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ghost-proofbaby · 1 year

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twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR THIRTEEN

in which eddie wants to distract you from the one thing you ask for: honesty. it's a shame he never realized just how dirty you can play when you want something bad enough.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, upside down does not exist, smut, female masturbation/male masturbation, exhibitionism, oral (f receiving), minors dni

→ wc: 3.2k+

→ a/n: probably the shortest chapter of the entire series. if i added anything else from what will be in hour 14, it would simply get too long. and this length felt good for what i was trying to accomplish! as always with my smut, my apologies if it ain't up to standard. i don't really edit my smut chapters haha. thank you all for being so kind and for all messages, reblogs, etc! <3

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13:00 ────────ㅇ───────── 24:00

HOUR THIRTEEN - 4:00 AM

“Would you like me to be honest now, doll? Or would you rather me eat that poor pussy right here, right now, on this counter?”

Against your better judgment, your knees spread for him.

Honesty can wait, you realize, as his palms are warm against your skin. He’s slow in his descent, dropping to his knees on his kitchen floor at an antagonizing pace.

“Is that what you want? I was interrupted earlier, after all,” he murmurs, eyes locked with yours as he finally settles on the floor, hands cupping the back of your knees before tugging your hips to settle at the edge of the counter, “Use your words for me, sweetheart.”

No, we can’t settle a fight with sex. That is not becoming our new normal.

“Yes,” you breathe out, your mind in shambles as you look down at him on his knees for you. As if he’s prepared to worship. As if the two of you weren’t just arguing.

“Yes, what?”

He’s weaponizing himself against you now. Fingertips tickling down your calves, smiles lilting in a knowing grin. He knows that he has you right where he wants you right now. He knows just how desperate he can turn you.

“Yes, please,” you beg, giving into the desperation far too soon. But he only tsks in response, not fully accepting the plea despite the rashness that drips from your tone. And so you try again as his fingers return to your waist and plays with the band of the sweatpants you had just put back on, “I want you to eat my poor pussy right here, right now. On this counter. Please.”

He doesn’t expect the straight-forwardness, the crude words – you shock even yourself. You can see his upper-hand immediately falter as his breath catches in his chest and his hands curl unexpectedly into the bare skin beneath the clothing he was fiddling with.

He thinks he has you right where he wants you, but you know better. You’ve caught on quickly; he isn’t just doing this to distract you, but because he needs it just as much as you. This is not a weapon against just you in this argument, but himself as well. The distraction is a double-edged sword, and just as he was pressing it against your own skin in the form of a devilish grin and wandering hands, you decide to press it right back.

You go for the sternum as you whisper, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? It’s a win-win for you, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he keeps his face stoney, but you can catch his blush rising underneath the fluorescent lighting.

In another daring move, you swat away his hands, and you remove the sweatpants.

Fuck Eddie. Fuck all the fights. Fuck letting him have all the control, all the fun.

“No? Allow me to explain,” your voice grows in volume and confidence simultaneously, and you relish the way his eyes have widened when met with your clothed core once more. He’s looking at it like it’s the first time, as if he hadn’t just had his way with you on his couch, you at his mercy fully. “I think you want to get your mouth on me even more than I want it. And if you get your way, you also get to avoid honesty. Again.”

Your mind somehow becomes sharper in the haze he’d originally caused. The look in his eyes only fuels you as you bring your hands to the edge of his sweater, toying with the hem and smirking at him.

“I see,” he hums, reaching out for you, eyes still glassy and distracted. You swat his hand away before it even gets the chance to reach your knee. In an instant, his gaze adverts from your pussy to look up to you, stunned with a dumb-struck expression, puffy lips parted as his mouth hangs open ever-so-slightly, “That sounds like a win for me and for you. I’m not seeing the issue here, doll.”

“The issue is you avoiding honesty, Munson,” you scoff. You finally lean forward, pulling his sweatshirt off of you. You toss it to the ground beside where he kneels, now wearing nothing but your panties and the shit-eating grin that would usually belong to him, “I’d like to propose a deal.”

He’s easy to turn dumb. Too easy. The moment your breasts are exposed, the man before you is nearly drooling, eyes darting from them to your core, rinse and repeat, as if he can’t decide what to focus on. Anywhere but your eyes. Anywhere but your smug expression.

You have the upperhand.

“Look at me,” you demand. Your voice doesn’t hold the same strength as his would – that’s not your forte. Your forte is in the softness you continue to carry, the delicacy you now weaponize with shy fingers that trail down over your own stomach, inching closer to your underwear.

“What’s the deal?” he asks without complying to your request.

Immediately, you pause your wandering hands to lean forward, balancing your elbows on your knees as a hand grabs at his chin. It’s daring, even for you, but oh so rewarding. Blown out pupils swallow up the shades of gold that thread his irises as you give him no other choice to focus on your face again.

“What do you want?” he’s the one now desperate, still on his knees, urgency drowning out any cockiness that had been in his tone to begin with. He’s at your mercy, “Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”

“Honesty.”

He’s turned into something impenetrable. You can practically feel the waves of his ocean still. Neither of you breathe for one second, two seconds, three seconds. Only three seconds, but it could have been an eternity there in his kitchen.

Your grip on his chin never falls.

“Honesty?” he questions, brows furrowing, eyes narrowing, “I already told you, princess, you either get one or the other. You can’t have both. Not happening.”

“No?” you coo, finally removing your fingers from his skin. There’s not a single sign of the hold you had on him, your touch having been as soft as a butterfly’s wings. He’s unmarked, and he’ll remain that way, unless he agrees to your terms. You’re determined now. The upper hand won’t be sliding from your grasp as easily as it had fallen from his, “That’s a shame.”

You lean back and his eyes follow your every movement, “And why’s that?”

“Because if you’re not honest, you’re not laying a hand on me.”

“That’s still my deal, baby,” he’s trying to be condescending again, to get you back under his thumb and constrained by his idea of a distraction.

It won’t work. Not this time.

He leans forward, and just as his breath hits the wet spot that had begun to form over your clothed cunt, you bring a hand to his forehead and push him away. Your knees snap shut immediately as he tries to keep his balance, leaning back on his haunches.

He’s glaring up at you now. But he’s still not desperate enough.

