#something something beauty is supposed to benefit you as a woman and yet it just really doesnt because both dany and sansa are so lonely

[tweedfrog]

Both Dany and Sansa being children and yet being continuously described as beautiful and YET the only men who are explicitly "attracted" them outside of their titles are creepy fkn old men like Jorah and Petyr.........jail. hell even.

[kamiversee]

Sukuna’s Fuck Buddy ꨄ

[ { Synopsis } ] ➤ You agree to be friends with benefits with Sukuna, not exactly expecting to get ruined in different ways every week.

[ { Need to know } ] ➤ This is a What-If scenario that stems from my fic; The F*ck List— A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt.

[ { Content & Warning } ] ➤ f!reader, dirty talk, tw; spitting, degrading, manhandling, pet names, fingering, unprotected sex, language, brief/slight exhibitionism, & Sukuna has a filthy mouth.

[ { Paring } ] ➤ Sukuna x f!reader.

[ { Word Count } ] ➤ 4.2k

"A whore," Sukuna commented, clearly joking but his words had made you uneasy.

It was oddly specific. You hadn't thought much of it when he called you a whore the night prior, since, y'know, you liked being degraded. But, something about that being his assumption for your occupation was a crazy coincidence.

Especially considering how hellbent Gojo always is on telling you not to call yourself that. The more you thought about it...

Gojo got upset at something from Sukuna's party, he didn't want you to call yourself a whore all of a sudden, Sukuna seems to have believed that was your actual job, and you remember how pissed Gojo seemed as he thought about you sleeping with Sukuna-

Holy fuck. Are the two connected somehow? Is something going on? What does Gojo owe Sukuna? Does Sukuna know you only slept with him as payment to clear Gojo's debt? Is-

A finger had poked your forehead and you blinked out of your thoughts.

Sukuna was chuckling, "I was joking, woman. Calm down." He uttered, "I actually thought you worked at one of those beauty stores."

You raised a brow, still feeling uneasy with the man. "Beauty stores?"

"Sephora, Ulta," He shrugged, "Wherever the fuck. I pictured you being one of those cute little cashiers."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment...?" You murmured.

"Or working at McDonald's, I don't know, I didn't think too hard on it-- jus' wanted to fuck you," Sukuna admitted honestly.

Your expression drops, "Oh..."

His hand had gone to your chin and he tipped your face up, "Do you want me to want something more from you?"

His gaze was intense like always, causing chills to slip down your back. You shook your head, "I mean, no... I only wanted you to fuck me."

"We could keep doing this," Sukuna suggested with a shrug, "Make' it a weekly thing."

You batted your eyelashes at him a few times in thought. At the time, things definitely would've gone differently had you not answered his request but... Somewhere deep down inside, you wanted to make it a weekly thing.

"Really?" You had asked the man, taking him by slight surprise.

Sukuna had wholeheartedly expected you to disregard his suggestion to you but, you didn't. "Yes, really," He replied before stepping closer to his bedside where you were seated and leaning toward you, "Let's fuck every week."

You stared at him with wide eyes for a long moment, contemplating numerous things in your head. Technically, you should've said no. You should've moved on from the topic, y'know, brushed his offer off entirely.

Yet there you were, steadily nodding your head in agreement before uttering a simple, "Okay."

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

Which takes you to right now, a few weeks after said agreement where you find yourself in the backseat of one of Sukuna's cars, your legs sprawled out over his as you sit prettily in his lap.

Since agreeing to be friends with benefits with Sukuna, you and him have met up once a week, sometimes twice, just to fuck each other.

In Sukuna's right hand was his cell phone, the device up at his ear as he conversed with someone as if his free hand wasn't occupied with toying with your dripping cunt-- thick fingers fucking so deep into you and curling just right against your slick walls.

Your back was against his firm chest, lips parted with heavy pants and soft moans spilling from your throat as the lewd sound of Sukuna finger fucking you filled his vehicle.

Trying so hard not to be loud in courtesy of whoever he was on the phone with, you bit your lower lip, “Mmmh… Sukuna…” You mewl out gently.

He’s been at it for a while and you could even feel how hard his cock was against your ass, his tip leaking and member twitching beneath the fabric of his sweats every time you squirmed.

Sukuna sighs heavily and pulls the phone away from his mouth only to bring his lips to your ear, “Shut the fuck up. If she hears you, I’ll stop…” Pausing mid-sentence as your cunt squeezes tighter around his fingers, he smirks, “Slut.”

“P-Please… hah… don’t stop,” Your voice was filled with pure and utter need, just as he liked.

Sukuna angles his head down a bit, planting a soft and all too teasing kiss below your ear, his breath tickling your neck, “Then shut up.”

You’re nodding, closing your mouth, and swallowing down your own moans as he purposefully shoves his fingers into you at a rougher pace.

In and out and in and out, your pussy was gushing around his fingers— mouth opening and jaw dropping every now and then as he hit all the right spots.

“Fuck,” You curse under your breath as your torso leans forward and you shoot a hand down to grab his wrist.

Sukuna’s speaking to whoever he has on the phone but you only register a few words every now and then. “Mhmmmm,” He hummed and you swore that was directed toward you as your eyes flickered back— he knew you were close.

Sukuna’s fingers slid almost all the way out of your hole just to tease you, his fingertips slipping up to flick over your clit. A breathy moan leaves your lips as he rubs your clit aggressively, drawing circles over the bud and making your legs draw together.

“M’gonna cum,” You whine out quietly, struggling to keep your noises in.

He wanted to make things harder for you so he smirks, “Yeah?” Sukuna taunted, “Gonna’ make a mess? Hm?”

Your head just barely angled back to look at him, seeing that he didn’t bother to move the phone away or mute it so whoever he was talking to heard everything he just said. This overwhelming feeling of embarrassment and arousal shoots throughout your body and your face twists up in pleasure as Sukuna sinks his fingers back into you.

“No, not you,” He spat to whoever he was talking to on call, smirking at you afterward, “I told you I was busy when we first got on the phone…”

Your hips jerked forward a bit as you unintentionally moved to ride his fingers, panting and maintaining eye contact with the man. He nearly felt like he was getting high off of merely watching you grow so stupidly drunk in lust. 

“S’kuna…” You mumbled.

His cock ached in his sweats and he nodded, “Mhm, yeah, y’know what, I’ll call you back— I have a needy whore to take care of.”

You turned your head to face forward as he said that, once again feeling embarrassed and even squeezing your legs together a bit. The sound of Sukuna scoffing is heard and then his phone is, quite literally, tossed somewhere else.

He shifts and his now free hand goes to your hip as his other kneads into your pussy, making you dizzy in satisfaction as you continue trying to keep quiet.

“Look at you…” Sukuna taunts, “You’re about to cum, aren’t you?”

You nod stupidly, feeling the knot in your core build as your orgasm approaches, “Y-Yeah… fuck, please.”

“Hm? Please what?” He scoffs, as if he hadn’t had a tendency to strip you of your climax multiple times.

“Hah… Let me cum, p-please Sukuna,” Your voice was a needy but quiet whine and he bit his lower lip once he acknowledged you were still following his orders of being quiet.

Sukuna snickers, “Uhuh, I will,” He hums, “Jus’ keep squeezin’ around my fingers,” He leans forward so he could speak into your ear, low and rasped voice driving you over the edge, “Yeahhhh, like that— Fuckin’ whore.”

Your jaw drops and your mouth forms an immediate O shape as your eyes flicker, back arching, and whimper escaping your throat— you cum hard while still trying to be quiet, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you do so.

There’s a slick sound of Sukuna still toying with your cunt as you come undone and then he sits back, parting his legs a bit as you readjust into his lap and his fingers slip out of you.

Sukuna coos, “See? Was that so hard? Now here,” He moves one hand to your throat, forcing your back to be against his chest as his other hand goes to your lips, “Clean yourself off my fingers, messy girl.”

His digits that’d just been inside you prod at your lips, tapping your lower one before you part them and Sukuna pushes his fingers in. He was such a nasty man, forcing you to taste yourself and clean your slick off his fingers— you couldn’t stand him sometimes.

Not to mention how he teases you as he does so, “Taste good, right?” Sukuna asked.

You whirl your tongue around his fingers and then pull off them with a hard and firm suck, a slight pop emitting from the action, “Mhm…”

“Good,” Both of Sukuna’s hands go to your hips and he lifts you up. You hardly realize what he’s doing until he forces you to turn around and face him. Then, he makes sure you remain hovering over his crotch as he works his cock out of his sweats, his eyes on yours as if he were seconds away from devouring you.

Sukuna looked ravished for you, tired of the past minutes he spent on some tedious phone call when he could’ve been buried inches into your sloppy hole. His eyes were low-lidded, maroon shade dazed with this feral need for you.

Oh, he was about to fuck the shit out of you— as he typically does. You’d picked up on that much, how his eyes would change, his breathing grown heavier, voice low and pitched with this sexy rasp that made your cunt flutter.

“Do me a favor,” Sukuna suddenly voices out, making you blink out of your daze. Your hands were on his broad shoulders, keeping yourself hovered over him. “Sit on this dick ‘nd make another mess f’me,” He instructed, words causing you to look down at his hard, slightly curved cock that’s been freed from his clothes.

It’s so damn intimidating— the way his veins bulge, how his hand jerks at his shaft in quick pulls, tip sticky and leaking precum as you stare with pretty wide eyes.

Your legs were straddling his already so, after a moment of admiring his cock, your eyes flicked back up to his face. Sukuna was glaring at you, impatiently waiting for you to plop down onto his twitching member.

His gaze sent a chill down your spine and your body was finally moving again. You lower yourself steadily as you glance down again but because of how slow you were living and how needy Sukuna was, he goes to grab your hips and pulls your cunt down to his cock, tip pressing up against your hole.

Both of you let out a heavy exhale in sync and you rock your hips forward just a little bit to ride his flushed tip.

“Don’t fuckin’ tease me, woman,” Sukuna breathes out, voice more airy than he would’ve liked.

You smirk, “Sukuna…” Your gaze lifts to his face once more, “You’re drippin’.” You whisper tauntingly.

His brows tense and his cock suddenly pushes up a few inches into you, a shallow thrust made in reaction to your words. Sukuna’s dirty talk was rubbing off on you and it drove him crazy. The hands on your waist grip even tighter, sure to leave marks as his fingernails dig into you and he slams you down on his dick.

Your eyes widen, face twists up, and a sluty moan leaves your throat, “Oh fuck-,”

“Told’ you not to fuckin’ tease me,” Sukuna huffs out in an aggravated tone. His big rough hands slide up to your waist and he holds onto you tightly before forcing you to ride him at the pace he wanted.

You’re moving to keep up with his motions as best you can, using your legs to lift yourself up and then plop your cunt down on his cock over and over— sucking him in deep and tight each time you go down.

Meanwhile, Sukuna’s forcing you through it, making sure you don’t slow down for even a second. “Needy ass couldn’t even let me finish my phone call,” He grunts out, “Pussy just needed my cock, huh? She’s that greedy?”

Your cunt just flutters and gushes around his dick, walls closing around his shaft as a moan slips past your lips, “I… ah, oh-, fuuck… m’sorry.”

“Aw, you’re sorry?” Sukuna mocks, “No you’re nottt, you wanted me off the phone, didn’t you?”

You shake your head, “N-No…”

“No? Hah,” That smirk of his starts to appear and his hands slide down your body, caressing your skin as you ride him in earnest, “You wanted them to hear?”

Your hips stutter in movement and your eyes widen, “I-“

“Wanted them to hear how desperate you are for some cock?” Sukuna huffs out, hips suddenly snapping up into you, “How dumb you get once it’s in you? Hm?”

“F-Fuck, Sukuna-, ah, mghh.” You whine, hips coming to an almost complete stop as Sukuna fucks his cock up into you, heavy balls slapping against your ass as his tip rams up into your cervix.

To make matters worse, he slaps your ass, “Did I say you could stop? Keep fuckin’ ridin’ me.” Sukuna orders meanly, making you whine as you find your movement again, earning a smirk from him in response to how your hips match his thrusts.

There was this slight shake to his car as you bounced up and down on his cock and he kept fucking it up into you, making it hard for you to think or even moan properly.

 He smirks and then holds your hips again, slamming you down slowly but roughly along with his words, “Mmmgh, just. like. that.” Sukuna groans, tossing his head back and breathing heavily.

The sight of him with his head back and neck exposed was so damn sexy, causing you to lean forward and move to his neck, pressing sweet but messy kisses all up and down his exposed skin.

Sukuna starts smiling, “Good girl.” He suddenly praises and your hips begin to rock back and forth, making his brows tense, “Aughhh, fuuuck, keep goin’, m’close.”

Because you had slowed again, you’d assume that he enjoyed it so you continued with a steady rock of your hips, keeping his thick length buried inside you as you did so.

He lets you continue like that for a minute or two but after that, he huffs, “I said ride me, whore. Don’t fuckin’ slow down.” Sukuna grunted.

For someone who was taunting you about being needy, he sure as hell had a thousand demands on how you should be riding him— as if he doesn’t know his dick is hard to take at some point.

Your brows furrow and your lower lip sticks out into a slight pout, one he finds so fucking cute. Sukuna moves his hands to your thighs, somewhat under them to aid you, and then he’s forcing your pussy to slick up and down him again.

You let out a little scoff before looking off to the side, “Shit…” Sukuna was thrusting up into you again, bullying his cock into your dripping cunt and forcing you to ride him through it.

“C’mon,” He smirks, “Take it—, fuck me.” He suddenly breathes out.

A shocked moan exits your mouth and your eyes are glossy as they find his, “W-What? Mmh…” You breathe. Did he just say what you thought he did?

“You heard me,” Sukuna’s smirk widens and slowly eases into a sexy almost fucked out smile “I said fuck me. Fuck me like you wanna make me cum,” He huffs, your body responding through upping your pace, “Yeahhhh that’s it.” Sukuna breathes, head flying back again.

The car creaked and bounced with the frantic movements of sex occurring inside, windows fogged, your tits jumping almost in his face, plush walls clamping down on his dick so good that he felt like he was losing his sanity.

Oh Sukuna was addicted. He can’t have any other woman on his cock that’s not you, not when you ride him so well and certainly not when your hand is abruptly felt on his throat.

Sukuna lets out a groan that’s treacherously close to a moan, his head tipping up from the seat as his eyes find yours, “Oh? You kinky fuckin’ woman, chokin’ me like this…” He grunts, smiling again afterward, “Can hardly feel those small fingers of yours…”

Truth is, he could feel your fingers. Blood rushed to Sukuna’s face and his cock, his mind dazed for a second as you choked him whilst riding him. He would never submit to you but goddamn you were making it difficult.

Your hole just sucked him up like a vice and your walls were so snug and warm, wetness coating his dick and even parts of his thighs. He was about to cum but he didn’t want you to think you’d got the best of him.

So, Sukuna tips his head to the side and brings a hand to your wrist, “This is cute but,” He pulls your hand off his neck, “Lemme show you how it’s done, pretty girl.”

Your lashes bat in disbelief before Sukuna’s manhandling you again, flipping you both over as his large muscular frame looms over yours. His big hands go to your legs and he spreads them fast and wide enough so that he can slam his cock back inside you.

Your back is arching off the seat of the car as soon as he pushes all the way into you, the sudden change in position making his leaky tip reach deeper than before.

One hand is propped up by your head and the other goes to your throat, Sukuna’s fingers carefully wrapping around you and feeling the way broken moans vibrate against your throat.

“Mmph… ah, ‘kuna,” You slur out as his thrusts pick up all over again. Something is mumbled under your breath and he finds it funny how you could barely get it out.

Tilting his head, “Huh? What was that? Speak up.”

You groan, “Harder,” His eyes widen and his hips just ram down into you at a merciless pace before you get out what you meant, “Choke m-me… mmh, f-fuck… h-harder, oh my… ahh, ngh…”

“Harder? You want me to choke you harder?” Sukuna repeats and you nod, earning a slight laugh from him, “Of course you do, slut.” As the last word leaves his lips, his hand is squeezing around your throat, making it hard for you to breathe while he recklessly pounds into your cunt.

“M-Mmmh,” You hum, eyes rolling back as that damn curve of his knocks into you just right, “F-Fuck. Ohmygod, f-fuuck…” You curse between a whine.

His face is hovering over yours, “Feel me in there?” You nod and he bites his lip for a moment, “Yeah?”

Sukuna just thrusts harsher and harsher, and then faster, pelvis crashing into yours over and over as the lewd sounds of sex escape his car with how sloppy it was getting. His cock was covered in you but only greedy for more, plunging in and out of you as he groans at the way you just suck him back in every time he pulls out.

“Want me to slow down?” Sukuna suddenly suggests. Again, you just nod, almost too fucked out to speak anymore. “Awww, but you’re takin’ me jus’ fine at this pace,” He praises, making your cunt throb about him.

“S’too… y-you’re so… hahh… mgh, f-fucking big-,” You moan out weakly.

Those words make his thrusts stutter and he grunts, “What? I’m what?” Sukuna questions, almost like he needed to hear you say that again. His face leans down to yours and his lips ghost your wet ones, “What am I? Say that again.” He whispers.

Your heavy breaths brush up against his lips as both of you hold such intimate eye contact with one another, “B-Big, S’kuna… S-So fuckin’ big…” You cry out, gentle tears beginning to leave your eyes.

The man unintentionally beats his cock down into your messy cunt, “Big? Ohhhh, don’t fuckin’ tell me that.” Sukuna groans, again sounding all too close to a moan, “Take it.” He huffs.

You nod yet again, “Uhuh… m-mmh, oh…”

“Yeahhh, take it you whore.” Sukuna huffed, “Every fuckin’ inch like a good girl, mhm-, fuck,” He finally moaned, eyes flickering for only a moment.

He was too into it, too into you— literally. Sukuna felt like he was in your stomach, the bulge of his cock so prominent with his every thrust. Never was he really gentle with you, not during the sex at least, there was no need to be. You liked him rough and he knew that.

“M’gonna cum inside you.” Sukuna suddenly warns, hips sloppy against you, “Fuck my cum nice ‘nd deep inside you,” He huffs, feeling how you twitch around him.

Then, Sukuna stares down at your face, his hand still around your neck as he gets a sudden thought, glancing down to your lips.

“Open your mouth,” Sukuna orders, his voice deep. Your lips are parting without a second thought and Sukuna looks you dead in the eyes as he spits onto your tongue. First, it’s one messy drip, then another filthy glob.

Oh that was nasty, he was nasty. And the fact that his action only turned you on even more really said something about you.

“Swallow it,” He demands right after, watching as you shut your mouth and do as told. Then, he feels the movement in your throat against his palm and he chuckles, “Fuck, that’s sexy… You’re such a nasty lil’ slut f’me, I like that.”

Sukuna leans down to you and the grip on your throat grows tighter, his lips moving to swallow yours up. It was a messy and heated kiss, your moans and whimpers being drowned out as his tongue slithered into your mouth.

The wet slick and slide of his mouth over yours filled the air and all you could hear was that and the brutal smack of his hips down into you as his cock unforgivingly kissed your cervix. Over and over and over again until your orgasm crashes over you.

Only then does Sukuna pull away from your lips, a messy wad of saliva hanging between the two of you as he speaks slowly and his voice makes you lose it because of that damn breathy rasp, “Pussy’s creaming ‘round me, shit.” He breathes out, slowing down his thrusts just so you can pay attention to it, “Hear that? Hear how she gushes ‘round my cock?”

It was messy, sloppy, and slick as he dragged his dick in and out of your pulsing walls. This is what it was like to be Sukuna’s fuck buddy. Whenever or wherever he wanted to take you, he would— spewing such filth out to you as he did so, no matter who heard him.

He didn’t care, he just wanted to make sure you heard him, heard his every nasty word because he knew you liked it. Hell, that’s why you’re cumming around his cock now, moaning beneath him, legs shaking, and tears streaming down your face.

Just as you’re coming undone, so is he, pace picking right back up as he fucks his orgasm into you— warm seed coating your walls as he leaned to your ear, groaning out a repeated and breathy ‘take it’ as you whined and suddenly clawed at his back.

“Take every drop,” Sukuna moans into your ear. You think he might have a breeding kink-, “Fuckin’ slut,” He adds on.

He’s going and going until he thrusts in hard one last time and stills himself. His breathing was so heavy in your ear, heavy like pants almost-, almost like you’d drained him of everything he had.

Sukuna remains still for a while before he shifts only a little, lips moving to your cheek as he kisses your wet skin. Then, it’s slow but his tongue slides out and he licks whatever's left of your tears off your face.

Your face twists up in slight discomfort due to his wet tongue and the fact that his heavy cock was still inside you wasn’t making things any better, “…Sukuna,” You sigh, “D-Don’t you have a phone call t-to return…?”

He smiles at how you remind him, despite your fucked out state and how ragged your voice was. Sukuna slowly moves to lean up but, he doesn’t pull out yet, “Mhm, I do. And uh,” He sits back a bit and pulls your body along with his, making sure he never once slips out of you, “You’re gonna keep my cock nice ‘nd warm in the meantime.”

His words catch you off gaurd, “But-“

His hand goes to your lower abdomen and Sukuna traces his fingertip over the slight print his dick makes against your skin, “You don’t want to?” He asks, tipping his head to the side.

Blinking, you just let out a sigh after a long moment of thought, “No, I do…”

“Alright then,” Sukuna smiles, “But if you make any noise, I’ll video call instead and show them the needy woman I gotta deal with,” He comments finally with a cocky little wink.

tags;

@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx

[pearlessance]

Our Little Secret [part two]

[PART ONE]

Summary - Joel Miller has commited an act of sin with the girl next door and seeks out penance.

Pairing - dbf!Joel Miller/Reader

Warnings - explicit sexual content MDNI, angst, infidelity (not against reader or Joel), heavy on the breeding kink towards the end, jealousy, oral sex, unprotected sex

[crossposted on AO3]

Joel’s fears return with the sun and are amplified tenfold when he wakes up alone. 

You must have come to your senses, he thinks. Must have finally seen him for the terrible man he truly is and escaped while you still could. Like fleeing from a predator's clutches; because that’s what he was, wasn’t it? A predator? A man who exploits young girls for his own benefit, who takes advantage of them in an act of personal desire. His stomach turns. 

Except that isn’t the whole truth. It isn’t the plural form of girls, it’s just one. Just you. You, who he wants to nurture, to protect, to take care of in the way a man is supposed to take care of a woman. You, who entices him with short skirts and soft touches and tempting words about keeping you all to himself. They must have been words said in the afterglow of sex, Joel tells himself. They didn’t mean anything. Right? Endorphins were high because all of that long laid, pent up sexual tension finally came to fruition. But it was over now, and Joel was alone. Again. 

The abrupt shattering of glass slashes through his bleak thoughts. He wrenches himself out of bed, takes the stairs two at a time, and stops in the kitchen. 

You’re still here, and Joel can breathe a little easier, but there’s glass at your bare feet, and that’s a problem. “Don’t move,” he says. He turns to grab the broom, but out of the corner of his eye he sees movement and repeats a little harsher this time, “Don’t. Move.”

“I wanted to bring you breakfast in bed,” you say, your lips pushed out into the cutest little pout. 

He sweeps the glass away from you, careful to get every last piece, and dumps the shards into the trash can. It’s only then, when he knows for certain the risk of harm has well and truly passed and he’s the only threat to you left in the room, that Joel can appreciate the sight before him. There’s a heaping plate full of pancakes on the counter, a mug of steaming coffee, and the orange juice carton, unopened, is sitting beside two forks. The pancake on the top of the stack has chocolate chips in it. 

Maybe its because he never thought you’d actually do it, or maybe it’s because of the grim mood he’d just been in, but Joel finds himself feeling appreciative for more than just breakfast. It reminds him of that morning all those years ago, when you’d been in his kitchen wearing his flannel. He wonders if you still have it, if you still wear it, if you still put it on and think of him late at night. You’re wearing something new this time. It’s just an old, faded t-shirt Joel had forgotten about at the back of his closet, one he hadn’t worn in years. It swallows you up. It’s long enough to cover all of your most intimate parts, and yet somehow you still make it look sexy and erotic and slutty.

