning, bearing the white line of his teeth at you. 

“You taste so good,” you say up at him with big wet eyes, “Like I always imagined you would.”

“Fuck–” he snarls, “Killin’ me,” and he’s jerking you up off the floor roughly, pulling your knees apart to settle you in a straddle on his lap, pressing you close with a hand on your ass so that the wet heat of your cunt is meeting the heat of his cock. The both of you groan like it hurts, like you’ve been waiting for this for longer than is right, and he pulls your mouth back to his, wet and messy, sucking on your tongue, gripping your hair so tightly, your eyes smart and water. You claw at his shirt, pulling it up, trying to get at his skin, and he pulls back suddenly, frustratedly ripping it over his head, and then coming back to your mouth, single minded in his dedication to having the taste of you on his tongue. You try and grind down on him, but he hitches you up higher so your breasts are level with his face. “This’ll be over ‘fore it’s even begun if we’re not careful,” he laughs as he settles you, cunt leaking against his stomach and turning the hair there sticky sweet with your slick, and slots his hand between your thighs, gives you something to rub yourself against while he kisses you. “Oh, baby, you’ve got the wettest little cunt,” he says between kisses, lips sliding down to suck at your neck, lifting your breast to his mouth to lick and bite at your swollen nipple. 

And past sense, past restraint, you beg: “I want your cock, please, I want it so badly.” 

“Nuh uh,” he grunts, “Not yet. You’re not ready.”

You whine and beg that you are, you promise you are, but he only sucks at your tits harder, presses his hand harder between your thighs, and you can literally hear the wet squelch of your pussy as you ride his palm, your clit grinding against his belly on the forward slide as you work yourself up into a frenzy, wet whimpers and a pathetic little tear or two slipping out in your frustration to come. Need you nice and soft to take me, sweetheart, he murmurs into the tender skin beneath your chin, but he decides to be kind, crooking his finger just so that it brushes up against your clit, setting off a shivery little orgasm fluttering through your belly. He laughs softly, humoring the silly little thing wiggling around in his lap that’s so desperate to come, decides to be kinder halfway through your orgasm and starts to slowly press a single thick finger into your hungry, clenching hole. Shit, you hear his curse, while you moan and cry into his shoulder, mouthing and biting at the sun freckled golden skin there, gnawing on him like some rabid thing. And then he says, a little teasing: “Just from this, huh? Just from a little wiggling around on daddy’s lap?” sending a wash of agonized relief through you as he wedges a second one of those thick, thick fingers inside to stretch you further. It’s what you’d wanted to call him from the first moment. Just one more thing said out loud. You nod your head against his shoulder, a whine and a breath and daddy, daddy, daddy, as he stretches you; make that sound again, he begs and pets and coos at you, yes, yes, I could come from that sound alone, gives you all the patience you’d always needed. “Look at all this slick you’ve made to take my big cock in your little cunt, baby. What a good girl you are.” He twists his wrist, fucks space into you with his fingers, “You’re so fuckin’ tiny – how’re you gonna take me in this little thing, huh?” He bites down on your soft breast, encourages the sway of your hips with his fingers hooked inside of you. “Don’t worry, I’ll make it fit,” presses a kiss to your forehead, scratchy beard against the sensitive skin there, gently stroking you into another orgasm around his fingers, petting at something raw and bruised feeling inside of you, sending you to tears. 

He pulls his fingers from you slowly once you’re done, leaving your body to tighten and gape around terrible emptiness, and you feel the wet smear of your come on your asscheek where he grips you, searches and pets your asshole to slick it with your wet. “You want daddy to fix you?” He says then, “Want me to make you all better? S’what you want, right?”

You nod slowly, sniffle, “Make me good,” you mumble into his neck. 

“But you’re already good,” and he takes away all your choices, the ability to argue or refute, “You’re already so good. A perfect, gorgeous girl.” Kindling in your veins, madness, something more desperate than anything else you’ve ever felt in your entire life, true hunger. Worse than your desire for your father to understand you, to love you, to not be angry, your fight to keep a husband that would have never stayed. You reach for his cock, trying to impale yourself on it blindly, shifting to press the hot, blunt head at your wet opening. He moans like a dying man, “Wait– wait, lemme get a condom.” He sounds like he’s begging. 

“No, please, now.”

“Fuck– fuck, you’re so eager to jump on my bare cock without a rubber or anything.” But it’s only because no one has ever touched you like this, and when he grips the thick root of his cock and notches it as your cunt, pushes inside slowly, you realize he’s doing it in a way that makes you understand the difference between the man and the boy. 

“I need to feel your skin,” you sound like you’re begging now too. Sighing in relief when he starts to stretch you, when it starts to hurt. It’s slow going, fitting the largeness of his body into your much smaller one. But his hands are steady and soothing as he works you down another inch, another, let’s you fuck yourself on his cock. Murmured praises and all of his desire for you and yeah, just like that, take daddy’s cock, until he’s fully seated inside of you, holds you down, presses and grinds there, thick tip made fatter by his foreskin kissing your cervix. Finally, he pulls you back by the hair, and your father-in-law’s cock is inside of you. “Want you to look at me while I teach you how to fuck– how to take a cock,” because he knows, because he’s always known, had the gross ability to read you exactly as you are. He shifts his hips back, presses up, up, up, inside of you, and his eyes are so beautiful, and he teaches you how to take a cock, not a little girl now, only a woman. You wrap your arms around his neck, kiss his face, lick his tongue, nibble on his ears, feel him all over, he’s all over and everywhere, and it should maybe be humiliating, riding the cock that made the man that was your husband, it should feel wrong or something like a sin, but it only feels, instead, like it was made for you. Like this is where you should have been all along. Once you’ve adjusted, he grips your hips tight and harsh, makes your skin smart enough you know you’ll have bruises in the shapes of his fingers and pounds up into you, the slick slide of your cunt sucking him deeper, taking him as hard as he wants to give it to you, swollen and sensitive, squeezes your ass and grunts and moans and says, yeah, baby, bounce on this fat cock, like it’s the only thing you’d ever have to do for the rest of your life. You wish it was. And the sounds he makes, that’s what really makes you come again, what sets off your orgasm while you’re riding him – the desperate, rough sounds of a man fucking up into a tight, hot cunt that’s wet only for him. It coils in you so tight it hurts, it hurts, and then goes loose and fluttery, pussy flooding around his thrusting length. You can’t even moan, mouth hanging open, proably drooling a little, probably crying a little, nothing but hot air and wet and not a little girl anymore, only a woman, and he doesn’t gentle, fucks you harder, rougher, squeezes your ass and chases his own orgasm. His thrusts going sloppy and uneven, his moans turning to cracked whimpers. 

“I’m not on birth control… but– but my period’s soon,” you whisper into his ear, and he makes a noise not wholly human, going still for a moment, throbbing inside you, thinking, thinking of the risk, decides he doesn’t give a fuck by the murmured,  fuck it, I have to, and starts to move again, harder, hurting on every punch up against the mouth of your womb. I have to, is what he says, and that settles something inside of you. “Gonna come in this pretty, tight cunt. Gonna make it all mine.” You decide you don’t really give a fuck either. “Make daddy come. Squeeze down on daddy’s cock – yeah, just like that. You wanted to play at being the big girl? Now m’gonna treat you like one – gonna fuck you full, baby.” And you’re nothing but want and yes and please and thank you, daddy. And that first spurt, that hurts too, burns you, changes something inside of you that you know will never go back to the way it was before. You’ll want that hurt for the rest of your life, and you won’t ever be able to forget it, and it might be the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, but the heat of it spurs on another small orgasm of your own, jars you with the swell and throb of his cock, fills you till the come from your cunt is leaking down onto his slick balls and the leather beneath. And he holds you through the whole thing, stroking and squeezing and tasting, taking sips of your mouth, pressing his breath back into you, breathing life into you. No longer a ghoul in the night either. You feel him go soft and yet still heavy inside, a muted bruise against your womb, sighing frequently as you settle, little kittenish sounds that have his spent cock stirring lazily inside of you while you leak and leak and leak and go drowsy and then just on this side of fully asleep. 

“Are you okay?” You remember to ask in a small voice while his fingers play gently in the wet where you’re connected. 

He makes a soft sound, like he’s humoring you, like you’ve surprised him. “Course I’m okay,” presses a kiss to your forehead. 

When he shifts you off of him to stand, a protesting whine at the back of your throat, he shucks his jeans off with a soft grunt, finally as naked as you’ve been the whole time, and his cock hangs heavy between his legs, shiny with your cunt as you stare up at him while he looks down at you. Afraid for a brief uncertain second before he’s lifting you in his arms, and when he carries you to his bed after, you feel terribly like a child. Again that naivety, that hope, but it isn't a bad thing, here and now with him. Not something to be used against you, not a bruise or a wound or a lost limb, and you haven’t failed at being good because he’s already made you so. 

-

You’re pressed right up beneath his chin when he wakes up. Your soft, warm form all along his side, lush tits and the vulnerable slope of your belly against his skin, and it feels so intimate, entirely twined around him as you are. He brings his palm up to cup the small bowl of your skull, and in the hushed morning light, your mistake breathes life into the world. Joel has always been a hard man. Joel has always been a hard man, but never weak, and certainly, not good, per se, but never cruel. But there’s something like weakness, there’s something that should be like cruelty here, waking up with you bare, still leaking his spend in his bed, and Joel can’t tell if that weakness, that cruelty is his, born of him or of his own making, he only knows that it should be here, probably is here. It’s difficult to gauge the moral acumen of what he should or should not be feeling when he has you like this beside him. And most confusing of all, that it actually feels nothing like a mistake. Only like it was always meant to happen, and now it finally has. 

He’d come inside of you, worst of all, sense gone away in the night, couldn’t claim exemption from weakness now, filled you until you’d leaked down his balls, the woman who’d been the wife of his son, and he should feel guilty, he should feel disgusted with himself. A betrayer of his own child. But all he feels is that he needs it again. That he needs you again. That if he could, he’d keep you. 

Joel had never wanted children. The thought or desire had never really crossed his mind… and yet– You make a sweet little keening sound in your throat right before you open your eyes, and he feels the stretch and wiggle of your little toes against his shins, the flutter of your long lashes against the tip of his chin. “Good morning.” Soft hand coming up to cover his mouth, hold him in place while you wiggle and slither all over him. 

“How do you feel?” He’d expected you to be shy, regretful, nervous waking up, and to find you entirely not, to get to wake up to you like this, soft and warm and lovely in his bed smelling of his come and his sweat, smiling that pretty little smile; it’s the mightiest sort of victory. You drape yourself on top of him, all soft limbs and softer tits, and the heat of your cunt pressed against his belly as you nuzzle into his chest hair. You’re different now, compared to before, that exhaustion he’d sensed is closer to the surface now, more easily visible, as if your body’s been collecting it, pulling it from the depths of you, getting ready to finally expel it. But there’s a clarity about you now too, you’re tired, but you’re also more yourself. Or on your way there. So lovely it hurts, vulnerable and fragile but entirely yourself. Afraid too, he can tell, because it’s your right to be afraid, because it’s normal, because we’re all afraid sometimes. “Sore?” Another nuzzle, and then, settling on your cheek to look up at him with those gorgeous eyes that’d damned him from the very first moment. 

“Just a little.”

“You did so well last night,” he pets your hair slowly. “You took me so well. I’m so proud of you.” And oh, you like that. Blooming, the temperature in your body seeming to spike suddenly, suffusing all your limbs, radiating from your belly. Shifting and squirming on top of him. His half hard erection, trapped between the two of you, aching already, and you try and rub yourself all along its length, hitching a knee up by his hip to open yourself. He gives you a rough sound to settle, but you want something from him now, trying to rub your wet pussy all over him. If he was younger, a man of less control, he’d be fucking into you already and without thought. “It’s time for listening now, little girl.” He grips your hair tightly, tilting your face up to look at him, uncurls his fingers to cup the small bowl of your skull and hold you in place. “Sometimes people need time, sometimes they need us to be patient with them, wait for them. That’s what you needed, and there ain’t anything wrong with that. And you’re not gonna feel bad or less for getting there a little more slowly than others. Everything comes in its due time, and that’s okay.” You’re staring up at him, wide eyed, something like fear or panic, but you’re going to listen to him if it’s the last thing he does. He fists your hair again, gently forces your head into a nod. “Agree with me now. Say yes.”

“Yes, daddy,” you whisper very softly, pressing up to peck him lightly on the mouth. He catches you by the nape, a kitten picked up by the scruff, and holds you there, immediately turns the kiss wet and savage. You feel, so much, like you’re his, and this terrifies Joel. You aren’t his to keep, he knows this. He is not unaware of what’s happening here, of the consequences. He is not delusional about how this will end. But still, but still, you feel like his. 

You’re back to you’re squirming now, whines and pleading moans as you try and rub yourself against his cock, and he reaches down to cup you, gently fingering at your folds, feeling the havoc he’d wrought on your pussy last night. “You’re so swollen, baby. Can’t fuck you again so soon.”

“Please, daddy, please, please. I can take it, I promise.”

“Not gonna hurt my soft little cunt.” The start of another whine, but he cuts you off, gives you a staying look, cranes his neck to lick into your mouth. “I’m not.”

“I want you so badly. I want you to make me come.” Tiny kisses and kitten licks to his jaw and throat. There’s fire in his belly, cock throbbing something fierce. He grips beneath your knee, opens your leg and pulls back to slot his cock between your thighs, up against your slick, swollen cunt, then presses your thighs closed back together tightly. 

“Just like this – how ‘bout that?” He says as he starts to thrust up slowly against your pussy, trying to keep his movements gentle, careful not to hurt you. He runs his palms along the length of you, squeezes your tits and pinches and plucks at your swollen, sucked dark nipples. The signs of him are all over your body, and it makes him something like wild, infuses him with something like madness. Joel has never felt like this about any woman, ever. And to have it be you – to have this happen to him with you, there is something like weakness and like cruelty here. He needs to keep his head on straight. Remember what can and cannot be. He squeezes your ass tightly, digs his short-shorn fingernails into your soft cheeks, brings one hand up to get his fingertips spit slick, and then pulls your cheeks apart again to pet at your asshole. His gut goes tight and fire hot, he wants to fuck you here too. He wants all of you to be only his, his, fucking his. You hitch your hips in a desperate little arc as he presses gently on the tight ring of muscle, teasing you. “You like that?” He gruffs. “Want me to fill your little ass too, sweet girl?”