“Not your deal at all,” you continue on. You’re enjoying yourself far too much, and he can tell. His breathing is picking up, his jaw has locked as he gazes up at you, “See, pretty boy, with my deal, we could have our cake and eat it too,” He swallows hard as you bring a hand up to one of your breasts, “You’re honest with me, and I let you get your mouth on my pussy. A win for everyone.”

“And if I’m not honest?”

“Then I’ll take care of myself. I’m a big girl, simple as that.”

You’ve had to spell it out for him, but it finally clicks in his mind. You can watch the mechanics of him processing your words in real time, and that desperation you’ve been seeking out this entire time has arrived. Pathetic, big eyes. Lips twitching to avoid falling victim to a pout. If you could see his knuckles, you’d find them turning a bright shade of white as he grips his knees painfully.

Just as he opens his mouth to argue again, your finger flicks at your nipple. All words on his tongue die, shrivel, dissipate at the sound of your soft moan.

“Such a shame,” you sigh out, heading lulling backwards. The back of your skull hits his cabinet with a soft thump and you hope that it won’t ache once the adrenaline and euphoria has passed, “I was kind of excited to see what that mouth could do besides piss me off.”

“You’re bluffing,” he deadpans, zeroing in on your fingers as they let go of one nipple and move onto the next, “You’ll cave before I do, sweetheart.”

“I don’t think I will,” your voice is breathless as you twist your nipple, arching your back into the touch for emphasis. It’s not as good as his hands would be, you know that, but you’re not backing down now. You have your eyes on the prize, staring down honesty with the same intensity that he stares between your legs.

“No? Are you sure you aren’t imagining how much better my fingers could be? My hands?” he eggs on. Almost as if subconsciously, he’s leaning forward into your gravitation again. When his nose brushes your knee, your thighs clench harder.

It’s not to keep him out. His words travel down your spine, wrapping and shocking all the way down until they’ve reached your core.

His hands would feel better, but his honesty will feel the best.

“You forget that before tonight, I went about life just fine without your hands,” you reply as you finally let your hand begin down a path over your torso again, starting at your sternum and traveling at an agonizing pace. You’re teasing yourself just as he would, as you know he wants to.

As you know he craves to.

“Yeah?” he chuckles lowly. Your eyes flutter close as your fingers reach the band of your panties, and you try to imagine the look on his face as you prepare yourself for his taunting, “I’ve seen the way you stare at my hands, baby. I’ve caught you staring when I’m playing with my rings. That dumb expression on your face as you watch me tap on tables. Just how many times have you imagined them wrapped around your throat, or knuckles deep in that pussy, before tonight?”

Your eyes snap open. His chest is puffed up both in self-satisfaction and heaving breaths, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. And he knows you’re watching intently, making a show of it as he slows the drag of it. A small teasing of this tongue could be on you right now.

“See, now you’re asking a bit much of me, don’t you think?” you try to keep your tone even as your hand stays poised at the edge of your underwear, making eye contact once more, “Sounds a lot like you’re asking for honesty from me. You shouldn’t ask for things you can’t give in return.”

With those words, your hand plunges into your underwear, fingers sliding between your folds, teasing your hole as you gather wetness to trail back up to your clit.

It breaks Eddie. Seeing your fingers hidden by your panties, pleasuring yourself, making whines begin to spill out between gasps, pulled from the back of your throat as your knees separate enough to accommodate your hand.

“What do you want me to be honest about?” he nearly barks out. You see his shoulder moving, arm crossing closer to his lap, and know his palming himself through his sweats.

You take the time to insert a finger into your clenching hole, Eddie’s eyes finding yours at the intrusion, biting down your moan into a mere hum before saying, “Why do you hate me?”

“Right now?” he gasps out, confirming he is touching himself to the show you’re putting on, “I hate you for being such a fucking brat. I hate you for thinking you’re in control right now.”

“I am in control.”

You slip in a second finger, curling them in sync as you press them in knuckle-deep. It’s not enough – it’s not as good as his fingers. You whine out at the thought, bucking your hips against your hand, palm applying pressure on your clit.

“Baby, you wish you were-” he goes to bring a hand to your knee again, and you’re already ready with a hand, grabbing his wrist sharply this time.

“How hard are you right now?” you ask, having to slow your movements to get out any coherent words. You can feel his heartbeat racing below his skin, feel the taunt muscles of his arm as he tries to exercise self-constraint. He’s losing – he’s failing, miserably.

Just having his skin against yours as you continue to pump your own fingers into yourself has more intense waves of pleasure tearing through you.

“How- I-” he stutters. He’s licking his lips again, but this time, it’s not to tease you.

He craves it as much as you need it. You need his honesty, and you need his goddamn mouth on you.

“I asked you a question,” you pant, grip tightening on him. You can see his shoulder shifting more fervently now, see the flush of his cheeks. He’s touching himself, and he’s close.

If he finishes first, he wins. You can’t have that.

“Tell me how hard you are right now, honestly, and I’ll let you touch me.”

A snap in his composure. You feel it in the twitch of his wrist in your grasp. “Hard. So fucking hard, I can’t fucking think right now,” you begin to get starry vision, pumping your fingers faster, curling harder to reach for a spot you can’t seem to find when his eyes are on you and his hands are right there, “If I don’t get my mouth on you within the next five seconds, sweetheart, I’m going to lose my fucking mind.”

You’re right on the edge, teetering over a cliffside. At the bottom are all the repercussions of what is to come. The breeze of your defeat, the call of his honesty. You don’t have to think twice; you remove your hand from yourself despite the disappointment that ruffles your entire body, and your knees fall open to him.

He hardly gives you the time to release your grip on his wrist before his fingers are tearing into the waistband of your panties and tearing them down your thighs, letting them fall to the floor limply once they brush your ankles. His palms dig into the meat of your thighs, spreading you impossibly apart and tugging you to nearly hang off the edge of the counter before he’s bringing his face to your hot core.

And then he pauses. You’re waiting for the feeling of his tongue in you, his nose to bump your clit, and he pauses.

“For the record,” he breathes out, and it has your core clenching against nothing as you feel it against you. His fingers dig into your thighs harsher, “I never hated you.”

You look down at him, pretty between your thighs, brown eyes sparkling, “Are you being honest right now?”

“I am,” he doesn’t hesitate, leaning forward and kissing your mound, “I could never hate you.”