He knows it's wrong. He knows its a terrible, awful idea…but it’s the next morning and you’re still here and Joel just cant’t help himself. He smiles softly at you. “It’s okay,” he promises. He closes the distance between you, crowding you against the counter. He puts his hands on your hips and you look up at him with parted lips. “I won’t make it back upstairs anyway. I’m too hungry.”

You put your hands on his bare chest, delicate, red painted nails scratching softly against his skin. “Is that right?”

Joel nods, and decides to soak up the moment. Your hair is tangled around your shoulders, and you smell like him, and your makeup is smeared around your eyes, and he thinks you’re beautiful. He never wants to forget the way you look right now, in his clothes, in his kitchen, in his hands. He can’t help himself from leaning his head against your shoulder and kissing the juncture of your collar bone. He can’t help himself from tasting you, from using his teeth, from leaving a bruise to make certain he’s in your head for a few more days. He wants the sound of your breathy moan embedded in his fucking brain, wants it stamped in his skin. “Yes,” he answers, lifting you up with his big arms around your waist and setting you on the counter. “I’m starving, actually.”

Starved is such a perfect term for it, he thinks. Because Joel lowers himself to his knees before you, and his mouth waters like he hasn’t eaten in days. He massages the supple flesh of your thighs, presses his mouth to the inside, and leaves marks there, too. He has suffered for so, so long without you. And if you come to your senses, he wants you to think of him every time you look in a mirror. 

He wants you to think of him and the way he makes you feel, wants you to think of the way your legs part for him on instinct, like your body knows him. If you come to your senses, Joel wants you to remember for the rest of your fucking life how it feels to have his tongue inside of you, to have your clit between his lips, to have your hands in his hair. 

He wants you to remember what it’s like to grind your pretty pussy on his face, what it’s like to have his fingers inside of you, what it’s like to shake and tremble at his touch and whine when he pulls away moments before you cum. He wants you to remember the lingering taste of yourself in his mouth when he kisses you, wants you to remember how fucking perfect it feels when he pulls his cock out of his sweatpants and buries it deep inside you. You like it when he pushes in so far there’s no telling where you end and he begins, Joel knows. You make the prettiest sounds, and your hands grip his shoulders a little tighter. You’re so needy for him it’s unreal, so reactive, so perfect. He wants you to remember what it feels like when he kisses you with all the love he has left in him, hoping you can hear the words in his movements. He wants you to remember what it feels like to cum on his cock and leave a mess on the counter.

Joel wants you to remember what it’s like to be so desperate for him you call out for God.

When the two of you finally get around to eating the breakfast you spent all morning making, the pancakes are cold and the coffee is tepid. Joel wonders why it’s still the best cup he’s ever had.

After breakfast, your cell phone buzzes. It’s a voicemail from campus housing, and Joel realizes you can’t stay here in his kitchen forever. You help him clean up the dishes, and the counter where he made a mess of you, and then you abandon his old, faded t-shirt and pull your dress back on. He helps you find your shoes (and conveniently fails to mention the pink panties still stuck between the couch cushions. Joel is a terrible, sordid man, and stealing a bit of lace is the least of his recent transgressions). You pick up the Evil Dead DVD, and start to leave. 

But just as your fingers touch the handle, the door is swinging open and Sarah is standing in the threshold.

Joel doesn’t know what to do. His heart is stuck in his throat, and he sort of feels like a kid again, being caught by Tommy while sneaking back in through his window. He doesn’t know how to explain, doesn’t know where to begin, is terrified his daughter will begin to see him differently, or— 

“Perfect timing,” you say, and Joel is more confused than he’s ever been in his life. “Here.” You hand the DVD to Sarah, who’s face splits into a grin the moment she reads the title. “I have to head back to campus today, but wanted to give this to you before I go. Figured you’d get more use out of it than I would.”

“Oh, fuck yeah!”

“Language,” Joel chastises. 

You and Sarah both turn your heads to him simultaneously, and shoot him mirrored dismissive looks. Joel knows his only child is older now, growing into a young woman with a colorful vocabulary, but that doesn’t mean he wants to hear it.

Sarah turns to you, cheery demeanor falling away. “I wish you could stay,” she says. “I miss having you around.”

Joel does too, but he keeps his mouth sealed firmly shut. 

When you’re gone, he feels empty. He falls back into his normal routine of work and beer and pool, and you leave town to finish up your school year, and the only time he ever hears about you is when your dad drinks a couple too many and talks about you over the football game on TV. Joel hears about how you finish your junior year of college, still with those straight A's, and he feels the need to express how proud he is of you. Because he really, really is…but it’s your dad’s job to gush about what an extraordinary woman you’ve become. Not Joel’s. So, he keeps his mouth shut about that, too. 

He thinks about the saying distance makes the heart grow fonder, and thinks it’s such bullshit. Because the longer you’re away, the more he realizes how stupid he’s been. How dispicable and sleazy he’s been, how he could have potentially fucked up not only his relationship with his very best friend but with his own daughter, too. You deserve more than what he can offer, Joel knows. You deserve someone to experience being a young adult with, someone who you can relate to, someone who can take care of you for the rest of your life. You deserve someone better than Joel, and even though it hurts to admit, he does it. Distance has made his heart grow smarter.

Sarah graduates, and you stay in town for only two days to attend her graduation party. Your dad offers to host the celebration in his backyard, and Joel reminisces about your graduation party. He remembers how pretty you looked, how happy you were that day. And when you come back to town to celebrate his daughter, he loves that you’re still so bubbly and airy and carefree. He loves that you spend an entire day with Sarah picking out decorations and hanging up streamers and ordering cupcakes and making a poster board filled with Sarah’s favorite pictures.

During the party, you’re leaning your shoulder against the fence, red solo cup in hand, talking to Tommy. You’re wearing a black skirt that’s too short, too tight, and you have a pretty pink blouse tucked into it. When you cross one leg casually over the other, Joel realizes you have a run in your sheer, black tights. How did that get there, he wonders? He wonders too, why you’re giggling like that when Tommy just isn’t that fucking funny. 

Joel crosses the yard and twists off the top of his beer. “You two enjoying yourselves?”

“Yeah! It’s been a great turn out, and she seems happy,” you say, nodding to Sarah on the other side of the yard. She’s talking to a group of girls in her class.

“You did great with her yesterday, you know,” Tommy tells you. “You’d be a great mom. When’s it your turn to have babies?”

“Oh, God,” you say. Joel hears the echo of a very, very different sounding ‘oh, god,’ and takes a hefty sip of beer. “Probably not anytime soon.”

“No? Why not? Finish college first, of course, but after that?”

You only have one year left of school. There’s no rush. Why is his brother so interested in your contribution to procreation, anyway? It’s fucking weird, Joel thinks. 

“Maybe one day. I’d have to find the right man first,” you say. “You know, do it real traditional.”

“Any prospects lined up?”

“Christ, Tommy,” Joel sneers. “Leave the poor girl alone, would you?” He has no room to talk, Joel knows…but he can’t help himself. Not around you, anyway. His self control goes out of the window. 

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “And…no. No prospects.”

Tommy shakes his head in disbelief. “Now I know you’ve got all those big city boys up there waiting on you to give them a little attention. A girl like you?” He sucks in an exaggerated breath. “You’d get scooped up real fast.”

“That’s the problem though, isn’t it,” you say dismally. “They’re all boys. I said I want a man.” 

Joel can’t believe the words he’s hearing. Can’t believe how you could be so obvious, but how Tommy could still manage to look completely oblivious. He’s relieved when Sarah steals you away to introduce you to a friend. 

Joel helps your dad prepare the grill, and they talk about how crazy it is that both of their girls are grown up now. They talk about how old they’re getting, and how fast time flies, but Joel can’t pay attention because he can feel you. Can sense when you steal a glance at him from across the yard, because goosebumps break out across the back of his neck. He watches you disappear into the house, and excuses himself to follow you. 

He shouldn’t. Joel knows this. But, Christ, is he bad at following his instincts. He finds you on the tips of your toes, hands in the liquor cabinet, and wants to laugh at the irony. History repeats itself, it seems. He stands behind you with a hand on your hip and reaches for the half empty bottle of tequila. He sets it on the counter and when you don’t even turn to look at him he says indignantly, “You’re welcome.”

You wiggle the cork free and take a swig straight from the bottle. “You want me to thank you? For what, exactly?”

Truthfully, Joel doesn’t understand your bad attitude. He doesn’t understand why you’re so happy and bubbly to everyone else, but for some reason seem so… dissapointed with him. Joel might be a pervert when it comes to you, but he’s never, ever done anything you didn’t ask him for first. And it’s not fair, he thinks, that you get whatever you want. You get to go off to college and fuck boys that leave you unsatisfied. Because Joel knows Tommy was right — he knows they’re lined the fuck up for you. He’s not stupid. You get to leave him, and live your life, while Joel is forced to stay right where he is and think of you. You, you, you, all the fucking time. It’s not fair. If anyone should be angry, it’s him. “Oh, I dont know,” he says sarcastically. “Maybe for keeping all of your secrets.”

You turn to face him and lean your back against the counter. You’re in the same exact spot you were the first time you kissed his cheek, except this time you’re narrowing your eyes at him instead. “They’re your secrets now, Joel,” you tell him. “Not mine.”

“How are they not yours?”

“Because I don’t give a shit if the whole world knows them,” you say. “I don’t care if everyone here finds out what a slut I am. I don’t care if my dad finds out I fucked his best friend. But you do. Which makes them your secrets.” 

He doesn’t understand. “Are you saying you want him to find out?” The thought alone chokes him with anxiety. It would change everything — everything. No one would ever look at him the same. His perversion would be loudly on display. “Are you insane?”

“No, Joel,” you say. “I’m not insane. I just don’t lie to myself.”

“I don’t—”

“Then tell me right now you don’t want to be with me.” 

He’s in way over his head, Joel thinks. He doesn’t know how to navigate this, doesn’t know how to explain to you that it has nothing to do with what he wants and everything to do with what he is. He can’t lie, not to you, so he says nothing. Not yes or no, just nothing.

It’s answer enough, though, and when you speak again your voice is a whisper, a breath of life into a brand new secret. “You can have me,” you say. “I want to be yours. I think I always have been. Please, Joel… please.”

He hates the way you sound. He wants to fix it, but doesn’t know how. So, he does what he’s good at, he does what he knows makes you feel good. Joel kisses you hard, and savors the taste of cherry because something tells him this might be the last time. Your mouth opens, and your tongue is so soft against his, and he can’t get enough. Does it make him a bad person to want you so badly? Twenty-one-almost-twenty-two is a fair bit of life lived, isn’t it? Maybe it could work. Maybe he wouldn’t drag you down or keep you in Texas when you’re meant for far bigger things.

Joel slips his hand between your thighs and lets out a ragged moan when he realizes that you’re wearing nothing beneath your skirt. It’s just the nylon fabric of your tights, and he can feel the wetness gathering, can taste you on the tip of his tongue like a word he can’t quite remember. Joel wants a refresher. “Fuck, baby,” he sighs, forehead resting against yours. “I need you to be real quiet for me, okay? Can you do that?”

You nod frantically, and Joel gets on his knees. He pushes the fabric of your skirt up your legs and it bunches around your hips. He rips the nylon tights apart, giving him a perfect, unobstructed view of your pussy, shiny with desire. Desire he created, desire that belongs to him and him alone. Pride fills him when he thinks about it for too long. 

He doesn’t waste a second. Joel worships you like a man starved, and wonders if he’ll ever be satisfied. Wonders if he’ll ever get his fill of the sweetness between your thighs, wonders if he’ll ever tire of hearing you whimper. He licks at your clit, leaving no part of you untouched, and his cock strains in the confines of his jeans. Just tasting you has him teetering on the edge of release, but he wants this to be about you. He wants to show you how much you mean to him, wants you to know that just because he can’t be with you doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be. He slips two fingers into you and curls them upward, and you have to cover your mouth with your hand because you promised to be quiet. 

Joel makes you cum in his mouth, and feels like maybe his place in the world is right fucking here, on his knees for you, because its the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. Better than cherry, he thinks. But not as good as it feels to be inside of you. 

He turns you around and shoves your chest down against the counter. As he unbuckles his belt, he presses a kiss to your spine and says, “You want a real man, is that right?”

“Yes,” you sigh, “Yes. I want you.”

Joel slides the tip of his cock through your slick, lips turning up at the corners as you roll your hips back towards him. “I know you do, sweetheart,” he says. “Slutty girls need a little bit more, don’t they?”

You nod, a desperate whine coming from your chest. “Yes, yes—please, Joel, please.”

His name in your mouth is the end of his restraint. He eases into you, memorizing how it feels to stretch you out, memorizing how tight your pussy is, how fucking perfect it feels wrapped around him. Joel kisses your cheek softly and buries himself inside of you completely. “I want you to think about me,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, hips rolling against yours slowly. “When you go back to school and do this with all those other boys, I want you to think about me.”

He pulls out at an agaonizingly slow pace, and slams into you without warning. Your hand over your mouth barely muffles the sound. “Fuck.”

“They can’t make you feel like this, can they, baby?”

“Mm’no,” you answer, and Joel rewards you with another hard, deep stroke. “Just you, Joel, just you, just you, just you.”

It’s a prayer, he knows. He can feel the devotion in your words, and the piety makes him ache. Is this how it’s supposed to be? Is it supposed to feel like this? Like pain, like loss, like finality? Like intensity, like consumption, like religion? Joel wants to say it. He wants to say it so fucking bad. He says something disgusting instead. “This pussy was made for me, you understand?” He reaches beneath you, and his fingers swipe over your clit, and your legs start to shake. “It’s all me, pretty girl. It’s all fucking mine.”

You clench around him, and he has to hold you up to keep you from falling. Your eyes are squeezed tightly shut, and Joel wants to stay inside of you forever. “Yours,” you say softly. ��I’m yours, Joel.”

Oh, how pretty you sound, he thinks. He’s going to miss this. He’s going to miss you so fucking bad. And because he may never get another chance to say it, Joel decides to make one more really fucked up, awful decision. 

He decides to tell the truth. 

When he spills his cum inside of you, he buries himself as deep as he can. He kisses your forehead and murmurs, “I love you, baby.”

He feels lighter, now that the words are no longer trapped in his chest cavity. You don’t say anything, and he’s not sure what that means, but Joel knows it’s not smart to stay like this. So he pulls out of you, tucks himself back into his jeans, and fixes your skirt.

The door flys open, and Joel is absolutely fucking mortified to see your father and Tommy walk into the kitchen. 

You uncork the tequila and raise the bottle to the air, cheeks flushed but easily passable as a buzz. “To growing up,” you say proudly. You take a swig and gimace at the taste.

Joel pulls the whiskey from the cupboard and pours shots for himself, your dad, and Tommy. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you pulling at the ends of your skirt, barely covering the rip in your tights. 

“To graduations,” your dad says. “Sarah’s today, and another one of yours next year.” He tilts the shot glass toward you before tossing the liquid back. 

Tommy raises his glass. “To hopefully getting little nieces or nephews soon!” 

Joel thinks his brother is drunk on shitty beer. Joel also thinks about his cum between your legs. He raises his glass. “To getting old,” he says, though he’s not particularly happy about it. The whiskey feels good going down. It acts as a buffer to shield him temporarily against the truth that gnaws at his psyche; he’s going to lose you. 

Sarah decides to attend college at the same university as you, and Joel can’t help but be a little nervous. It’s your senior year, and Sarah’s only a freshman, and Joel knows she’s going to cling to you, and you’re going to let her, and he isn’t sure how he feels about Sarah hanging out with people older than her. 

It turns out okay, from what he can tell, though. It’s weird to have an empty home, but he fills his time with work and helping your dad renovate your house. Joel doesn’t hear from you. Even when you visit during Christmas break, you barely manage to look at him. He doesn’t force the conversation, either. He knows it’s for the best. And that deep, aching feeling in his chest is just something he’ll have to find a way to get over. 

Sarah drones on and on about how much she loves college, about how many friends she has, about how you’re tutoring her in English and how thankful she is when you help get her a job as a barista.

And when the holiday is over, you’re standing outside beside your car, saying goodbye to your dad while Sarah hugs Tommy beside you. Joel approaches, holds his daughter tight, and reminds her to let him know if she needs anything. 

There’s a weird, uncomfortable moment when your eyes meet for the first time all week. It would be weird if he didn’t say goodbye to you, wouldn’t it? It would prompt questions from both Tommy and your father, because the two of you had once been so close. 

You move first. You plaster an awkward smile on your face and wrap your arms around his neck. Joel’s shoulders relax for the first time in months. 

It feels so right to hold you, as easy and painless as breathing. He puts his hands on the small of your back, and his fingers twitch with the urge to slide them down and grab a fistful of your ass. Instead, he holds you tightly and relishes in the feeling of your head on his chest. He lays his cheek against your hair and breathes the sweet scent of vanilla deep into his lungs. “You too,” he says. “Call if you need anything, alright? Anything at all.”

You nod and pull away, and Joel wonders if you know how much he means it. A single phone call and he’d be on the other side of Texas in an hour, because that’s what you mean to him. You’re not his, but he wants to love you like you are.

And he’s given the chance to prove himself just a few short days later. 

He’s watching the soft flakes of snow fall from the sky through his bedroom window when Joel’s phone rings. It’s an unknown number, which he’d normally ignore and block in the morning, but something tells him to answer it. Just this once. So he does, and he’s getting ready to tell the telemarketer to fuck off, but then he hears your voice. 

“Joel? Are you there?”

“What’s wrong?”

You sniffle, and he’s throwing the blanket back and searching for his jeans on the floor. “Nothing,” you say. “It’s…it’s nothing. I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“If it’s nothing, then why are you crying? And why are you calling from an unknown number?”

“My phone’s dead,” you explain. “There’s, uhm—there’s a pay phone outside of my dorm. I didn’t want to wait for my phone to charge.”

Something is off, Joel can feel it in his bones. He holds his phone with his shoulder and pulls on his leather boots. “Talk to me,” he says. 

“Actually, I—I’m sorry. It’s late. This is stupid. I don’t know why I called. I’m sorry. Have a good night, Jo—”

“Baby,” he interrupts. “Baby, baby—don’t hang up. Talk to me. Please talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it, yeah? Tell me.”

You don’t say anything, but Joel can hear you breathing on the other end of the phone, can hear you teetering on the edge of a decision you’ve spent a lot of time thinking about. He understands. He really, really does.

Finally, you sigh heavily and say, “You told me you loved me Joel. You said…you said that and then you just let me leave. You just—you—you…God!”

The hands of guilt wind themselves around his neck and squeeze as realization hits. He is the reason you’re upset, the reason you’re crying, the reason you’re hurting. He hates it more than he’s ever hated anything in his life.

He doesn’t speak. He lets you get it all out, lets you purge your anger and disdain, your disappointment. It’s all rightfully placed, Joel thinks. “You asshole! Why would you do that? How could you say that and then go back to acting like it changed nothing? I’ve tried to get past it but I can’t, Joel! You never should have let me leave or—or you never should have said it if you didn’t mean it! It’s just—I don’t…it hurts! It’s mean! You’re being so—!” 

“I’m sorry,” he interrupts. Rightfully placed or not, he’s not strong enough to hear the sorrow in your voice, not strong enough to hate himself more than he already does. “I’m sorry,” he repeats. He’s not apologizing for it. Joel’s not sorry at all for that overwhelming feeling you elicit in his chest. He’s only sorry he said it, sorry it’s caused you so much pain. If he’d known it would hurt you this much, he would’ve swallowed those words and kept them locked up for the remainder of his life.

“I don’t want you to be sorry,” you say. “I want you to say it again and mean it this time.”

Joel doesn’t understand. It’s cruel, isn’t it, to ask him to do something knowing it will hurt you? He can’t. He’s already done enough damage. He can’t.

“Please,” you whisper. “Please, Joel.”

He runs an exasperated hand down his face, and pressure builds behind his eyes. He can’t. He can’t. How is he supposed to live with himself? How is he supposed to hurt you, this little girl whose life has been made miserable because he couldn’t resist your temptation? 

Joel knows he loves you. And he thinks you know it, too. But saying it opens a wound better off sealed, and he wants to watch you flourish. He wants to watch you become your own person, wants to watch you live a full, satisfied life. And you can’t do that with him. He doesn’t think it’s possible. 

You let out a breath. “It’s snowing,” you say, voice thick with emotion. “It’s beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, he wants to say. Instead he says, “You deserve someone better.”

“I don’t want someone be—”

“You deserve someone you can relate to, someone you can grow old with.”

“I can grow old with you, J—”

“I’m already old, god dammit. Listen to me. You deserve something that doesn’t hurt,” he interrupts. “You deserve someone who’s good to you, someone your own age who doesn’t make you cry in the middle of the night. You deserve—”

“I don’t care about any of that, okay? All I’ve ever wanted was you.”

You’re making this impossible, he thinks. He drags a hand down his face. The forbidden fruit is in his hands, begging him to take a bite, and he nearly does it. He opens his mouth to say it, to damn all of the consequences and succumb to whatever hellish fate awaits him in the afterlife all to have you for himself, and then—

“Please insert twenty-five cents for an additional three minutes.”

“I have to go,” you say, voice cracking. “I guess I only wanted to say that I love you more, Joel Miller. Because I would have never let you walk away.”

The line goes dead, and Joel’s sitting there in complete silence with one boot laced, and for the first time in all his life he feels himself swell with grief. The loss is so heavy, so final—and he can’t breathe. His lungs are filling up with all the words left unsaid, and he’s afraid that if he digs out the roots you’ve grown in his chest that nothing will ever feel quite the same again.

The pain is there, and it’s smothering, but if not the pain then what else would he have left of you? 

He doesn’t sleep that night. Or the night after that, or the one after that. It takes less than a week of canceling plans and insisting he just has a cold before Tommy is pulling into the driveway and slamming his fists against the door, demanding to know what the hell is going on. 

Joel tells him. Over six shots of whiskey and a panic attack, he confesses all of his sins at the kitchen table to his little brother. He expects Tommy to be angry, or disgusted—but he isn’t even surprised. He says, “Well, shit, Joel,” and runs his hands through his hair. “Now what are you going to do?”

A million dollar question, it seems. He wants to drive up to that big university of yours and knock on every door until he finds your dorm room. He wants to exhale all those words trapped inside his chest cavity and keep you for himself like he’s always wanted. But that’s such a selfish thing to do, Joel thinks. It’s not what’s best for you, or him, or anyone. 

So he does nothing. Even on his fortieth birthday, when he gets a text message that reads Happy Birthday. I still love you more. He doesn’t reply, because he doesn’t know what to say. 

Well, that’s not entirely true—he knows exactly what he wants to say, but chooses to say nothing because if he does it would change his life, your life, the lives of those around you. So Joel suffers in silence and dreams of you instead, repeating the same old habits. 

You and Sarah come home for spring break together. And a boy your age gets out of the passenger seat. You introduce him to your dad, and Joel doesn’t catch his name but doesn’t really want to know, anyway. 

He tries to swallow the anger in his chest. He can’t expect you to live an empty life that mirrors his. That’s not what he wants for you. The whole point of his avoidance was to make sure you were able to live fully, happily, with someone your own age. Even though his brain is calm enough to rationalize this, it doesn’t change the fact that Joel thinks the boy is a terrible match for you. 

Joel’s helping your dad renovate the kitchen, and he’s waited a month so he could get your opinion on a couple things. At the hardware store, the four— five —of you are debating between three different backsplashes. Joel and Sarah stand a foot behind, watching the scene unfold. 

Your dad has a single white, porcelain tile in his hand. “It’s nice and bright,” he says. 

“But you painted the cabinets white,” you argue, holding up the sage green ceramic piece. “Change it up a little. The green would look better, I swear.”