Yes, daddy, and he’s sure those must be the greatest words ever uttered to any man in all history. 

“You make the prettiest sounds,” he says while you sing and moan for him. “When I touch you like this,” he moves down to the wet mouth of your cunt, taps on it gently, “And like this,” further, a flutter at your clit while he fucks between your thighs, “And the way you cry when you come for me,” back up to press at your asshole again. “Will you do it for me again?” Christ, he’s going to end up taking you if he doesn’t stop, and he will not hurt you. With a rough sound of frustration, he flips the two of you over suddenly, laying you flat, kneeing your thighs open wide and spread for him. He shakes his head down at you, squeezes his eyes shut because the sight of your bare tits and messy hair and swollen lips, cock hungry blurry eyes, isn’t helping his restraint. “Gotta stop provokin’ me.”

“But it’s so fun, daddy,” you whine, arching to brush your breasts up against his chest. He lets his head fall, opens his mouth wide and takes the whole, heavy weight of your tit into his mouth, sucks hard, bites soft, switches to the other one, gives it the opposite. He pulls back then, going to his knees between your spread thighs and holds you open for inspection. Cunt all red and swollen and shiny with slick just for him. He’s sure if he pressed his fingers inside he’d be able to feel the slippery slide of his semen still. Another shake of his head, and he runs his palms down the soft of your thighs, cups the round of your knees in his palms. You jerk the right one back when he squeezes you there, and he fingers the sore spot, “What’s this from?” bends forward to press a soft kiss to the small hurt. 

“I was in a rush last night,” you say shyly. 

“Rush for what, silly girl? I was right here waitin’ for ya.” Your face does a little spasm at that, confused and vulnerable and then maybe even a little hurt, brow crumpling, and you squeeze your eyes shut. When they spring open again, they’re feverish, “Please, please, fuck me, Joel. Please, I don’t care if it hurts. I don’t–”

“Quit.” He pinches the inner slope of your thigh. “Not gonna convince me to hurt you.” You moan, frustrated and wanton, on the verge of tears, petulant and trying to twist away from him, but he traps you in place, stretches himself over you, propped up by one thick arm, and you drag your palms all down the length of his chest and belly. He squeezes your jaw with his other hand, pries you wide, “Open, lemme see.” He tilts your face this way and that, inspecting the wet gleam of your mouth, your little tongue and shiny, white teeth. 

“Wha’re y’lookin’ for?” You mumble with your jaw wedged open, eyes comically large. 

“Hmm, wonderin’ what it’d look like filled with my come,” he says with a laugh. He feels like a teenage boy, all the excitement of discovering sex with a woman for the first time. And it makes his stomach hurt a little bit, his heart pinch in fear. He sticks his fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue, widening the angle, “You think my cock’ll fit in that little throat?” And you moan, eyes fluttering shut, writhing beneath him, begging for it, a garbled groan that sounds something like please, let’s find out. “Dunno… should we?” He let’s go of your face, goes back to his kneeling position between your legs, and finally gives his aching cock the relief of his fist squeezing tightly around it. He could come just from the sight of you, he’s sure, is just there on the edge already. He squeezes hard, almost painful at the root, sliding up dry, scratchy calluses catching at the soft skin around his head to make it hurt and sting, strangling the heat he feels pooling at the base of his spine and in his balls. He smiles at the memory of your wide, comically shocked eyes when you’d realized he was uncircumcised. I’ve never seen one like that before, and all he’d stupidly wanted to say was that you’d never see any other ever again. Ridiculous. 

He drags his thumb over the head of his cock, through the sticky drool of precum there, then reaches to pet through your slick soaked folds, parting you down the middle. You watch him with wide, wet eyes, as he pops his thumb into his mouth, humming around your combined tastes. “You wanna taste how good we are?” All you’re able to manage is an open mouthed nod. He leans forward and over you again, “Open,” he orders, and spits onto your waiting tongue, hand clamped around her jaw. “Close now – swallow. How’s that taste?” He asks when you obey so nicely. Your eyes flutter shut, jaw shifting from side to side as you savor the taste of your shared want for each other. 

“S’good. Want more.” You look back up at him, mouth open, and nothing in his whole life has been scarier than this. Not even a twenty something year old son, who should have been a man, but was still nothing but a child in such desperate need of his father, showing up on his doorstep one day out of the blue. There should be guilt in that Sam-shaped spot inside his chest, he’s sure of it, and maybe there is, maybe there’s a bitter ribbon of guilt threaded all the way through him, but it’s also entirely overpowered, overshadowed by the desire he feels for the little girl splayed out beneath him. He pulls back again, tries to temper the rising heat in his core, takes hold of his cock again and starts to slowly jack himself. “Finger that little pussy, lemme see. Be gentle with her.” But he grips your hand right as your fingertips are about to make contact with your glossy folds and brings them to his mouth, spit slicking them, there you go, before giving them back. You play in your wet, watching mesmerized as he slowly jerks himself off to the sight of you, circling your swollen clit, thrumming at it gentle, gentle, be soft with her, petting at the leaking mouth, winking at him, begging to be filled. He shifts closer, squeezing and twisting at his tip, pulling the skin back to make the bulbous dark head bulge. He wants it to hurt, he deserves for it to hurt. You watch the rough handling of himself like you’ve never seen anything like it before, head tilted on your neck so your cheek is squished against your shoulder to get a clear view of what he’s doing to himself. “You want it so bad,” he teases, and you nod, looking back up at his eyes. He shifts forward a little closer so that the backs of his knuckles are brushing up against your sex now, wet and sticky, and you let your fingers trail up his wrist, his forearm, while he quickens his pace, moves against you, over himself. You spread yourself a little wider, bringing your knees up higher to your chest, opening yourself for him, and he pulls his hips back a little, you want to come, he can see it in your eyes, you’re almost there, presses the tip to your wet clit, slides down the to the hungry mouth, circles, circles there, presses just a tiny bit. You’re nodding your head up at him, goading him on, please, please, just do it, please. “Not gonna,” he gruffs. “Not gonna convince me.”

“You’re so mean,” you cry, arching your hips, writhing, trying to find firmer pressure. 

“Didn’t I tell ya last night I wasn’t gonna be nice?” But he takes pity on you, presses the fat head just a little harder, gives you just the tip, grinding breathlessly against it, popping it in and out of your hot little cunt. “Better?” His whole body feels like one boiling vat of hot blood, sweaty and desperate, grunting, more animal than a man. “Gotta come just like this.” He quickens the jerk of his fist, bumping it into your clit on the slide forward, watches the stretch of your cunt taking just the first inch of him. He feels unhinged, thinks for one second of just fucking all the way in, hearing the sound of your cry as you take the hurt. He has to be able to do this all again, entirely, have you again the whole way “God, baby,” he groans, “You’re gonna let me fuck this tiny little pussy again, right? Tell me you’re going to let me fill it with my cock again?”

Please, please, daddy. Please. “Just do it now.” Joel doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything like the sound of you begging for his cock, anything as pretty, ever. “I– I need to–”

“I know what you need, baby. Just let daddy put his come in you, and then I’ll take care of you.” He’s just there, one last harsh squeeze and twist, and there’s warmth flooding his cock and balls as he starts to come for you, covering the entirety of your sex with his white milky spend, groaning like he’s dying. He pulls his hand from his spent cock, smearing his semen into your skin, little begging whimpers of his name and daddy, please from your mouth, and he spreads your legs and lowers his mouth to your swollen sex, eats his own come out of your cunt, pressing two fingers inside, slow and gentle as he can, to give you something to bear down on. He laps softly at your clit, soothing the ache, eats you until you’re going tight as a fist, cunt sucking his fingers as deep as it can and gushing all over his face, slick pooling in his palm where he laps and slurps at it when he’s unlatched his mouth from your pulsing clit. 

“I don’t think I can stay away from you,” he tells you later, while he dresses you slowly, sits you on the bathroom counter and brushes your teeth for you with his own toothbrush and combs the knots and gnarls out of your hair. Holds your cheek cupped in the palm of his hand as he drags a warm washcloth over your sweaty face. 

“Don’t want you to stay away,” you say in a small voice as you paw at his chest, twisting his t-shirt in little grabby fingers, pulling him into the cradle of your hips with sharp heels at the small of his back; needy, needy, needy thing. And worst of all, a sick part of him, something bitter sitting heavily on his tongue, wants to be the thing you need, the thing you’re desperate for, the thing you cry those pretty tears for. He’s weak now, he is. Joel finds in himself that he does have the capacity to be a weak man when the moment demands it of him. He shucks the washcloth into the sink, cups your face in his hands like something precious. He’d said once you were a gift, he’s sure of this now more than ever. 

And he tells you, because he knows he must: “We can fuck, but we’re not allowed to fall in love,” and tells himself that he only imagines the glint of defiance in your eyes when he says it. 

- That meeting in the dark had stayed with you, the sound of his voice telling you to leave his son, that you deserved better. The sound of his kindness, you’d stretched toward it like a flower seeking the light, the singular attention of a man like that. You’d gone over the memory of it over and over again in your mind, worn the edges of it until it was faded and worn. And when Sam had served you the divorce papers, and you’d all but gotten on your knees and begged him to please, please, stay, please, don’t leave me alone, that sound of kindness had been what you’d clung to through all the rest. That terrible clamor of failure and abandonment and not good enough, his kindness had remained, and you’re sure now, that it had brought you here too, to his home, to his bed, into his arms. This was where you’d always been meant to end up, perhaps, even from that first moment you’d met Sam all those years ago on the college green, in the arms of his father. Nothing could feel wrong after kismet like that, even if you weren’t allowed to fall in love.

Part III

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog!

[lure-of-writing]

Little Sister; Just Peachy

Summary: After sparring with Cassian you feel just peachy

Note: ya'll Im not going to lie the scene with Rhys in the living room got me in my feels 😭. But don't worry your little hearts we will absolutely will be seeing this from Ariel's point of view. As always I cannot wait to hear what you guys think!

(please read all in a days work , knock before you enter, and his little sister first!)

Word count: 2.9k

Warning: Mentions of having tiny frames but only in reference to being a child

Ever since your visit from the summer court something with both your brother and Azriel has been off. Rhys for the first time in your life has been avoiding you and suddenly you could never seem to catch Azriel at the right time. It was starting to annoy you to no end. “Well good morning to you too, sunshine.” Cassian looked over to where Nesta was stretching with the rest of the girls as if to ask her about your negative attitude. In return she just shrugged and welcomed you into the circle of stretches with everyone else. Today was all about fighting and since Cassian's counterpart was nowhere to be found it was up to you to help Cassian demonstrate the fighting techniques that had been practiced for a few weeks now. You were known to be a person who refrained from fighting and going into battle but that doesn’t mean that you weren’t capable of doing so. You were only one hundred years younger than your brother, it was safe to say that you had some experience with fighting. 

The roof of the house of wind was quiet except for the occasional gust of wind along with Cassian's booming voice explaining how this match would go and the things then needed to pay attention to before each of them went toe to toe with either you or Cass.  Finally after he was done giving instructions he turned and faced you. “You know I’m not going to go easy on you right.”  scoffing your head tilts to the side “Yeah that's because your mate is over there giving you bedroom eyes and you want to impress her.” Once again his boisterous laugh filled the space of the open room giving it more warmth. Nothing more was said as you both got into fighting stances and prepared to walk away with some bruises. 

The fight hadn't been going on for more than five minutes when you swore that you saw Azriel landing on the roof and watched as you and Cassian went back and forth throwing and dodging punches. Now you couldn’t say for sure because as soon as you took your eyes off your opponent to spare a glance where you thought Azriel was standing, Cassian's fist made contact with your cheek and subsequently you were laying on the matt looking into the sky completely dazed. 

Cassian never meant to actually punch you. He knew exactly how you fight, he knows your tells and the next move that you would usually make but he didn’t know that you were going to turn your face at just the right moment and his powerful punch would connect with your face. Both you and Cassian knew the strength that he possessed and usually he would never fight you using that unlimited well of strength but the purpose of the match was to demonstrate how to use each part of your body to increase your strength when sparring. 

Nesta was sitting on the ground right next to you with your head in her lap holding a cold hand on your sure to swell cheek and busted lip. From your point of view she was upside down. Even like this you thought she looked stunning. Gently she stroked your hair when telling you that you were going to be ok. Deep down you knew that you would in fact be ok but right now your head was ringing and your face hurt and you were pretty sure a tear was running down your face from the pain. Off to the side of you Cassain was shitting his pants. Not only had he hit the person who he views as a little sister, he hit you with his full force. He was grateful he did break any of your bones. But that wasn’t his only problem; he hit Rhysands little sister. Cassian was sure that he just signed his death certificate. 

Rhysand was in his office with Azirel getting the report from his latest mission when he heard Cassian in his head. “Rhys?” The tone was a question as well as a grimace “Yes?” Rhys raised a finger to stop Azriel from continuing on. “Can you come up to the house of wind?” Sighing he looked at Azriel before rolling his eyes. “Can it wait? I'm currently in the middle of getting a report from Az.” a beat of silence passed in Rhys mind before  the quiet voice of his brother came back in “It’s y/n” 

Cassian could hear the beating of two sets of wings before he could see them. It didn't take a genius to know that they were flying at max speed. Cassian took a big breath and held it for a few seconds before blowing it out between thinly pressed lips. This would probably be the last time that he could breath normally for a while. Just as the two males touched down he glanced over to where his mate was still cradling your head and periodically removing her hand to look at the bruising and your split lip to see how bad it was getting. 