You’ve won. Your victory settles in the air around the two of you, your victory whispers between each kitten lick he makes at your clit, to each thrust of his fingers when he presses two into you without warning. Your victory tangles in his hair just as your hands do as your hips buck up against his mouth, desperate and uncaring in lack of control. Your victory splotches your vision, blacking it out when he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. Your victory dances with the stars behind your eyelids as he curls his finger into the spot you’d been searching for, as he traces an unspoken language over your clit, as you repeatedly call out his name and he murmurs “good girl” in vibrations that reverberate through your core, your spine, your vines, your flames.

You’ve won. But it doesn’t feel like winning when you’re coming down from your high, Eddie pressing kisses to your inner thigh and lips shining from your slick, and his words come back to haunt you.

“I could never hate you.”

The victory has come at a cost. One that neither of you address as you catch your breaths. As you slump to the side, resting your temple against the side of his cool refrigerator, you look down to see a wet spot spread across the crotch of Eddie’s sweatpants.

You knew he had been touching himself to you touching yourself, but the patch is far too large to have just been precum.

“Did you…” you murmur, fighting a grin, “Did you cum from eating me out?”

Eddie, remarkably enough, isn’t even shameless as he rakes a hand through his curls, pursing his lips in a way that only accentuates to the slow curl upwards of the corners, “You look so surprised for someone who was so insistent that I needed that more than you did.”

“I was right,” you laugh, lifting out of your lean supported by the appliance to your left, “I knew it.”

He only chuckles back in response, rising slowly from his kneeling position, “Yeah, yeah, Sherlock Holmes. You cracked the case – congratulations,” he doesn’t close the space between the two of you as he stands there, and his words pester the back of your mind again. If you could never hate me, why are you so far away right now? “Stay here, I can come back with another ra-”

“You don’t have to clean me up again,” you interrupt. His words are pushing forward now. I could never hate you. It doesn’t make sense, doesn’t fit right into everything you already know of Eddie, “I’ll be fine. Just clean yourself up, yeah?”

He looks taken back, but says nothing more as he nods before leaving the kitchen. He sends you one last glance, one last chance to say more. But you can’t say a word to him, or even meet his gaze, as you filter through endorphins and try to pull sensibility from what just happened.

He leaves, and you regret. You don’t regret doing all of this with him – you’d enjoyed it, he’d enjoyed it, it was good – but you regret how it’s happening. You regret all the emotions it’s nurturing. Feelings that turn it all complicated, that make this entire ordeal more than something casual. This night is going to haunt your mind for the rest of your days. It has carved out an emptiness inside of you that hadn’t been there before, or maybe it had been, and you had already spent a year filling it in with the dirt of sour interactions and abrasive fights.

It didn’t really matter, though, whether it had been there before tonight or not. All that matters is the space there was empty once more, hollowed out by five simple words.

“I could never hate you.”

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#twenty four hours #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you

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asumofwords · 1 year

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The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Angst, death, mourning, funeral, fluff, smut, daddy kink, breath play, spanking, slapping, fingering, face fucking, degradation, gagging, deep throating, dumbification, edging, creampie, crying, dacryphilia, dirty talking, name calling, rough handling, sadomasochist, sadism, spitting, spitplay, squirt, the correct method of choking, drugs (weed), alcohol, smoking.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Another monstrous chapter sitting at 10+k, because when I said this series was going to only be 15 chapters I meant it hahaha. Goodness, gracious me, here we are. We have come to the end of this series! Thank you so much for all your love and support this whole way through! I hope that you have enjoyed it, and I hope I did the ending some sort of realistic justice. I shall be getting onto my requests now hehehe, anyway, ENJOY! <3

Final Chapter: Stay

Waking that morning, you had not expected to be met with what you were. You had thought that the day would be spent with some awkward, uncertain glances cast Aemond’s way, with the others casting theirs towards you both. Then perhaps you would talk again.

Or fuck.

Or both.

Your little traitorous brain hoped for both.

But no, that's not what you woke up to that morning. You woke up to a nightmare come true. And although all had prepared for it for years, and in fact, the reason why all were back at the Red Keep, it still came as a bombshell that shook the family to its very core.

Viserys was dead.

Gone peacefully in his sleep, found by none other than his doting eldest daughter and wife.

You had woken to the bedroom door shutting, a peak of Criston Cole’s hair in the crack of the door. Helaena stood frozen by it, swaying slightly on her feet before she walked over to the bed and sat down, staring at the far wall.

“Hel?” You sat up, hand coming to touch your best friends shoulder, “What's happened?”

Fear of the unknown settled into your gut.

Her lavender eyes turned to you.

“He’s dead.”

The Keep was in disarray.

Rhaenyra and Daemon were in shambles, having lost a father and brother all in one. It was a most terrible thing to witness. You felt grief yourself for your friends, and for the family as a whole as they moved through the motions of his death, his leaving of their worlds. You felt akin to an invasive species as you sat amongst them, foreign, displaced, unfitting in their neat yet disturbed world.

Lucerys and Jacerys were grieving with their mother and step-father, the twins joining them. As for the other children of Viserys? That was another story.

Amongst the four of them, there was not a single tear shed for their father, bar Aegon in the early light of the morning, stained cheeks hidden in the shadows, red rimmed eyes, and a tiredness that no young man should have at his age, pulling down at his shoulders. But he had swallowed it quickly and quietly as he had for his whole life and went outside to smoke.

You couldn’t however account for Aemond, as he was nowhere to be seen.

Sitting in the gazebo with the three silver haired siblings, you tried to offer condolences, a shoulder to cry on if needed, but all were content to grieve in their own way; Aegon smoking yet another joint, Daeron texting someone animatedly, and Helaena, simply staying quiet and composed beside you.

It wasn’t what you had expected for people to have just lost their father, but you supposed that everyone grieves in their own ways, theirs being much different to your own.

Helaena stood from where she had sat, dressed in all black, something you had not once seen her wear, a stark change to the bright colours that she usually donned. Perhaps this was her way of showing her grief. Her mourning.

Her loss.

“Walk with me.” She said quietly, and you nodded, jumping up as you grasped her hand, letting her lead you down the garden to look at the various plants and trees that were in a part of a gated garden entrance.