The boy at your side holds a piece of sand colored masonry, and says, “You’re crazy. White on white is no good but neither is green. What is this, a soup kitchen?”

From a contractor’s standpoint, Joel agrees that the  warm toned green would look far better than the cool toned masonry—but it’s not his place for input. He’s only here to help haul the tiles home and grab the tools they need. And even though the way your little boyfriend speaks to you grates against his nerves, Joel says nothing. 

Your dad ends up going with the masonry, calling it a happy medium, but Joel can tell that you're the least happy out of the three. He doesn’t mention it.

Everyone decides on pizza for dinner, and Joel teaches Sarah how to grout tile, and for a single moment everything feels good and normal. Tommy comes over to help with the project, and you’re laughing at something he’s saying with your hands covered in masonry dust, and you seem content—but then your eyes meet from across the room, and Joel feels the Earth tilt on its axis. 

Your smile falters, and your jaw feathers, and you quickly look away but not before he catches the flash of hurt in your pretty eyes. It makes him feel nauseous. Joel abandons his tools and heads for the front door. Sarah asks if he’s alright, and he says he just needs some fresh air. 

Joel can feel the panic attack coming from a mile away. His palms begin to perspire, his chest constricts, he can’t suck in air fast enough. He reminds himself that you’re here—here, and safe, and happy if not for him. You’re fine. Even if he’s not, you are and that’s all that matters. That thought combined with the cold night air helps a little, abates the fingers of grief around his neck, but then he hears it. 

“I know, babe. I’ll be back in town soon. I just need to get through this week and then I’ll take you out to make up for it, alright?” 

Joel freezes. He strains his ears, trying to pick up the rest of the words as his anxiety hones itself into fury. 

“You know I love you more than her. Of course I do.”

He’s off the porch before he can think better of it. The boy you brought home is standing on the side of the house, cell phone pressed to his ear, and his eyes widen when he sees Joel. “I’ve gotta go,” he says quickly, but before he gets a chance to hang up the phone Joel grabs him by his shirt collar and slams him up against the side of the house.

The words come out slow, even—despite the seething rage that fills him. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t knock your teeth down your throat.”

He laughs, actually laughs in Joel’s face and says, “Cause I’ll air out all those dirty little secrets our girl keeps.”

Joel’s grip tightens. The word our grates against his spine.

“What? You don’t like it when people refuse to mind their fucking business? Me either,” he says. “So let me go, or I’ll tell them everything.”

“Let me tell you what’s actually gonna happen,” Joel says, slamming him against the siding, relishing in the gasp of pain he makes in response. “You’re going to go in there and apologize for being such a scumbag. You’re going to come clean, beg her forgiveness, and if she forgives you maybe—maybe then, I’ll let you walk out of here with no broken bones. Do you understand me?”

“And why would I do that? You think she deserves an apology? We’ve been together for over a year, you know that? When was the last time she spread her legs for you, huh?” The timeline slots together in Joel’s brain, and his jaw ticks. “I’m not apologizing for cheating on a slut.”

Joel’s fist flies across his face, leaving a split lip and blood in its wake.

He doesn’t understand what the fuck you even see in this guy. You obviously care about him enough to bring him home, to let him meet your dad, to stay with him for so long, but God —this is the worst person you could’ve ever picked. 

“Ooh—good one! Does it make you feel better to hit me ‘cause I can have her and you can’t? Wanna know another one of those dirty little secrets, Joel?” He tilts his head forward and whispers. “She can’t get off unless I let her call me daddy. And ya know, feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think her daddy issues come from her real father, do they?”

Joel hits him again, an elbow to the jaw this time. 

“Dad!” Sarah’s panic stricken voice cuts through the fog of Joel’s rage.

He just doesn’t get it. You’re smarter than this. You deserve way fucking better than a half-assed relationship with a boy who—Joel stops.

In the dim glow of the porch light, he sees it. He finally fucking sees it. The boy has dark hair, has messy curls on top of his head, has tanned skin and calloused hands and warm eyes. It’s all vaguely familiar.

He looks like Joel. Or, what he looked like twenty years ago, anyway. 

Tommy grabs his brother by the shoulders and hauls him away, giving you just enough room to swoop in and coddle your little boyfriend, dabbing at his split lip. Tommy’s shoving Joel backwards, away from you and towards his house next door, but the force isn’t necessary. Because now he knows your newest secret, a real one. He knows you don’t care about this boy—you only care that he looks like Joel, and it brings him a strange satisfaction. 

“What the hell is going on?” Your dad asks, standing between the two families.

For a moment, he thinks about outing the bleeding boy to your father. Thinks about telling him how, at the hardware store, he sided with a boy who cheats on you, betrays you, disrespects you. Your father would be just as furious, Joel knows. 

But then he thinks about last summer in the kitchen, less than a year ago. He thinks about your phone call in December, he thinks about the look you shared inside moments ago and how deeply that pensive sadness seemed to run. And then he decides he’s already caused enough suffering, and so Joel shrugs and says, “Honest mistake. I thought he was an intruder.”

It’s a shitty lie, and no one believes it, but Sarah has her arm around Joel’s elbow and leads him home before anyone can ask any questions. Tommy says he’ll come over tomorrow to finish the backsplash, and Joel is thankful because he won’t be able to look at you and see that sad look again without crumbling. 

Joel’s sitting at the kitchen table with a beer in one hand and a bag of frozen peas on the other when Sarah sits beside him with a scolding look on her face. “You don’t get to fuck this up for her.”

“But I didn’t mean to—”

She holds up her pointer finger. “Stop talking. I’m not finished.” Sarah waits until Joel sighs and shrugs his shoulders before continuing. She leans on the table with her elbows and says, “She told me everything.”

His brows pinch together as he searches his daughter's face for something, for anything—but it’s completely blank. “What do you mean?”

“Cat’s out of the bag, dad,” she says. “I know about all of it. The night she brought over that DVD, the night of her grad party, the night of my grad party, the phone call. I know all of it.”

Joel doesn’t know what to say. He isn’t angry with you for telling Sarah. You should have someone to turn to, after all. He doesn’t fault you for that, but Joel also understands how it likely appears. He doesn’t know where to begin, how to apologize and explain that what you mean to him is so much more than attraction. “Sarah…Sarah, I—”

“Stop. Talking,” she repeats, and Joel silences. “I honestly was hoping you would tell me before I felt the need to do this,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “But you’re a typical man so I don’t know what the hell I was thinking.”

He opens his mouth to defend himself, to offer an explanation, but promptly closes it when she narrows her eyes. 

“I can get over the fact that you’re…I don’t know, involved or whatever with my best friend. I can get over that. What I can’t get over is you being a dick to her.”

Joel doesn’t get it. He’s never, ever been disrespectful towards you. He doesn’t have it in him. And the pain he has caused you has always been for your own good— never out of malicious intent. If anything, he’s been nothing but selfless with you. He’s suffered in your place, and he’d do it a hundred times over if it meant you’d end up happy in the end. He gnaws on his bottom lip as Sarah continues. 

“She has spent half the semester crying over you and just decided recently that she’s ready to leave the past in the past. She likes him.”

He can’t stay silent any longer. “He’s not good enough for her. You didn’t hear—”

“I don’t care what he did or didn’t do,” she interrupts, holding up a hand. “Right now, we’re talking about you. If you don’t want to be with her, if you don’t love her, then let her have this. Even if he breaks her heart, let it be her decision to be with him. Not yours.”

Joel picks at the peeling label on the glass bottle. He stares at it as if the answer to all his problems lies underneath. Quietly, he asks, “And if I do?”

“Do what?”

He swallows, and asks a little clearer this time, “If I do love her, what do I do then?”

“Then you man the fuck up and put your money where your mouth is.”

Joel can’t even be mad about the crude language, because it sounds like advice he would give. There’s so much of his stubborn, loyal attitude in his daughter, and he can’t help but be proud of the woman she’s become. He nods stiffly. “I get what you’re saying. I really do, but—”

“But nothing. If you love her, then love her, dad. It’s not complicated.”

She makes it sound simple, Joel thinks. He wishes so badly that it was. 

“What are you so afraid of?”

He’s afraid of losing the friendship with your father, worried about tarnishing the relationship you have with him, terrified of getting old while you continue to exist in your youth. There’s a million things he’s afraid of, but he settles on the biggest one, the fear that sits like a brick in his stomach. “I’m not good enough for her, either.”

Sarah snorts. “You can’t be serious.” When Joel says nothing, she shakes her head in annoyance and says, “Honestly, dad, I don’t understand how you can be so blind. Let me put it in a way you can understand; you love her, and she loves you. Everything else? Get rid of it. It doesn’t matter. Her dad, her boyfriend, Tommy, me—none of us have anything to do with it. You’re both adults, and you’re doing nothing but hurting the both of you trying to be the good guy. Get it now?” 

He still doesn’t think it’s so simple, so black and white. But it doesn’t matter what Joel thinks, because there’s a knock at the door and you’re standing on the other side when Sarah answers it. She invites you in, but you insist it isn’t necessary. 

“It’s alright,” you say. “I just came to say goodbye.” There’s a sadness in your voice, a familiar sound of longing. “We’re leaving first thing tomorrow morning.”

Joel clenches his teeth and looks away when Sarah glances back at him. He can’t see you, and wants to steal one last sinful glance, but thinks better of it.

“You’re leaving already?”

“Yeah, yeah—I know it’s early, but I don’t…I don’t know. I thought I was ready but now I’m not…I’m not so sure.” You sniffle, and Joel feels his chest crack wide open. “I’ll come back at the end of the week to drive you back to campus. But you’ll call me every day, yeah? So I won’t miss you so much?”

Sarah laughs softly, and disappears from sight. Joel can hear your soft sigh of relief, and finds himself thankful that it’s his daughter you seek comfort in. He’s thankful Sarah is able to provide that for you, even if he can’t. 

Because he can’t.

When you leave after promising Sarah you’ll let her know when you’re back to your dorm, safe and sound, she returns to the kitchen with her arms crossed over her chest. 

Joel can feel the irritation, the disappointment. Sarah goes up to her room and slams the door, and Joel feels the reverberation of the wood in every disc of his spine. 

He sits there, in the deafening silence, and wonders where the hell he went wrong. He wonders why doing the selfless thing feels so awful, wonders if he’s destined to live an empty life and die an empty death. 

It isn’t until three hours later that Joel gets up from the kitchen table. It’s after midnight, and he drags his weary body upstairs. He has every intention of crawling into bed and slipping into a peaceful oblivion for as long as his body will allow. 

Except, Joel finds himself hovering in the hallway just outside his bedroom. He’s afraid to move, because if he walks through the door he’ll never be able to go back. He knows it, can feel the truth of it in his bones. But if he doesn’t…if he doesn’t, everything changes. And it might turn out bad—it might end up being the biggest, most selfish mistake of his life. 

But one aching, terrifying thought nags at him; what if it doesn’t?

“Joel?”

It’s as clear a sign from the universe as he’s ever seen. He makes his decision, and begins to feel at home within his own body after feeling so displaced for so long, and Joel’s so grateful for it. He’s even more grateful he never moved the spare key from under the welcome mat. 

This feels familiar. It feels like an echo of a time years ago, when he thought he ached for you but had no clue how deep his longing would one day be, a time when the scent of vanilla perfume wasn't a shock to his heart. It feels like an opportunity to do things right. It feels like a second chance. 

And he’s not going to fucking waste it. 

It’s his turn to confess his mistakes, though they’re not tequila induced and instead made completely of his own stupidity. 

“I just came to get my phone charger from Sarah,” you say. “I’ll just be a sec—”

“I mean it,” he blurts, swallowing his nerves. He repeats it again, clearer and more precise because it’s the truest thing he’s ever said. “I mean it.”

You wringing your hands around one another in front of you. And he can sense the buzzing of nervous energy, and even though you both know exactly what he means you still ask timidly, “Mean what?”

His heart is pounding in his ears. “All of it. Everything. You might not see it, Sarah might not see it, but you…you deserve better than anything I can ever give you,” he says. “I’m old and I’m tired and I don’t have anything but this house to my name. I can’t give you anything you can’t find a better version of after ten seconds of looking.”

“Joel…I—”

“Hold on. I need you to hear me right now, baby, okay?” His hands are shaking. When you nod, he continues. “I mean it when I say I’m no good for you. I never have been. I’ll just drag you down and hold you back from better things. All of that is true. You and I both know it, but god dammit, I mean it when I say I love you, too. I love your laugh and I love your smile and I love your heart. I love everything about you, and it makes me an awful person because I’m not supposed to feel those things for a girl half my age. But I do, I do—and fuck, baby, I know I’m a bad man, but I’m…I’m yours.”

The words are out. He’s said them, and there’s no going back. Everything he’s held inside for so long is sitting on the floor between you—the entirety of Joel’s perverted heart. Your eyes are glassy, and you're breathing slowly like it’s suddenly a task, but you’re saying nothing and he starts to fill with fear. 

Joel is seconds away from begging you to say something, to say anything—but then you’re there, you’re there, in his arms with your hands in his hair and your lips against his. Your body slots perfectly against him, and Joel thinks that if this is his greatest sin then God can cast him out of the heavens for all eternity and he’d say thank you on his knees. 

Your tongue is so soft, and Joel bites at your bottom lip, savoring the sweet and sugary taste of cherry. He lets his hands roam down your back, allows himself to grab hold of your curves and squeeze the supple flesh. Nothing has ever felt this good, he thinks. You pull away first, and you’re panting hard, and you whisper, “Prove it. Show me, Joel. Show me how much you love me.”

It’s the easiest request he’s ever wanted to fulfill. He grips the backs of your thighs and lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He uses one hand on the small of your back to hold you close, to press his lips to yours again, to moan into your mouth. He uses the other to open his bedroom door, the prospect of closing it behind him much less daunting now that your limbs are wrapped around his.

Joel lays you gently on the mattress, and straightens his spine to look at you. He soaks it up, memorizes the sight of your hair splayed out around you, your thighs parted for him, the pink flush on your chest. Nothing has ever been so beautiful, he thinks. Nothing and no one will ever, ever compare to you. He sighs blithely, licks his lips and says, “Fuck, baby.”

Through a soft giggle you ask, “Do you think I’m pretty, Joel?”

He pulls the collar of his shirt over his head and discards the fabric on the floor, leaving him in nothing but his jeans. He crawls between your legs and leans on his elbows, placing them on either side of your head. “Yes,” Joel says, brushing a stray piece of hair from your face. “I think you’re the prettiest.” He kisses your forehead, and then your cheek. “D’you wanna know what else I think?”

You can feel him smirk against your skin as you run your hands along the cords of taut muscle in his abdomen. “Yes,” you answer breathlessly, resisting the urge to lift your pelvis against his. “Tell me everything.”

Joel obliges. He kisses the tip of your nose. “I think you were made for me.” His kisses grow hotter, wetter, as his mouth graces your jaw, your neck. “I think I’ve loved you since you were eighteen, since the first moment I saw you.” He tugs at the seam of your t-shirt, and you lift your spine slightly so he can pull it off. You’re not wearing a bra, and seeing you bare again after so long makes his mouth water. 

He kisses your sternum, the soft tissue of your breast, and then sucks your nipple between his lips. He doesn’t realize until now how much he craves the taste of you—how much he’s missed it. 

“I think I’m gonna marry you one day, baby,” he says, pressing his mouth to your other nipple. He can feel the vibration of your laughter in his mouth, and his heart constricts at the sudden happiness it brings him. 

“Marry me?” Your hands are in his hair, giving him the slightest direction in the form of light pressure, and Joel is all too happy to follow it. But he does it slowly, giving himself enough time to drink you in.

“Mmhm,” he says, peppering kisses down your belly, across the plane between your hips. He hooks his finger into the waistband of your sleep shorts and pulls them down your hips. “I think I’ve wasted enough of our time. Don’t you?” Gently, he runs his fingertips over your panties. They’re pink, of course, with red polka dots—and Joel groans at the sight. It’s a ghostly touch, but enough to pull a strained gasp from your throat. Your hips buck towards his hand, and Joel reminds himself to take his time even though his cock is throbbing painfully in his jeans and every instinct in him begs to ravish you. 

“Yes,” you agree. “But…maybe we go slow.”

There’s a slight hint of unease in your voice, and Joel rushes to fix it. He reaches up and wraps his big hands around your ribcage, stroking the skin softly with his thumbs. He presses a kiss to your panties, right above your clit, and says, “Relax, baby. I don’t mean right now. Soon though, yeah?”

Your body loosens beneath his touch, and a pretty smile breaks out across your face. “Soon,” you breathe. “But right now, I need you to touch me. Please, Joel.

The sound of desperation in your mouth is so pretty, he thinks. And you deserve anything you want, and Joel intends to give it to you. He pulls your panties down your legs,  pushes your thighs apart, and keeps his eyes trained on yours as he slides his tongue through your slit. You’re so wet, and the sound you make in response to the feel of his hot, wet tongue is the most heavenly sound he’s ever heard. He licks and sucks at your clit until you’re a trembling mess beneath him. And when your breaths turn shorter and more labored, Joel slips two fingers inside you and curls them to meet the sweet spot that makes you writhe. 

One hand is in his hair, pulling at the strands desperately, while your other is twisted in the sheets. In his sheets. Joel can’t keep his hips from rolling against the side of the mattress at the sight of you, at the taste of you, at the feel of you in his hands. Because you’re here, in his bed, and he can taste your cum in his mouth, and fuck he’s so in love with you it fucking hurts.

When your body falls limp, only then does he come up for air. He cleans you up with his tongue, not wasting any of the sweet nectar you’ve cleansed his sins with. Joel stands up slowly, raking his nails across your sensitive flesh. “Does that prove my love, pretty girl?”

He can see the wicked gleam in your eye, and he knows it wasn’t enough. Of course it’s not. You prop yourself up on your elbows and confess timidly, “Maybe I need a little more,” you say. “Some more proof.”

Joel unbottons his jeans. “Hmm, I guess I should’ve known better.” He pulls the denim off and kicks it aside, delighting in the slight parting of your lips as you take in his cock, heavy and hard between his legs. “Slutty little girls always need more, don’t they?” 

You nod, and Joel returns to his rightful spot between your legs. He’s so close—so, so close to home, to resting his weary heart…but your body is his confessional, and Joel isn’t done repenting. 

He rests his calloused palm against your throat gently, a caress. “You wanna know what else I think about?”

You’re squirming beneath him, hips lifting desperately. “Please, Joel,” you beg. 

And he knows you’re not begging for his thoughts, but he gives them to you anyway. “I think about putting a baby in you,” he confesses, laying his free hand flat against your abdomen. He smirks when you let out a shallow breath and your hips start to move faster, seeking him out. 

“Oh—God, fuck,” you whimper. 

“Aw, I’ve hardly touched you yet,” he teases through a soft laugh, drawing his fingers against your ribcage delicately. “You like that idea? Hm? Want me to fill you up with my cum ‘til your belly’s swollen with my baby?” 

You’re nodding, and he can feel your quickened pulse beneath his hand, and Joel decides he’s put you through enough. “Yes,” you tell him. “Yes, yes—please, Joel, please please please.”

He reaches down and guides his cock into you, and your pussy takes him so eagerly that he can’t help but mirror your low moan. “Fuck, baby—you feel so good,” he murmurs. 

Slowly, he rolls his hips against yours. Your legs are wrapped around his waist, your arms are around his neck, and he kisses your bruised lips until all the air has left your lungs. “Oh, God—!”

“Shh,” he coos, moving his hand around your neck and instead using it to grasp your jaw. “Look at me. Look at me. Quiet now, sweetheart.” 

Your eyes are glassy and wide and beautiful, and Joel picks up his pace. His cock slams into you, filling you up, and it’s impossible to keep quiet. “I can’t,” you whine. “I can’t, Joel—it feels too good, it’s too much, I—!”

He kisses you hard, swallowing up your cry of bliss when he reaches down to circle your clit with the pad of his middle finger. “I know, baby, I know,” he soothes. “It’s okay, you can take it.” 

The prettiest sounds are falling from your mouth with each deep thrust of his hips, sending shivers down his spine. Joel wishes he could be here, be inside of you forever. He wonders how he’s ever going to get his fill, wonders if it’s even possible. You’re so fucking perfect and you’re his and God—he wants to eat you the fuck up. 

He can feel your pussy constrict around him, and he lets out a probably-too-loud-moan that mirrors yours in response. He knows you're close, can feel the rush of heat, can feel you tremble around him. “You gonna cum for me? Hm?” 

Joel slams into you relentlessly, obscene sounds filling the space of his room. Your second orgasm is impossibly stronger, sending electricity dancing across your skin.

You open your mouth to tell him, but Joel seems to know your body better than you do and before the words are out of your mouth he’s whispering in your ear. “There you go,” he says. “I love you so fuckin’ much baby, my good little girl. Give it to me. Thaaat’s it.”

His hips slow just slightly as you come down, but his thrusts are no less punishing. You press kisses to his collarbone, his neck, his chin—every place you can reach. Your mouth is desperate and needy and shameless, and there’s no better sin than the divinity of your lips, he thinks. 

Joel’s pace falters and becomes frantic, and he groans into the crook of your neck as he fills you up. You whisper, “I love you, Joel,”  and it does him in completely. 

He collapses on top of you, unable to move, but you don’t seem to mind. You stroke his spine lazily, tracing soft patterns into his flushed skin. He could sleep just like this, he thinks—but it can’t be as comfortable for you. So he pulls himself out of you wistfully and helps you crawl under the blankets. 

With a blissful sigh, he pulls you close and holds you against his chest. 

“What now?” 

Joel doesn’t know, if he’s honest. He knows he wants you, knows he has you, knows he’s unable to go on without you by his side any longer. But the rest? It’s all uncharted territory. “You go back to school,” he says. “You only have a few months left. Get that fancy degree of yours.”

You let out a soft groan. “I have to leave in the morning. I promised.”

He should feel bad for your boyfriend, most likely sleeping in the spare bedroom in your dad’s house that Joel just refurbished two months ago, but he doesn’t. There’s not an ounce of sympathy for him. But he does have sympathy for you, which is why he asks, “You want me to take care of it?”

“Like you did earlier tonight?” You snort, and the sound is light and airy and carefree and Joel is so happy to hear it. “No, I got it.”

“You gonna break up with him?”

“Mm. Haven’t decided yet,” you say. The sarcasm is thick in your tone, but Joel can’t help the slight panic that erupts in his chest. But the second you notice he isn’t laughing with you, you quickly amend, “I’m kidding. Of course I’m going to. First thing, okay? I promise.”

He nods and kisses your temple. “Okay. And while you’re gone, I’ll talk to your dad.”

You prop yourself up on an elbow. “Alone?”

“I’ll probably use Tommy as a buffer,” he says. “But you shouldn’t have to deal with it. He’s going to be upset with me—not with you. You’re not the bad guy here.”

“I don’t think you are either, Joel,” you say. 

But he doesn’t agree. And he never will, no matter how many sweet words and even sweeter touches you offer. “I’ll take care of it.”

You lay your head back on his chest, and his panic eases until it withers away into nothing. “Okay,” you say. “And…and after? After I finish school, will you still be here?”

Joel can sense the hesitation in your voice, can feel the sudden rigidity in your limbs. He caresses your face and promises, “Yes, baby. I’ll be here.”

“I’m scared,” you whisper.

“Of what?”

He’s not sure what he expects your answer to be, but he definitely doesn’t expect the stab to the chest when you say, “Whenever I leave, you change your mind about me. How do I know you won’t do it again?”

“Look at me,” he says. When you do, his eyes are molten with affection. “I will be here,” he repeats. “I will be here, and I will still love you. Do you understand me?”

You nod let out a long, sleepy breath. “Good.”

That night, Joel sleeps better than he has in years. So much so that he’s up before you, and this time it’s his turn to make the pancakes. He doesn’t do nearly as good as you, burning half of them and undercooking the other half, but he doesn’t worry about it because he realizes he has so much time to perfect it. Time he never had before. 