Rhysand hadn’t even landed when his eyes locked on your body laying flat on the mat with Nesta holding your head. As soon as his feet touched the hard surface of the roof he was pouncing on Cassian with questions. “What the hell happened to her? Why is she laying on the mat with Nesta holding her face?”  Cassian said nothing as he folded his high lord to where his sister lay. He knew as soon as Rhys saw your face he would be done for. Rhysand wouldn’t need any answers to his questions, he would know exactly what happened and who did it. Azriel fell in place with Cassian behind Rhys as they made their way to where you were lying and he glanced at his brother for a second with an eyebrow raised as if to ask what happened. Cassian just grimaced and shook his head. Azriel would also know what happened as soon as Nesta removed her hand from your face. 

Cassian stayed back a few steps as Rhys bent down to get a closer look at you. Azriel was on the other side. “Nesta move your hand.” She didn’t do so, “Before I do you need to know that it was an accident and–” The tone of Rhysands words that came next left no room for discussion. “I said remove your hand.” The power in the high lord's voice raged over her like the waves of an ocean before a hurricane. She hated how the power made her bend to his will. Quietly she removed her hand as both males took in your face. The bruising has officially started to begin. All of your right cheek was painted with colors of red, purple and spots of dark red where the blood vessels broke. The bruising also danced along your cheekbone and around your eye, presumably from the impact, and down towards your jaw. Right where the bruising meets your lip is where it was split open and now had dried blood crusting along the open cut and down your chin. 

After taking in your appearance Rhysand stood to his full high he turned around to look at the other male. “Cassian” his voice was cool and emotionless, the voice of a high lord. “Did you do this to my sister?” As much as it sounded like a question both males knew it was not. It was more like an interrogation. 

As Nesta watched from afar as her mate and her brother-in-law were preparing to have at it she prodded in her sister's mind. “Feyre you need to come to the house of wind.” She paused for a moment as she listened to Cassian try to explain himself and what happened. “Now.” she added. Her attention was pulled from the fight that was sure to happen in a few moments with the jostling of your body beneath her hand. Looking down again she sees Azriel gently pull your body into his being as careful as possible as not to cause you any more pain. Nesta was sure that you were too out of it to feel more pain, as you didn’t even respond when she called out your name and your eyes were too unfocused and dazed to notice anything happening around you, still she thought the gesture was sweet. 

“Where are you taking her?” Even though she wanted to go wherever Az was taking you she knew that she needed to be here when Rhys was done with her mate. To nurse him back to health. Or bring him back from the dead, whichever happened first. “She needs to be seen by Madja.” She nods her head in agreement as glances back over to her mate. She was sure the blood bath would start at any second. “I agree.” Finally after getting you into a position in Azirels arms that he deemed safe enough he shot off into the air and towards Madja’s clinic just as her sister flew in. Frantically Feyre looks at where her mate and her brother-in-law stood a few feet away brawling. “What the hell happened?” Nesta glanced down at her younger sister before returning her gaze to the fight. “Cassian accidentally punched y/n in the face and knocked her out.” Feyre felt her jaw drop all while turning to look at her older sister who just shrugged her shoulders in nonchalance. 

When you woke up the first thing you noticed was the pounding headache ravaging your mind, the next thing you noticed was the excruciating pain in your face and jaw. Whatever happened to you must have been pretty bad for you to be feeling this way. Especially with fae healing. After cataloging the different types of pain and discomfort you were feeling you took in your surroundings. Plush big bed, the soothing smell of your brother's cologne, and paintings of Nyx, Feyre and your brother decorated the walls. You were in your brother's room. You must have been hurt pretty bad for you to wake up in a room that wasn’t your own. Closing your eyes again in hopes of soothing the pain inside your head you take a few deep breaths while you were at it. 

Reluctantly you pushed the warm blankets off your body and made your way into the bathroom. The soft glow of faelights illuminated the bathroom and casted it into warmth. The setting sun on the horizon told you that you apparently had been out for most of the day, if not a day or two. Turning to look in the mirror you gasp at the sight in front of you. “Oh” a beat of silence “I look like shit.”  gently you press a finger into the dark purple, blue and black bruise covering most of the right side of your face. You cringe back at the pain your prodding had induced. It took you a few seconds of staring at your own reflection to remember what had caused this but eventually you remembered. 

You were sparring with Cassian in hand to hand combat and while the two of you were circling each other you could have swore you saw Azriel in the corner of your eye. Going to confirm it you turned your head to the right as Cassian's arm made a big and powerful swing and made contact with your face. After that you can’t remember anything. Giving it another once over you shrugged “At least he didn’t break my face.” you muttered to yourself before making your way out of the room and down to the kitchen or living room. You knew that you would only make it to one or the other before somebody was destined to stop you. 

You got as far as the living room. Rhysand sat in a chair as he watched his wife and son play on the floor. The soft padding of your feet on the marble floors pulled him from his silent brooding. You watched from the entrance of the room and your brother practically shot up from his seat and in three quick strides stood in front of you. “ You're awake!” Even though you knew he meant it as a statement it felt more like a question. “Yeah?” You watched as your brother sighed in relief before gently pulling you into his arms. One arm around your back and the other stroking your hair. He made sure the unbruised part of your face rested on his chest. Returning the hug you arm your arms around the waist of your brother wrapping each hand around your forearms and your rest your complete weight against him. For a few seconds nothing was said as he gently rocked you back in front in the same spot. 

Silently he pulls back to examine your face. You watch as his eyes take in the much darker welt on your face and the slowly closing fractured lip. He releases another sigh before once again pulling you back into him. “How are you feeling?” his tone in gentle and soft, knowing just how much your head probably hurts. Rhys had also been on the receiving end of Cassian's powerful strike, more times then he would like to admit. “My head feels like it's been cracked in two and my face feels like it might of been shattered but other than that I feel just peachy.” you felt the rumbling of your brother's chest before you heard the soft laughter.  “I’m glad to see Cassian didn’t cause any brain damage.” Now it was your turn to laugh. 

 A peaceful quiet settled over the two of you and for a second you enjoyed it. Closing your eyes you listened to the steady heartbeat of your brother's heart, and for a second it reminded you of when you were a child. Any time you were scared or just in need of your brother's love you would seek him out and cling to him like your life depended on it. And without questioning he would simply wrap his arms around your tiny frame while you rested your head against his chest listening to the soothing sounds of his heartbeat until you fell asleep. 

Those memories are some of the ones you hold closest to your heart and the current situation reminded you of when you were a child. Gently you knocked on the barely there shield of Rhys mind, he welcomes you in with open arms and there you show him all those precious memories this moment reminded you of. Some things are for certain and one of those things is sometimes you just need the love and comfort of your brother. Gently he squeezes your body closer into his own while still rocking you back and forth before placing part of his cheek and chin on top of your head. “Should we get you something to eat?” he all but whispers into the space above your head. Nodding your face against your chest the two of you pull away from each other after a few seconds. Rhysand keeps his arm wrapped around your shoulders as he leads you into the kitchen. He may not be a great cook and usually avoids the kitchen like it had the plague but for his little sister he would do anything. Even if that meant potentially burning his house down. 

It was a few days of living with your brother at his house before he thought you were ok enough to return back to the house of wind. That was only after Madja had even the ok that you would be good enough to survive the flight up there. You rolled your eyes behind his back as he talked with Madja. It was less than a five minute flight from his house to the top of the house of wind. If all else failed and you felt bad during the flight you would squeeze your eyes shut and pray you don’t throw up. 

When you finally returned to your house you were surprised to see it empty. “Where is everyone?” you asked as your brother trailed behind you while entering the living room. “Nesta is with Feyre and Nyx shopping and Cass and Az are currently on a mission.” settling into the couch you glance over your shoulder at your very sweet but protective brother “Back to calling him Cass? That must mean you no longer feel like murdering him.” you watch as your brother makes himself comfortable on the couch across from you. “I’m still not happy with him but that doesn’t mean I hate him either.” 

The room fills with silence yet again. “Why were you even sparring with him in the first place?” Furrowing your brows you look at him confused. “Uh because Azriel wasn’t there to do it? It was supposed to be the two of them but I guess something came up and no one else there has enough years of experience with the technique the Valkyries were learning so I stepped in to help.” It was now your brother's turn to furrow his eyebrows in confusion. “I didn’t give him anything to do so I don’t know why he wasn’t there.” Shrugging you look around before answering. “I mean he is a spymaster. I’m sure he has things that we don't get the privilege to know.”

Taglist: @kemillyfreitas @lana08 @willowpains @username199945 @tothestarsandwhateverend

@kylaisra @lilah-asteria @nickishadow139 @br0klynbby @blacktreacle22

@amysangel

[the-modern-typewriter]

https://www.tumblr.com/the-modern-typewriter/659807198763991040/helloo-i-love-your-writing-i-have-a-request?source=share this is one of the best snippets I've ever read on tumblr I am so in awe of your writing! I hope we get to see more of bone chilling scary villains from you because you write them so well!!

They wouldn't have known the villain was there, in the gloom, if not for their eyes. They shone like a cat's in the dark.

The protagonist swallowed. They took a step back, but the door had already shut behind them. No way out. They resisted the urge to turn around and bang on the thick, heavy metal. To scream. Beg. To say they were sorry, that they'd changed their mind, they'd do anything, anything else.

Just let me out, please.

But that would require looking away from those eyes. From the villain. And that seemed a stupid, dangerous thing to do.

"My my," the villain murmured. "I thought people had given up on surviving me."

The protagonist curled their hands into fists. "Just stay back."

The villain laughed.

The protagonist felt naked; entirely too aware of the fact that they couldn't see anything in the black, but the villain could see everything. They watched the eyes move as the villain shifted. Stood up. They were probably standing up, weren't they? The protagonist heard the gentle clink of chains. They flattened their spine against the door.

"I mean it!" The protagonist's voice came out too high, too thin. "Stay back, I'm warning you."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll - you'll regret it."

"Oh?"

The deal was a simple one. If they could survive one night, just one night, in the villain's cell with them than they could have their entire sentence revoked. A few people had apparently managed it, over the decades, but none of them would ever say how. None of them ever looked right about it.

"How will I regret it?" the villain asked softly. "What will you do to me?"

"I have a knife."

Everyone was allowed to bring one thing down with them. Just the one.

"That's so sweet," the villain said. "No one's ever thought of that before. You're so clever."

The protagonist tasted bile.

The villain moved forward in the dark. The protagonist couldn't hear their steps, just the clink of the chains, the crunch of something.

"If you kill me, you'll just have to be alone down here!" the protagonist tried. "You could at least have company for the night."

"But I thought you had a knife?" the villain asked, with yet more laughter in their voice. "Don't you want to use it?"

They didn't stop.

The protagonist was strongly beginning to suspect that no one who survived bought a knife. Maybe they brought other offerings; things to satisfy the ravenous hunger of the monster across the room. They held the knife out anyway, because it was all they had.

God. Why did they bring a knife? Why were they so stupid?

The villain paused in front of them. At least, the protagonist could feel some pressure of something against the tip of the knife. They could have stabbed forward, sliced perhaps. They couldn't quite move. It didn't seem possible for it to be that easy. It was surely a trap of some sort.

"I want to go home," the protagonist said. "I have a family. They need me. I can't - I have to get home. Please."

"Oh, well. In that case."

"Really?"

The villain laughed again. Something cold plucked the knife away. The protagonist heard it clatter somewhere in the dark. They flinched. They braced for the end. For the pathetic five minutes they had managed to survive.

"Tell me a story," the villain cooed. "And if it makes me feel free, for even a second, then freedom can be your prize."

"And if it doesn't...?"

The next morning, the door opened and the lights flooded on.

The villain sat chained to the wall on the other end of the cell. Their eyes were closed, placid. The floor was littered with bones picked clean, the walls an art gallery of blood, except for the spotless semi-circle around the villain's resting place. The knife sat on the floor in front of them.

The hero's jaw clenched.

The villain shrugged.

The lights flickered back off.

The hero stepped back.

The vault door locked.

The cycle repeated.

[pjohoo-reclists]

hey I know this ask Is a little specific but are there any fics where Percy likes reveals his like struggling with guilt, and suicidal thoughts to people other than Annabeth? I love Percabeth I just really want to see other characters reacting to Percy's struggles! Thxxx!!!!

Hey Anon!! This wasn't too specific, don't worry. I read it and two fics immediately came to mind. One is a spot on match - Percy goes to therapy and talks about his guilt and suicidal thoughts/attempts. Took a little while to find a few more tho. Enjoy!

Percy Confides in Others Rec List

A list of fics where Percy confides in people other than Annabeth about his guilt and suicidal tendencies. Enjoy!

How you remind me. by youngjusticewriter

T | 700 words | Complete

Percy Jackson & Grover Underwood

Suicidal Thoughts, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Grover Underwood

(Look, he didn’t want to be a half-blood.) For a moment Percy felt the urge to ask Grover if he was ever going to be free. But he didn’t so the words stayed in his mouth and there they would rot like fruit left out for days in the summer heat. Percy opened his eyes. He stared at the bathtub. “...Grover, do you think I’ll graduate college?” Percy heard a sharp inhale. “Yeah, Percy. I do.” A noise escaped his throat. His vision grew blurry. “I agreed to go on a quest,” Percy said, finally admitting it to someone.

She’ll Rage For Him by aiden_salva00

T | 900 words | Complete

Percy Jackson/Clarisse La Rue, Silena Beauregard & Clarisse La Rue

Survivor Guilt, Percy Jackson is a Mess, Camp Half Blood

Clarisse La Rue knows rage. Percy Jackson knows loyalty. As the boy breaks, she summons rage to protect him like he has always protected them.

A Son's Prayer by AJDoesStuff (ApophisWrites)

T | 1.2k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Poseidon

Post Tartarus, Suicidal Thoughts, Good Parent Poseidon

Percy Jackson had been through hell and back, literally in his case, and he just wants someone to talk to where he won't be a burden. He prays to Poseidon, knowing his dad will most likely not bother listening to him, why would he want to listen to someone like Percy anyway. Poseidon listens anyway.

Similarities by HK44

G | 1.2k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Carter Kane

Short and Sweet, Carter is a good friend, Angst

“It’s different,” Percy cut in, pulling back, moving away, getting ready to leave. “They wouldn’t get it.” The words were firm, edged in steel, lined with barricades. He was falling back into himself again. Carter cursed everything and grabbed his arm. “Hey. What’s up?”