Greenery of all sizes, shapes, and colours grew beautifully, small little plaques beneath identifying their scientific name. The Red Keep's garden had some of the rarest of flowers and trees in the whole of the realm. It even had the famed Winter Rose’s from the North in a special greenhouse that kept them in below freezing temperatures.

It was still early in the day, the sun only just rising to its peak as you walked together in silence, your hand in hers as you followed her lead, looking at the shrubs and immense show of wealth. If it weren’t for the reason of your walk, you would have been more animated upon seeing some rare and beautiful orchids, perfectly potted and healthy.

Your steps crunched along the cobblestoned path, twisting around to an extended part of the estate that you hadn’t been to. There, in front of you, was a most beautiful sight to behold.

Ruby red leaves sprouted out of ashen branches, twisting upwards towards the sky.

A Weirwood tree.

And a very old one by the looks of it.

“The Godswood.” Helaena explained to you, taking you closer to it.

You were so entranced by its incredible beauty, thinking of how Cregan's description of his back home didn't do it justice, that you hadn’t even noticed the man that sat amongst its roots, leant back on the trunk.

Aemond Targaryen sat beneath the branches and leaves of a tree that had been a symbol of the Old Gods to his family for hundreds of years. One leg was stretched out in front of him, whilst the other was bent, his long arms crossed over the top of his knee lazily.

He watched you as you came towards him, words caught in your throat.

The light that peaked through the tips of the branches shimmered down on his pale hair, causing it to glimmer with each parting of the leaves from the breeze that rolled through. His face looked flat, emotionless.

Blank.

Helaena’s hand slipped away from yours and you turned to look at her. She gave you a soft smile, before she walked away without a word, leaving you in the small Godswood courtyard with her brother.

You stood for a moment or two, the both of you watching each other before your legs pulled you towards him. You moved to sit beside the long limbed man, pulling your knees up to your chest as you kept your eyes straight ahead, not wanting to make him feel overcrowded, or as if he was being observed. Instead, you hoped that your presence was, at least, the tiniest bit of comfort if he needed it.

You weren’t sure what to do or say as you sat together, both staring off into the distance as the soft rustling of leaves moved overhead. If not for the death that had occurred in the early hours of the morning, the day would have been beautiful.

It was like that for a while, just the both of you. Basking in each others company silently, and yet you felt the need to do more. To say more. To show him more. To show him that you cared, to try and rebuild that bridge that had been torched between the two of you, in the way he had attempted to last night.

You felt guilt knowing that he would have woken up to not only an empty bed, but the news of the death of his father in a Keep he didn’t want to be in, surrounded by people he so desperately tried to avoid.

Tendons and veins pulled beneath the skin of Aemond pale hand as he rubbed a thumb and forefinger together atop his knee.

It was always his hands. Something you had learned rather quickly about him. His hands always moved when in thought, when irritated, lost, or angry.

Any strong emotion caused the man to fidget.

It was a habit that he shared with Helaena, no doubt inherited by their mother.

With no other way to convey what you were feeling, you lifted your hand and placed it atop his. His hand was warm, and twitched beneath yours. Aemond, without wasting a second, flipped his over and held onto yours tightly, threading his fingers through yours atop his knee.

Silence stretched forever until-

“I don’t mourn him.” Aemond’s voice moved with the breeze, soft and quiet, gently carried away from the courtyard, and you felt a pull of sorrow for him deep within your chest.

“We weren’t ever close. Cole was more a father to me than him.” There was a hollowness to his words which you would argue was grief, until he continued, “I don’t grieve the man he was, I grieve the father he could have been to me. The father he should have been to me. Something that I never had.”

Tears prickled in your eyes for him.

Gods.

Why had life been so cruel to this man?

A soft chuckle floated from his lips, a stark difference to his demeanour before, “I used to try so hard to impress him when I was young. Studied, learnt our traditional tongue before any of my other siblings did, and even then, it wasn’t enough for him. I was never enough for him. He was sick, yes,” Frustration bled from his shoulders, tense and closed in, “But he had more time for them than us.”

There was the anger.

Sorrow.

Spite.

Aemond Targaryen had felt he had been in his nephews shadow his whole life.

And it showed.

“It was worse for Aegon. First son and all. A shiny new toy for Viserys before his expectations became too high for Egg and he rebelled. Then nothing he would do could impress the man.”

You squeezed his hand tightly, shuffling across the hard roots of the tree to get closer to him, leaning your shoulder heavily against his, so he could feel your weight, so he could feel the heat of your body. To comfort him, to be there for him, all while not being smothering.

“I’m sorry, Aemond.”

He shook his head, long strand of silver falling over his shoulder as he looked at you, “Don’t be.”

Silence fell over you again, and you watched as a lone red leaf, pointed sides and all, slowly drifted from above the two of you down onto the grassy ground below. It swooped from side to side, spinning gently before soundlessly falling amongst green blades.

You didn’t want him to be alone.

You didn’t want him to feel isolated.

And in your restless, sleepless night, you had thought about him.

“It’s going to be okay.” You whispered, and watched as he turned his head to look back at you, his lone eye searching your face.

Your thumb soothed over his gently, your words having more than one meaning.

His bottom lip was pulled into his mouth by his teeth, and then his voice came up and out from deep within his chest as he gazed at you intensely, clouded eye unmoving, and the sun shining down onto his scarred side of his face.

“Stay.” He asked you for the very first time.

A stark opposite to all the times you had uttered that word to him.

Asked him to stay with you.

It was first time he spoke that four lettered word to you, beneath the crimson leaves of the ancient Godswood in a home that he had grown in.

You heeded his request.

Together, you sat beneath the branches and looked up through them, side by side in a wordless promise to each other.

Stay.

The next few days were a whirlwind. The funeral was held on the grounds of the estate, people from all over flying in to say their goodbyes to the patriarch of House Targaryen.

At first you had asked Helaena if you could go back home, not wanting to intrude on her families grief, but she had insisted, no, begged for you to stay for the funeral.

And so you had.

It was an intense and sad ordeal, but not once did you leave Helaena or Aemond’s side. You stuck by them both, and he always came to you.

Crossing the kitchen to come to you. Crossing the dining table outside to come to you. Crossing the hall to come to Helaena’s room and sit on the bed with the two of you, happy to be just in your presence and not say a thing.