You pad barefoot down the stairs wearing your sleep shorts and the t-shirt he discarded last night. Joel wonders if he’ll ever grow tired of seeing you in his clothes.

When you notice Sarah and Tommy sitting at the kitchen table with plates pooled with syrup, your eyes widen and your cheeks grow crimson. “Uhm—morning,” you murmur, sliding into the seat at Sarah’s side. 

“Morning,” Joel responds, sitting a plate of pancakes in front of you. “Coffee or orange juice?”

“Uhm…orange juice,” you reply timidly. 

Joel pours you a glass, and joins you at the table, and doesn’t know how to break the weird silence that’s settled over the room. 

Thankfully, though—his daughter volunteers to do just that. “It’s gonna take me a second to get used to this,” she says. “And I will, I swear—but I’m just telling you now that I’m never gonna call you mom.”

Laughter breaks out in the kitchen, and the smile on your face brings Joel so much joy he can hardly contain himself. 

“That would be so weird,” you say. “God—could you imagine?”

“Fuck that—can you imagine living together, dude? It’s going to be amazing! I’ll always have someone to hang out with. Plus I won’t be the only one in this house with decent film taste anymore,” Sarah says. 

“Don’t you dare throw me in with this guy,” Tommy says, pointing a finger at Joel from across the table. 

“No, no—you like terrible movies too,” you argue. 

It sparks a heated debate, and pancakes get flicked from a fork across the table, and there’s a giant mess to clean up afterwards, but Joel Miller has never been so content, so at peace, so happy.

When you take your little boyfriend back to the city, Joel reminds you to call him if you need anything. He uses the opportunity of your absence to do the scariest thing of his life. 

He’s playing a game of pool in your dad’s garage, and Tommy is leaning against the wall with a beer in his hand, and Joel decides there’s no time like the present. “I have to tell you something,” he says. 

Your dad doesn’t look up at him. He lines up his cue and lets out a heavy sigh that sounds so similar to the ones of your frustration that it’s startling. “This about my daughter?”

Joel and Tommy exchange a look of uncertainty. “Uh—yeah,” Joel prods carefully. “Yeah, it is.” He doesn’t know where to begin, so he decides to only say what he needs to say, to say it firmly and without room for question. “I’m, uh—I’m in love with her. And after she graduates she’ll be coming home and we’re…we’re going to be together.”

He doesn’t say anything and at first, it unnerves Joel. He simply draws his cue back, shoots, and waits until the ball falls perfectly into the table’s pocket. He calmly lays his cue at his side, picks up the black eight ball from the table, and chucks it at Joel’s head. 

It misses him by an inch, and something shatters behind him, but Joel is too busy running from your father to look back and assess the damage. 

“You motherfucker! I should kill you! That’s my fucking kid—!”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Tommy is stepping between them, shoving your dad back. “Just hear him out, man! It’s not what you think!”

A warmth erupts in Joel’s chest to hear his brother’s words, to hear him defend his atrocities so easily. Joel knows exactly what thoughts are going through your fathers head, because they went through Joel’s first. He knows it looks like he’s just an old man trying to get his rocks off with the first pretty, young thing that ever looks his way, and maybe there’s some truth to that, but it’s also so, so much more. Still, Joel has a daughter, too, so he understands. “I swear I love her,” he says as if it’s some sort of consolation. “I really do.”

The vein in your dad’s temple protrudes as he shoves past Tommy and gets in one good punch, splitting the skin of Joel’s cheek. “Get the fuck out! Get out of my house before I break your fucking jaw!”

Joel listens. He slips through the half-opened garage door and goes home, adrenaline coursing through him. There wasn’t a lot of blood, and he considers that a win. He cleans out the cut on his cheek, orders a pizza, calls you to tell you how it went. You’re angry at first, when he tells you about his small injury, but Joel assures you that it’s the least he deserves. He says he’d do it a hundred times over if it meant you’d be coming home to him.

Tommy comes through the door a couple hours later with a weary look on his face. He flops down on the couch beside his brother, grabs a slice of cold peperoni pizza and says, “Fuck you for that, by the way.”

“How is he?”

“Fine for now. I think he’ll come around. Just give him a bit of time.”

They polish off the pizza, Tommy crashes on the couch, and Joel sleeps well with the scent of vanilla still lingering in his sheets. Several days later, he’s mowing the front yard with his t-shirt tucked into his back pocket when your dad gets home from work. 

When he crosses the yard and approaches him, Joel turns off the mower and prepares himself for another swing. Except, your dad only raises a hand and says, “I don’t want to hear about it. I don’t want to see it. We’re neighbors, Joel—keep the fucking windows closed or so help me God.”

“Done,” he agrees quickly with a shrug of his shoulders.

“And I swear to Christ, if you break her heart—”

“I won’t.” It’s the truth, and Joel thinks your dad knows it, too. He shakes his head and says it again, firmer this time. “I won’t.” 

There’s a second of silence, and it’s thick and heavy while your dad debates on whether he should hurt Joel again just for good measure. But he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “There’s a Longhorns game tonight. Tommy’s coming. You can…you know, you’re welcome to come too.”

“I’ll be there,” Joel promises. 

It takes a few weeks, but the comfortable energy between the three men returns, and one night your father even tells Joel, “Better you than that asshole she brought home for spring break. Kid was a cunt.”

Joel agrees, and all that’s left for him to do is wait for you. It’s only a few months until graduation, but it feels like a lifetime when he’s wasted so many years already. He calls you every night and his thoughts never stray far and for a little while, it’s enough.

He busies himself by finishing the renovations in your dad’s house, and then turns to his own to do the same. 

Joel starts with the kitchen, painting the cabinets and switching out the hardware. He clears out half of his closet for you, buys pink hangers to sit beside his black ones, buys a two pack of toothbrushes and sticks yours in the cup on the sink right next to his. Your dad offers to help when Joel says he wants to build a deck for the backyard, and they use Tommy’s truck to bring home new lawn chairs that recline so you can tan in those tiny bikinis comfortably.

He puts cherry chapstick on your nightstand. He buys pancake mix and orange juice and a bottle of top shelf tequila. And when you finally graduate and walk across the stage to receive your fancy degree, Joel is the second loudest person in the crowd. (The first is Sarah, who greets you with a flower bouquet bigger than your head.)

When you finally, finally come home to him, your eyes turn glassy when you discover what he’s spent his time doing in your absence. You say, thank you, Joel and throw your arms around his neck and drown him in kisses and he feels religion stir in his chest.

He asks you later that night what your favorite thing is, asks you whether it’s the deck or the tequila or the pink hangers. Your favorite part is him, of course it’s him, but you say instead that it’s the remodel in the kitchen. 

The backsplash is sage green.

[masterlist]

divider by @thecutestgrotto <3

a/n; i seriously cannot thank you guys enough for the unending support on this, i love you all so much <3

taglist; @aamatis-blog1 @goldenispunk @storytimeblog @locaparapedrito @bluesweaters15 @ace-27749 @joelmillerlover123 @shivkillian @bbyplutosblog @tiredbuthappy @samsamsantos @elegantduckturtle @pinkiec6-rubi @pascaltesfaye @pedropascalsbbg @heheheilovepedro

[divinesolas]

Unexpected Surprise

Summary: While attempting to gain the support of the vale, jeyne arryn has plans of her own for the prince.

r.q: Everyone forgets house Arryn😔🤘🏻 baddies of the vale Can you write something w Jace and an Arryn maybe lady Jayne’s little sister or daughter or something? Not a totally unreasonable alliance !! They have the coolest castle and knights also Ms Aemma Arryn ™️ like hello!! (I’m impatient as hell for more Vale coverage in season 2)

w.c: 900+

c.w: baela and jacaerys are not betrothed, arryn!reader jenye’s daughter, FLUFF, just a very cute fic, drabble, not proofread

a.n: IVE HAD THIS DONE SITTING IN MY DRAFTS FOR NO REASON OMGGGG but with the recent jeyne content i felt inspired to write this !! just something super simple <3 HOPE YOU ENJOY !! LOVE UUUU GUYS

masterlist - requests open

“Im sorry, what my lady?”

“I wish for you to marry my daughter.”

This is not how jacaerys thought this would go. When he arrived in the vale he thought he thought he would have to make simple small talk, present some of the benefits, hells even throw some complements her way in order to convince her. This however had not been in his cards.

“I'm sorry my lady i do not understand.”

“My daughter, y/n remains unmarried, around your age, a sweet girl, agree to wed her and me and my men will bend the knee.”

He blinks. He has no clue what to say to her. Jeyne stands after a moment, “I shall go fetch her.” He watches as one of the guards tries to stop her and tells her he will go retrieve the girl but Jeyne seems determined to go herself and he moves letting her leave. Jacaerys stands awkwardly in the middle of the room unsure of what to do.

He is not too sure he can just flat out agree to a proposal without his mother position, it is not like he is a second son, he is the heir to the queen. The next king, his wife to be the next queen. Yet when he sees you walking into the room, wearing a long dress in your house colors with your mother trialing behind with a pleased look on her face he finds himself wanting to agree to the marriage right away.

You are stunning. Easily the most beautiful women he’s ever seen, sure he hasn’t seen that many women but it doesn’t matter. He watches as you bow and mindlessly nods in acknowledgment, unable to take his eyes off you.

Jeyne looks between the two of you with a satisfied look. “Why don’t you show the prince around?” She gives you a pointed look to which you nod, “Of course i would be happy to.”

He walks over and offers you his arm with a smile on his face and you graceful take it before you begin to walk off with him. Jeyne stays behind and smiles to herself.

“My mother is very forward i apologize to you.” He simply shakes his head, he finds himself look at you instead of the halls he’s supposed to be looking at. “It is not an issue my lady, I rather appreciate it.” You look at him curiously but turn away once you notice he is already looking at you. “Whatever do you mean?”

“Many people speak in riddles, not saying what they mean or truly want, your mother is a rare gem.” You smile at the praise of your mother, “She truly is.”

You lead him outside and begin to tell him about the different plants and different sculptures around the courtyards. He is so charmed by you. The way you light up when you spot something and you begin to tell him of a memory you have, like how your mother scolded you for jumping around in the fountain, or when you almost fell out of one of the window's when you fell asleep.

“You truly love this place.” He can tell. The way you smile at the guards as they walk by or the way you know every detail about everything in the walls. But he sees the way you falter slightly at his words, “Am i wrong?”

You shake your head vigorously, “no no i do, its just i have never been away from here. My mother is a very protective woman, she waves away any suitors, she never even lets me leave the eyrie it is ridiculous!” You realize you're letting your emotions show too much and bow your head, “i am sorry that was out of line.”

He grabs your hands and you look at him with wide eyes. “I understand my lady, my mother is similar, i have truly never traveled to far, i wish to explore, once my mother has her rightful throne i believe i will take the time to see westeros a little bit,” He pauses before he speaks again, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, “I could take you with me? if that is what you wish my lady.”

He watches as your eyes begin to glow and you beam at him, “truly? oh nothing would make me happier.” He nods and grips your hands tighter, “I shall take you everywhere.”

He does not expect you to throw your hands around his neck and pull him into a hug. He wraps his hands around your lower back, pushing his head into your neck and breathing in your scent. “I will accept your mothers propsal at once. You will fly with me to winterfell.” You pull back and give him an eager look. “Winterfell? Truly?” He nods, “I am to go meet lord cregan stark.”

You can barely contain your excitement at the thought of seeing something that was not the eyrie, especially a place as grand as winterfell.

Jeyne watched you two smile at one another from a window above with a small smile on her face. She does not hear the guard approaching her from behind, “You seem pleased my lady.” She says nothing to him for a moment, simply continuing to stare at the two of you. “Tell my men to ready themselves for war. It seems he will accept my proposal.”

perm jacaerys taglist <3

@tyronesien @itsbookworm987 @cruelworldlana @smurfelle @ireneispunk @hxtd @venmondiese @urmomsgirlfriend1 @aegonswife

[paimonial-rage]

otome isekai snippets - geo boys

synopsis: in which your favorite characters get dropped into a random stereotypical isekai plot of the author's choosing characters: albedo, gorou, itto, zhongli notes: title, synopsis, then snippet

Albedo - Protecting the Hero With Love

The hero’s journey was met with betrayal from every end, the first of which from his adoptive guardian, Duke Kreideprinz, who experimented on him endlessly as a child in an attempt to use his unique mana to defy the gods. Reborn as the hero’s sibling, there was no way you would be letting your brother go down such a harsh path! First obstacle? You would stop the duke from ever taking notice of your brother! Wait, what do you mean marriage!?

“Goodnight!” You exclaimed as you slammed your bedroom door shut.

You ignored the heat that flooded your cheeks as you fled to the comforting embrace of your bed. Your hands shook as you took your fluffiest pillow, buried your face into it…

And screamed.

Something was wrong. Something was very very wrong. Why in the world was he doing things like… that!? Dining with you every evening, placing his hand upon your waist in public, walking to your room at night and taking your hand to kiss while he looks up at you with those piercing blue–

You screamed into your pillow again. 

What in the world was going on!? He wasn’t supposed to be like this! By saving his sister from her terrible fate, you planned to prevent him from even taking interest in your brother’s mana. He was supposed to thank you with a sum of money and then send you on your way. His offer of a marriage contract as a form of protection for you and your brother came as a surprise, but when he simply stated it would be a benefit to him as well, you agreed. Since it was a mutually beneficial arrangement, he certainly had no reason to take interest in you.

So why in the world was he–

You slammed your fist into the pillow.

You knew the duke! Not only did you know him from the book, but you even heard rumors of him before you even met him in this world! He was supposed to be a loner! He was dismissive of most of his peers! He preferred the company of beakers and potions to actual people! The only person he truly cared about was his sister! So what in the world was that!? Just as his lips brushed against your fingers, he gazed up at you with those seafoam eyes and–

“So you don’t mind if I pursue you seriously then?”

You flopped forward onto your pillow and buried your face into it. Your heart couldn’t take this. Especially not when he looked at you like that. 

--

gorou, itto, and zhongli under the cut!

Gorou - I’m Not the Villainess Anymore!

It was the classic tale told many times past of a beautiful, yet pitiful woman that was saved by a handsome man. Together they overcame jealous villainesses, corrupt politicians, and jealous older siblings to live happily ever after. But that was not your story. You, as the jealous ultimate villainess, were exiled to a lonely monastery at the edge of the kingdom. But you know what? It was about time! Finally, you can live your life unfettered by the chains of the novel! But if that was the case, why does the head knight keep bothering you!? Your job as the villainess is done! It’s about time he left you alone!

You bit your lip as you scrubbed that light spot in the corridor for the fiftieth time. Who would have thought that after months of getting General Gorou to leave, the moment your wish came true you wanted nothing more than to keep him here with you. You knew his strengths and accomplishments. You knew he wouldn’t be taken down easily. But the thought that he’d be going up against the Shogunate…

You gritted your teeth and pressed your scrubber even harder into the spot. 

Who cared? Regardless of what happened, Sangonomiya Kingdom had nothing to do with you. Your job there was done. And once General Gorou left, you’d finally be free. You’d finally be able to live your life the way you wanted to. You would be able to leave the monastery behind, jump on a ship to a land far away, and restart your life there. And–

You froze when you heard the sound of hooves accompanied with a familiar voice. 

“Woah there! Jeez, I know you’re happy to go running again, but this won’t be for fun, boy.”

General Gorou? Was he leaving already?

Your heart caught in your throat as you tossed everything to the side and dashed toward the front doors. Throwing them open, you froze upon seeing the general securing the last of his luggage to his trusted steed. And when his eyes fell upon you, he froze in return. Was he at a loss of what to say just like you? But by the steely expression that soon overtook his face, it seemed he found his words first.

“I’ll return safely to you, I promise.”

You wanted to laugh in response. He’ll return safely? How could he promise such a thing so easily? The Shogun’s army was mighty and the Sangonomiya Kingdom was so small. Sure, he was a mighty warrior. Sure, he proved himself in battle many times over, but that didn’t mean–

He took your hands and squeezed them tightly.

“I’ll come back to you safely. I promise. So…” He then cupped your cheek and smiled that adorable smile of his. “Don’t worry too much, okay? Make sure to eat your vegetables. And don’t get into fights with the priest. Oh! And the children adore you, so I’ll check to see you set a good example for them when I return.”

Disbelief exploded from your chest in the form of a bark of laughter. 

“Don’t scold me right before you march to your death! Don’t worry about me! Just…” You turned away as tears filled your eyes. “Just come back alive.”

--

Itto - My Seventh Round of Life

You lived six lives before this one, each ending in failure. Murder, sickness, betrayal—the list goes on. You did everything right. You fulfilled all the duties of each life, and still each time ended in your early demise. So when you woke up for the seventh time, you decided you had enough. You’ll give life one last chance. This time you’ll make your own decisions! Although… getting caught by a gang of bandits certainly was not one of them!!!

“You can’t just… do this!!! They’re not going to allow it!” You exclaimed as you tried to pull the big burly oni back. 

You had no clue what in the world made him think it was okay to simply set up a stage in the middle of such an illustrious city, but here was this big dope doing so! Didn’t he know what could happen? What if permits were needed? What if everybody was arrested for the fifth time this month!? But much to your dismay, Itto erupted in a big belly laughter at your despair.

“C’mon, First! Why are you getting your obi all tied in a knot? It’s not a big deal. We've done this maaaany times and it always turned out fine. Just trust me! It’s gonna be a riot!”

You wanted to scream. Of course, he wouldn’t see anything wrong with this. Didn’t this guy have any sense of self-preservation? But when you turned to Shinobu for assistance, there she was supervising the setup of the stage. Was literally everyone in this accursed gang insane?

Upon noticing your distressed expression, Itto let out a sigh. Soon you were wincing as a huge hand ruffled your carefully styled hair. 

“Don’t worry, I get it! You’re standing here brought to tears over worrying about your great boss. It’ll be fine!” But when your expression didn’t change, his turned stern. “Look, if you spend all your time racking your brain over hows-its and whats-its, you’ll get all old and pruney before you know it. You only live once. Might as well make it worth it, right?”

You wanted to laugh. If only he knew this was your seventh life. You got killed for less. But… unlike your previous lives, it wasn’t as if the Arataki Gang was involved in anything illegal. Their antics only incurred, not the threat of bows and spears, but the rolling of eyes. You left your old life away too. They didn’t want you anymore. So… perhaps… Perhaps it couldn’t be that bad?

Your shoulders dropped.

“Fine.”

So when he jumped in front of the crowd with fireflies strapped to his horns and the rest of the gang jumping and dancing around him, the audience hooted and hollered with glee. With the music twanging high in the air and the children of the city rushing around you, somewhere along the line you found yourself laughing along too. It felt odd. Weird. Like there was a lightness in your chest you never felt before. 

Was this what it felt like to live?

--

Zhongli - I Didn’t Mean to Sleep With the Celestial Emperor

Every century, the celestial emperor came down to the Kingdom of Liyue to grace his people with the divine knowledge needed to flourish until his return. After enjoying the week-long festival in the harbor to your heart’s content, you were excited for the main event. But as the celestial emperor descended from the heavens, what filled your chest was not awe, but confusion. Wasn’t he the guy you slept with last night?

“It has been said that while the Harbor represents the will of Liyue, Qingce Village represents its heart. It is a joy to see that it has remained just as I remembered.” 

“O-Oh, is that so?” You asked as the corner of your smile twitched slightly.

You didn’t know how it came to this, bringing the celestial emperor around Liyue, that is. When you first saw his face, you nervously assumed you were mistaken. You clearly saw him descend from the heavens, after all. The man you spent a passionate evening with the night before certainly could not be him. But when he locked eyes with you from the parapet, dread filled your stomach. 

You tried. You really did. The moment the procession was over, you upped and headed straight to the inn to pack your belongings to leave and leave to anywhere out of Liyue Harbor. But that would’ve been too easy. No, the moment you rushed downstairs and paid your bill, you turned to run straight into a young adeptus and was therefore whisked over to the man himself. 

Though it would have been weird, you would have been fine if he simply wished to thank you for the evening, but things were never that simple, were they? No, when you were brought before him, he said that you promised to show him the delights of Liyue. You said he could take it as a verbal contract between you both and he wished to cash in on it.

Now, let it be said that you didn’t mean it. After having had a few drinks last night, you were in the mood to flirt and really, could you be held accountable for what came out of your mouth? You didn’t think he’d hold you to it! But at the same time, how could you refuse!? Only a fool would invalidate a contract made with the very being of contracts! 

So here you were bringing the celestial emperor around as if he were some random normal traveler from a foreign land trying to hide from the common folk the divinity that oozed off of him in waves. It certainly did not help that he was handsome to boot and could steal hearts with a simple smile. And when he directed all that at you…?

“To be able to share this view with you…” His amber eyes glowed with warmth. “Your presence makes this trip even more of a delight.”

You couldn’t think straight.

[olsenmyolsen]

You're Not Alone

master list

dark master list

Post Age of Ultron (WandaNat)

Summary: Wanda discovers a secret about The Black Widow after a mission.

Word Count: 4.5K

Content: Talks of Hydra, The Red Room, Feelings, Tramua and flashbacks.

Wanda was still learning a lot since moving to America and becoming an Avenger.

Much to the dismay of Clint Barton, she discovered how much more trashy American reality TV is compared to other countries. Choosing to watch two toxic people argue while shitfacrd was a late-night pleasure for Wanda.

She also found her niche of new sitcoms to enjoy. Ones like The Office and Parks and Rec. She tried Always Sunny, but Wanda COULD NOT get into it. That disappointed Maria Hill, who liked that one. But not as much as How I Met Your Mother.

Regardless, Malcom in the Middle was a new favorite for Wanda Maximoff.

She also found new oddities about her teammates. Like Sams love of naming his little gadgets. Steve's late-night ballroom dancing practices. Vision curiosity over his humanoid teeth and Thor's love of all things Pop-Tarts and sugary sweets before heading off-world.

Lastly, Wanda most recently discovered something about Natasha Romanoff that almost no one knew.

Natasha Romanoff had a tattoo.

Wanda couldn't believe it when she saw it. But then again, Wanda was never supposed to see it. She only happened to see it because a mission went wonky...

Since joining the team, Wanda had one goal in mind aside from the obvious for the greater good hero crap. Wanda wanted to eliminate Hydra and their bases.

Joining Hydra was a mistake. It gave her, her powers but at the cost of her young adult years. At the expense of her sanity. She lost herself and then her brother.

Now, she was slowly discovering who Wanda was. Who Wanda Maximoff wanted to be. One of the first things on that list was to take down Hydra.

So that's what led Steve, Sam, Wanda, and Natasha in route to the snowy mountains of France. It wasn't the first mission Wanda was cleared to go on. But it was the first time she was on with Natasha Romanoff.

The Black Widow.

To say Natasha intimidated the Sokovain would be an understatement. Wanda was frightened of Natasha. Even if Wanda could clearly use her powers to her advantage, she didn't want to do that anymore.

At least not to her teammates and friends.

Besides, the pair had barely spoken since the fall of Wanda's home country, but yet Natasha's red jacket still hung in Wanda's closet.

They shared the same floor and went to movie nights at the same time, but aside from a look over and a tight-lipped smile. Natasha never gave Wanda anything more.

Not even when Wanda gave everyone on the team a handwritten apology for her actions in the rise and fall of Ultron.

She never received anything back from Natasha.

And yet.

Natasha chose to sit next to Wanda on the flight to France.

Wanda smiled as the redhead looked over the younger woman. Wanda did the same as her eyes traveled over Natasha's face. She couldn't deny how beautiful the Widow was. Her green eyes and striking features were hard to look away from. But that's what benefitted Natasha when she was in the Red Room. Use any and everything to your advantage.

Natasha wasn't doing that now.

She was just being herself. She wanted to talk to Wanda.