Dying is easy, living is harder by One_Real_Wrimonkey

T | 1.4k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Clarisse La Rue

Grief/Mourning, Percy Jackson & Clarisse La Rue Friendship, Clarisse La Rue has PTSD

She found him on a rock looking over the ocean, waves crashing below them, lit by a brilliant moon. It felt too pretty, given the state of the world, but he couldn't look away. Percy expected her to try and drag him back to camp, or maybe shove him off the cliff, but she only sat next to him. "Wanna talk about it?" . Three weeks after the war, Percy and Clarisse finally allow themselves to grieve.

and the ships are left to rust by Duck_Life

T | 1.8k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Jason Grace

Survivor Guilt, Bathing/Washing, Grief/Mourning

Jason goes looking for Percy after the final battle.

Rest Me And My Bones by Freddie_77

Not Rated | 1.9k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Clarisse La Rue, Clarisse La Rue & Will Solace, Percy Jackson & Will Solace

Grief/Mourning, Post Gaea & The Second Giant War, Trans Characters

“Hey,” Percy says, and it’s three AM, and Clarisse has finally got Ellis and Sherman to stop fucking fighting and go to bed, so why is he on the cabin doorstep, and really, how did he get around the landmines? Sure, all the counselors got to know cabin protections, but he hasn’t been at camp in… seven months? Eight? (Sure, Clarisse knows the exact date, deep down, a doomsday clock ticking away, your friend has been gone for this long and this long and this long– But she doesn’t need to admit that.) “The fuck do you want?” Her voice is gruffer than she means for it to. She loves him, deep down. (Very, very deep. You may need a gun pressed to her head to make the words come out. Doesn’t make it less true.) “Donuts,” he responds without pause, holding up one of the camp SUV’s keys. “I figured we could go out with Will. He’s waiting in the car already.” Or: post battle, Percy, Will, and Clarisse go out for donuts and talk for a while.

I'm going to make you wish you were dead by nlpiersee

T | 2k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Poseidon, Aphrodite & Ares & Hades & Hephaestus & Hera & Persephone & Poseidon & Zeus (Percy Jackson)

Angst and Feels, Near Death Experiences, Family Drama

The council of the gods gathers expecting to smite a demi-god, only to have the tables turned on them. No one expected one hero to have gone through so much.

i'm a young man built to fall by bakedbean15

T | 2.1k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Rachel Elizabeth Dare, Paul Blofis & Percy Jackson

PTSD, Post the Second Titan War, Rachel Elizabeth Dare is a good friend

Percy has a flashback at school, Rachel and Paul help.

Just Because I Left Doesn’t Mean That I’m Not Still There by SiederTreeStudios

G | 2.7k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Poseidon

Post Tartarus, Post-Gaea & The Second Giant War, Protective Poseidon

Posideon couldn’t be there for his son when he needed him. But he could be there now. OR Posideon’s perspective on Percy’s adventures (mostly the Lightning Thief) and the aftermath of it all.

life doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints by Thatcrazyfan

T | 2.7k | Complete

Clarisse La Rue/Chris Rodriguez, Percy Jackson/Annabeth

Survivor Guilt, Hopeful Ending, Percy Jackson needs a hug

Chris noticed it before anyone else. He heard the whispers, saw the stares and was vividly reminded of the first few years after he had re-joined camp. The distrust in everyone’s eyes and in their actions and in the voices was something he would never, ever forget. Or, Something's wrong with Percy, and Chris is worried. Percy hasn't been his usual self in a long time.

Call Me by orphan_account

G | 2.8k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Nico di Angelo

Attempted Suicide, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Trans Male Character

Percy and Nico made a promise on the River Styx, if either ever felt really depressed or like they might attempt suicide they have to call the other. Nico receives an Iris Message on a Tuesday.

the ghost of you by beforedaybreaks

G | 3.2k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Luke Castellan

Canonical Character Death, Survivor Guilt, Minor Annabeth Chase/Percy Jackson

"Hello," the ghost of Luke says from its perch atop Percy's bedroom drawer. It tilts its head; grins, baring shiny white teeth. Luminous gold eyes bore deep into Percy's soul. Percy freezes. "You're not real,” he says, accusatory. Luke seems unphased by this development. In which Percy Jackson is haunted by the ghost of Luke Castellan, deals with unresolved feelings of guilt, and learns to say goodbye, all at the same time.

Percy's "Wonderful" Adventures in Therapy by Inlovewithsnow2002

T | 3.4k | Complete

Percy Jackson, Sally Jackson

Past Child Abuse, Percy finally gets Therapy, Suicidal Thoughts

After a series of unfortunate events Percy has landed himself in therapy.

You Can Kid The World, But Not Your Sister by HK44

T | 4.7k | Complete

Sadie Kane, Percy Jackson, Walt Stone

Panic Attacks, Monsters, Mental Health Issues

It was like the world had slowed between the seconds that it’s tongue lifted off of Felix’s hair and it’s entire body convulsing. It went so painfully still, a broken yelp echoing from it’s mouth. She saw the way it’s eyes bulged, Percy stepping in close. As though the parasite alien from Alien was breaking through, she could see the shift of muscle and bone underneath it’s thick mass of fur. And then the room was splattered in blood and yellow sand.

Apricity by TheProfoundSilence

T | 7.5k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Poseidon, Percy Jackson & Apollo

Kidnapping, BAMF Percy Jackson, Protective Poseidon

Percy gets kidnapped. He thought the pain was easy to deal with, but hell is just that, hell to live through. In the aftermath, a lonely infirmary, sheer willpower, and Percy Jackson attempts to rebuild himself back again with a little help from godly friends.

the light in the darkest depths of the sea (why can't i hold on?) by AchillesComeHome

Not Rated | 8.3k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Poseidon, Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson

Angst with a Bittersweet Ending, Good Parent Poseidon, Depressed Percy Jackson

He’s sinking down, and down and down. His throat burns from the seawater aggravating the soreness of it. The water carries him down, or maybe that’s him. He doesn’t know. He lets the sea take him. Maybe she’ll give him the peace he’s never truly had. Maybe she’ll let him rest for once. So he drifts, throat choking and burning with tears, eyes focused on the dimming light above him. Maybe this was his fate all along - to be swept away by the sea to a place even his father can’t find him. And maybe, he’s okay with that. Maybe he can sleep now. Or in which Percy Jackson has given up, but Poseidon has not.

Stars on the Water by liketolaugh

T | 116k | Complete

Percy Jackson & Thalia Grace, Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson, Percy Jackson & Grover Underwood & Annabeth Chase

Percy Jackson has Self Esteen Issues, Percy Jackson Goes to Therapy, Abused Percy Jackson

"I dunno, I just think it would make a lot of things easier for a lot of people," Percy said to Thalia, when she just stared at him. His cheek rested in his hand, a rare pensive look leaving his eyes distant and unfocused. "Mom has Paul now, so it’ll be easier on her if she doesn’t have to worry about me mucking things up. Dad won’t have to keep threatening war every time Zeus gets his toga twisted. The prophecy’s done, so I won’t be bringing it down on Nico. And no one will have to worry about me blowing up another volcano."

Star Light, Star Bright by liketolaugh

T | 192k | Complete

Percy Jackson/Annabeth Chase, Percy Jackson & Sally Jackson, Percy Jackson & Paul Blofis

Therapy 2: Electric Boogaloo, PTSD, Past Child Abuse

Subject: Percy's back Hello, Raine. I know that you're on leave right now, but you asked me to tell you as soon as we got further news on Percy. He's home. He's safe. But can you please get back to me as soon as possible? He's not doing well, and he's been asking for you. I hope that you've been resting well. With love, Sally

[thoughtsfromlayla]

26 Ways of Taking You: E for Edging

Summary: Hell hath no pettiness like a woman ignored.

Notes: ~4k words of pure POR-, Dream in this fic can be summed up as "the light is on but no one is home", reader gives big bratty energy and I love that for her honestly (same)

Warnings: NSFW 18+, Sub!Dream, orgasm denial, edging (duh), unprotected intercourse, p in v, handjob, blowjob, riding, takin' it from da back

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Previous ⇆ Next

How busy could a monarch possibly be? 

You sit on the plush couch, quietly seething like the crackling fireplace that accompanies you. It should be your husband who should be accompanying you instead. The book you were supposedly reading has long since become words on a page, the letters merging together and tangling within themselves. You dejectedly shut the book with a bang as you realize you’ve been rereading the same line with no progress for the past hour. 

You understand that Morpheus’ duties are never ending, as endless as his name, but would it really kill him to spend a few hours a day with you? With a sigh, you toss the book onto the ottoman and stand, your bones groaning as they finally move after hours of staying still. A bath wouldn’t sound half bad right now. 

Another sigh of relief leaves you as you enter the bathhouse. The large communal bath of natural spring waters was completely empty. You still take a quick glimpse around before stripping yourself before submerging into the hot water, the sudden change in temperature making your nipples perk. The temperature burns you for a moment, but you soon become acclimated to it. You completely submerge yourself, the natural hum of The Dreaming deafens as you do, and with all of your pent up frustrations, you scream into the water, watching as the air leaves your lips in large, aggressive bubbles that swim to the surface. 

“Anyway,” You say to yourself when you resurface, already feeling much better. 

You move to the side, grabbing at a bar of soap, and begin to lavish it across your skin, feeling the soothing effect glide over your skin. The water was doing wonders on your muscles and the hum that leaves your lips was that of satisfaction. 

“There you are,” Morpheus’ voice echoes in the empty room. 

You turn slowly as you look at him, your body fully submerged in the water, except for anything above your nose. You stay quiet, too vexed with him to say anything of note. Instead, you turn away and continue washing your body. 

“Are you that angry with me?” He continues and you hear the faint rustling of him removing his clothes and him walking into the bath soon after. The still water sloshes around his waist as he continues his path towards you and you soon feel his cooler limbs wrap around your body. 

“Have you missed me?” He murmurs into your neck as he rests his head there. The comfort of your skin against his revitalizes his tired body. 

The grip you had on the soap turns bone-crushing at his question. Have you missed me? You repeat his question in your head in a mocking tone. He surely needs to be punished for leaving you alone for so long. A plan is quick and easy to form in your head and a sly smile crawls on your lips. 

You turn in his arms, the same smile on your lips as you look up at him. 

“Dearly,” You answer back and press your lips to his. The heat of the bathhouse increases the heat that grows at your core. “Let me show you how much, my love.”

The suds of the soap drips down your hand as you continue to lather the bar with your one hand. The other hand is placed commanded on his shoulder to prevent him from running away, as if he would ever do so from your touch. A smile appears on his face as well as your sudsy hand trails down his chest and closer to his nether regions. 

It is of no surprise to you when you already feel his half erection greeting you beneath the waters. Your slippery fingers grasp around the shaft and a broken gasp leaves Dream’s mouth. You meticulously move your hands along his cock as you wickedly watch as he throws his head back in pleasure. His Adam’s apple bobs with each beautiful sound that comes out of his throat and you don’t restrain yourself from wrapping your lips around the protruding piece.

Slowly, your hand increases in pace, gripping his cock tighter as you do so, the water and soap assisting you as your fingers glide across the skin. His moans and groans soon turn breathless and he’s simply breathing hard and desperate against your hand. The sounds echoed across the walls of the bathhouse. 

His hands shoot out of the water as he grabs the back of your neck, looking deeply into your eyes as your hand continues its ministrations. His eyebrows crease as his dick jumps in your hand, mouth open in a silent plea as his orgasm comes closer to its peak. A whisper of your name like a prayer falls from his lips and both of you know he won’t last long. Morpheus closes his eyes in anticipation as his muscles tense below his skin. 

His eyes snap open as your fingers leave him, pushing yourself back away from his body and he’s left standing on wobbly legs. The water ripples from his trembling and close orgasmed body. 

“What-”

“Would you look at the time? I should go to bed now. Good night, Morpheus,” You cut him off with a firm hand. 

His eyes follow you as you walk out of the bath. Eyes lingering on the roundness of your ass cheeks as they pop out further as you climb up the stairs. His feet stay planted in the bath as you wrap yourself in a towel. He stays still even as you leave the room without a second glance at you. He could finish himself off, but he knows it wouldn’t be as good as your hands.

The next day, you catch Morpheus and yourself by surprise as you see him standing along the aisles of the library. Embarrassment floods your system as you vividly remember what transpired the other day. Never had you defied him so easily… and felt so happy to do so.

You peek over the bookshelf you were half hiding behind. Morpheus had an off-glazed look in his eyes. His finger was resting on the spine of a book and he kept it there for a while. If you squint you don’t think he was even breathing. You walk up to him, his gaze still not noticing you. A tap on his shoulder was enough to garner his attention, and he seemed to snap out of his zombie-like state after seeing you. 

“Are you all right, my dear?” You ask in truth. His distracted demeanor is a cause for concern. 

Almost immediately his eyes harden and a frown grows on his face. 

“You,” He growls down at you. “You left me wanting last night, denying me such a thing like that is cruel.”

You huff at his accusation. If denying one orgasm is cruel, what does he call leaving you alone for days on end then? 

“Want me to make it up to you?” You reply coyly and with a smile. Your fingers go to the lapels of his jacket and smooth over them. 

A quizzical brow raises itself at your compromise but his will dejects with a sigh. “How would you do that, dearest?”

“Well, I could…” You trail off as your fingers down his chest, just like the night before. You feel the sturdiness of the chest and how his heartbeat thrums beneath your fingers. He’s so real for the physical manifestation of a concept. “I could do something better than last night?” 

He hums as your fingers ghost over the hem of his jeans, feeling his happy trail and the depth of the lines that lead itself to his cock. You cup at his growing hardness through the rough material and his hands once again go to you, holding you gently on your waist. 

His eyes hold yours as you sink to your knees before him, a smile still evidently on your face. You don’t bother looking away when your fingers pop the button, nor when you pull at the zipper, his breath growing heavier at each tick of the metal. Your fingers tickle gently over the length of him behind the thin cloth of his underwear. 