Aegon had silently cried at the funeral. The only child of Alicent to do so. You had watched as fat tears rolled down his rosy cheeks, eyes cast at the coffin of his father, as his mother stood stoically beside him.

Alicent Hightower had cried softly when she had read the eulogy, then followed by Rhaenyra and Daemon's. It was the only time that you felt you would ever see the pair look out of their usual controlled demeanour.

After the funeral, there was the service, where all came to Rhaenyra and Alicent to offer their condolences, the two women standing side by side in all black. At one point, you had watched as Alicent’s pinky reached out, searching for Rhaenyra’s hand. It had curled against the other woman’s, and you watched as the other tilted her head slightly in shock, before she made a larger move, and curled her hand directly around the auburn haired woman’s beside her.

It was days after the funeral before all of you were back together again, side by side.

It had been a long day, longer than the last, and the night had bled into the sky in a deep purple before turning to its deeper shade of blue. Aegon had done rounds, going to each and every room to tell all to meet him down at the pool for some well needed drinks.

Aemond had been sat at Helaena’s vanity watching the two of you sit on the bed and softly giggle at a message Sara had sent her, your silver haired friend more intent on moving forward than looking back.

Hand in Helaena’s, you led her and Aemond down to the pool, not bothering to put swimmers on.

It was dark outside, the usual lights strung about the garden having been turned off, the only source of light coming from the moon, the stars, and the smaller lights that edged around the pools perimeter.

The others were already there, you having seemingly been the last pitstop, passing around popped bottles of champagne, wine and beer. There was the sweet, dank smell of Aegon’s weed again in the air, the short haired man leant back on his elbows as he looked up at the sky, bottle of Moët in one hand.

It was awkward at first, what with Jacaerys and Aemond’s outburst the last time you were all together before the funeral, but before long, and with the help of your trusty liquid courage, all seemed to melt into the numb feeling that the alcohol brought them.

You laid back in one of the armchairs, Helaena, between your legs, head resting on your stomach as you brushed the silver strands away from her face as she looked up at the stars. Aemond watched from beside you, having pulled over one of the other poolside chairs.

The twins, and the brown haired boys were sat at the waters edge with Aegon, their legs dangling into the pool as they swung them softly back and forth, drinking and talking quietly amongst themselves.

Daeron, having disappeared for a moment, came back with his speaker, softly playing music through it to fill the gentle quiet that surrounded you all.

It was soft, calm, and peaceful enough for such a tumultuous time, and as the night got longer, and bottles of alcohol became drained, blunts were passed, and inhibitions were lowered, smiles and laughter were shared amongst all.

Even Aemond.

But that stillness was disturbed when the tipsy, brown haired Lucerys stood and faced everyone, bottle of red wine in hand. The smiles dissipated, and a serious energy floated amongst everyone again.

“I want to make a toast.” The young man said with drunken confidence, thrusting out the wine bottle towards Aegon, “To Viserys.”

Jacaerys lifted his beer towards his younger brother, the twins following suit with their cans of fruity mixer.

Lucerys’ eyes fell on Aemond, before his lips pulled down solemnly, turning away to roam his gaze on everyone else, “He wasn’t a perfect man-”

Aemond quietly scoffed beside you.

“-But if it wasn’t for him, none of us would be here.”

Aegon hummed in agreement, sipping deeply from his almost empty bottle of Moët.

Lucerys’s gaze fell to you as he scratched the back of his neck, “Except you, Y/n. You’d still be here. Well, not here here. But you’d still-“

“-Alright, move it on.” Baela joked lovingly at him as he began to ramble.

Straightening his posture, Luc thrust his wine up to the sky, “To Viserys.”

All lifted their drinks up to toast, bar Aemond, hands bringing wine to their lips, beer to their mouths, or champagne to their tongues. You offered Aemond a small, sad smile, and he returned it, sipping at his beer in thought.

It wasn’t a full toast per-say like the others, but he drank in the mans honour regardless.

A large palm opened up towards you, pale fingers lazily spread in offering. You looked at his long digits, signet ring on one.

“Come here.” Aemond hummed, gentle look in his eye.

Helaena pulled herself from your lap and looked at her brother, “I thought you’d never ask!” She chirped playfully, and he rolled his eye at her.

A small giggle fell from your lips as you looked at his hand again. Still outstretched towards you in front of everyone.

In front of everyone.

Your heart raced in your chest as you stood, placing your hand in his, the warmth of his palm spreading up your arm as you moved over to Aemond, who pulled you between his long legs in a similar way you had done with Helaena. His legs were bent on either side of you with your back against his chest. You felt his chin dip to rest at the top of your head, and a warmth spread through your chest like wildfire.

Helaena smiled at your warmly as Aegon craned his neck backwards to look at the two of you.

“How long has this been going on?” He teased, glassy eyes narrowing on the both of you.

Lucerys, who had sat back down beside his brother after his toast, turned around with Jacaerys to observe. And when their heads turned, the others followed.

Heat rose in your cheeks and you felt a sudden shyness at it all. The urge to hide was strong.

But really, what was this?

You didn’t know.

But it was something.

Something more than before.

But still, you didn’t have an answer, so you moved to respond.

“Oh, we’re n-“

“-A while. I was just a dick about it.” Aemond interrupted you, and your heart soared.

Did he -

Did he just-

Did he just confirm your thoughts?

Did he just validate your feelings?

Answer all your burning questions that had kept you awake at night?

A while.

That implied that this was more.

That this had always been more.

That this was solid.

That this was-

“So that’s why you wouldn’t fuck me.” Aegon pouted, smirk pulling at his lips.

Aemond sighed heavily behind you, “That and the fact that you’re utterly repulsive.”

Aegon’s mouth dropped open as he stared at his brother, “You wound me! I’ll have you know that there are plenty of people who haven’t found me repulsive.”

“Too many, if you ask me.” Helaena snickered.

Aegon flicked his joint at his sister, standing straight as he looked down at everyone.

“Good thing I didn't ask you. I’ll have you know I’m polyglamourous.” Hands on his hips.

“Polyamorous.” Daeron corrected his brother.

Aegon grinned, victory in his cheeks, “I meant what I said.”

Aemond’s hand rubbed up and down your thigh soothingly as the night moved on, goosebumps rising on your flesh with each stroke of his long fingers. His chest was warm against your back, and you felt that you could fall asleep from where you were.