So when she saw Wanda's eyes leave her lips and get visibly nervous, Natasha decided to speak up.

"Hi." She started. Simple enough.

"Hi." Wanda softly spoke back.

Natasha took a second before speaking.

"I want you to know that I know this isn't your first mission. But it's your first one with me since..." Wanda nodded as Natasha steadied herself. "I just want you to know that you can count on me to have your back." Wanda smiled at that. "I know you'll have mine." Natasha ended that with a reassuring nod and a look away before looking back when the witch spoke up.

"Thank you, Natasha."

"Of course."

With that, Natasha cleared her throat and started looking at her widow bites. Double-checking them. Even though they had been thoroughly looked over by the Widow herself before the team even left the compound.

Wanda didn't know what to say anyways. Everything that had just happened was shocking to her.

The most shocking part might have been when Natasha didn't leave when she got done with her gadgets; instead, she remained sat in her seat next to Wanda.

Wanda racked her brain, thinking of anything else to say, but nothing came out when she opened her mouth.

But finally, when she was about push the words "have you ever seen the Dick Van Dyke show?" through her lips, Steve called the team up to go over the mission one last time.

The mission? Infiltrate the located Hydra Base. Save prisoners, if any. Capture the goons inside and try not to kill anyone. However, if it comes to it, do what you have to.

Steve made a better speech, but you get the jist.

When the wheels touched down, the group decided to split off. Through the coms, Wanda could hear Steve and Sam finding guys left and right. But that wasn't the case for her and Natasha.

Their side of the base was empty. Cells and rooms had been cleared out, long left abandoned. Dust and dirt had gathered. Flashbacks came to the front of Wanda's mind, but she pushed down the screaming and the trauma that came with it just in time for Natasha's thoughts to be loud.

Begging for Wanda to read them.

The Black Widow tried to focus on the mission, but for the last couple of months, Natasha had been silently struggling.

After mouthing off to Capitol Hill, Natasha came to Avengers Tower under Fury's orders. She stayed and made herself useful to the cause at hand, however, before and in between Ultron happening. Natasha had thought she found solace in someone after her and Maria split. But even after Natasha begged for them to go with her. It wouldn't work.

Nothing Natasha did worked.

So when a little witch made Natasha relive her nightmares, it didn't anger Natasha. It made her feel weak and small, like she deserved it.

So all this time when, Wanda felt like Natasha wasn't making an effort or ignoring her. Wanda technically wasn't wrong. It, however, wasn't because Natasha hated Wanda she was just dealing with her own shit.

"Natasha?" Wanda whispered when she noticed that the Widow wasn't walking next to her anymore. Instead, she was severely feet back looking into a cell.

Wanda walked back and saw what Natasha was staring at. A stuffed pink bear laid face down in the middle room. Covered in dirt and dried blood.

Wanda didn't say anything. She and Natasha had lived something similar. She just forced her eyes to pull away from the bear and look at Natasha, rubbing the left side of her ribs with her right hand, mumbling something to herself before remembering where she was, and what she was supposed to be doing. She cleared her throat and looked at Wanda.

"We should get moving."

Again, Natasha's thoughts were begging to be viewed, but Wanda ignored them and followed Natasha.

"Did you find it yet?" Sams voice came over coms. "We're almost at the drives now. If there's no one to save or take, prepare to evac in five." Natasha said as she and Wanda stopped before a room storing this base's secrets.

Wanda lit up the room with her magic before deeming it safe for Natasha to flick the switch on. "Is that new?" She asked when Wanda lowered her hands. "Steve, Vision, and I have been trying to come up with inventive ways to use my powers."

Natasha nodded as she put the thumb drive into the computer in the corner of the room.

"That's right," Natasha said. "I can see you lifting him from my window." That surprised Wanda. She had no idea Natasha had been watching them after team training ended. "You're doing good." Natasha offered a genuine smile to the Sokovian, who tried her best to hide the red on her cheeks.

Natasha noticed but didn't comment on it.

Instead, she turned to look at the files loading up on the monitor. Folders and folders full of information on this Hydra bases dealings.

What test they ran. Who they tested it on. What bodies were traded for and to whom.

It was all horrible.

Natasha's eyes watched each document and picture flick by her. The progress bar at the bottom of the screen was getting closer and closer to 100% when a picture of a young blonde girl flew by.

Natasha leaned forward.

No.. It couldn't be..

Wanda saw how Natasha's whole body language changed. She saw how her green eyes changed from focused to scared. Before Wanda could comment on it. A loud bang was heard from outside the door down the hall.

Instantly, Natasha rose to her feet, gun drawn. She looked over at Wanda with raised hands. Ready to fight. Natasha nodded to Wanda and then back to the computer and whispered. "Stay here. Make sure it gets to 100% and then take it with you to the quinjet. I'll be there."

Wanda felt like she should stop Natasha. Or that they should go together, but the words never left her mouth as Natasha rounded the doorframe, disappearing from sight.

As Wanda waited, Natasha quietly stalked her way to where the noise had came from. Her breathing was slow and calculated as she kept her gun in front of her. She listened for any voices or footsteps that might give away whoever was around. But no noise was made.

Natasha turned around and was about to head back when a woman wearing a grey Hydra outfit emerged from the shadows with a gun in their hand—firing two rounds at Natasha before they took off running.

Natasha used her quick reflexes to get up onto her feet and immediately started chasing after the person who just shot at her. "I got one running west," Natasha yelled in the coms. "Heading your way, Wanda."

Wanda's head shot up at learning that piece of information, and stood up from the computer to rush out the doorway. Without thinking about Wanda used her magic to stop the Hydra agent. Immobilizing their body, sending them crashing to the floor. The gun sliding away from their hand.

Natasha stopped next to the fallen body and bent down to turn the woman's body over. Natasha saw how the woman's eyes were red. Wanda had her under. "She's scared," Wanda spoke up for the woman.

That's why she ran. Natasha thought as she looked over the woman's blonde hair and at the features on that dawned her face.

Memories came to the front of her mind as her fingers itched to touch the side of her ribs again.

Natasha shook them away and swallowed before standing back up with a groan. The sharp pain rushed through her body as the adrenaline started coming down. Natasha winced and placed her hand on her side where the pain was coming from.

"You're bleeding."

Natasha looked into Wanda's concerned green eyes and didn't move as Wanda stepped closer to her. Walking right over the now incapacitated Hydra goon. Natasha wanted to take a step back away from Wanda but froze when Wanda's soft hands placed themselves on Natasha's body. Her hands gripped Natasha's hips as she bent down to take a closer look at the wound.

"It looks like the bullet just grazed you. Did you not feel it?" Wanda looked up at Natasha, who just shrugged. "I didn't even realize."

Wanda accepted the answer because she could start to see that pushing Natasha would push her away. So, instead, Wanda nodded to herself and raised her hand to Natasha's wound.

"I've been working on something.. Do you trust me?" Wanda asked the one person whom most people could never see Natasha trusting. "Yes," Natasha said without hesitation. Wanda hid a blush at that before continuing.

She raised her hand higher and brought it closer to Natasha's bleeding side. "It won't hurt."

Natasha watched as red wisps extended themselves from Wanda's hand and landed on the marking of the bullet. Before her eyes, Natasha watched as Wanda started patching the wound as if she were stitching her body. "Oh my.. Wanda..." Natasha couldn't believe it, and yet her wound was now sown shut with a red glow around it.

Wanda looked at what she did and smiled. She was proud of herself. So when she looked up, and saw Natasha smiling back down. Wanda smiled brighter. "That's amazing," Natasha said as Wanda stood up. Her hands were still on the Widow's body. "Thank you!" Natasha looked at Wanda with newfound respect and admiration.

And before she knew it, Natasha's eyes traveled from Wanda's green eyes to her pink lips. She started scanning every inch of the Sokovain's face in a new way.

Wanda wasn't sure if what she was seeing was actually happening, so it was best not to comment on it. However, she did notice that slight fall from Natasha's lips when Wanda removed her hands from her.

"When we get back, you'll have to get it checked out. My magic won't hold it forever... At least not that I know of." Wanda chuckled at that last part, making Natasha crack a laugh for the first time in a long time.

The nice eye-darting moment between the two had to come to an end when the prisoner groaned from the floor. They were still unconscious, thanks to Wanda. But needing to be moved.

"I'll check the hard drive if you want to..." Natasha didn't need to say anymore as Wanda effortlessly lifted the prisoner with her powers. Natasha smiled at the easy use of her powers and subconsciously rubbed the side of her ribs above the area where she had been shot once again—an action Wanda had picked up on.

Perhaps it was a nervous habit of Natasha's?

Maybe a tic?

Wanda didn't know, but when she saw Natasha do it again, she sat back down in the chair in front of the monitor. The screen sitting on an image of an experiment being ran on a young kid.

The progress bar below sitting at 100%.

Wanda watched as Natasha's body tensed, followed by her thoughts becoming louder and louder.

_

The flight went by quicker than Wanda thought it would.

She wanted to sit and talk with Natasha but couldn't when Natasha landed herself in the pilot seat. Wanda was sure she wouldn't have been if the Widow told the team about her getting shot, but Natasha didn't.

Instead, when Wanda and Natasha arrived with the unconscious Hydra goon, Steve and Sam had no idea that Natasha was in a fight. Something about the coms failing right after the download started. Steve asked Natasha if she was fine, and Wanda watched her teammate lie and put on a brave face.

So Natasha flew the team back.

When they landed, Sam went to start a report on the mission while Wanda went with Steve to take the prisoner to holding. Natasha went to the medical unit to get her wound looked over.

At least, that's what Wanda thought.

To no surprise but Wandas, Natasha headed straight to her room. She locked the door and went to her bathroom. She opened a cabinet and pulled out her own med kit. She rested it on the counter as her nerves began to calm down. The pain worked its way through her soft and battered body as her suit was slowly peeled off, hitting the floor.

There, Natasha stood in her private bathroom, scanning over her semi-naked body. What's been done to it by others. What's been done is by her own hands. Scars and wounds healed but still leave a mark.

She brings her fingers up over her newest wound and lets the bit of undried blood drip onto her middle finger before she rubs it into her skin.

The red staining her.

Natasha brings her face up from her fingers to look back at the mirror. Natasha realizes just how close the bullet was. Had it been appropriately aimed and higher, it would've gone right through the middle of Natasha's first and only tattoo.

On the side of Natasha's ribs were two incredibly detailed fireflies. One was slightly bigger than the other.

"Look, forest stars!"

"Yeah! You know what? Those are actually part of the Lampyridae family. And the glow that you see, that comes from a chemical reaction called... bioluminescence... Come on time for dinner!"

"I want Mac and Cheese."

"Natasha..?"

Natasha, startled, jumped back and away from the shut bathroom door. Covering herself before, she immediately closed her eyes and got upset at her actions once she realized it was Wanda on the other side.

Had she not heard the witch enter her room?

"I was calling your name over and over, but you didn't hear me." The witch answered. "I came to check on you. I went to the medical wing and... and you never made it. So I knocked on your door before letting... myself.. in..." Wanda tried to laugh to cover the light criminal work she had done. Even then, she opened and closed her mouth, but before Natasha could do anything, Wanda asked: "Are you okay? Do you need help?"

Natasha stood with her bodysuit held in her right hand. A part of her was yelling at her to put it on and send Wanda away. Fix yourself up alone and get back to training. But there was the other half. The one who was exhausted and hurt. The one who needed help.

That voice won out.

"Wa-Wanda..." Natasha's voice was cracked before she cleared it. "Yes?" Wanda answered with a voice of surprise and concern. But then Natasha didn't speak. Instead, there was a click of the door as Natasha removed her hand from the lock. "Come in.." She quietly called out to the Sokovian, who now wore a set of grey sweats, gingerly placed her hand on the knob before turning it slowly, opening the door.

"Natasha..." Wanda hitched her breath as her eyes became focused on the woman standing before her. Only wearing a black sports bra and black shorts. Riddled with scars and bruising. A bullet wound below a black and white marking that Natashas was hiding with her hand.

Wanda took her gaze off Natasha's body and found her eyes. Taking a step forward, Natasha didn't look away from the younger woman. She didn't move. She kept her grip on her suit and waited. "Natasha?" Wanda spoke.

"Hmm?"

Wanda looked away from the Widow and picked up the Avengers-level first-aid kit. "Take a seat.." She gestured over to the edge of the counter. Natasha looked at the spot before nodding.

Cautious, she dropped the suit from her grip but kept her hand covering the tattoo.

Wanda caught onto it and wasn't sure what Natasha could possibly be hiding; after all, SHEILDS secrets had been public knowledge for the last year and a half. But Wanda wasn't going to bug her about. Right now, she just wanted to care for her teammate and friend.

So, as Wanda got closer to Natasha, Natasha sat straight up and lifted her arm up to give Wanda enough space to work. Wanda sent the older woman a flat smile and bent down slightly before starting to clean the grazed area of the bullet.

Natasha did her best not to wince or show much emotion as Wanda cleaned her up and tossed the bloodied pieces of tissues to the side. Wanda knew Natasha wouldn't, but still, she was in such close proximity to THE BLACK WIDOW, and yet she could tell something was wrong. "Natasha?" Wanda finally said when she went to stitch her up without using her powers.

"Yes?" Natasha brought her eyes to Wanda as her loud thoughts of a young blonde child slowed. "Are you okay?" Wanda asked the question that had been begging to be asked.

Natasha wasn't sure what it was, but she easily could've lied to Wanda. She could've nodded, put on a brave face, and shut down any remaining questions, but when the green eyes of the Sokovian looked up at her, she broke. She closed her eyes and squeezed them tight as tears threatened to spill.

Wanda quickly put down the medicinal supplies in her hand and placed her hands on the shoulders of the redhead before they moved down to Natasha's side. Her hand sitting inches above the still-covered tattoo. "Tas-Natasha?"

Natasha shook her head and used her one free hand to wipe at her face. A tear slipped past her mouth as she opened to speak. "I'm tired." She spoke through her rough throat. Wanda nodded. She knew. "So tired."

Wanda rubbed her hands up and down Natasha's side. It seemed like it was still a safe thing to do, considering Natasha hadn't stopped her, and they were both enjoying the touch of each other on their skin.

Wanda was going to let the silence linger. She didn't know what to say to help Natasha that the Widow didn't know, and she was focusing really hard not to read her thoughts. But luckily for Wanda, Natasha very quietly looked up and said: "I miss her."

Wanda saw the soft sadness in the eyes of her friend and felt hurt. She didn't like seeing Natasha like this. It didn't feel right, and someone this pretty should never be sad.

"Who?" Wanda asked, genuinely curious.

"Yelena. My sister."

Natasha saw the confused look on the witches face, but instead of elaborating, Natasha leaned closer to Wanda and lifted her hand off of her tattoo. "Here." She placed her hands on top of Wanda. Moving one just in front of her forehead and the other hand, she moved down the side of her body.

The feeling of their fingers resting on top of one another sent a warmth wave throughout each woman as Natasha finally placed Wanda's hand on the tattoo.

"I got this a year after my deflection to SHIELD."

Wanda rubbed her thumb over the larger firefly before tracing her fingers over the delicate linework. The action making Natasha smile. "Do you know where she is?" Wanda gingerly asked when she took her eyes off the piece of art.

"No."

"Do you wish you did?"

Natasha didn't waste another thought on a lie. She answered truthfully while looking into Wanda's eyes.

"Yes."

Wanda's eyes stayed on Natashas before dropping to her lips and back up. "Can.. I..?" Wanda asked, awaiting consent before earning a nod. With that, Wanda lowered her hand and began looking into Natasba's mind. Looking at what Natasha wanted her to see.

A young blonde child and a girl with dyed blue hair. The two are playing in a backyard near a swing set. The younger girl is laughing and having fun before she falls over.

"Yelena," Natasha repeated her name. "My sister." Wanda smiles at the memory and then raises her hand up and leaves Natasha's mind. "Before she was taken. She didn't know..." When she opens her eyes, Natasha is looking at her. "Thank you for showing me that." Wanda once again looks down at Natasha's watery smile—her lips.

Natasha nods and notices the look on Wanda's face. "Wanda.." Natasha starts as her hands move to Wanda's waist, tugging her closer to her sitting on the bathroom counter.

"We shouldn't..." Wanda already knows what the older woman is thinking, but Natasha wants this. She needs this. It's been a while since she's felt the care from someone else. The touch of another. She also has shared something with Wanda that no one else knows.

So, as she pulls Wanda closer, Wanda knows that they shouldn't, but she can't say no. The words fail to get past her throat. She wants to feel the lips of the other on her... So she leans into Natasha, and the moment between them is soft. Slow and careful. But the sparks fly.

Something happens.

Natasha's hand moves around to Wanda's lower back, pulling her closer, causing Wanda to fall more into her without a fight as their lips collide again and again.

A whimper makes Natasha smile as she bites and pulls the witches bottom lip between her teeth. "You sound so good for me," Natasha whispers, earning another moan. "Natasha..." Wanda tries to speak again but fails when Natasha's right hand begins pulling at Wanda's grey sweatpants. "Shhh.. It's okay.. I want this.." Natasha reassures Wanda to only earn a shake of the head. The younger woman is doing her best to tell Natasha that she's...

"Tasha.." Wanda moans when Natasha's hand brushes past her bare pussy. "Come on. Tell me you want this, Wanda..." Wanda gasps and moans when a finger touches her clit. "Tasha, please..." Natasha smirks and kisses the lips of the scarlet woman with passion.

"Please, what baby..." Wanda loves the kisses being planted by Natasha, but she has never done anything past this moment with someone. She's feeling lost, and the feeling of passion is morphing into nervousness. And she doesn't want to do this with Natasha when she knows and can feel the thoughts coming from Natasha.

Natasha is looking for an escape.

Wanda moans again in pleasure. "Please stop." She says, surprising Natasha. Immediately, Natasha pulls her hands out of Wanda's sweatpants, placing them on her sides taking her lips off of the Sokovian. Looking into her eyes with concern. "What- what's wrong?" Wanda bites her bottom lip before returning them to Natashas, still keeping her confused. "Wanda?" Natasha looks at her friend with soft eyes.

"I've never..." Wanda says, making Natasha feel guilty for pushing her. "Oh Wanda..." Natasha starts, but Wanda stops her again with a kiss, moving their bodies closer together. "Stop. I want to, but..." Wanda bites her lips again. "I don't want to be used." She takes a careful breath before saying: "You and I both know what that's like."

Natasha doesn't realize a tear has fallen from her face until Wanda drags a finger up her cheek. Wiping it away with tenderness. "I'm so-" "Don't." Wanda cups Natasha's chin. "It's okay." Natasha wants to yell at her that it's not, but all she does is collapse as Wanda runs her hand over the tattoo of a distant memory.

Wanda doesn't speak about what almost happened between them. Instead, she leaves Natasha on the bathroom counter as she brings her some clothes to rest in later tonight. She finishes wrapping the wound around Natasha before leading her out to her bed.

Both women are tired but don't let go of one another hand. Wanda smiles when Natasha asks her to stay.

They don't talk about what is new between them. But the two feel closer as Wanda keeps her hand on the tattoo, and with permission, she is allowed to relive the happiest memories from Natasha's childhood. A majority of them involving Yelena. Natasha thanked her as she laid in the Sokovian's arms.

In return, Wanda made her remember that she's not alone.

dividers by @/benkeibear

[forasecondtherewedwon]

After the Horse Has Bolted

Fandom: My Lady Jane Pairing: Jane x Guildford Rating: T Word Count: 1899

Summary: Though they escaped execution, Guildford continues to struggle with his transformations and, worse, with dreams of losing Jane. A frank conversation with Susannah might help more than he expects it to.

He loves her like this, watching her move about the camp at twilight. She isn't the only person here with medical knowledge, and she lacks the experience to deal with more severe battle wounds, and some of the Ethians are steadfastly distrustful, but there are enough willing to let Jane close, and enough minor wounds, and, generally, enough patients to go around. Her skills are badly needed.

As Jane tends to people, Guildford feels a bit useless. Though he did try to help, he quickly realized it was all too unfamiliar for him to be of much use. Besides, these people don't extend the same welcome to him as they do Jane. He doesn't have her bedside manner, he supposes. Fuck them for finding him slightly jumpy and suspicious after one of their own (technically, one of his own, but fuck) attempted to murder him with iron manacles. But he thinks this without heat. These people are their allies—almost their only allies—and he's trying to see what Jane sees.

Mostly, he just likes seeing Jane. Jane in the early morning, scavenging in the woods for medicinal plants. Jane winning over strangers by sitting at their side to cut the thread of their stitches with her teeth instead sitting on the throne to sign a document they may never feel the benefit of. Jane alive. Guildford hasn't told her yet that he sees her differently when he closes his eyes. He sees her pristine white dress across the square, the black strip that blinds her. In his dreams, he watches helplessly as she kneels and the axe swings down. That's when he wakes up screaming her name.

Yeah, maybe that's another reason these people feel a little uneasy around him.

Except Susannah. Susannah's been marvellous. They've sort of met before—him below the stairs with the beautiful woman he would next see walking up the aisle of a church, her rushing down those stairs to warn Archer about the guards, then the night of the attempted assassination outside the old Ethian camp—but Susannah makes more of their acquaintance than it really is. She does it so the others will trust him, because they clearly trust her. They listen to her. It isn't long before Guildford learns it was Susannah who mustered the rescue party that saved his and Jane's lives, though he suspects as much even before it's confirmed. He sees their bond. He's grateful for it.

How grateful though, is the thing, when Susannah plonks herself down on the log where Guildford's seated, and follows his eyes, smirking to catch him gazing at Jane.

"D'you ever let your wife ride you?"

He can't look at her as he responds, "Just the once, escaping execution."

"Ah, y'know that's not what I mean."

"No, I don't know that," Guildford says stubbornly.

Susannah hunches forward and catches his eye.

"How come you're blushin' then?"

"Piss off."

"No."

He looks at her, and she's grinning. While Jane was raised a lady and Susannah supported herself in service, Guildford's found them to be cut from a very similar cloth. They're both unflinchingly bold when they want to be. Cautious, at other times, but not timid. Not everyone can tell the difference. He's been learning Jane, and is beginning to know Susannah, and he can tell she's teasing him for a reason. It might be friendly, or a protective test of Jane's husband's mettle, or something else. Whatever it is, Guildford realizes he's probably better off not trying to shut her out. They're persistent, these two women.

"Want to know why I'm asking?" Susannah prompts.

"I'm guessing you'll tell me."

"Very good!" She shifts closer and lowers her voice. "It's 'cause I've heard you screamin' your feckin' head off the last three nights."

"And you thought Jane was responsible?"

"Yeah, I hoped she was ridin' you like there's no tomorrow. Two reasons for that. You want 'em?"

"Terrific," Guildford says flatly.

"One," Susannah says, holding up a finger to show the count, "because back when Jane and I lived under the same roof, I was beginning to have serious concerns that she was never gonna let herself enjoy herself. It was a virgin you took to your marriage bed, Guildford, no question."

"You are nosy, aren't you?" He scowls at her, but Susannah stares back, unfazed.

"It's the same for her with me. If your hair wasn't curled already, she'd have stories to tell you that'd do the job."

"Please just get to your second reason."

Susannah sighs.

"If it's not Jane, somethin's troublin' you, and it can't go unaddressed. We can't have that. You'll either attract trouble to our camp or somebody already livin' in it'll stab you themselves to keep you quiet. Probably your wife."

Guildford sags. He knows she's right—the last thing he wants to be is a liability. He doesn't want to get anyone else hurt or killed. Especially Jane. Jane, who was sentenced to death for marrying him. Jane, who stood in the fire with him, the bond between them even stronger than the rope that wouldn't split. She would die for him. Without question, without thought, without hesitation. But he wouldn't survive getting her killed.

Susannah has fallen silent, apparently waiting for him to suggest a solution. Guildford doesn't know if this is an Ethian thing or just a Susannah thing: allowing that the person with the problem probably knows themselves best. He thinks it's likely that she's wrong in his case, believing himself the picture of stunted self-knowledge and repressed memories. He takes a deep breath. He can't be that man anymore. It doesn't do anyone any good, himself included.