His hand grabs at the root of your hair as his hips impatiently bucks into your face. With a flat tongue, you press the wet appendage over the tip of him, wetting the cloth underneath as you trace around his frenulum. The smell of his manhood invades your senses as you do so and your eyes roll to the back of your head at his soft moan. 

A little pull is all you need for his cock to spring out of its confinement, hot and heavy and leaking with excited precum. You feel its warmth as your soft lips kiss his tip, taking your hands around his base. You lick at the precum carefully then and his grip strengthens in your hair. 

“You said it would be better. Enough teasing,” He commands and you feel your lips tug into a barely containable smile. 

Without debate you wrap your lips around his tip, suckling at the supple skin. The bookshelf he leans against rattles as his head slams into the wooden material. You take down another inch while your hand continues to work his base. Saliva drips through your lips, creating a trail down a vein as you continue to suckle. 

A guttural groan tells you to go deeper, and you do until you feel him hitting the back of your throat. Your eyes begin to tear slightly at the large intrusion, but you push through for your master plan. You hollow out your throat, taking him down the tight cavern, and relish in the feeling of his thighs flexing under your fingers. 

Your nails dig into his thigh muscles as you bob your head back and forth on his weeping cock, the filthy mixture of saliva and pre-cum rests deliciously on your tongue. Morpheus has started to curse from above you at the warm fit. The Dreaming around you begins to hum louder as you pull back on his cock, sucking as hard as you could with him in your mouth. 

His dick jumps in your mouth, his telltale sign that he is close to his orgasm. That and your name falling from his lips once again. His hand has yet to leave your hair as his hips try to take over by bucking themselves into your mouth each time you try to pull back. His thigh muscles spasm each second that passes and just as he’s about to see the stars, you remove your lips with a satisfying pop. 

Cold air wraps around his cock instead of your warm mouth and he does his best to stop the whine that almost escapes his lips. Morpheus’ breath is ragged above you and his frown returns as he glares down at you. You looked perfect like this to him, on your knees, cheeks flushed, hair messy, and eyes watery. The only thing wrong with the picture was your satisfied grin that spread across your face and that very obvious fact that your mouth isn’t being put to use satisfying him. 

“What do you-”

“Oh my, I think I hear Lucienne coming. I should go, goodbye, Morpheus!” You cheerfully lie as you stand and briskly walk away. 

Lucienne was, of course, nowhere to be seen in the library. Both of them knew she was out gathering the consensus for the new year. Morpheus groans as he presses his palms into his eyes. You were going to be the death of him, even without trying. He’s starting to finally think that you were up to something, that devious smile of yours still flashes across his mind when he closes his eyes. He carefully puts his softening cock back into his pants as he absentmindedly thinks to himself. He doesn’t even remember why he was in the library to begin with. 

Morpheus’ thoughts trail with him throughout the day and even the Dreaming residents notice the forlorn face that he wore. It was said that while he was attending to his duties and upholding the Dreaming, it was almost barely viable. His attitude turned sour and only answered Matthew’s questions with a simple grunt or resounding “no” (not much of a change there if you were to ask the bird). Lucienne was less than amused but unable to find you to help fix this issue, she kept quiet and hoped it would pass quickly with time. 

That night, you were back on that couch, the fireplace was going again and the book you were reading was back in your hands. You’re freshly washed and enjoying the soft fabric of your summer’s nightgown as your feet tangle with the soft furs of the rug. This time, you did manage to read a few chapters but after a while, your thoughts went to the faces Morpheus made each time you denied his orgasm and a chuckle shakes through you. Surely this will teach him to never leave you alone for more than a couple days at a time. 

The Dreaming this and The Dreaming that, well, next time he will remember that you too are a part of his world if he should ever want to feel the sweet release of his orgasm again. You’re sure the last two days have been Hell for him, but it was all worth it. That desperate look on his face was like sweet victory trickling down your throat, smooth and refreshing. 

The door to your shared room opens with a bang causing you to drop your book in surprise. You look at Morpheus with wide eyes as you’re completely caught off by his sudden intrusion. Words fail you as he swiftly makes his way to you, standing in front of you with his lips tugging downwards. A scoff leaves you as you realize he’s pouting at you. 

“What ever is the matter, sweet Morpheus?” You tease in an almost condescending, sickly sweet voice. 

“You’re punishing me.” It wasn’t a question. He states it loud and clear. It had taken him all day to decipher your actions. The thought had been chasing him for the past two days, but he was always faster than it, jittering from denied orgasms and responsibilities to accomplish. 

“No!” You gasp with exaggeration. “We were simply interrupted!” 

Morpheus stays silent at your blatant lie, if anything you basically smacked him with a sign that read “yes, obviously, you numb-nut of a lover.” He doesn’t bother to move either, his eyes betraying his pseudo-domineering stance at the moment. 

“Well, good conversation then,” You mutter to yourself as you pick up your book again. You turn to the page you left off on and begin to read again. 

Morpheus’ gaze burned two holes into the top of your head as you read. Not before long, another surprised noise leaves you as he plucks the book from your hands and throws it off into some unknown corner of the room. 

“Lucienne is going to murder you for treating her books like that,” You comment with a cross of your arms. 

“She’ll survive,” He growls down at you. He’s met with your brow raising in turn, in which he finally pieces the last piece together. “Are you acting out because I’ve been neglecting you?”

Dang, he really hit the nail in the head with that one. You turn your head to the side, arms still crossed as you respond. 

“Well, I certainly got your attention this time.”

“I’d say,” He muses. He sits down by your feet, the white fur of the rug in stark contrast to his outfit. The fireplace softens his sharpness with its warm glow as you look at him from above. 

You think the conversation was over then, it seemed like the two of you came to a conclusion. Getting up from the couch, you try to walk over to the corner the book was lying in, but are stopped almost immediately as he holds onto your wrist. 

“How can I make it up to you, my love?” He asks and the pout almost makes it to his lips again. And, well, how can you say no to a face like that? 

You join him on the rug, hands cupping at his face. He leans into your touch, the moment endearing as you look at him. 

“Did we learn anything?” You ask.

“Yes.”

“Lay down for me, darling. And let’s get rid of the clothes,” You hum. 

The change is instantaneous as he lays down per your request. The furs caress against your shins as you move to straddle him, picking up the helms of your nightgown in the process. Your arousal starts to drip out of you at the sight before you. Reducing a King to nothing but a needy lover was a sight for fond eyes. It’s the thought of knowing that he could easily overpower you if he so wanted, but relinquishing all his power just so you may touch him? Delicious. 

Your pussy lips slide across the length of him as you get comfortable sitting on his lap. Morpheus’ hands easily find themselves, once again on your waist. How he wished you would strip for him as well, but he doesn’t voice his want in case you decided against touching him tonight. 

Leaning over, you go to kiss him, feeling his soft lips against yours and even you can’t deny your body when it grinds down over his cock. A satisfied hum emits from your throat as his hands wander over the curve of your ass and you leave his lips to give him bruising kisses along his pale skin. You are a painter and he is a canvas where you will show the world how much you loved him. Red blooms across the soft skin, his grip on you tightening. 

His hips thrust upwards with a moan, to which you defiantly sit down harder on him to prevent him from moving anymore. Your name falls from his lips in a hushed whisper, barely audible over the crackling fire. It sends a tug into your core, to hear it in such reverence. With heavy breath, you lean back and watch as his lips try to chase you. 

Morpheus stops himself short when he sees you raising slightly, hand moving between the two of you and firmly grabbing at his cock. You guide himself under you, teasing him a bit more by sliding his tip across the length of your slit. His mouth opens in protest, but before words can come out, you sink yourself onto him. 

Harmonious groans tangled with each other at the feeling. The familiar stretch of him leaves you panting above him. Your warmth was incomparable to your hands or mouth and Morpheus’ nails left small crevices in your thighs. The slight pain grounds you from drifting off into a complete world of pleasure. It takes a few moments for you to start moving your hips, the size of him taking a few moments to adjust to. The first drag of his cock in you leaves you shaking already. It had been too long since you had last felt the touch of his skin against yours. 

With your hands bracing themselves on his chest, you begin your bounces, keeping a rhythm that you like. Morpheus is like putty beneath your fingers, grasping at any part of you that he could in his throes of pleasure. His hair is beyond tussled, his lips dry and parted as noises accompany the slap of your thighs against his. 

Each bounce makes his tip kiss against your cervix, your walls fluttering around him in a vice like grip at how well you took him. It was familiar but exciting each time you took him again and again. The smell of sex accompanies the smell of burning wood on the floor as your thighs shake in exhaustion. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” You whine out as you realize your rhythm starts to slow down. 

You settle to grind on him instead, loving the way the new maneuver has his tip rubbing against the spongy spot in you. You gasp with your head thrown back as you’re about to reach your peak. 

Morpheus stares at you in awe, sweat highlights your skin in the lowlight and your breasts bounce with each grind you push down onto him. Your hands brace themselves on his thighs as you feel your orgasm impeding slowly into your system. Just a few more like this and you would be done for and Morpheus would soon follow. 

Another mischievous idea pops into your head through the haze of pleasure. With the remainder of your strength, you rise, letting his cock slip out of you. Morpheus whines this time, unable to hold it back as his hands grip your waist trying to pull you back onto him, to let you ride him into oblivion. 

You feel his heat as you hover over his cock, panting into his neck. You may have denied your own orgasm, but seeing his teary and begging eyes was exactly what you wanted. His chest heaves with annoyance as a familiar frown makes its way onto his face. 

“What do you think you are doing? I am going to kill you,” He accuses beneath you. The insult leaves his mouth but both of you know he would never follow through with it. 

“I think… ha…” You’re still panting, cardio has never been your strong suit. “I think I’m too tired. I should turn in for the night, my love.” 

“Surely you are joking,” He laughs void of any actual amusement. 

“No, no, I’m just sooo tired. Yeah.” You fake a yawn as you unstraddle his waist. 

His eyes trail you as you stand on wobbly legs, using the couch as a crutch as a halfway point to your shared bed. 

“Absolutely not,” He comments as his hand brings you down again having you kneeling before the couch.

He’s quick to appear behind you, running his fingers down your spine to rest on your hip. The sensation leaves you weak and limp, bracing on the seat of the couch and resting your head on your arms. A kiss to the center of your shoulder blades is the only warning he gives before he inserts himself into you again. 

Morpheus doesn’t wait as he picks up a brutal pace, each thrust he gives you communicating his frustrations. The legs of the furniture scratch the floor beneath it as it rocks with your body. You’re left, once again, panting in pleasure at the drag of his cock within your walls. 

His grip on your hip is enough to bruise, to remind you of your passionate night the day after. His other hand snakes in front of your neck, pushing your face upwards, scattering your broken moans into the air. 

The orgasm you denied yourself comes back with full force, your eyes shutting as you feel it searing through you. With help from Morpheus, as he thrusts forward into you, your lower lips clamp down onto him, releasing your cum over the front of his highs in a satisfying orgasm. Your back bows forward at the release and you’re left panting into the cushions. 

“Let me cum,” He weakly commands as he feels your slick coating him.

“Please, yes! Cum,” You moan, riding through your orgasm as he continues pumping into you. 

He bites down on your shoulder, his groan muffled between your skin as he climaxes into you. His cock twitches in you as he cum releases into the deepest part of your being. You feel as if your mind is full of cobwebs as he stays in you, keeping you full until his erection turns soft. 

The softness of your shared bed barely registers in your mind as he moves the two of you over. The blanket is placed over your naked bodies and he pulls you close. His lips press into your temple as he chants mantras of his devotion to you as you fall asleep in his arms a satisfied smile on his face. 

This time, Morpheus has learned his lesson as he stares adoringly at your peaceful face. How could he ever forget something like that?

Previous || Next

Main Masterlist || Series Masterlist

Time to get back to that angst fic, but we can enjoy this as like... a palate cleanser or something

I'm now on Ao3! The fics are very slowly getting added when I have the energy to. I never knew how in-depth the tagging system went and I get tired looking at it...

♡ Yours, Layla

[toxicanonymity]

Would you please write a boyfriend’s dad fic 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Maybe the bf ditches her while she’s on vacation with his family and Joel knows his son is a fuck up so he wants to show her what she’s missing

Sky’s out, thighs out

1.5k / boyfriend's dad!Joel x f!reader 

thighs out masterlist

Warnings: NSFW 18+,  non-outbreak AU, big girthy age gap (unspecified), public, exhibitionism, oral & rimming (f receiving), unsafe P in V sex, creampie, squirting, dirty talk, use of daddy (prone bone anon). 

☀️🌤️☀️🌤️☀️🌤️☀️🌤️☀️

You're sunbathing face-down in a pool chair and a shadow falls over your book.  Joel squats down in front of you.  “Hey,” he says gently.  You wipe your eyes under your sunglasses.  He takes your shades off, but leaves his own on.  “Don’t worry 'bout my dipshit son, okay? Not worth the tears." He catches one with his thumb as it rolls down your face. You glance up and he asks, "Wanna go for a swim or somethin’?”  You avoid your reflection in his shades. Your eyes fall to his meaty thighs which are stretching his short, retro swim trunks under his wife beater tank top.   He follows your eyes down, then his nose twitches, smugly tugging at one corner of his mouth.  “We could do that, too." He’s shameless, but you've ignored it so far.  

One day, lounging on the beach, he caught you looking. He said, “sky’s out, thighs out," then sensually rubbed his upper inner thigh. You said, “sky’s always out. . .”   “Exactly.”  His beard pattern only enhanced the mischief in his smile, his hand resting at his groin. He wet his lips, still looking at you. Then he adjusted himself. The next day, he snuck up on you from behind when you were reading at the edge of the pool. He silently swam up and stood behind you, pressed himself up against you, and you didn’t do anything about it except think about him while you fucked his son later.  

"Thanks." You take your sunglasses from his hand and go back to reading. You're looking at the book but can’t focus with all these butterflies between your legs.  

You're thinking about how big and hard Joel felt against your ass in the pool and now hot it was that he stole that moment, no matter how creepy. The way he loosely wrapped one arm around you under the water, and you didn't flinch as he ran his hand over your stomach, just barely dipped his fingertips into your suit, and whispered, "good color on you." His soft grunt when he pressed himself harder against you before sinking back and floating away just in time for Jack to come back outside.