Helaena squealed at her phone loudly, breaking you from your fatigued thoughts.

“What is it?” You turned to face her, watching as a large grin pulled at her lips.

“Sara got us tickets to see the Phantom of the Opera!”

“What!”

“Yes!” She shook her phone in her hand whilst she screamed in excitement, “I can’t believe she remembered!”

Aemond chuckled from behind you, chest vibrating against your back, “Of course she'd remember. She’s in love with you.”

Your best friend suddenly became shy, a blush rising on her cheeks rapidly, turning them a bright red that even in the darkness of the night, you could see, “I know that. I just can’t believe it.”

“I’m jealous. Ask her where my ticket is.” You teased, “So I guess this means I’ll be seeing more of Sara again?”

Helaena gave you a knowing smirk, and you gave her one right back.

You were happy for her.

Really happy.

They were perfect for each other. And you always knew that they would get back together again. That and Helaena always told you so, and Helaena was never wrong.

Aegon having come round to where you sat, snatched his sisters bottle of Prosecco, downing the remainder in one gulp, a refreshed and exaggerated gasp filling the air as he ruffled her hair, a growl and swat of a hand coming for his arm which he dodged last second.

Aegon giggled, running around the rim of the pool, shoes kicked in one direction, socks thrown in the other, shirt torn from his back in one yank, and then came his pants. Your eyes widened as Aegon stripped himself nude before jumping into the pool with a yell.

He emerged from the cool water with a flick of his wet hair laughing, sending a hand splashing towards the twins and he smiled, “Come onnnn, live a little! Get in!”

Baela and Rhaena gave each other a shared look before standing, stripping themselves of their clothes before jumping in, hand in hand.

Before you knew it, you were all stripped bare, splashing about in the pool laughing and swimming around.

Even Aemond.

His cheeks were pulled taut by the grin plastered to his face as he swam towards you, tickling your sides as you screamed for backup from Baela and Rhaena, who swam towards you, a flurry of splashes and squeals until his large palms rose above the water and conceded.

Aegon pulled another spliff from the side of the pool and passed it around, and although it was dark, and you couldn’t see the details of anyones bodies, you still felt slightly shy in knowing that not only were you naked, but you were naked with a certain someone pressed up against your back.

At one point, you could have sworn you felt his cock twitch against the cheek of your ass, but you shrugged it off, going to the others as they tossed a ball like piggy in the middle back and forth, little Lucerys in the centre trying to jump up to catch it with all his might.

Eventually the water grew cold, and as you swam to sip at some of Baela’s drink, Aemond slid from behind you, hand wrapping around your waist. Heat spread through you as you felt him press up against you, mouth beside your ear.

“I think it's time for bed, don’t you?” He whispered hoarsely.

You bit your lip turning your head to try and sneak a peak at him, but was interrupted by a loud and obnoxious wolf whistle.

Aegon grinned at you both, “No fucking in mummy’s pool.”

“Ugh, Aegon. What the fuck.” Helaena grimaced.

A laugh exploded from your lips as you turned to look at Aemond, who was chewing the inside of his cheek, desperate to hide the smirk that was rising on his face.

“Come on.” He urged you, tilting his head to outside of the pool.

You climbed out with his help, getting dressed, all the while Aegon continued to whistle at the two of you and make obscene noises. But it was short lived as Helaena pushed Aegon’s head under water with all her weight, Jacaerys and Luc clapping in laughter.

You saw this as your out and grabbed Aemond’s hand, racing him through the Keep in fits of giggles until you reached his room, anticipation strumming in your gut. You watched as he shut the door behind him, turning to face you. His hair was wet, much like yours, and he advanced on you slowly, energy bouncing around inside of you.

“Come here.” He beckoned you with a finger, soft smirk on his lips.

You shook your head at him cheekily, “Nuh uh.”

His head tilted as he looked at you, “Please.”

Your feet carried you towards him, a magnetic pull dragging your chest to his. He smiled warmly down at you, cupping your cheek with one hand as the other dragged a wet strand of hair away from your face.

“Beautiful.” He praised you, before dipping his head down to kiss you.

Aemond bent slightly as your arms wrapped around his neck, large hands wrapping around your thighs as he hoisted you up into his arms, carrying you towards the bed as you didn’t once break the kiss.

It wasn’t hurried like the last time.

It wasn’t frenzied.

This time, you took your time with each other.

Aemond stripped you of your wet clothes and brought you to your peak on his tongue, his name whispered from your mouth like a prayer. He hovered above you as he slid in, watching the way your mouth opened and brows furrowed at the stretch, his lips pressing sweet kisses to the side of your face as he slowly moved through your folds, the tip of his cock rubbing against every point within you.

“So fucking beautiful.” He praised you as you fell apart once again on his cock, walls gripping his length tightly as you keened and whined, hands gripping the sheets for dear life as he smiled sweetly at you.

This was a side of Aemond you hadn’t seen before, and a side you hoped to see more.

He came with a quiet moan of your name, head dipping down into the crux of your neck as he planted kiss after kiss there.

You spent the rest of your night together curled in each others embrace, falling asleep with one word echoing in your mind.

Stay.

Waking up in a dark green and black room was disorientating at first, probably exacerbated by the steady strumming of a slight hangover in the back of your mind. But the warmth of two strong arms wrapped around you, and the familiar scent of Aemond that filled the space between, reminded you of where you were, and who you were with.

Your eyes opened as you looked up at him. His good eye still shut, chest rising and falling slowly.

Everything had happened so fast.

It was as if a match had been lit and set you both ablaze. The two of you burning together hotly, in more ways than one. Your tempers. Your stubbornness, but more importantly, your desire to be with one another.

It was different with him.

Unlike anyone else before.

Passionate.

Fiery.

All encompassing.

And you relished in it.

Relished in the fact that not only was it real, not only tangible, but Aemond had made it open last night as he had pulled you into his lap in front of everyone, and verbally confirmed what had been happening all along.

You weren’t ‘Helaena’s roommate’.

You were more.

You knew that now.

His confession for his love for you however, was something that the two of you would dissect on a later date. But right now? You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way. Didn’t feel the same pull in your heart towards him when he would smile, or laugh, or just look at you. Or how your body would be set alight with even just a touch of his hand.