"I keep dreaming she was executed. You and the Ethians don't come, and I can't get free of the ropes, and I see her beheaded." His own throat feels painfully thick as he forces the words out.

"I can see why that'd be botherin' you."

"It nearly happened," Guildford agrees.

"That's not why. I don't think it's about Jane."

"Of course it is!"

But Susannah's shaking her head.

"It's not her who's powerless, it's you. In the dream, you're tethered. Outside the dream, what is it you feel you can't control?"

Slowly, Guildford understands what she's getting at. He answers, "My transformation. My Ethianism." He narrows his eyes at Susannah. "You're very insightful."

"I'm not, actually. You just have a very straightforward problem: mental impotence. See it all the time in men. Tragic affliction."

He catches sight of her smirk and wants to shove her off the log.

"Have the two of you been able to fuck since the near-execution, by the way?" Susannah asks.

"Thank you for the advice, doctor," Guildford says sarcastically, head cocked to one side, "but that is really none of your concern. Try meddling in your own relationship."

"What relationship would that be?"

He frowns.

"Are you and Archer not...?"

"Archer?!" Susannah catches herself and continues more softly. "In his dreams. Not to be insensitive," she adds, making Guildford roll his eyes. "But no, definitely not. Trust me, if he'd been lucky enough to have me in his bed, he wouldn't have been lookin' at..."

It's far too obvious that Susannah has just caught herself again, but Guildford's glad she did. His trust in his wife is absolute. That doesn't mean he would appreciate Archer attempting to come between them. He rises, deciding to forget Archer and focus on Jane.

"Try the sex thing," Susannah says on their parting. "It might help, is all!"

"Try the minding your own business thing!"

Guildford actually does plan on trying something thanks to this conversation, but it's not sex. (Yet. Later? Gods, yes.)

He doesn't try to sleep that night, not yet. He lies on his back in the dark, listening to the low murmur of conversation from the lookouts tending the campfire, to the sound of his own even breathing. He stares up at the trees, their shapes black against the blue-black night. Sometimes, he stares past them at the stars.

Before dawn, Guildford gently rouses Jane from where she sleeps beside him. Between treating the injured and being startled awake by his screams, she hasn't been getting as much rest as she needs, but he hopes she'll understand. Taking her hand, he leads her to a clearing a short distance from the camp. Someplace they'll be able to see the sky change colour ahead of sunrise. They walk with soft steps. The yawn Jane can't stifle has the round, open notes of birdsong. Soon, real birds begin to sing. He wonders whether any Ethians are among them.

Gradually, everything brightens.

"Stand here," Guildford says, taking Jane's hands in his plea, then dropping them and backing off to a safe distance.

She doesn't argue. He's told her about his mother.

Before the light of day can rush across the horizon, Guildford closes his eyes and concentrates. There's no risk of imminent death to compel him now. He has to know if he can do it anyway. Instead of resisting thoughts of the past, he permits himself to recall how it feels to change, concentrating until the sensation is alive in him. Instead of disconnecting from the present, he inhales the earthy scent of the forest, shifts his boots on the ground, knows without looking that Jane is standing where he left her, waiting for him, trusting him.

He changes just before daybreak.

In this form, his hearing is keener, keen enough to pick up Jane's quiet gasp from across the clearing. His own steady breathing expands his strong lungs, drawing in details of his environment that are beyond his human senses. What he likes best is Jane's smile as she approaches him, the soothing strokes of her hands on his face. He stands there on four legs, enjoying her gentle touch and the heat of the sun on his flank, then, closing his eyes to the world once more, Guildford changes back.

He's stumbling forward into Jane's arms before he realizes he never moved away from her before trying to transform. Obviously, his human form is smaller and therefore less of a hazard, but Guildford isn't convinced that was the ruling instinct. It felt more like... he just knew he could do it. He was sure of himself, in that body and in this one, and in whatever he is during the fleeting moment in between.

"Guildford! How did you do that?" she demands, full of awe and urgent curiosity. "I haven't seen you control it since the night we escaped the Tower!"

Yes, that's true. After bearing her away from that place, he turned back into a man. That's how he was when the Ethians found them, and how he remained through the night. At dawn, he despaired, once again becoming a horse against his will. It persisted. Day, horse. Night, man. The terrible dreams. This morning has been Guildford's first time taking the reins, so to speak. It's a colossal relief, and he looks lovingly into Jane's eyes, knowing she understands that much, even if she can't yet explain the rest.

It seems to him that the best words to say are, "I've always wanted to kiss you at daybreak."

"That's a lot of effort for a kiss," Jane observes.

"Then you'd better make it worth it," he retorts with a grin.

And he holds her, and she does.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

summary: bucky and y/n decide what is and isn’t a boundary. 

masterlist

Bucky thought that after becoming a father he’d magically turn into a responsible adult. One of those adults in every single movie, every single TV show, that somehow has their shit together and always has wise words to offer the young generation. That’s what’s supposed to happen, right? He was supposed to play his playboy days behind him and step into the father role armed with dad jokes and infinite wisdom - instead, he was lusting after the woman he hired to take care of his daughter. It was almost comical, straight out of a gossip magazine, the dad wanting to sleep with the babysitter. He’d never thought of her that way. At least he was sure he’d never thought of her that way. Sure she was beautiful, that had never gone lost on him, but she was his employee and as an employer he had certain guidelines he had to follow. He was certain if the HR lady was here she’d be lecturing him on how he should stop staring at Y/N’s breasts through the thick sweater she was now wearing. How come the sweater was getting him as riled up as the see through T-shirt? It was if she was tempting him, looking all domestic, holding his child by her hip while finishing supper. The universe was tempting him. 

All his mind could focus on was that memory of her, soaking yet standing in front of him. Nothing had been hidden from him, from the shape of her supple breasts to the colour of her underwear. It made him want to take her to his bed, peel the pesky garments off and feel her skin against his. Just the mere thought of it had his blood boil and his trousers fell suddenly tighter. He needed to get out of here, he needed to get out of here before she noticed anything. 

      - I’m gonna go. - he spoke out before his brain could compute his words. All he knew for sure is he needed to get away from her, get away from the thought of her body flush against his, or how her lips would feel against his skin. 

      - Are you gonna be back soon? - even her voice was tempting. When did she become a temptress? - Sergeant Barnes?

     - I don’t know. 

He closed the door a bit more harshly than he should but this was a condition he didn’t want her seeing him in. He also certainly didn’t want his daughter to further question him on why his heart was beating faster or why he was red. He needed to get away from it all. He needed to have sex, that’s what he needed to do. Honestly, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d actually had sex. If he wasn’t busy at work, he was at home spending time with Sadie. That had to be it, he was having this thoughts about his au pair because he was horny. That was it. At least that’s what he convinced himself as he walked into a bar. 

He knew he should feel guilty, or at least he should feel some slight shame for what he was about to do. However, it wasn’t as if Bucky ever lied to any of the women he slept with. They knew what this was - a one night stand in an expensive hotel room. He made it clear from the start and today that’s just what he needed.

That’s how he found himself in a hotel in central New York, deep inside the woman whose red dress had caught his attention the moment he stepped into the bar. This was just what he needed. Looking at her face, he studied her features, noticing just the way her hair fell, her cheeks flushed as he continued to pound into her. Her moans were music to his ears, the more she moaned, the more his grip grew on her hips, chasing his own high. He knew he should help her finish, he really did but he just needed to get off, he needed to get this sexual frustrations off. It made him sick to his stomach when he considered that deep down he was using this woman for his own benefit, but he reckoned she was getting something out of it too. 

He looked back at his girl’s face and perhaps it was a mix of alcohol or maybe he lack of sleep but her face started morphing into someone else ... the someone else. He should’ve been ashamed, imagining his daughter’s au pair in place of someone else but once it was in his mind, he couldn’t stop anymore. His pace grew faster as his grip tighter as he pictured her, writing and moaning under him until he came undone. 

(...)

The morning came like a bad alarm. The girl was long gone and perhaps it was for the best as he was certain that at some point he must’ve moaned out Y/N’s name. She probably thought he was pathetic and maybe he was as he couldn’t even remember what that woman’s name was. He rubbed his face off sleep, he needed to get back to his daughter and based on the amount of calls he had from Y/N, he reckoned she was about to finish writing all her essay about how disappointed she was in him. He dreaded walking past that door, he just knew Y/N was gonna berate him for not telling Sadie goodnight or sit through another three hours of Bluey. 

     - Sergeant Barnes. - he heard her voice before he saw her and he wished he hadn’t seen her in that moment. She walked in wearing a white dress, carrying Sadie against her hip. - I’m gonna be late. I’ve fed Sadie and we’ve gone through bath time. I need to go. 

       - Where are you going? - where are you going looking like that? The dress was light, flowing around at any and every movement and hugging her breasts in a way which made him wonder if she had it made specifically for her. 

       - I asked for the day off remember? - she handed him Sadie who was busy paying attention to the tablet. - I’ll be back either tonight or tomorrow.

He found his words stuck in his throat but before they could actually say anything, she was already out the door. That had to be a date, that was a date outfit. That was a trying to impress a guy outfit and he didn’t know why he was so bothered. She was a beautiful, young woman and it was natural for her to go out and date. She deserve someone nice who wined and dined her and while part of him was happy for her, the other part kinda wanted to have been able to take her on a date. He knew the best places in town, he could get her places someone else couldn’t and then he could end the night in ways that she could only read on the dirty books she tried to hide whenever he caught her reading. Yet, part of him wondered if maybe all these thoughts were due to his sexual frustration. He thought she was attractive, yes, but he didn’t dwell on any underlying feelings. It was just lust, right?

      - No Sadie, don’t eat the marker. - his daughter took his mind off Y/N thankfully. 

      - Grape. 

      - It’s grape coloured, not grape flavoured. - he took the marker away from Sadie. - Do you want some grapes?

      - No. - she shrugged, grabbing another marker to continue painting. 

      - What are you drawing there, Sisi? - he asked, taking a more comfortable seat next to his daughter.

      - Daddy ... - she pointed at a blue stick figure and then to a pink stick figure and red stick figure. - Me, mummy. 

      - Mummy? - his throat dried up. He thought he still had time or at least more time until he had to figure out how he’d explain to Sadie that her mum is a deadbet who only hits him up when she needs money. 

      - Mummy. - she shrugged and continue to paint. 

      - Do you want a mummy? 

      - No. I have mummy. - she said as if the was the simplest answer to the most simple question.

     - You have a mummy? 

     - Y/N. - she looked at him for a second before returning to her dress. - Teacher said mummy loves you and Y/N loves me. 

He chose to stay silent this time. She was two years old, going on three, there was no use in pushing this issue further and if Bucky was being honest, he didn’t want to push it either. Telling Sadie about her mum was something he hoped to do when she was a little bit older and could, much to his dismay and sadness, understand the true nature of some people. Right now she was a baby, his baby, and he couldn’t bare the thought of destroying whatever innocent notions she had. It was better she thought that - that all someone needed to become a parent was love, at least until she was younger. 

He moved closer to his daughter, kissing the top of her head as she happily continued on her drawing. He teased her about making him too short or even why he couldn’t pick the colour, but eventually, the two had the drawing pinned to the fridge door with a magnet of a past holiday. The rest of the day was uneventful, with Sadie mostly running around with her toys and having fun with different things she found around the house until he had to tackle bath time. No wonder Y/N had gotten soaked to the skin, trying to bath Sadie was almost a war sport and he had actually been to war. Eventually, he got her into bed, tucking her in with several of her plushies and reading her favourite book before lights were off except for the small moon night light.

He took the opportunity to spend the time without his daughter to catch up on some work, spread over his couch while his laptop laid over his lap. The words meshed together with sentences as he read through contract after contract, one no more different than the other. The repetitiveness of the contracts had him slowly drifting in and out of sleep until he was napping. However, that nap was soon interrupted by the door closing. He was immediately back to his senses, ready to take down whatever threat may have trespassed. Luckily for him, it was only Y/N coming back in. Unluckily for him, she didn’t look particularly happy, at least she hadn’t looked happy as once she looked at him it was a if she did a 180 and immediately looked her regular happy go lucky self. 

     - Is Sadie asleep? - she tucked her hair behind her ear, looking around to see if the little girl was anywhere. 

     - She’s asleep. Been down for about two hours now. 

     - Oh ... uhm .... Is there anything you need me to do? 

     - I thought you weren’t gonna come back today. - he closed his laptop. - Bad date?

     - A bad date would’ve been better than what happened. - she walked towards the kitchen to grab herself a glass of water. 

     - Jesus, how bad could the guy have been? - he followed her like a baby duck, taking a seat in front of the kitchen counter. - You were so confident this morning, I thought you would come back in a messier state. 

     - What are you talking about, Sergeant Barnes? - she rolled her eyes. 

     - Come on. From this morning alone, I thought you were gonna get laid or something. Follow my advice from our last conversation.

     - Oh ... - realisation dawned on her. - I didn’t go on a date. I went to my friend’s engagement party. 

Was it terrible that he was happy she hadn’t gone on a date? She had clearly looked like something had upset her, yet he was celebrating the fact she wasn’t sleeping with someone behind his back. Behind his back? She’s not his girlfriend. She would be sleeping with someone, point. 

     - Going to an engagement party as the last single girl is a challenge. 

     - I’m sure there were plenty of groomsmen there ready to make you some company. It can’t be all bad.

     - It’s not even the idea of not getting married which upsets me. It’s the comments. Every single comment filled with pity as if I am losing sleep over being sleep. - she groaned. - It’s annoying. 

     - Maybe they’re just wondering why such a catch is still out there. - he joked, getting a small smile out of her. - Good food, at least?

     - Not that kind of friend. 

     - Why are you single anyway, Y/N? 

     - Don’t you think that’s a bit personal? 

     - You did flash me yesterday. I thought that meant there were no boundaries between us anymore. 

     - I did not flash you. - she pointed at him. - Flashing you would’ve meant I intended for you to see me soaking wet. 

Oh god, why did you say that? She thought to herself as the words faltered on her tongue, gaining a grin of victory from him. 

     - I did not flash you. - she repeated. - You’re my boss that would’ve been inappropriate.

     - I’ll forgive your flasher behaviour if you forgive my question then. 

     - I have to watch over Sadie and I have my studies to focus on. Do you think I can date on the one or two days off I get? 

     - Now that’s not very good multitasking from you. I swore you told me during your interview that you were a good multitasker. 

     - And I swore during my interview you said you’d warn me if something came up and you had to leave. Where did you go last night? 

     - What about those boundaries we were discussing earlier?

     - If you get to query me on my personal life, so do I. Go on. 

     - You don’t want to know. 

     - Yes, I do. I answered your question and now you answer mine, it is only fair, Bucky.

     - Is it Bucky now? 

     - Don’t change the topic. You ran out the room as if there was a fire, so tell me, what could’ve been so important?

     - Sex. 

     - Oh ... - she looked flustered, not expecting that to be the answer. For whatever reason she thought it would’ve been something related to his company or maybe he just wanted to smoke as he usually did when he thought no one was watching. Although, looking back she realised that the later looked like the least likely option. - You had ... scheduled sex?

     - You think I schedule sex?

     - Did you just ... randomly felt like having sex and went out looking?

     - It’s not that hard, Y/N. You would know if you tried it. 

     - How do you know I haven’t? 

     - Based on the fact that I heard you touching yourself a few nights ago ... I’d say you haven’t. 

[unique-high]

bada x ladybounce reader plss

a/n: wasn't really sure what to do here but I hope you still like it.

Mention of sex.

LOVER

The afternoon sun spilling from the cream paper thin curtains warms your face waking you up. Blinking a couple times and rubbing your eyes you look next to you at the sleeping woman. She's lightly snoring, her dark hair hiding her face. Cuss words quickly slip past your lips.

This wasn't supposed to happen again.

Sleeping with Bada was supposed to be a onetime thing. But she has a way with words that make you melt, and she gets you into your bed. Bada, she shows you that sex isn't just about fucking and rushing. That sex could be beautiful when it's the right person slowly taking their time with you and loving every inch of you.

So you stare at her. Carefully moving hair her from her face. A tiny smile tug at your lips. The feeling in your heart felt nice, like flowers blooming in the spring. You hadn't felt this way in a long time. Yet a sleeping Bada made you feel like this.

She moves in, snuggling her face against yours. She's half asleep but knew she needed to wake up soon to get to practice. Bada lays there for a moment breathing in your scent. It's mixture of something calming and nostalgic; it reminds her of a time when she was a little girl and she would run through the cool summer rain or cuddling up with her mom in her still-warm bed.

“Hey, you.” Bada whispered.

Part of you wish she would sneak out while you were still sleeping. Bada never did. Sometimes she would be up before you cooking your breakfast while swaying her hips to some Beyoncé song.

“Hey.” you said. “Shouldn't you be getting ready to leave to?”

Bada softly groaned, pouting a bit. “Yes. But you're warm and the bed is so so warm I don't wanna leave.”

“Get up.” You poked at her bare stomach making her laugh and roll out of your bed.

“Can I come by tonight?” she asks.

“The girls will be over tonight. We're having a small party for Biggy. But you can come by once they leave. I'll text you.”

You sit up in bed, pulling your sheet up to your bare chest. Bada nods walking around your bedroom naked, collecting her clothes that were scattered across your bedroom floor.

“Still haven't told your girls about us?” Bada asked as she struggled to get her legs into her jeans.

There was nothing to tell. You and Bada were only friends with benefits, sort of. So what would you be telling your lady bounce members? Hey, Bada and I are sex buddies' surprise.

“You and I aren't... Dating so I haven't.”

Bada grabs her shirt next pulling it over her head. She walks over to the bed sitting on the edge where your feet are.

“I, um, wanted to talk to you about that,” Bada said.

She loved sex with you, and the brief conversations that would come after when you were both sleepy and sweet talk turned into funny laughter and soon snoring.

“About what?” You asked.

“I want us to go beyond sex.” she said. “Like I want to take you on dates, and sing along with you to your favorite songs.”

“Dates?” you laughed. “and singing to my favorite song? Don't be all lover girl on me, Bada.”

Bada looks at you. “What if I want to love you?”

“I'll say you're crazy.”

Your last relationship taught you how hard you were to love. That not anybody would want to put up with you. Bada takes your hand running her thumb over your knuckles.

“Then call me crazy, y/n.” Bada smiles. “I'm not perfect either, you know. But I will love you like you're the most perfect person in the freaking world.”

“Bada, I don't want to be loved like I'm this most perfect person in the world. I want my flaws to be loved and seen.”

“If you'll allow me to, I can do that.” Bada said.

“I'm not that easy to love, though.”

“And who is? It's just about having the right person there for you who will love you like you're the easiest person to love. And that's what I will try to do for you, y/n.”

That's all you ever wanted was for someone to try for you.

[blacclotusss]

Like the Light by Which God Made the World Before Light

I mainly want to talk about three main things that I gravitated towards in this episode: Claudia & Madeleine, Armand & the Coven, and The Trial. 

Claudia & Madeleine

I didn't expect to be all for this companionship the way that I am, but this relationship is so sweet and as pure as it can get between a human and a vampire turned immortal love. I think their connection and their relationship represent what all these immortal relationships could be. They seem to understand one another and learned how to work with what the other was offering and I think that's the sweetest thing. I knew they would get along and probably form some sort of bond from their first interaction (absolutely loved Claudia in this scene and how she moved). I'm glad Claudia found someone who is all for her without their being any weird animosity, like with the coven, or feeling as if the most important person in her life is choosing everyone else but her. The description of the little scene of Claudia in daylight with her beautiful yellow dress being from Madeleine's mind was so, so beautiful and nearly moved me to tears. Finally, even if it was just a vision, we see Claudia happy and cheerful as she deserves to have been all her life. This woman has been through enough and it stinks that things end for her the way the way they do, at least in other versions of this story. I'm glad she was able to find a companion, even if it were just for a short period of time. Oh how I wish they would have stayed traveling the world...

Armand & The Coven

Let's start with Armand by himself and everything he has going on. Armand is a powerful, yet insecure guy that needs some structure in his life and will fall apart if he doesn't have it. My personal belief is that's the reason why he doesn't let that coven go not does he really get too physical with them, I mean he's got the whole mind thing going on so he doesn't really have to. But, as much as he is insecure and powerful, he's also manipulative. Manipulation is literally this man's day job and it was hilarious when he said "Are you asking me, Maitre?" when he and Louis was like "...okay girl we ain't doing this today." But, he knows how to work a crowd and a room, which we've seen with the dinner and in San Francisco and even in Dubai with the whole "you asked for it" thing. He likes to spin things like he's a DJ playing a set and even I had to come to the realization of just how bad he is. Again, he is a beautifully tragic individual (the third tragic beauty I have attached myself to) but that's a sneaky little thing. 

Now, in regards to him and the coven, Armand was never going to fight that coven on matters regarding Claudia. Louis? Probably. But he has the same goal of getting Claudia out of the way that Louis' previous man did. Not only does he feels she's in the way of their relationship, but she is the living embodiment of a broken immortal law. I think he probably wanted her out from the moment he figured them out, which was day one. I was also trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there was absolutely no way he didn't hear them plotting. Maybe that's why he told Louis they should leave...O don't know! My question is if he will actually interfere with them, and I'm assuming, trying to kill Louis? Like, that's supposed to be his love, I'm hoping he does something. And, I need to know what Louis' reasoning was for staying with him after that, unless it's some more memory stuff. Did he know Lestat would be there? Also, cannot wait to see how Daniel will aid in unfolding all of this. 

The Trial

This whole thing is really a damn headache and I hope every coven member gets burned down to a crisp, especially that bleach blonde heifer parading around like he's the best actor to walk the earth. I'm glad Armand AND Louis yoked him up! Buffoon! I always knew there was something with that man, he gave too many mysterious looks for me as if he was trying to pick them apart from the inside. He even goes on to try and get close to Claudia just to put her on trial for killing her abuser. Guillotine! Go meet you maker, thesp! And speaking of abuser...it's so funny how they bring Lestat into this whole thing when he's definitely a part of the problem. Aside from all of the nonsense and abuse he's put Louis and Claudia through, he also broke one of the rules by turning Claudia at 14 years old all because his miserable self couldn't bear to be alone or without Louis. Are they going to try and kill him, too? Or is he their God just like Armand once was? This is sarcasm if you didn't catch it. It's just...very questionable that they overlook everyone else's faults to get rid of her. And why is Madeleine on trial? That girl ain't do a thing to them people. Will they torture Armand as well by making him watch? I'm just rambling my thoughts at this moment, but I can't help but notice...something about the way these people move. 

[tinyidle]

Can you do a part two of For the Memories with Dom Yuqi + Strap on?

༻༻༻𝖽𝖺𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾 3 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝗆𝗒!𝗆𝖺𝗒༺༺

hope you enjoy this! and for all the people who were bullying me about another gidle fic, especially you 'userabcxyz', if you don't read and give this fic notes i swear i will.. cry 🥺/j

Stay Focused - SYQ

wc: 1.8k

WARNING: filthy filthy smut, modeling au, friends-with benefits, rough sex, degradation, facesitting, strap-on usage, scissoring, throat fucking, b!g d¡ldo, mommy!yuqi, meandom!yuqi, insatiable!yuqi, sub!reader, dumb!reader, fem reader, fiction ofc

꒦꒷︶︶꒦꒷︶︶︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦

you were asked to help yuqi with phototaking for her magazine shoots. usually she does it alone, but because of your previous encounter regarding a camera, she invited you to one of her shoots for the day.

you, however, couldn't focus as she kept posing in what you considered suggestive poses. with each and every pose suggestion the head photographer showed her, yuqi would somehow jut her hips more, accentuate her legs, and basically pop out her figure. before long, your body had betrayed you and you lost all control. when everyone was taking a five-minute break, you decided to greet the older girl with a kiss on the lips, much to her surprise as she yelped. when you heard your name being called, you immediately pulled away from her.