"Plenty of time to ourselves," he says as you stare at the words on the page. It’s a rooftop pool shared by several units, and the other units have been empty this week.  But there are higher roof tops nearby with direct lines of vision. Someone waved from their barbecue the night before and invited y’all to join. It's a friendly area, lots of vacation condos.

-

“Alright, I’m gonna make this easy on ya,” Joel says.  “Want me to stop, I will, but you gotta say stop.” You throb at his words. He knows exactly what you need right now - for him to take charge.  

He starts by massaging your back. "Damn fool to even glance at another chick.”  He kneads your muscles lower and lower, then gropes your ass with an "Mmm."  You put your book down and rest your head on your hands.  He slides his hand into your swimsuit bottoms and keeps sliding down, over your crack, a little further, until his middle finger reaches your dripping wet pussy.  He inhales deeply and his voice lowers to a horny pitch as he swirls his finger. “Yeahhh," he growls.  "That's what I thought. . .” he says as he touches you.  

He swings a leg over the pool chair to straddle you, and as his crotch hovers over your ass, he brings his mouth to your ear. "You're so damn hot, baby," then dips his pelvis down for his raging erection to brush your swimsuit, sending all your blood to your loins.  "Knew ya wanted it."

He uses one hand to slowly untie your swimsuit bottom on both sides, so slowly, as if any sudden movement might break the spell.  Then he backs up toward the foot of the lounge chair and spreads your thighs.  "Damn, this ass is perfect,” he says under his breath as he gives your cheeks a quick squeeze. Then he inserts a thick finger into your cunt and breathes deeply as he adds another.  

“Pussy, too. . . Damn. . .” Your cunt twitches around his digits and he says, “Wooo.”  He takes out his fingers, and his hands on your hips nudge you into lifting your ass and tilting your hips for him to plant his face. His facial hair prickles you lightly.  He starts at your clit and when he reaches your warm, wet hole he gives it a kiss.  Then he inserts his tongue and moans into you.  After about a minute of eating you out, his tongue sharpens and drags from your entrance up to your asshole to tease you there while squeezing a cheek.  

He gets on top of you and presses the hard bulge of his swim trunks into your ass.   You moan softly and he says, “Yeah, that’s right.”  He pulls his swim trunks down enough to free his stiff member then runs the firm tip through your folds.  You gasp and he says “All yours, baby.  Every inch.”  

-

He notches the swollen head at your entrance.  Your thighs spread and your hips tilt for him. "That's right, baby."  He shoves himself into you with a grunt.  You moan as his girth splits you open.

“Fuck yeah,” he breathes and retreats half way.  He plunges forward again and bottoms out with a long sigh. "Damn. . . tight 'n juicy. . ." He repeats the motion.  "Perfect pussy." He lowers his broad torso against your back for a moment, pulling out all but the tip. The light padding of his stomach makes you twitch. Then with a deep thrust he pushes himself back up.  He hovers over you and braces himself on both sides of the pool chair as he rails you.  He’s hitting just the right spot.  The tension builds in your core.  

“Ah, fuck,” you gasp. 

“Yeah, how’s this cock treatin’ ya, baby?”

“Fuck, it’s good.”

“That’s right,” he says into your neck. "Daddy knows best. . . Don't I, baby?" He latches onto your neck. 

You start to say it back to him "Da-" and cut yourself off with a moan.  He sucks your neck so hard it’ll leave a mark but you don’t care. All you care about is his cock inside you.  You take a deep breath and manage, “yeah, Daddy.”  

He pounds you with all the pent up tension of the week.  You hear faint voices from a neighboring rooftop.  It sends a rush of excitement through you, the thought of strangers seeing you get railed by your boyfriend’s hot dad. 

Every time Joel buries his length in you, it rocks you forward on the chair and you grip it for dear life.  You moan in near disbelief at how good he feels. Your chest feels light with energy.

“Jack ever fuck you this good?" Not even close.  

“No,” you pant.  “Never, daddy. . ."  You could come any minute but don’t want it to end.

“s'what I thought." His cock is so stiff and thick.  And length wise, even a smidgen more might be too much to take. 

-

You look up and a shadow moves inside the clubhouse. “Wait,” you say. “ Is someone in there?”

He slows his hips.  “Want me to stop?”  He stops moving, and you can hardly stand it you’re so close to coming.  You groan.  No, you don’t want him to stop.  

You’re trying to see into the clubhouse when he pulls out and you answer too late, “Nooo.”  

He says “C'mere” and flips you over.   The voices return next door.  His strong thighs swell out from under his swim trunks and you follow them up to his commanding cock.  His sun-kissed arm flexes as he pumps himself, then crouches down and lines himself up.  

“Look at Daddy, don’t worry ‘bout nothin’ else."  He plunges to the hilt with a loud sigh from both of you.  “Damn you take it good,” he says.  He begins to pound you, then puts your legs up in a mating press.  

“I’m on the pill,” you manage to say between deep breaths.  Hard to tell if he’s relieved or disappointed.  His hips snap into you faster, and you forget about the shadow in the pool house and the people next door.  When you’re on the edge of  bliss, you say “I’m gonna–”

“Yeah baby, come on my cock.” 

You pant. 

“Come on, baby,” he says as he slams into you. 

You begin to clench around him and moan obscenely, gushing on his cock.

“Attagirl.”  He keeps fucking you through it. “Hell yeah,” he says between heavy breaths.  

He plunges into you slower but harder and somehow further, bottoming out with a primal grunt. Then he pulses inside you and sighs loudly as his balls empty.  His pulsations extend your own until he finishes coming and pulls out. Before he takes his still-hard cock away, he gathers his cum with the tip and pushes back inside.

When he's truly done, he swiftly pulls up his swim trunks, drags his hand through your juices and sucks his fingers.  He crouches down, cups your cheek and says, “Hot as hell.”  

Then he takes off his tank top and jumps in the pool.  He turns around and rests his arms on the deck, facing you. 

 “Damn. . . Jack’s even dumber than I thought.” 

-

Same Joel, same vacation:

thighs out on the beach

sun's out, guns out

-

Thank you so much for reading and engaging!

If you like this one, you might like the Speakeasy series which has exhibitionism, horniness, and talking.   Like how he talks?  Try night walks for similar energy (on the darker side).  Instagram and Uber for another squirter. 

-

ty for reading @dark-scape

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339  @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro

[jeonghantis]

✧ — IN ALL HIS GLORY.

PAIRING ⇝ kim mingyu x reader.

SUMMARY ⇝

waking up next to your lover, you can't help but admire his unearthly beauty and consider yourself unbelievably lucky that he's all yours.

TAGS ⇝ established relationship, romance, suggestive, Fluff (yes, capital F Fluff), domestic-ish.

WARNINGS ⇝ language, gn!reader, fluff (lol), nudity, makeout scene, alludes to sexual content (MINORS DNI!).

WORD COUNT ⇝ 1.2k words and some.

note: yeah, this was a draft i had originally scratched for mingyu's birthday because i was unsure of its direction, but the innisfree behind got me scrambling the pieces back together. this was meant to appreciate mingyu and his beauty and i hope i did him justice.. (and if you can't tell when you finish reading, i am still mourning the loss of his long curly hair). anyway, i hope you enjoy reading <3 p.s. this is 1 out of 2 fics i have to celebrate mingyu month. stay tuned. <3 p.p.s this so not proofread i am so sorry

reblog if you are terribly in love with kim mingyu too (and to support me).

explicit warnings under cut.

EXPLICIT WARNINGS ⇝ nudity, implications of top!mingyu, implications of bottom!reader, mingyu was Rough, mentions of oral (reader receiving).

The first glint of sun spilled through windows, swathing your lover’s slumbering figure in its golden light. His lips were parted, a hand rested atop his chest that rose and fell with easy breaths. His hair that he grew out was a dark halo from where it splayed over the pillow, so vividly stark against the paleness of it. But unlike its sable tone, Kim Mingyu still had his radiance, even in his sleep, that could set light to the darkest dark.

From where you lay beside him, you reached out, gingerly brushing away the lone curl that had tumbled over his still face. Sleep had long left your body, waking dazed with ease and warmth. The outcome of the passion that had stretched all throughout the night clung onto your bones heavily, straining you from making any big movements. But you did not mind. Though you ache all over, you could lay perfectly still without complaint if it meant not interrupting this peace. 

But Mingyu woke up, blinking life back into his eyes. Then, he found you.

“Good morning, my love,” he mumbled, lips curled into a drowsy smile.

You mirror him, a hand cradling the side of his face. “Good morning, my heart.”

Then you’re reaching for each other, lips naturally finding one another.

It’s innocent at first, a tad bit clumsy with movements still sluggish, his from slumber and yours exhaustion. Airy giggles pass between you two at the lumbering bumps of noses and teeth, but eventually, a steady rhythm comes with practiced ease, a slow pace of melding lips that’s nothing short of passion. Nothing really ever is when it comes to being with the love of your life.

It’s Mingyu who grasps for more first, a palm resting atop the small of your back to draw you even closer, your body pressed flush against his. It’s only then do you remember how you both did not bother with clothes after last night’s events. And he seems to have just remembered in the moment too because he’s now groaning into your mouth, his face slanting to deepen the amorous exchange in search of more of you. You’re very quick on the uptake, the fervency of the kiss heightening, as you pour all of yourself into him and he drinks it up with an unquenchable thirst, every slip of breath, every movement of lip. You tug on the soft pink flesh of his bottom lip for him to part open. When he did, your tongue slinked in, licking into the wet cavern of his mouth with languid strokes. Mingyu is all too ready for it, welcoming your voyage with another moan and a wet caress of his own tongue over yours, as his palm smooths over the underside of your thigh, hoisting it up to lift it over his waist.

The blankets twist around your tangled limbs. Mingyu shucked it off. The cold air sends a shock through you and instinctively, you’re seeking the warmth of your lover with a tug on his shoulder. Mingyu gives in easily and shifts his body around until the upper half of him rests on top of you, pushing himself impossibly closer. 

The added weight of him was not something you had considered in your daze and you’re sparing yourself some breath as you ease back with a gasp. But the man is just as lost in his daze and chases after your retreating mouth. Mingyu managed to swallow down a couple of your breaths with fervid lips until you had to stop him with a hand pressed firmly against his shoulder.

“Stop, wait - ” you exhale with a staggered laugh, gently urging your lover back. “You’re heavy, Gyu. I need to breathe.”

“Yeah, and I need you,” he whines petulantly like a child, though he is pulling back anyway until he’s back laying on his side. “Which, arguably, is more important.”

“Can’t exactly have me if I stop breathing,” you counter with a playful roll of your eyes. “I’m already exhausted from last night trying to keep up with your insane stamina.”

A prideful look crosses his face. “I did go pretty hard on you.” 

You smother the urge to smile as you give laudatory pats on his chest. “You did and I do love you for it, but now my entire body hurts.”

“Want me to help make you feel better?”

“Please.”

Mingyu grins. “I have to fuck you again though.”

“Thought so,” you snorted and slapped his chest, but you were smiling.

“Or I make you breakfast,” Mingyu laughs and reaches to hold your hand, interlacing your fingers with his. “Then I could give you a massage. How’s that?”

“Heavenly,” you hum.

Mingyu props himself up on one arm, staring down at you with glittering eyes. “Then give me a kiss before I go?”

You laugh softly and cast your gaze up at him, a hand already reaching to pull him down by his nape.

But you still. 

Kim Mingyu was beautiful. This was a fact you knew. A fact that you should be accustomed to. But no matter just how much you set your eyes upon his perfectly sculpted features, your breath catches in your throat every time.

Mingyu was outlined against the risen sun; his radiance coming to full glory as the light kissed his bronzed skin to gold. Each dip and curve of his toned body, each sharp and soft line of his handsome face appeared meticulously carved onto skin, like marks of a sculptor’s tenacity. Even the moles adorning his face—one flecked on the tip of his nose and the other on his cheek—looked thoughtfully placed, somehow adding their own strange allure to his already captivating charm. 

The mole on his cheek twitches when a smile pulls at the corners of his lips.

“What is it?” Mingyu whispered, his dark eyes peering. “What are you staring at?”

You had not known you were staring for so long, but who could blame you when he looked the way he did? When you love him the way you do?

“I was just thinking about how beautiful you are,” you answered honestly, brushing back the raven strands that had fallen over his eyes. “And about how I am absolutely in love with you.”

“Suddenly?”

“I’ve always thought so,” you smiled. 

Mingyu regards you for a silent beat, the faintest blush dusting his cheeks. Then he’s dipping down and capturing your mouth with his in another heady kiss.

“Fuck breakfast and a massage,” he grunts against you. “I am going to fuck you.”

“Gyu,” you start to groan, which should have been a warning but it comes out half-hearted and laced with desire instead.

“Or I can use my tongue on you instead,” he offers as his mouth already strays away, mapping down kisses down the column of your throat. “Please?”

“Just because of what I said?” You try for a laugh and it comes a bit breathy.

“All because of what you said,” Mingyu says and draws back. He’s peering at you with those big, sparkling eyes again. “Because you’re beautiful and I’m absolutely in love with you too.”

“Charmer,” you huff, a smile itching your lips. “You’re still making breakfast and giving me a massage right after though.”

Mingyu smiled as blinding as the first glint of sunlight. "Deal."

© circlesol. all rights reserved. do not re-publish, translate, plagiarise, edit any of my work on any other platform.