Aemond Targaryen had you well and truly under his spell.

And there was no other place you’d rather be.

Aemond shifted beside you, eye blinking open sleepily before he looked down at you.

“Morning.” His voice crackled with sleep, mouth opening in a small yawn before he pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead.

Your heart raced in your chest.

“Morning.”

Aemond squeezed you to him tighter as he stretched out the fatigue in his limbs, a whiny grunt escaping his lips.

That was noise you hadn’t heard before.

He sounded content.

Comfortable.

Safe.

But there was still one final thing.

You wanted to be sure that last night wasn’t just a drunken little display, or a declaration emboldened by the grief around the others tainted by possessiveness against Jacaerys.

“What happens now?” You asked quietly, watching as he blinked at you again.

“Whatever happens, happens.” His voice was deep, lulling you into a calm, “But I know I want to be with you.”

Here it was.

“Are you sure?” Your eyes searched his face.

This was it.

His last chance to back out.

His last chance to say no.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You couldn’t contain the grin that creeped on your face, hands pulling him down into a relieved kiss, pouring your adoration and care for him into it as much as you could.

He returned it equally with fever.

Heat ran through you as you pressed yourself closer to him, gasping into his mouth as you felt his cock twitch against your thigh. Aemond groaned into the kiss but pulled away.

You looked at him in confusion.

“Come on, we got to have breakfast with the others.”

You whined, plopping back into the pillows with a huff, “I don’t want to.”

Aemond chuckled from beside you, sitting up in the bed as he ripped the sheets away from your body, exposing your naked form. You rolled over onto your stomach, hiding your face in the pillow as you whined.

Two light smacks landed on the cheek of your ass, and you cried out in surprise, “Come on, grumpy.” He teased, “I’ll give you what you want after. But first, we need to eat.”

At the promise of getting what you wanted, you rolled out of bed, begrudgingly, looking at your semi wet pile of clothes in disgust.

You could do a run down the hall to Helaena’s room, but you could also be spotted running nude through the estate, which to you, didn’t seem appropriate considering the funeral held there only a few days past.

Aemond must have noticed your predicament, “Here.” He came over to you, handing you one of his black shirts and those grey sweats you loved so much.

You threw them on, the top coming down to your mid thigh. The pants however, didn’t stay up, and kept sliding down your legs no matter how much you tightened the strings or rolled them at your hips.

Aemond laughed at you as you stepped out of the pants and threw them at him in a huff.

“I need pants.” You whined, searching his room.

“Would prefer it if you didn’t.” He raised a brow at you.

Your core clenched around nothing as you looked at him, his stance challenging you to obey.

So this is the game he wanted to play.

Smirking, you turned to the door, opening it up, “Come on. We will be late.”

You left without looking back, not getting to see the way Aemond’s tongue poked into his cheek, watching you trot out of his room clad in his shirt.

Only his shirt.

The others were seated at the table outside picking at the spread. They all greeted you both as you moved sit down, except Aegon, who’s head was in his arms atop the table as he groaned dramatically and loudly for all to hear.

“Is he alright?” You asked Helaena, watching as she rolled her eyes at her older brothers antics.

“He’s fine. He’s just a drama Queen.”

“Drama King.” He grumbled back.

You ate together for a while before catching Helaena’s attention, it wasn’t something you wished to do, but it was something you had to nonetheless.

You had to go home, and what was more, you had to go back to work.

“Hel, is Criston around today?” You asked, plopping a sweet piece of watermelon into your mouth.

“I think so. Mum’s home today. Why?” Her head leant against her hand as she twirled one of her dragonfly earrings in between her fingers.

“I have to go back to work. I’ve used far too much of your mothers generosity, and uni starts back up next week.”

Helaena sat up straighter, “Holy shit, that’s next week?”

You nodded, “Yep. Not looking forward to Orwyle’s Citadel History class. Man could bore you to tears. I think I’ve actually cried once or twice.” You joked, rolling around a slice of starfruit on your plate before plopping it into your mouth, enjoying the sweet nectar that coated your tongue.

“Are you going to take Rhaenyra’s offer?” Helaena asked, eyes flitting from you and then to Aemond.

“What offer?” Came the grumbling groan of Aegon, his head lifting momentarily to look at you.

If he wasn’t speaking and breathing in front of you, you would have mistaken the man for being dead. Dark rings sat beneath his eyes, and his pale skin had a sallow dullness to it that made him look almost grey.

“Rhaenyra offered her a job at her firm.” Helaena confirmed.

Aegon grunted, dropping his head back into his arms.

“I didn’t know she offered you a job.” Aemond looked at you from the side, brows pulling slightly.

Why did you feel a slight stab guilt in not telling him?

But how could you have?

It had been a whirlwind since she spoke to you.

The offer.

Aemond returning.

Your spat.

Your make up.

Viserys’ death.

It didn’t seem like the right thing to bring up at that time, and if you were being truly honest, you hadn’t even thought of it since his arrival.

“I didn’t have the chance to tell you with everything that’s happened.”

Aemond hummed, and so you continued, turning to face Helaena, “I think so. I need to give it a proper thought when I get home though.”

Helaena nodded at you, “I’ll speak to Cole after breakfast.” She promised, and resumed her eating.

You thanked her with a smile before doing the same.

“You should take it.”

His words came as a surprise.

You placed your fork back onto the plate as you looked at the man at your side. His face was honest and open, there wasn’t a sneer or grimace, or even the straight line that his lips did when he was upset.

He was being genuine.

You brows twitched as you wordlessly urged him to continue.

“My sister, despite everything, is a hard worker. She’ll look after you and make sure you’re taken care of. Besides, her firm is likely more your style anyway.”

“What do you mean by that?” You probed casually, trying to hide your real intrigue behind another piece of fruit in your mouth.

“More…” Aemond thought for a second, and then it came with a cheeky smirk, “Woman led.”

Helaena stayed true to her word and had Cole come to take you home, or at least, back to the private runway where that sleek jet picked you up once again.

You said your goodbyes to all, giving everyone a tight squeeze, especially Alicent Hightower, who you thanked for her endless generosity in having you there at such a tough time.

However, you wouldn’t be going home alone. Aemond was coming with you, citing the need to be with you, and the need to get away from a place he hated.