"what the fuck, man?" yuqi yelled out to you, clearly annoyed from the lipstick smudge on her now pink-stained lips and cheek. "i need you to take help me take pictures for instagram, not get me all messy."

your face reddened once reality sunk in. you realized what you just did. this was supposed to be a favor for your friend. you were supposed to be professional. this wasn't supposed to be something as casual as having sex. "im sorry, yuqi," you swiftly apologized, wiping the smeared gloss off your dry lips. "but you looked too good. you know how distracted i get seeing you. i just couldn't resist." the woman remained unamused as you took out a wipe from your purse and gently removed the smudge of taint from her lips and cheek.

although she was angry at you ruining her makeup, yuqi smirked as she devised a plan. "okay, how about this. if you can compose yourself for the rest of the shoot, when we finish and head to my place, ill reward you. how does that sound?" immediately you nodded, liking the sound of that idea. however, that wasn't enough. "how does that sound, baby?" you blushed deeply before looking down and replying

"yes mommy."

"okay," yuqi confirmed, a wide smile on her beautiful face. "now point that camera on me and stay focused so we can get out off here."

hours passed, yet it seemed like eternity before the shoot finally was over. over time you were soaking your panties more and more as the head photographer suggested even more raunchy poses, as well as the makeup team making her face even sexier than you could ever imagine. once the shoot was thankfully over, you and yuqi went out to eat before going to her place.

yuqi's dorm was big, despite her technically not living alone. when you got in and went to sit down on the couch nearby, yuqi stopped you. "let's go to my room so that i can reward you, hmm?" you nod almost absentmindedly, allowing the taller girl to lead you to her room. yuqi sighed, "speak baby, or else you get no reward."

you gained your voice back to reply to her the best way you could. "yes mommy," you nodded again. yuqi nodded and took your hand.

once inside her room, yuqi sat down on the bed and patted the comforter. "come here, my dirty little girl." when you sheepishly walked over to her, she wrapped her arms around you, pulling you to her lips as she kissed you hungrily. you moaned into her mouth as she lead you both up to stand. it had been a while since you last tasted her, and your hunger was strong.

"mmmm," you hummed in her mouth. after some lovable making out, your friend turned a bit aggressive, pushing you against the wall as she kissed you harder, you struggling to gain consciousness of what was going on. once you finally realized what was happening, your and her clothes were discarded, and you were both back on the bed with her cunt on top of your nose. you were laid underneath her, her core dripping with need. she, however, stayed poker-faced.

as yuqi pulled herself from your lips, she instructed, "put that tongue of yours to good use. i want to feel your warm tongue between my legs again." you obeyed, unable to form words at first before murmuring out a 'yes mommy'. soon enough, her cunt started gushing onto your tongue as she came in your mouth with an audible sigh. as much as you tried to focus on cleaning her slit, her clit kept rubbing against your nose. after a minute of chasing her cunt, you gave up on cleaning her up, releasing a frustrated breath as you pushed yuqi's legs away from each side of your head. yuqi didn't like this, so to her much disappointment, she smacked your thigh. you cried out as she scolded you, "no one told you to stop. now clean me up or else i'll punish you for not following instructions."

you followed through, licking yuqi's cunt clean before sucking her clit into your mouth. although yuqi was caught her off guard by you latching your mouth onto her, she stayed unnerving, only shuddering when she came again. after you did what she wanted and then some, you lay still as yuqi climbed off your face, you knowing that you'll be rewarded now. your eyes fell on the corner of the room that had yuqi's black strap-on laying across it. yuqi noticed you staring at the toy also and smiled. "after tonight, you'll owe me, hm?" you nodded mutely, mouthing a 'fuck me mommy' before smiling widely.

"fuck, i love you," yuqi groaned before picking up the thick toy. she then ordered you to lick the entire length of the dick, savoring the taste of the soft, stark rubber. you sank your mouth onto it, gagging once the tip of it hit your throat. you only had half of it in your small mouth. "that's it," yuqi encouraged you, slowly thrusting the toy in and out of you. "make this dick nice and wet. got to make sure you get it all lubed up for your greedy pussy to take, right baby?" you only hummed in delight as the toy felt more and more slick by the thickness of your saliva on it.

after wetting the strap, you gave it to yuqi, who swiftly wrapped the harness part of it around her hips. you pushed yourself back on the bed, your exposed cunt wet enough to take anything she would give you. once yuqi tightened and secured the harness, she sat on the edge of the bed where you were, pushing the black dildo against your clit. you whimpered slightly, looking up at yuqi. "lie on your back, baby," she instructed, and you did so, propping your legs up a bit.

she spread your thighs open and positioned the dick towards your core, the head already being covered by your juices on it. without hesitation, yuqi sank the entire toy inside you, groaning loudly. "god, you're tight. i hope it doesn't hurt." it didn't hurt at all, however, as you gasped in pleasure from the cock opening you up.

just as you couldn't hold back from kissing her in the magazine shoot, you couldn't hold back moans from the immense intrusion onto your core. as your cunt was getting streched more and more, your exclamation grew incessantly louder. this did not go well with yuqi, with her smacking your breasts. you sobbed at the stinging feeling. "if you don't shut up, i might end up making you scream when i actually start fucking you." you continued whining until she put a finger on your lips. you relaxed under her finger and quickly stopped. "now, stay focused as mommy rewards you."

yuqi thrusted in and out of you slowly at first. with each pass of her cock, you writhed your hips, moaning softly. yuqi then increased the speed of her thrusting until eventually you began shouting yuqi's name. no sooner had you did, yuqi grabbed your cheeks and forced your face towards her own sexy one, her leaning forward so that your noses touched at the tips. she impaled you further and further with each slam of her hips, you throwing your head back each time. it felt like she was ripping you apart and reconstructing you back together again. every. single. time.

in little to no time, you could feel yourself approaching your climax. you didn't want it so soon, however. "wait, i don't want to cum yet." no answer. "no, mommy please!" still no answer. "ugh, yuqiiiii!" you called out to her, a little frustrated. you screamed out yuqi's full name at this point, yet she silenced you, forcing your mouth shut as she lowered herself to suckle on your breasts. you arched your back as the dam that held your juices back broke, with you effectively squirting on her.

yuqi stopped for a while, making sure you catch your breath. when she decided it was safe to continue, yuqi shoved the strap deeper into you and drove her hips impossibly forward, connecting her pelvis with yours like glue. this is when you really cried out loud, profusely cumming hard again. when you were deep into euphoria, yuqi leaned down to bite your neck lightly as she pulled out of your now spent cunt. when she took off the silicon toy back in its rightful spot on the mattress, she turned you on your side. when you looked up, yuqi smiled. "ready to continue?"

you knew exactly what she meant. yuqi would reward you even more; spoil you. that thought spurred you to regain your strength, even though you didn't know if it was going to be enough. you were tired, and yuqi didn't seem to be close to finished. that is until you remembered she said that you owed her. "uh-huh," you nodded weakly.

once yuqi let you gain more stamina, she demanded, "lay down." she moved the comforter around you so that you were now nestled in its middle. she then made you lie down on the pillows. once you did, she knelt between your legs, putting her hands on either side of your chest, positioning her core on your dripping lips as she took the strap back in her hand. "open your mouth, slut."

whimpering from the insulting name, but loving it, you opened wide as yuqi wasted no time sliding her strap-on inside your throat. "good girl," yuqi complimented. she began moving her hand back and forth, gradually increasing the pace of her thrusts inside your mouth. you started bucking your hips upwards, making your lover moan loud as her pace picked up more and more, with her once stilled hips moving as quick as her hand.

it wasn't long until your breathing became heavier and both your orgasms intensified before spilling over, your body moving in rhythm with yuqi's. once you were done, yuqi rolled off you, still panting heavily. "that was hot. you've earned yourself another reward," yuqi announced.

the next thing you know, you were on your back, yuqi's hand reaching for her phone nearby, and a camera flash went off to your now spent body.

[cookiepie111]

˚₊✩‧₊Fountain girl ˚₊✩‧₊

König x black reader

König walks around restlessly on Halloween night.

Present --------》 skip to the past

A/N-This is just a short fic. I'd like to thank 2 people for these fics first @terra-713 for the original nymph, water woman /Hephaestus post @cinnamonbunboii for the second part of the the nymph fic, When I saw their reblog i rushed to write it. The other post should be coming out soon ( I promise the second half is better😭) not proofread

It's Halloween night and this poor man is wondering streets

He misses his Aphrodite, a woman that was never really his. The hugging, kisses, smiles, gifts those all consistute as things one does with their lover, in a relationship right?

He poured out his feelings to her, and he opened up his heart to her, spilling out the weak feelings that brought him shame. Was he supposed to believe that all that meant nothing. That him, his feelings weren't returned that the smiles, kind smile and words were just platonic.

It makes his stomach turn just thinking about it. Clinging tightly to his arm dropping kisses all over him, giggling, cooing at each other without a care in the world. He cant explain it but its like he walked in on his partner cheating he feels the same emotions shock hurt anger but when he gets angry when goes to rip the two of the apart, to complain to those around him, nothing. Its like no cares brushing him off and laugh, looking at him with confusion. König and her were never really going out, so what's the problem

It could be worse right, he could be roaming the streets on valentines, bumping into whatever unfortunate man wasn't watching their step. König knows in his frustration he'd beat the man to a pulp without a second thought, break their poor girls heart like he wanted to do to her . But it's Halloween, this was better. He could get drunk, beat,scare whoever, get rowdy with no real problems.

Yet he's been aimless for hours, nothing but alcohol filling his stomach as he walks the streets.

It's only on the third loop around the town fountain. Something peaks his interest, something different, enough to make him stop, to momentarily quil his anger.

Another benefit of Halloween is the girls and their tight skimpy outfits könig never been so grateful for a holiday, eating up the sight before him.

All of sudden könig very sure of the drinks he's had they hit him all at once distorting the space around you, fluorescent lights shining like fake stars around you. You're so beautiful, thick curly hair, like small currents wash over your shoulder. Your skin wet from the splash of the fountain. So peaceful and tranquil eyes glossed at the ground below you, he wonders if you're real, if you are you're not human, No human is this beautiful.

God he didn't know where to keep his eyes, you chest or legs. Bare Corset held your breasts together so well, scaning down that skirt, what a joke it was a belt at best but he got to enjoy the full show of your legs on full display. It a while about scaning your body 5 time before he noticed the crocked fairy wings behind you, cleary beat from the dancing you've done throughout the night.

Maybe like Hephaestus this was just him getting his nymph his new lover,Cabeiro or like Hylas he'd he dragged to his death and drown in another terrible relationship. He's hoping the first, he doesn't think he can take another heart break

It's daze in a moment he finds himself at your front, and for the first time, you look up at him, soft, droppy eyes, you let out a small sound as he stands before you. Seeing you like he can feel the blood rush south.

God he's hard

He must be drunk cause he thinks you're the most beautiful, he thinks he's in love, last week he was in love too. how fickle and weak is his love

[starkskeep]

I speared a prince

I speared a prince aegon ii targaryen imagine

Pairings - Aegon II Targaryen x Martell!Reader

Summary - You are the Princess of Dorne and will rule the land after your father. A diplomatic trip to King's Landing where you were only supposed to return with information had you returning with something much more important.

Word Count - 4.5k (holy shit)

Warnings - Vague descriptions of a brothel and prostitutes. Reader is the poster child of Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss. Manipulating Aegon is her only goal. It's ok. He's better because of it. Kinda dialogue heavy. I couldn't help it. Aegon is one of my favorite personalities to write about. Smut.

A/N - Aegon in this imagine is not the same Aegon as in the books or the show. He is not married to Helaena nor is he a disgusting pig of a man. He is still the family's disappointment though.

It was one of the few times Dorne has sent a delegation to King’s Landing, but your father had just ascended to power and wanted to usher in a new age of cooperation. It was some celebration or another, possibly a name day or an anniversary of some arbitrary event. In all honesty, you could not bring yourself to care for the official reason for your visit. You were actually sent to King’s Landing to see if and with who Dorne should align when the war everyone knew was to come finally rears its ugly head. Your father knew of King Viserys’s diminishing health; everyone in court could see him withering away upon the throne and rumors spread quickly. Your presence in the capital was meant to scope out if choosing an heir to support could potentially bring any benefit to Dorne or if it was better for your kingdom to stay away. 

There had been an argument before you left Dorne. You had made it quite clear to your father that if Dorne was to support a claimant to the throne, it would have to be Princess Rhaenyra. If you were to support Prince Aegon, it would undermine Dorne’s own line of succession and put your own claim to the ruling of Dorne in question. This opinion stayed with you as you were welcomed into the Red Keep. You could see how the Hightower queen stared at you with thinly-veiled judgment. She would have no doubt raised her children to be mindless puppets of the Seven, complete with all the pompous arrogance that came with stuffing down one’s desires for the sake of appearances and the opinions of others.

There were two benefits to your visit. The first was that the crown princess was also at the capital. In all honesty, you admired Rhaenyra Targaryen. She had been able to hold onto her position as heir despite the many lords attempting to convince the king to change his decision. She was as beautiful as she was powerful and your eyes rarely left her figure when you were in the same room as her. Knowing that she was unlikely to invite you into her chambers, you decided to merely look up to her. So your eyes shifted to the second benefit of King’s Landing: Prince Aegon Targaryen.

The Targaryen prince was an utter mess and you loved it. He didn’t bother to conceal the small smirks when nobles came up to sing their praises to the king and the queen, his constantly disheveled appearance, and the complete and utter lack of decorum when attending court; you wanted to take Aegon and mold him into your perfect companion. A man like him did not belong trapped in court. He needed to be in a place like Dorne where he could let his inhibitions roam as freely as a dragon should. Yes. He would be your perfect consort once you finally became the Princess of Dorne after your father passed. You would make this trip to King’s Landing end with you and Dorne benefiting unilaterally from it.

A night after yet another long and boring feast found you entering a brothel on the Street of Silk. If you didn’t find a woman who appealed to you, at least you would be able to drink without judgmental stares from fellow nobility. You also found that the women in brothels tended to look more kindly upon fellow women, allowing them a quiet place to drink away from grabby men in exchange for some coin. So far, the attention from the men in the brothel remained on the women rather than on you in the corner. Thus, it came as a great surprise to you when your idle observation of the scenes in front of you was interrupted by a familiar voice. 

A cheeky smile danced upon the prince’s lips as he spoke to you. “My lady, what brings one as beautiful as yourself to a place such as this? Would it be the company or the drinks that attract you?” Noticing your lack of interest in replying, Aegon continued to pester you. “I do not believe that we have been formally introduced. I was preoccupied upon your arrival. I am Prince Aegon. It is a pleasure to meet you. A woman who often looks as interested as I feel in court is one that I would like to get to know.”

Surprisingly, Aegon was able to draw laughter from you which you quickly stifled with a sip from the goblet in front of you. “I know you jest. I would never allow my disinterest to show so blatantly. Besides, we were introduced to each other two days ago and even sat across from each other at one of the dinners. I have heard the rumors but do you truly drink so much that you are unable to remember the events from only a couple days previous?” You eyed Aegon up and down as you spoke, admiring him but also looking for his reaction. This prince was oh so pretty. You wouldn’t mind having him in your bed: whether it was for the night in this brothel or more long-term, you would enjoy breaking this Targaryen. 

Your words elicited a light chuckle from Aegon. He took his time in choosing how to reply to you. It had been a long time since anyone had made him genuinely laugh and he did not want to displease you in a way that would cause you to stop. His words often easily offended those around him but this is the first interaction where he actually cared how he came across. “I am willing to beg for your forgiveness if you require me to. It seems that only your beauty caught my eye at the feast.” Aegon’s hand brushed past your chin, finding its resting place against your cheek, “The drink does dull my senses quite a bit, a feeling I am very fond of. Though it is not enough to make me forget the short-term. You still have not answered my question.” His eyes roamed from you to the drink in your hand, to the women of the brothel, and back to you. “Is it the company or the drinks that brought you here?"

“Unlike in Dorne, the people of your father’s court are quite uptight. They would not know how to act if they allowed themselves to indulge in the pleasure that one’s body has to offer. A brothel in the city is the only place I could be satisfied tonight. What of you my prince? Why come here to chase pleasure? Surely a prince such as yourself could have anyone in his bed. You would not need to leave the safety and comforts of your chambers.” You lower your chin in order to gaze upon Aegon from underneath your lashes, flashing a sly grin in a way that has enticed many before him. “Unless—let me guess—there is someone that doesn’t allow you to express yourself? It is hard for me to believe that having a grandfather as devout and pious as yours in a position of power would allow you much freedom.”

Your words were sharp and true. The pierced Aegon as if it was an arrow shot by the most talented of archers. He has often been called a drunk, a fool, or sometimes far worse to his face and behind his back. His father made no attempt to know the children he sired with Alicent, his mother seemed to only gaze upon him with contempt and disappointment for as long as Aegon could remember, and his grandfather only whispered poison and treason in his ear. Your words contained not the whispers of disappointment, but the whispers of a promise. You made him want to feel rather than dull his senses. “That, my lady, I cannot deny. The Seven forbid such pleasures and indulgences so I am forced to get them where I can. A brothel is a good enough location. Whores can be paid to keep silent if you slip them enough coin. Aegon took your cup of wine from your hand and downed it in one gulp before motioning to a nearby woman for more. “It is too much of a coincidence that we are at the same brothel tonight. So tell me, did you plan this? What do you desire of me?”

Scoffing, you take a new goblet of wine from the serving woman. “I do not desire anything from you, Prince Aegon. I entered this brothel first. I am not a seer. I did not know that you would be a patron of this establishment tonight.”

Aegon’s smile turned impish. As he moved to sit closer to you, the grin never left his lips and his eyes never left yours. He felt fire in his veins that he has only felt while on the back of Sunfyre. The prince feels far more intoxicated by your presence than wine has ever made him. “Then it seems that the gods have brought us together tonight, no matter how much they may frown upon our actions. Although, now I am even more curious as to why you are in King’s Landing? Are you to become a temptress plaguing my waking thoughts?”

Oh. This prince had a surprising way with words. You liked the idea of becoming his temptress, but you could not let him distract you. You had to choose what you are to say carefully. Aegon obviously desires acceptance and someone to give him the attention that he has lacked since childhood. You would not play his mother; as a princess, you are far too superior to debase yourself by coddling men in such a way. Instead, you will play upon his insecurities until you held him in the palm of your hand. “Do your parents not share the activities of court with you? I joined my uncle on a diplomatic visit to ensure that the ties that bind Dorne to King’s Landing are still strong. Your sister, Princess Rhaenyra, was the one to organize it. I quite admire her. She seems to be a competent woman. The meeting is between the king, my uncle, and Princess Rhaenyra. She is your father’s heir. If you are curious as to the nature of it, perhaps you should ask your sister for the details of the meeting.” You observe the wayward prince in the aftermath of your words in order to see how they strike.

There. That is where you will hit him. Aegon disguised his reaction by drinking another goblet of wine faster than you have ever seen. If you were a lesser woman, perhaps you would have been impressed by that worthless talent. But you weren’t and now you had the ammunition you needed. He shrugged and shifted uncomfortably in his seat after setting down the cup. “Perhaps I shall. Once my sweet sister is done playing politics, I will ask her.”

There was no need for you to stay after that. Your words had sunk deep enough and would no doubt linger upon his mind in the days to come. Standing up, you walked in the direction of a woman in such a path that caused you to be in the direct line of sight of Aegon. Electing to ignore Aegon even though you felt his eyes burning a hole through the back of your head, you waited until you were about to enter the room with the woman to send a wink and a smirk in Aegon’s direction. 

You stood anxiously outside the doors to Rhaenyra’s chamber. After returning from the brothel the previous night, you requested delivery to the princess of your desire for a meeting. You needed it to occur first thing in the morning. If the news had gotten to the queen and her father of your encounter with Aegon, there would be the risk of them forcefully keeping the prince away from you. Fast actions were needed in order to prevent that from happening and you were not a woman to sit idly by. Luckily, you were pulled out of your thoughts by the announcement of your arrival. It was finally time for you to meet Princess Rhaenyra face-to-face.

She rose to meet you when you entered. It was a good sign, in your opinion, that she was willing to respect you and listen to what you had to say rather than brushing you off as a young girl unaware of courtly politics. “Princess Nymeria. It is a pleasure to meet you. It was a surprise to receive a note from you, though not an unwelcome one. The events of court leaves one with very little time for privacy.” Her voice was deep and melodic. If you hadn’t already had one Targaryen in your sights, you may have changed your reason for this meeting. 

Sitting in one of the chairs the princess gestured to, you made yourself comfortable. For this meeting, you would need to present yourself as a composed young woman sure of herself and her actions. Gaining Rhaenyra’s trust was your most important objective. Without it, everything would fail. Knowing of her notorious distaste for half-truths and political maneuvering, you decide to be completely honest with her. “As I am sure you are aware, the official reason for my visit is to join my uncle in strengthening the ties between Dorne and King’s Landing. Unofficially, my father wanted me to gather information on who to support in their bid for the Iron Throne: you or your brother.”

Rhaenyra did a good job at keeping her expression neutral but you could see how your words angered her. Her jaw clenched and she tightened her grip on the arm of her chair. A voice like ice in deep contrast with her dragon blood met your ears. “And who does your father favor?”

Good. You needed her intrigued. Having her ruffled may also help you, but you would need to tread carefully in order not to push her over the edge. Remaining relaxed, you attempted to assuage her. “You know how fickle men are. I am my father’s only daughter. Like you, I am also my father’s heir. Though I am not at risk to have my succession questioned as you are, I understand the feelings of inadequacy that sometimes arise. Thankfully, my father trusts my judgment and holds my advice in high regard. Who he favors is who I favor, and I would rather see you ruling the realm instead of your brother.”

Rhaenyra’s hardened exterior softened slightly at your admission. Having the loyalty of a powerful house would please anyone engaged in battle, and House Martell was a valuable ally indeed. She was much less brusque in her reply. “It satisfies me, Princess Nymeria, that a woman such as yourself is able to see the way that things should be. Too many women of my father’s court would rather see my brother on the throne and accept the way that things have been. Though, forgive me for being direct as I do not wish to offend you, what is it you want in return? I am not so simple as to believe you would come to me without requesting something of me. You could have easily had your father declare his support when the time comes for me to ascend the throne.”

Your grin was reminiscent of the vipers that roam the Dornish deserts. “It seems that you have adapted to a life of politics quite well, Princess Rhaenyra. I have no doubt that you will make a great and powerful ruler. There is something I want and unfortunately, it is something that I cannot take myself. Do not fret. What I want will also benefit you greatly. In fact, it will give you even more power over the lords who do not desire to see a woman upon the throne.”

“Let’s hear it then. I am happy to make a deal but I must first know what it is you want. I must know what it is you hope to gain from my agreement. In times such as these, a promise is nothing but words on the wind and winds are prone to change direction from one day to the next.”

“I am in complete agreement with you. Words are not as binding as actions. When I take my father’s place as the ruler of Dorne, the man who I am married to will be nothing more than my consort. He will hold no power over me. Nor will he hold power in the Dornish court except what I choose to bestow upon him, and I am not the type of woman who would willingly share her power.” You pause in order to let your words sink in. “During my visit here, I have spent some time with your brother, Prince Aegon. I want him to be my prince consort. If he marries me, he would have no claim to the throne as there is already an heir. My duties to Dorne would overshadow whatever machinations against you are already playing in the background. There is the issue that Queen Alicent and her father hold significant power over the small council. They would never allow a marriage to occur between the prince and me.'

“So you are asking me to petition the council on your behalf to allow a marriage between you and Aegon, correct?” Rhaenyra raised her eyebrows in both surprise and intrigue. The idea of betrothing Aegon to someone that would tamper his claim had never crossed her mind nor had it ever been suggested to her. “A bold and brilliant plan. I will raise it to the small council upon their next meeting, without a doubt.”