[x0xomady]

wake n’ bake ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

a pt.2 to ‘grow you a garden’ but you can read it as a stand alone

summary: nothings better than waking n baking with the love of your life (harrystyles x femalereader)

warnings: mentions of sex but no details. marijuana consumption! other than that just adorable fluff

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

10:00 am

after a long night of watching a ‘love on tour’ show and seeing harry sing his heart out, we were just waking up.

harry is laying on his stomach sprawled out. his chocolate curls laid across the pillows. his arms are stretched out one across my waist and one hanging off the side of the bed.

i turn on my side and watch as harry’s chest rises and falls slowly. he looks so beautiful when he’s asleep. his eyelashes rest delicately atop his cheeks and his pouty lips are parted slightly.

life on tour isn’t easy. harry usually has to be up at 7:00 am so he can go for a workout and then go to sound check at the venue. which means, i always wake up alone.

however… today was different. there was no show for the next 3 days. harry was off all day and could sleep in all he wanted.

i’m absolutely basking in this. the warmth of the morning sun, harry’s arm wrapped around my body and the comfort of knowing we have nowhere to be.

we continue to lay there for the next 30 minutes. harry continues to breath slowly and lay sprawled under the comforter, while i lay beside him.

there’s not many chances i get to see harry like this. he’s ALWAYS awake before me, being the morning person he is. so im basking in the joy of having a sleeping harry beside me.

my hand travels up to harry’s face and i lightly run my fingers across his cheek. my fingertips trace a line from his cheek bone to his nose carefully. he continues to breathe slowly with his eyelashes resting peacefully on his cheeks.

it doesn’t take long before i’m getting restless. the hardest part of going on tour with harry is he’s always going. he’s constantly either at show or working on a show, which meant he was always tried when we got back to the hotel. which meant no sex.

it’s not like we never have sex… no we have a LOT of sex. i’m just not used to this level inactivity between us. i was hoping last night harry would have enough energy to do something, but he collapsed as soon as we got to the room.

don’t get me wrong, i’m happy to let harry get all the rest he needs. i just get a little pent up after a while.

after a few minutes of watching him rest peacefully, harry starts to wake up.

“hm.. morning angel” harry’s rough morning voice isn’t doing anything to dull the ache between my legs.

i smile and move my hand from harry’s face to rest on his chest.

“hi.” i kiss harry’s cheek.

harry smiles and rubs his eyes before turning on his side to face me. “can’t believe i have no show today… feels fucking great to sleep in.”

“i’m glad you got rest.” i run my hands through his harry’s thick curls. it feels so amazing to be with harry in bed. after being non-stop for the last few weeks, this feels like heaven.

“what do you wanna do today angel?” harry asks me leaning into my hand.

i shrug. to be honest the only thing i wanted was to suck his-

“wanna get high?”

the question totally threw me off. it’s not like harry and i don’t get high together… because we do. it’s just early in the morning and we both just woke up.

“right now?” i giggle as harry kisses my palm.

“course right now. why not? we have literally no where to be for the first time in 2 months. let’s wake n’ bake babe.”

i giggle and shrug. “sure let’s do it”

⋆ ₊⊹ 1 blunt and 12 kisses later ⊹₊ ⋆

“soooo i know you said you would love me if i was a worm…” im currently straddling harry’s lap while braiding his little curls.

“oh no not this again.” harry smirks and rolls his eyes playfully.

i slap his arm lightly and continue braiding his hair while talking. both of our eyes drooping lazily and our speech slightly slowed down.

“shut up and let me talk!”

“fine fine. continue angel.”

i sigh and continue asking him my hypothetical question. “what if i was a monkey? would you love me as a smelly monkey?”

harry chuckles slightly and smirks up at me. “a monkey? i thought this was a hypothetical-”

“harry!” i giggle and glare at him. “says the egg head british guy!”

harry laughs even more. we are definitely hitting the giggly stage of being high.

“just answer the question and quit being a dumbass” i roll my eyes and tug harry’s hair a little to get the braids right.

“okay okay…. yes i would love you even if you were a monkey.” harry smiles up at me and squeezes my hips a little.

“really? but monkeys are so gross. don’t they touch their shit?” my eye brows furrow in thought and i shrug.

“probably. but i’d love you anyways, even if you had little shit covered hands.” we both burst out giggling the weed definitely hitting us harder now.

“eww” i laugh and tie his braid off with a little bow.

“don’t say ew. i would love you even if you were a monkey. id make a little cage for you.”

“A CAGE??” i burst out laughing even more my head falling down against harry’s shoulder.

“yeah?! is that weird? i’m not letting a crazy ass monkey run around the house.” harry smirks and tightens his grips on my hips.

“that’s so weird! who are you? joe goldberg?” i giggle referencing harry and i’s favorite show at the moment, ‘you’.

“oh shut up. i know you have a crush on him.” harry smirks and rolls his eyes.

“what can i say? i love the gossip girl actors and he’s one of them.” i smile and lean against harry’s chest.

“hm and i love you. my crazy ass monkey.”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

disgustingly fluffy. i was going to write smut but i got so caught up in them being cute. so next part there will be smut. PROMISE

send in requests :)

-xoxo ⋆⭒˚.⋆

[melodic-haze]

want Himeko x Male reader, groping her chest ending up having sex😞

☆ — DEMO TRACK: bottom!Himeko x top!amab!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader with a dick :3, cum eating? Cuz ik some people aren't into it

☆ — NOTES: At the end of the day it's essentially semantics when it comes to writing in 2nd person (you/your instead of gendered pronouns) but I don't do male reader content sorry 😞. Most I can do for you is amab but otherwise I write gn or fem 🤷‍♀️ I'll still do this though bc this is silly :3

It was essentially rest day for the Express, hooray!! Pom-Pom's navigating the train to your next destination so the Nameless actually get time off for once

You're spending it wisely by relaxing in Himeko's room and breathing in that rich smell of coffee in the air from all her daily brewing, the both of you out of your usual outdoor attire and in some looser, comfortable wear. You swear that you originally didn't mean to have things escalate beyond cuddling her as she read a new book she bought from the last location, though

Or maybe you did 🤷‍♀️ the universe may never know.......

It's just that....just laying there? Like okay sure you get time off which is GREAT you're not whining about that but like........there's nothing to do. You can't really help it when your hands just idly wander around here and there, exploring her body for something to do......

"Ah--"

You don't stop your minstrations on her chest, though you do look up at her face with a slight smirk, "Something wrong, Himeko?"

She looked down at you, eyebrows raised in a mix of amusement and a struggle to keep her composure, "Oh, no, nothing. I would like to ask of what you're doing, though."

..Your smug look is no more, easily replaced by a much goofier grin, "I'm exploring as a Trailblazer."

She snorts lightly, amusement growing at your little jest, "A Nameless' work is never done?"

"Absolutely not."

"Well, then, it would be remiss of me, to stop you from doing what you do best." She presses a kiss on the top of your head, "Go ahead. Though remember to.. use the resources you have around you."

"Mmhm." And you lift your head to gently bite on the bone of her collar, "I'll do you proud, trust me."

You continue your work on her tits as she resumes her reading (or at least tries to). At first you squeeze them gently, seemingly curious of the initial reactions you get an my GOD even as you're just starting, her reactions do NOT disappoint

I wouldn't be surprised if Himeko's REALLY sensitive to having her boobs played with just sayingggg❗️❗️ The effect's worse on her in this situation bc she hasn't got a bra on—why would she need it when neither of you are going anywhere? She's probably wearing like a thin button-up w panties on and that's it. Easy access for both you AND her, really, cuz MAN is everything else restricting 😞 so likeeee just hold her tits for her instead 🥰

At some point you can hear her breathing pattern quicken as you feel her slowly grinding on your thigh. She's letting out these noises that sound so unbelievably obscene, coming from the ever-so-composed woman that you're holding onto. Of COURSE you want more????? Wth I sure do!!!!!

She ends up dropping the book to the side, probably on the floor somewhere (she'll definitely lament ab it later but rn it's the least of her worries), and she hastily tries to unbutton her shirt bc "it's way too hot in here" even though she's fooling NOBODY when she takes one of your hands and puts it on her now-naked chest

PAY EXTRA ATTENTION TO HER NIPPLES OH MY GOD squeeze them, flick them, lick them and suck them just PLEASE it'll drive her absolutely fucking CRAZY

Oh and if you think you're doing all the work??? Oh please she wouldn't leave you high and dry like that, she wouldn't be Himeko if she did!!!!! Her hand would be wandering down until she's able to palm your dick through the fabric of your clothes before actually taking it out and servicing you the best she can

It doesn't really take long for things to escalate further—you're as hard as a rock, she's wet from your constant fondling, both of you are practically aching to feel connected......so that's what you do

You climb onto her as she takes off her panties, guiding your cock onto her slit before pushing yourself in, and the moan she lets out is loud. It's like her sensitivity's even more heightened compared to your usual sessions, and all you did was play with her tits relentlessly

Speaking of, do NOT stop playing with them bc I guarantee you she'll be reacting even more than usual: it feels so fucking good to her that her insides are practically clamping onto your dick as you fuck her. Bonus if you duck down to suck on them and bite her mounds, switching between them as you squeeze and play with the other one, all while pistoning her (god help you if you don't know how to multitask (jokes she'll follow whatever pace you set))

And as tempting as it is to cum inside her when you feel like you're about to explode, trust me when I say if you pull out and cum on her chest instead it'll be SO very worth it. Cover her tits, give a classy woman a pearl necklace

She'll be left at her peak, only for her to stay there bc of the lack of release. She ends up playing with herself, both her chest and her her clit, to satisfy herself even though it's not enough—by GOD it could never be enough.. but the sight she sees as she looks down at her cum-covered mounds definitely has her going even more

You watch on at the show Himeko was essentially giving you, entranced at how her hands squeezed her own chest and played with her own nipples. Her golden eyes, usually so vigilant, seem to be clouded out and dazed as if she were in a trance.

And perhaps she was, with the way her fingers went to scoop up the ivory cum that covered soft skin before putting it in her mouth and licking it up until her digits are all clean. Without skipping a beat, she does it again, except this time her covered fingers easily slip deep into her cunt briefly before she retracts them.. though not fully, as she spreads her wet folds open for you to bare witness to.

"I don't need to beg, do I?" She asks, despite her expression showing that she's well on her way towards becoming completely dumb for you, "Why, mm.. why don't you explore even deeper?"

When you start up all over again, it's VERY clear that neither of you are going to be done for a good while. Neither of you would have it any other way (more like don't complain bc it's your fault you have her all riled up like this 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️)

Safe to say you found something to do.......and that everyone else will probably give you shit about the noise in the morning LMAOOOOOOO

[cordeliawhohung]

okay HI IM SUCH A BIG FOR THE SOFT SPOT SERIES I LOVE READING IT SO MUCH.

Just wanted to pop in and request a little comfort with ghost? I'm mid-way my midterms right now and I haven't slept properly for nearly 4 days. I need that man to either fuck me to sleep or cuddle me.

Again, love your work. Love everything you write, really. You're an amazing author and thank you for sharing your skill to the world LIKE YOU SHOULD 💅💅💅

hi hun! thank you so much!!! i'm glad that you're enjoying it a;lsdkfj like i've said before soft spot is my babyyyyy and youch! sorry to hear about finals! that's such a pain, and i apologize that this has taken a moment to get back to you. but now that you mention it, i don't think i've ever written anything just... fluffy for Simon. so i think i'll write you a short and sweet fluff bit that will hopefully cheer you up! thank you so much you are such a sweetheart 😭

warnings: none! super fluffy! sleeping issues and Simon thinks cuddles is the best medicine (:

masterlist (:

Sleep wasn't coming easy for you. A majority of your nights had been spent getting minimal sleep before being startled awake by your own thoughts. It was difficult to pin down the exact reason. You weren't stressed, or at least you liked to pretend that you weren't, and there were no strange dreams or nightmares that ailed you. Just your own thoughts, the constant feeling that you had to be doing something, anything, otherwise you were wasting time.

You stood in the kitchen with a cup in hand as you ran the sink. Everything always seemed louder at night. Your footsteps, the water pouring from the spout, even your own heart beating in your chest. The very atoms buzzing in every object around you even seemed too loud.

"It's late."

Simon's voice was deep and groggy as he spoke from the doorway, and it was piercing enough so that it cut through the noise of everything else in existence. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and you could see a faint indented line across his cheek. He must have been sleeping pretty well, which was the whole reason you left the bed in the first place; to not wake him with your restless tossing and turning.

"Baby, go back to bed," you said softly. You eyed the pale green neon of the microwave clock that read 2:04 in the morning before taking a quick sip of water.

"You've got work in the mornin'," he said simply before stepping further into the kitchen.

You sighed before setting the cup next to the sink, and you leaned against the counter. There was little doubt in your mind that Simon was just as tired of your restlessness as you were. Constantly slipping out of bed, wandering around the flat in an attempt to get the buzzing in your mind to stop long enough to hopefully fall back asleep again.

Simon's hands brushed against your hips where he pulled you closer, and you nearly melted into him. Hands resting against his chest, you let him pull you close. You felt the warm breath from his nose tickle your hairline as he pressed a soft kiss against your forehead.

"Come back to bed," he mumbled into the crown of your head. It wasn't a request, but wasn't a demand, either. It was something that landed somewhere in the middle.

Either way, you listened. Even though you could feel the static of the world rattle your bones and shake your mind, you trotted off after Simon as he led you back into the bedroom. Your side of the bed was cold when you crawled back in, and you wondered just how long you had been standing in the kitchen for.

Simon liked his space when he slept. Something about you being too wiggly, but you didn't mind. You were used to laying your head on your pillow and holding the blankets tight under your chin to lull yourself to sleep. So when you felt Simon's hand on your shoulder, rolling you over to face him, you were a little surprised.

"Come here," he prompted in his sleepy daze.

And so you did. His arm snaked around your torso as he pulled you close, and instead of a pillow underneath your head it was his chest. His other arm rested on his torso so that he could reach and rub gentle circles along your back. One last time, he leaned forward to press a quick kiss to your head before laying down.

He didn't say anything else, and neither did you. The only thing you did was lay there, cheek pressed against his chest while your arm held him around his waist. Each beat of his heart reverberated brilliantly within his chest, and every breath he took sounded long and deliberate.

Instead of focusing on the noise of the universe around you, you found your mind enamored by Simon instead. How the subtle rise and fall of his chest rocked your body with his. How you could hear the blood gushing through his body, feel the fibers of his body creak with the weight. His warmth bled into you, coaxing your muscles to soften. You focused on trying to match your breathing with his, and you wondered if you did it long enough, if your hearts would start to sync; if your blood would pulse at the same speed; if your bodies would begin to meld.

Eventually his hand stilled, and his breathing slowed even more, and you continued to match his pace. Soon, you were nothing more than just two souls occupying the same space; atoms weaved together; lovers intertwined. Slumber settled over you before your mind even had the chance to process it, but even in your sleep your body knew you were right where you belonged.

sorry if this is too short! i'm trying to practice not writing 6k words for every single thing i put on this site a;lksdjf either way i hope it was enjoyable, and i hope you're able to get some good rest soon, anon &lt;3

[ashdreams2023]

Severus snape and reader is 20 but has to take an internship since they dropped out from beauxbatons, is now dating severus as his full time assistant, and they were cuddling by the campfire in severus's office (bones if the relationship is secret)

Just between us

Summary: you and severus are dating secretly

Whispers they were always whispers, either was in the classrooms, the halls or even worse the great hall itself.

You’re supposed to get used to it now, it has been a year now, since your landed your internship and become the potion masters assistant.

It wasn’t easy that’s for sure, you were young and you just dropped out of school, one of the best at that and people just didn’t know how to mind their business.

Fortunately for you, you had the pleasure of being taken seriously by the potion master of the oh so great hogwarts.

Severus didn’t play around when it came to his field of work and you respected that, you tried to learn as much as you can from watching his work, study beforehand so you can he helpful in class and be prepared for any questions that might come up.

Eventually severus swallowed his pride and made it clear that he finds your work acceptable and gave you permission to be his substitute when he’s not in for the day.

And not only that but things developed…emotionally, you still remember when you stayed behind on Christmas and he was the only professor left in the castle, you invited him to have dinner in your chambers, you chatted about work and whatnot, he knew how to keep a conversation interesting and by the end of it you two took a walk around the empty grounds.

You don’t recall when you decided that you can address him as your boyfriend in your head but you do know it felt right.

"I’m back" you say softly not to startled him or your cat, although the two know your schedule like the back of their hand/paw now.

Your cat meows happily but doesn’t get off of Severus’s lap, he’s sitting on his arm chair near the fire reading.

"Welcome back" Severus mumbles glancing momentarily up from his book then looked back down.

You sighed then took off your coat and placed your wand on the small desk near the sofa.

Your stood up on all fours on your boyfriend’s lap and called for you, a chuckled escaped your lips and within seconds you scooped the little guy into your arms and slid snuggly into Severus’s lap.

Severus raises his arm up to give you more space to be comfortable, his arms rested on your waist comfortably like he’s done a million times before.

"And you don’t think they will catch up at one point?"

"I have no idea what you’re talking about" you scratched the head of your cat and kissed his jaw.

"Really? Going down the dungeons every night, laughing every time someone asks if you’re single" He raised a brow at you.

You bit your lip and patted your lashes "I missed you too"

Severus sighs and tightens his hold on you "Kindly do remember that I don’t want to be the next hot gossip topic of my fifth and sixth year female students, they are more than bored and would devour the chance"

"I would never put you into such horror, they are ruthless!" You laughed.

"I can only hope" he closed his book and placed it back on the shelf beside him.

"It’s only between us and kiwi" Your sweet cat purred laying comfortably in your lap.

"And kiwi better learn not to steal potion ingredients from my private pantry to play with"

"Aww sev don’t be mean to my baby"

The man sucked the inside of his cheek then cupped your cheeks with his hand and leaned down kissing your soft lips.

You kissed him back smiling into the kiss.

[personne-reblogs]

AUTISTIC SWEEP

The shouts of the crowd are fading into white noise. 

The curtains are closing. 

The lights are dimming. 

The air still feels filled with static, though. 

This is a fight Donatello had known he couldn’t win, logically. The competition had been all fun and games, but this challenger was another story. No amount of support or hype could make up for such a gap; the bone deep certainty didn’t leave room for hard feelings. 

Struggling to catch his breath, battle shell against the wall, Donatello looks up from where he’s been getting some rest - not passed out rest, mind you. More like a beauty nap.

He lets out a genuine chuckle. 

Shigeo Kageyama is simply standing there, as he has been for most of the fight. 

“Sweet Marie Curie,” he puffs, keeping his voice level. The roar of the crowd hasn’t entirely died down, but he knows he is heard. “You don’t even have a scratch.”

The one they call Mob is giving him a stare. He still seems a little out of it. 

“You fought well,” he states calmly, and Donnie giggles. 

“Oh, please. I’ve been losing tournaments at home for as long as I can remember. You don’t need to feel sorry for me.”

At that, Mob flashes a grin. “I’m not sorry,” he says bluntly, coming over in lazy steps. “But it hasn’t been easy, either.”

He sits down, legs stretched out in front of him, and Donnie can now see that his breathing is a little heavy. He feels himself get cocky. 

“Well, I wasn’t about to just let you win. If I had to go down, might as well give ‘em a show, right?”

Mob sends him a sideway glance. “You really are all about dramatics.”

“What can I say?” Donnie sighs theatrically, proving his point. “This whole competition is about being swag. I could hardly disappoint.” 

“I don’t think you could," his opponent utters. “You’re very expressive.”

Donnie raises a perfectly drawn eyebrow. This is something he hasn’t often been told. He looks over to Mob, and the tension in the boy’s shoulders makes him hum in thought. 

“I don’t know who’s next, but you are going to crush them,” he provides. When Mob gives him a nonplussed glance, he goes on. “And even if you don’t, it’s still the last one. How good does that sound?”

“... it has been getting a bit much, to be honest.”

“Yeah, this is wild,” Donnie agrees. “Anyway, what are you gonna do with your trophy once you get it?”

Mob’s smile is a little shy, but he seems happy with the distraction. “I don’t know, actually. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten one. What would you do?”

“Well, you see, there was this one time I won the Lair Games…”

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

In the next room, a very proud sensei and three worried brothers are getting impatient. 

The student and the sibling don’t seem to care at the moment. 

The crowd is gone. 

The curtains are closed. 

The lights are off. 

For now, making small talk with a former rival is just enough.

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

EDIT: there is now a sequel!

YOOO IT'S BEEN SUCH A WILD RIDE

Disclaimer: I have never read/watched mp100 and I deeply apologize for making him probably very ooc. Just wanted to celebrate this beast of a match in my own way, which is wishing I could draw and deciding to heave words on a doc instead lol

CONGRATS ON MOB!! The final match between mp100 and undertale is gonna be soooo funny but I think Mob's gonna win this thing like it's nothing tbh (he has my vote at least)

@autismswagsummit thank you for reblogging all that Donnie propaganda, I genuinely think he never would've made it this far without the signal boost!

All my thanks to the Rise fandom for these past few days! You guys have made such powerful content and there's been so much hype I'm shocked. SHOCKED I TELL YOU

[twilghtkoo]

summary. in which, your boyfriend offers to give you a brazilian wax when you’re too scared to do it yourself

pairings. jeonghan x reader (f)

genre. fluff, established relationship

warnings. brief mentions of insecurities, mentions of past sex between reader and jeonghan ofc, photography lol, also not proofread cus i’m lazy

notes. this is dedicated to @sleeping-sirens c: hehe enjoy this !! a haechan one is in the works !!

masterlist

—

“love, what’s wrong?” jeonghan asks you, watching you sigh at your phone for the thousandth time in the thirty minutes.

you hum in question, not being able to hear what he was saying as you were too focused reading a link you found, trailing your eyes off your screen to look at your boyfriend.

“i asked what was wrong and you’re frowning,” he points out, also wearing a frown since you were.

you shake your head, turning your phone off and placing it down beside you. “i’m reading how to wax your own vagina.” you admit, sighing once again.

“huh?” his lips part slightly and his eyes widened.

“i’m too scared to go to a waxer and have a stranger stare at my vagina. like i tried already, i drove my ass there but i couldn’t get out of my car cause i was too scared. so i’m just trying to see if i can do it myself–“

jeonghan pauses his show on the tv before turning his body to face you. his hands reach out to grasp your upper arm and rub it up and down soothingly.

“hey, hey, baby you’re talking fast. it’s okay.” he calms you down.

the corners of your lips curve upwards in a small smile. “sorry.” you apologize.

“you don’t need to apologize baby,” he assured you. “does it seem easy?”

you tilt your head at him, confused on what he’s asking.

“the waxing–what did you read?” he answers your thoughts.

you blink. “oh, uhm, yeah it seems easy. i’m just scared to inflict pain on myself and i don’t know if i’ll be able to see everything.”

he nods, understanding your point of view before he responds with something you were not expecting.

“let me wax you.” he says, seriousness written all over his face.

the crease between your brows softened. “what?”

“let me wax you.” he repeats himself.

in all your years of knowing jeonghan and then dating him for two, he has never judged you or acted weird about anything that concerned your body. instead, always meeting you at the same wavelength of excitement and curiosity.

jeonghan has seen every crevice and cracks on your body, regarding the intimate nights, taking showers together, or just changing in front of each other. you’ve explored it all. you hold a lot of trust for this man, which is why you didn’t have any difficulties saying yes.

—

“how long are you gonna watch that video?” you whine out, slumped body resting against the couch as you watched your personal waxer for today stare at his phone with his eyebrows furrowed in deep concentration.

“baby, i’m watching this so i don’t hurt you.” he sternly tells you, eyes never leaving the screen until the video shortly ends.

you slump in your seat, muttering an “i know”.

he stands up from the couch, grabbing the folded towel and sprawling it out neatly on the floor beside you. “someone sounds eager for their boyfriend to wax their pussy.” he teases you, kneeling down next to the wax heater, stirring it in circles with the wooden stick.

you extend your foot out to lightly kick his arm. “shut up,” you huff.

he softly giggles, his cheek bones sitting prettily below his crescent shaped eyes. “i’m just teasing, baby.”

you’re lying on the towel hannie has laid out for you, one of his shirts swallows your body and the lose fabric rides down your thighs, exposing your underwear and legs.

he taps the bare skin just below your butt. you lift your hips up as he tugs at the lace and tossing them behind him.

“this is different– me taking off your underwear and i’m not about to eat you out.”

the palm of your hand meets your face. “you’re about to be fired on your first day.”

he leans down for his lips to meet with your knee. his hands rubbing your shin.

he lets out a breath, “you ready?”

you blankly stare at the ceiling, a sudden wave of anxiety hits you because you realize your boyfriend, who you very much love and see a future with, will be sitting in front of your vagina ripping strips of hair out. you want to know what he’s thinking.

you lift your head up, your chin touching your collarbone as you meet eyes with him. “what’re you thinking right now?” you ask, taking your bottom lip in to nervously nibble on.

“i’m thinking that im just doing something for my girlfriend because i want to help her.” he answers your anxious mind.

you softly smile at him before your head hits the floor, relaxing your body. “okay im ready.”

“i love you.”

“i know.”

he scoops up a bit of the wax, swirling the stick in a circular motion and brings it over to you, he pokes your thighs to open your legs for him and his hand is hovering over your center.

you quickly close your legs. “wait!“

his face is deadpan.

“you sure you know what you’re doing–“

he with the stick still in his hand he forced your legs open. “if you ask me again one more time, you’re not getting waxed you’ll be getting fucked.” he exclaims while laughing, but you know he’s serious.

you groan, “okay, go.” your hands instinctively grabbing at the shirt that covers your upper half, clenching the cotton fabric tightly.

he mumbles quietly that he’s going to start, kissing your knee once more before you feel him spreading the wax on your sensitive skin. it was warm, an unusual but not an unfamiliar feeling yet it still had your face twist.

“ok it has to sit for about thirty seconds before i can pull it, how you doing?” again, jeonghan being attentive towards you and making sure you’re comfortable and observing how you’re feeling.

you nod, “good, actually.”

he grins happily at your response.

“ok i’m gonna pull now, sorry in advance baby.” he apologizes with a pout, already knowing the pain that can occur from waxing especially on the private areas.

you shake your head, anticipating the pain to come. “just go.” you urge.

he flicks up the end of the wax, holding it between his thumb and index finger. you bite your lip, clenching your shirt in your hands preparing yourself for the rip.

jeonghan takes a deep breath before he rips the wax off like a bandaid.

“ow! fuck!” you curse out, your eyes shut tight.

he presses his hand down on the skin, muttering apologies over and over until you open your eyes.

—

"you did good, hannie!" you compliment him.

he puts the hand mirror down and helps you to slide on your underwear, his hands stop right in the middle of your thighs.

you turn your head to stare at him. "what're you doing?"

you angle your legs so you're able to look at him and you find him gawking at your bare pussy.

"can i take a picture?" he asks.

you lift your head up. "what? for what?" you knew this wasn't just going to be a waxing session with your boyfriend. he's been practically drooling staring at your pussy. you wouldn’t be surprised if the man had a boner right now.

"i should take pictures of my progress no?" his lips quirked.

you drop your head with pursed lips, waving him away with your hand. "hurry up." he grins taking off your underwear again.

he reaches for his phone before hurrying over back to you. he mumbles to himself, not being able to catch what he said. with his phone still in his hand he grabs your shins and pushes your legs towards your chest, from his view your lips are slightly pushed together and puffed out. this position is extremely lewd and embarrassing with him being the only one fully clothed. you're very open to trying out jeonghan's sexual fantasies. taking inappropriate photos is not something new between the both of you and with a rule that they only stay between you two.

"hold your legs in the air for me baby," he instructs.

you do as he says, your feet in the air and your freshly waxed pussy exposed.

he takes a couple shots before tossing his phone on the couch. "fuck you're so sexy." crawling over you to connect his lips with yours and before you're able to cup the back of his neck and pull him in for more, he pulls away giving you a hand to sit up.

"if i kiss you longer i will cum in my pants and i read that you can't have sex for 24 hours after a brazilian wax." he tells you, his lips curved downward in a pout.

you roll your eyes, quickly sliding your panties back on. "what a loss." you sigh dramatically.

he narrows his eyes at you. "no, i don't care for that you meanie." he defends himself, flicking your forehead but not too harsh.

"kidding."

he cups the side of your face, his nose grazing yours as he peers into your eyes. "tomorrow night, you're mine though. i need a review and rating on how i did.”