“You may have misunderstood me, princess. I don’t want you to bring it to the council. If that was all, I would have my father or my uncle do so but I know the results would not be favorable. What I want is for you to bring the request straight to your father. Everyone in the realm knows that the king favors you. If you were to ask the king to give Prince Aegon to me, there would be no need to involve the small council. King Viserys’s word is law and I do not doubt that he would agree to whatever you ask of him. The queen and her father would not be able to stop me from marrying your brother if it was the king who betrothed us.”

You left the princess after being dismissed. There was no question in your mind that she would successfully fulfill your request. There was no cost for her to do so and only benefits in return. You were proven correct that evening when the King announced at dinner that his firstborn son would be marrying you as a way to deepen the relationship between House Martell and House Targaryen. Your uncle seemed surprised but was used to your scheming often leaving him unaware of the future. He gladly accepted the congratulations from those around him. 

After nodding to Princess Rhaenyra in gratitude for her help and thanking King Viserys, you looked toward where Prince Aegon was sitting next to his mother and Otto Hightower. It seems as if none of them were told that this announcement would be made or even that this betrothal was occurring. The queen and her father were whispering furiously to each other and to Aegon but it looked as if he was ignoring them. A common theme during any dinner. Instead, his attention was solely on you. 

The weeks that followed your return to Dorne were filled with letters from King’s Landing. Rhaenyra often wrote to update you on the attempts to dissolve your union but the Hightowers. Nothing was ever successful. She assured you that the king was holding steadfast in his decision. That put you at ease. You were also receiving letters from Aegon. He was practically begging for a reply but you chose not to reward him with one. Keeping him in suspense would only make him yearn for you more. 

One day, the roar of a dragon interrupted your duties. A servant rushed in to announce that Prince Aegon had arrived and was refusing to leave without meeting with you first. You should have known that he would be too impatient to wait for a reply. A short time later, the doors to your chambers opened and a rumpled Aegon was revealed to you. Noticing the fire that burned in his eyes, you quickly dismissed all the servants and attendants that were hovering around you. 

You moved over to a chaise situated near the opening to your balcony. Sitting down, you crossed your legs and reclined your arm against the back of the lounge. The perfect picture of nonchalance. Wanting to see how he would play this game, you waited silently until Aegon chose to speak. “You have been ignoring my letters.” He finally did break the silence after watching you move. At least he had the decency to wait until you were comfortable before doing so. Maybe it would not take as much work as you thought to properly train him. 

“I have been busy. There is much to do before our wedding ceremony. I also am my father’s heir. There is much I have to do in order to ensure Dorne’s success.” You pretend to be more interested in the charms of the bracelet that adorn your wrist instead of your betrothed moving towards you. 

Aegon scoffs as he sits down next to you. “You have not been too busy to reply to my sister’s letters. She happily informs me every chance she gets that she has received yet another from you. It is embarrassing. A wife should respond to her husband and pay him even the barest bit of attention.” He pouts as if he were a child.

Getting to your feet, you walk over to a table that is laden with fresh fruit delivered to you earlier that day. Popping a grape into your mouth, you take your time to savor it because you know it will set Aegon on edge. “I find her correspondence intriguing. Princess Rhaenyra is an inspiring woman. Your sister and I are both our fathers’ heirs. We share many of the same circumstances. It is no surprise that she and I would become close in our commiseration. If you had more duties, I’m sure you would understand.”

Aegon huffs in annoyance at your continued movement. He wants nothing more than to take you into his arms, so he does just that. The prince was never that good at waiting for what he wanted and it is surprising that he lasted as long as he did. You lean against the table behind you and wait for him to get closer. When Aegon finally makes it to you, he grips your hips and pulls you flush against him. One of your hands slides up to his chest as the other wraps around his neck. Never being the tallest in his family, you stand at almost the same height as Aegon.“You are here now. You forced my hand in acknowledging you, my prince.” Whispering the words against his lips, you capture them in a bruising kiss and instantly take control. 

With a groan, Aegon pulls away. He is panting with desire. “Many may think me a fool, but I know enough to understand that you planned all of this. If you did not want me to visit you, you would have replied to my letters. You would not have caused me to resort to drastic measures such as sneaking away from King’s Landing in the dead of night just to fly to you.”

Raising an eyebrow in surprise, you up the ante of your game. “If no one in King’s Landing knows that you are here, we do not have much time before a search party is sent out. It is possible that your brother is already on his way here with his mighty dragon to steal you back.” You push yourself up to sit on the edge of the table. Wrapping one of your legs around Aegon’s waist, you pull him closer to you. A coy smile lingers on your face as you reach down and undo his trousers. “We have precious little time, my prince. We should make the most of it.”

Aegon is practically speechless. His previous experience in brothels had the women doing all of the work but he was still in control. Right now, he is completely at your mercy. One would think that a prince of the realm would not want to relinquish his power so easily, but Aegon was putty in your hands as soon as he laid his eyes on you. 

You pull his cock out of his trousers. There is little you need to do except for a few pumps of your fist to get him completely hard. This man is aching for you. Pulling your dress off, you lean back and prop yourself up by your elbows. “Show me how much you want me, Aegon.”

Slamming into you, Aegon wastes absolutely no time in proving to you the depth of his longing. His fingers dig into your hips, no doubt leaving crescent shape indents for you to find tomorrow. It seems as if Aegon wants to punish you for ignoring him. Not that you mind. Everything you did was to get him here and ensure that he was all riled up for you. A sweet lover is a boring one. You want him to be rough and wild and he is definitely delivering.

Aegon sets a brutal pace. Each impact of his hips against yours pulls you against the table. One of his hands has moved to finger your clit. Each brush sends an electric shock of pleasure through your body. Not wanting to be outdone, you wrap one hand around his neck. The other grabs him by his hair and you dig your nails into his scalp. Pushing yourself up, you bite and pull his bottom lip. He lets out a pitiful whimper and you soothe the pain with a kiss. There is the coppery taste of blood so you lick away the drops that came from your bite. His lips will be deliciously bruised tomorrow. There is no battle for dominance—you are completely in control of the situation. Soon, you felt your peak approaching. Your moans grew breathier. You raked your nails down Aegon’s back. The wave finally crested and you clenched around Aegon’s cock, completely overcome with pleasure. A few moments later, Aegon reached his own climax. You felt him release his seed inside of you. Overcome by exhaustion, his entire body went limp and his head fell to your chest. You pulled his head away from your breasts with a yank on his hair. “Now there’s no reason for your family not to push the wedding forward. Soon you will be mine in entirety, my prince.”

masterlist

[stargazers-paradise]

Lady of Light [Past event]

The prince sat alone in his bedroom; one leg crossed over the other as his feather pen scratched against the paper. Back hunched, eyebrows pinched together as he focused on finding the right things to say, trying to pen down his feelings to a proper T. He was normally very good at this, being the type of person to write poetry of his own feelings, but right now he seemed to be struggling. He gripped his pen tightly, letting out a small breath as a faint burning sensation ran up his spine and ended just at the base of his neck, causing him to stiffen his posture before turning around, locking masked eyes with a tall woman. She stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the vastness of blues and purples, a beautiful woman draped in a white dress and golden accents, her hair flowing downwards and seeming to glimmer slightly. Sun Slayer, the deity of light and justice. Stargazer relaxed once he realized who it was, his shoulders slumping as he rested his head against the top of his chair, a pout pulling onto his lips. The deity hummed and walked over, getting down on one knee as she cupped the prince's face. "Sweet child... Where is your angel?" she cooed softly, running her thumb over the prince's cheek soothingly. "....He's off on a mission, Lady Sun Slayer. One I wish he hadn't agreed to. But I suppose it will benefit us in the long run..." The deity hummed and remained where she was, continuing to rub soothing little circles into the prince's cheek. "Would you care to tell me more, my child?" Stargazer gazed upwards slightly, letting a small sigh escape his lips. "He was asked by an alternate version of myself to kill his father... Who, from what I've grasped, is an awful man... I know he's doing this to make this other version of myself never bother us again..." the prince trails off, looking down before he continued. "But I worry for the outcome." "Do you feel as tho he is unprepared to handle such a thing, young prince?" "No, of course not, Lady Sun Slayer. He's proven to me multiple times that he's capable of extortionary things... And once having been a follower of Lord Illumina, I have full confidence in him. I just-" "You worry for his safety, yes?" "....Yes. I do." "I understand, my child. When it comes to the ones we love the most, we only wish for them to be safe and sound, to never allow harm's hand to fall upon them. But you trust in his abilities, yes? You trust he's strong enough to handle such a thing, yes? Then I believe you have nothing to fear. Even if this doesn't sooth your soul entirely, I haven't a shadow of a doubt of his strength from what you've told me in your letters." -> The prince opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. He nodded and leaned into the deity's touch, closing his eyes behind his mask. He just needed to relax, ease his nerves and tell himself that everything will be okay. "....Thank you, Lady Sun Slayer. I guess I needed to hear that." "Of course, my child. I am here to aid you however I can." "But there is a reason I've come to you this night, young prince." At that, Stargazer looked up with confusion, waiting for the deity to continue. "You have been looking for a way to see your father one more time, haven't you?" The prince nodded, sitting up in his chair properly. "I advise you seek the aid of Ghostwalker for what you want. Spirits are known to wander his temple if they had yet to move on. And I believe that is your best bet on finding your father's spirit, to say your last goodbye." The prince sat there in silence before slowly nodding, watching as Sun Slayer stands up, her covered eyes meeting with his covered eyes. Silence enveloped the two of them before Stargazer said one final thing. "Thank you, Lady Sun Slayer."

[depressopax]

24 Hours - Nairobi Smut

Fandom - La casa de papel/Money Heist

Pairing: Nairobi x female reader Genre: Smut (kinda hurt/comfort too) Warning(s): Sexual content. MDNI! Reader is referred to as “woman/girl” and feminine pet names. Spanish words (Lmk if I got any wrong!) Dom!Nairobi/Sub!reader, praise and degradation. Insults (reader referred to as “slut”. Fingering - reader receiving and oral. Rough sex, strap-on toys (referred to as “fake-cock”). Cuss words, mentions of alcohol/drunkenness. Nairobi being kinda possessive.  Words: 1.3K Summary: Nairobi and reader spend the night before the heist together English is not my main language, if I make any spelling mistakes please let me know so I can improve my writing! &lt;3 || AO3 link || Masterlist || Request ||

After twisting and turning in bed all night, you accept defeat. How are you supposed to sleep when the heist is in less than one day?

The five months spent in the Toledo House felt so long, yet went by so quickly.

Although you feel totally safe with the Professor's plan you still know what could go wrong. 

A soft knock on the door distracts you from the increasing anxiety.

“You up, Athens?”

Nairobi. Your heart skips a beat and you tip-toe to the door, letting your lover in. She’s wearing beige pajamas in satin and her dark hair is out. She smiles at you and quietly takes a seat on your bed. Once the door is closed again the two of you sit quietly. The anxiety is once again occupying your mind. 

“You’re shaking.” 

“Hmm?”

She places a warm and firm palm on top of your thigh to stop your leg from bouncing. Tilting your head, Nairobi makes you meet her brown eyes. 

“Talk to me, mi princesa” 

“I’m just worried about the heist.” You sigh and look at her like hypnotized. “But I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

Her lips curl and the grip on your thigh gets tighter. 

“What you wanna do, princesa?” 

You close the distance between the two of you, meeting in a tender kiss. 

No personal relationships. Was one of the rules for the heist. Unfortunately, Nairobi and you fell in love. You’ve been very discreet the entire time tho. You know how important the heist is for Nairobi, with her plan of finding her son. She’s a perfectionist and has been able to focus on the heist, despite what she has with you. Surprisingly she manages it well. 

Two months ago you ended up in bed together after dinner and had drunk sex. 

Never again. You promised each other, which lasted a week. After that, the Friends-with-benefits deal had turned into something deeper and more intimate. You haven’t really discussed the relationship and plan after the Royal Mint Heist, both afraid to ruin the beautiful feelings growing for one another. 

“At this time tomorrow, we’ll be in the royal mint.” She murmurs as her hand travels to your inner thigh and onto the lining of the cotton panties. 

“Yea.” Your mouth feels dry and you hold back a moan when her fingers firmly press against your clothed clit. 

“I’ll miss touching you.”

“I’ll miss touching you too, Nairobi.” 

You grow more aroused under her gentle strokes, grinding against her fingers in hope of deeper contact. 

“Next time I fuck you, we’ll be millionaires. Maybe we’ll have our own place. Some privacy, where I can make you scream my name…”

With that, her fingers slide into the now damp panties. You gasp at the feeling of her skilled fingers moving around your lips teasingly. 

“...But for now…” She enters you with one finger. “This will have to do.”

“Nairobi…”

“I know, princesa.” Another finger pushes into your heat.“You remember the rules.”

The rules. 

Be quiet

Be obedient

“Yes…”

“We don’t want to wake the others up? Have everyone know what a slut you are, moaning from just my fingers…” She taunts you, pushing harder now. 

“Wouldn’t it be bad enough if the Professor realises we’re in a relationship?”

The dark haired woman just laughs at your attempts to talk normally while she curls her fingers up against your G-spot.

“That too.” With a more serious voice, she adds: “Will you promise to keep quiet if I proceed?”

You nod, unable to utter a word right now without moaning. Her curled fingers are pressed roughly against your g-spot and send waves of pleasure throughout your whole body. When she pulls out you whine a bit too loudly. She gives you a warning glare while opening the drawer with your clothes. She finds the strap-on and harness she’s looking for and walks back to bed with that smug smirk you adore. 

“What you waiting for? Expecting me to do all the work, princesita?” She teases. You blush up in frustration and pull Nairobi in for a kiss. Your tongue massages hers while you strip her out of the pajamas shorts and tank top. You cup her breasts and give them a light squeeze. She moans into your mouth and sits down in your lap, her fingers back against your heat again. You use each other's bodies to get off. Nairobi almost rides your thigh whilst you massage her boobs and she continues finger-fucking you. 

“Fuck… I need to be inside of you.” She almost growls and stands up, adjusting the strap-on. “Lube me up” 

You know it’s an order rather than a suggestion. Nairobi loves it when you suck her fake-cock. As usual she moans and cusses, acting as if she could actually feel the movements off your glossy lips against the red plastic. She pushes your head forward, collecting drool all over the length. Your gags are like music to her ears. 

She leaves you no time for rest before helping you up on bed. Placing a pillow under your hips, she rolls you to lie down on stomach. The position makes you feel exposed, with the pillow lifting your ass and glistening cunt up for her hungry gaze while your upper body presses against the mattress. She strokes your clit soothingly and guides the head of the fake-cock to your wet entrance. She pushes into your pussy. The slight stretch makes you wince. It takes a while for your insides to envelope the cold plastic. 

Nairobi is patient with you and lets you adjust to her size.

“That’s a good girl. Look at you, taking my cock so well… My perfect little slut.”

She strokes your bare back and the cold metal from her rings causes goosebumps to rise on your sweaty skin. 

Once somewhat comfortable with the intruding object Nairobi thrusts forwards. Even though she can’t feel it herself, she grows wet from watching her good girl taking the cock so well. She loves those sweet squirms and those attempts to hold back the loud moans. Everything about you makes her want to fuck you senseless and leave you a panting mess, hoarse from screaming her name. Not yet, not yet… The dark haired woman thinks. 

Once the heist is over she can focus on making you “her woman”. Maybe even start a family with you… The thoughts make her movements more frantic, her mind flooding with images of what future she could have with you. No one else should be able to fuck you like this, not only does she want you to belong to her - she wants to be yours, too. The thought of someone else touching you makes her growl and push the strap-on deeper into your aching pussy. One day, she might even put a ring on your finger. 

But for now, she will enjoy the night with you, enjoy your body and the way you respond to her rough treatment. 

Nairobi is lying in your bed, not caring about going back to her own bed. She wants to be with you, her sleeping beauty. How can she leave her lover now, after what they just did? She may have been rough, but made it up to you with some praise and oral pleasure. She even took a late-night shower with you and tucked you in bed. You did so well for her and Nairobi’s heart swells with pride. 

She’s glad to see you get some rest, knowing it’s a big day ahead. 

She kisses your forehead and decides to fall asleep with you. She squeezes your body closer to her and cuddles her face against your neck. Nairobi breathes in the scent of your new-washed hair, She makes a promise to you, and herself, before her eyes close for the night:

“I’ll keep you safe, mi vida. I’ll be by your side. Fuck… I love you, Athens.” She whispers although she knows you can't hear her. “...Goodnight, mi princesa.” 

I need her to wife me up RN please and thank you Nairobi

[moth--knight]

hello can i PLEASE have a perspective flip for the end scene of sunday best in the car i require it for sustenance tysm kiss kiss kiss

I went a lil wild with it tbh. Oops! I love clueless Barbara, what can I say. Thank you so, so much for the prompt. Hope you enjoy ^_^

Melissa doesn’t look behind her as she rushes off, and Barbara can only give the unsettled teenagers a small smile before following her best friend across the parking lot. 

It is rare for her to follow behind Melissa. Which, she supposes, has its own sort of humor - Melissa was the hot-headed one between them, acting first and thinking later - and yet, when it came to Barbara, she was always a half step behind, channeling her boundless energy into a buzzing patience reserved exclusively for the kindergarten teacher’s benefit.

During Melissa’s first few weeks at Abbott, she had followed Barbara around relentlessly. She was young and charming and cared little for boundaries, the exact opposite of Barbara herself, only five years older but with self control others might call godly, in a manner half mocking half awe. Barbara couldn’t stand her. Melissa managed to always be behind her, with a thoughtful compliment or sly and clever witticism or some delicious baked treat, and always came off as casual, like she had just happened upon Barbara for the fourth time in the halls that day. Abbott wasn’t a particularly large school, but still. The likelihood? Utterly improbable. 

Every night she had gone home and complained to Gerald about this insufferable woman, who wore shirts cut a bit too low, pants a bit too tight, and smelled like cedar and lavender, and whose hair formed a blazing halo, impossible to ignore, this insufferable woman who had managed to gain the attention and adoration of her class overnight, who might even be a better teacher than Barbara herself, despite the lack of experience and overall respect for any sort of decorum. 

Melissa Schemmenti, who for some reason seemed obsessed with her, despite Barbara’s lackluster responses and polite deflections, and despite not really needing any of the guidance that Barbara was known for. No one bothered her unless they needed something, but what Melissa could possibly need from her was mystery.

Gerald, ever patient and sweet, had suggested sagely that perhaps the younger woman was just looking for a friend. New environment, and all that. 

“Why me?” Barbara had groused. 

“Why not you?” Gerald had replied serenely, hand over hers. “Give her a chance.”

And so Barbara had. 

But now, following behind Melissa, Barbara feels something sticky and sour lodge itself in her throat, because Melissa was upset in a way she’d never seen. 

Terrified, her mind supplies. Melissa had looked terrified, talking to those girls, and seeing such an emotion on her best friend’s face had shaken her to her core. Melissa Ann Schemmenti didn’t get scared. No, no, certainly not.

Or maybe, always half a step behind her, Barbara had never looked over her shoulder long enough to notice.

She unlocks the car as Melissa reaches her hand to pull the handle, perfect timing, and watches her slip into the passenger seat like she has for the past few months they’ve been coming to church together, red hair flicked over her shoulder, bright and beautiful against the dreary rain soaked landscape.

She slides in the driver’s side, buckling her seatbelt on autopilot, hands finding the wheel. 

Why was Melissa scared?

“I’m sorry.”

Barbara’s brow furrows, head snapping to Melissa. Her voice is small, like it had been after her divorce, like she was waiting for someone to raise their voice or hand to her. Barbara feels her heart crack in her chest. She doesn’t understand. She hates not understanding.

“Why?”

And then Melissa is rambling, about her niece, about her youth, and normally she’d intervene, redirect her (though she’d never admit it, the little displays between Zach and Jacob had felt eerily familiar) but there is something else there, something Melissa is saying but isn’t, skirting around the issue. Barbara feels utterly lost. Until she doesn’t.

“Yeah well, queers gotta stick together.”

Oh.

“I didn’t know you were a member of the LGBTQ+ community, Melissa.”

The words are stiff, uncomfortable in her mouth. 

Because they’re a lie, her mind whispers. You’re lying! 

“You don’t gotta be so formal about it, jeez.”

Melissa is queer. Of course. Of course. Barbara knew this, or suspected, at least - Melissa had never talked about it, but Barbara was observant, had noticed how her eyes lingered on the new art teacher in the early aughts, a woman with a streak of grey in the hair above her brow and a crooked smile, noticed the way women at PECSA would gravitate toward her the second Barbara would step away for another drink and the way Melissa would lean in, eyes flashing, tongue tracing the seam of her lips, like she was hungry - Barbara can’t say she didn’t know, because she did, she absolutely did, she just hadn’t thought about it, which is a different thing entirely.

Why hadn’t she thought about it?

“There are things you haven’t gotten a chance to experience yet, Babs. Things you can’t experience with me. I owe you that chance.” 

Gerald’s words, gentle as he slid the divorce papers across the table. 

“Gerald, what-”

“Talk to Melissa about it. She will understand.”

Barbara hadn't talked to Melissa about it, too ashamed, too confused. 

Melissa had smiled like she’d won the lottery when Barbara had greeted her today for church. But, then, Melissa always smiled at her like that, didn’t she? Like Barbara was the sun itself, something good and warm and perfect. 

Your work wife, Gerald used to tease her. You like her more than me, Babs.

Melissa, who was everything Barbara couldn’t allow herself to be, brash and loud and obnoxiously funny and aggressive and sweet and sexy-

She licks her lips, mouth dry. 

Oh. 

Oh.

And then it bubbles up from within her, uncontrollable, and she laughs and laughs and laughs, head pressed to the steering wheel. She’s an utter fool. Oh, Lord forgive her. 

“Barb-”

“I’m sorry,” she giggles, wiping away the tears of mirth in her eyes, “I’m not mocking you, sweetheart, I just realized - well.”

She has loved Melissa for a great many years. 

She knew for sure she loved Melissa back during their third year teaching together, when that huge snowstorm had knocked out half the power in Philly, including her own. Gerald, working nights, hadn’t been home to help, and Gina and Taylor, only 4 and 7, had been overtired and inconsolable. 

She doesn’t remember why she thought to call Melissa, but she had, and the woman had driven through the hellish storm with a portable heater in the back of her rusted old pickup and enough candles to give the Vatican a run for their money without question. She had even stopped and managed to score hot chocolate for Gina and Taylor from some late night gas station, probably the only one still open considering the weather, and then built the greatest pillow fort ever to be seen in the Howard’s living room. 

Barbara had fallen asleep in it with her girls cuddled close to her sides, under Melissa’s protective eye, and had awoken just the same. Had to make sure the heater didn’t bust, she had offered, eyes drooping with sleep, hair messily piled atop her head. There was an extra blanket draped over Barbara that hadn’t been there when she’d fallen asleep. She had stared and stared and stared at this wonder of a woman until the power had clicked back on, the cacophony of every electronic in the house springing to life waking Gina and Taylor, who immediately dragged a poor exhausted Melissa to the kitchen to make the breakfast. She’d made pancakes with smiley faces, and winked when she’d placed one in front of Barbara too.

She has also been in love with Melissa for a great many years, apparently. 

When she turns to look at Melissa, at the woman she loves - and good lord, how had she not realized sooner - she wants so badly to cradle her face in her palms, to smooth gentle thumbs across her soft cheeks, to trace the elegant bridge of her nose, to kiss away the crease in her forehead, to kiss her, properly, the way she had dreamed about once and written off as temporary insanity. 

For now, she settles with giving her a smile, all teeth and warmth and adoration.

“Thank you, for telling me.”

“It’s no biggie,” Melissa chokes out.

Barbara’s hand finds her knee, squeezes.

“It is to me, dear.”

FIN