When you moved to say your goodbyes to your best friend, you asked her when she would be back with you, mind wondering when you would need to part ways with Aemond's presence.

“I’m going to stay here for the next month." She told you, "I’ve already emailed uni.”

“The next month?” You felt sadness in your chest. Another month without your best friend.

You were going to miss her.

“Yeah,” She kicked at the gravel at her feet, “Mum needs me here for the solicitors and the Will and Testimony reading.”

“Oh? Are you going to be okay?”

Helaena pulled you in for a hug and whispered into your ear, “I’m going to be taken away in a straight jacket by the end of this.” Before pulling back to smile again, cheekier this time, “Besides, I’m sure Aemond will keep you company.”

His smooth voice came from beside you, “I have no plans on leaving.”

The flight home was quick with his company, and on more than one occasion, you had to swat his hands away from you as he whispered the chance of joining the mile high club in his mothers jet.

It felt good to be home as you stepped through the front door, dropping your keys in the empty bowl, followed by the sound of Aemond dropping his in beside it.

It made you smile, the familiar scent of your apartment, the soft glow of light, it's tidiness perfect for your arrival home. You turned back, grin tugging on your lips to look at the man behind you, only to see him looking at you hungrily.

You continued forward, butterflied erupting in your stomach as you felt the warmth of his gaze behind you. You dropped your bags in the lounge room and stretched your arms up high, the day dress you were wearing sliding up your thighs.

Aemond watched you with a hooded eye, and the heat you had felt that morning came back tenfold.

And then you remembered.

“You didn’t make do on your promise.” You smirked.

Aemond raised a brow at you as he dropped his bags next to yours, hands flexing at his side, urging you to elaborate.

“You said you’d give me what I want after breakfast." You purred, "It’s past lunch.”

The silver haired man’s lip twitched as he looked at you, tongue in cheek, “Look whose gotten all bratty the moment we get home.”

Home.

The word sent heat straight to your core.

“Not my fault you're a liar.” You teased back, feeling confident to push him now that you knew where you stood. Now that you were home, away from his family, away from it all. It was now just the two of you.

You and him.

“A liar?”

“Uh huh.”

“Did I say when I would?”

You brows furrowed, “After breakfast.”

“And is lunch not after breakfast?”

Your eyes narrowed at him.

“Dick.”

Aemond’s demeanour changed entirely, posture straightening which gave him an extra inch of height. He looked down his nose at you as he watched you take a smirking step back, “Come here.”

You had to push down the flurry of excitement that almost unleashed a giggle into the room, “Make me.”

Your chest rose and fell sharply as you watched Aemond take a slow step towards you, and then another.

“Last chance, baby. Come here.”

"No."

Spinning on your heel you ran towards your room, Aemond's boots beating on the floorboards behind you coming closer. Hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you up, squeal erupting from your chest as you tried to wriggle out of his grip.

“That was very naughty of you.” His voice whispered hoarsely at your ear from behind, hot breath fanning down your neck.

You stifled a whimper as his fingers dug into your skin before he threw you down onto the bed, face first. Your hands flew outwards, catching yourself as your hips hit the end of the bed. Aemond was on you in an instant, pawing at your dress as he ripped it off of you.

“This what you want, huh? Want me to put you in your place? Little brat.”

Your hands moved behind you to tried to slap his arms as he yanked your panties down your legs in one long swoop. Aemond tutted from behind you as he kicked your legs apart, your lip caught in your teeth as you tried not to whimper.

“Look at you. Already soaked. Such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?”

His hand cast down onto the flesh of your ass and you cried out, back arching as the delicious sting spread through your skin. He pulled your cheeks apart roughly and spat onto your dripping entrance.

“Filthy little fuck hole.” Aemond growled, and you mewled as you felt his spit run between your thighs and drip down onto the floor below.

His fingers smeared his spit into your folds, parting them easily as he looked down at you and cooed, your head craning back to watch him as he chuckled darkly, “What am I going to do with you, hm? You want me to fuck this pretty little pussy, baby?”

Your legs tried to shut so that you could apply pressure with the squeezing of your thighs, but Aemond's legs were in the way, preventing you from getting any release of the tingling that spread through your aching centre.

“Please.” You murmured, pouting at him the best you could in the hopes that it would entice him to take you right then and there.

Another chuckle rumbled in his chest as he let one long finger circle around your entrance, the tip of it just barely pushing inside before it came back out again, teasing you.

“I don’t think you deserve it.” He hummed.

“Please, Aemond.”

“Not my name, sweetheart.”

A shiver ran down your spine, your eyes sliding shut, “Please daddy.”

The warmth from his body disappeared as he stepped back, your eyes opening to find him looking down at you with a stern face. Your heart raced in your chest, his height towering over you, dominance dripping from his every fibre of his being.

“Kneel.”

Gods be good.

Your eyes widened as you stared at him, his hands coming to undo his belt buckle slowly, watching as you didn’t move. He pulled the belt slowly from the loops, to soft flipp loud in the room. The belt dropped to the floor with a thud.

“I said,” Aemond moved quicker than you could react, grabbing a fist full of your hair and dragging you off of the bed onto your knees, “Kneel.”

The wooden floor bit into the skin on your knees sharply, but it was dull in comparison to the sheer desire to be ravaged by the man in front of you.

Long fingers slowly dragged down the zipper of his pants, opening it with languid movements as he kept his eye completely and utterly upon your face.

“Were you being bratty to get a reaction?”

You watched as he pulled his hard length from his briefs, running his fist from base to top slowly, the tip leaking a drop of precum that he smeared down his shaft.

Aemond hummed, “What? Can’t talk now?”

You shook your head defiantly as he took a step closer, “I’m going to ask you one last time,” His voice grew deeper, darker, and it added to the slick that was settling in the crux of your thighs, “Were you being bratty to get a reaction?”

You shook your head.

No.

Liar.

Aemond clicked his tongue at you in disappointment before sighing loudly, “Thought you’d say that. I’ve got a better use for that mouth of yours.” One hand in your hair, he tugged you forward, “Open.”

You don’t know what it was about this man, or what he did to you to make you the way you were with him. The way he absolutely ruined every inch of your mind and thoughts, the urge to both please him and defy him coursing through you all at once, but you wouldn’t give in. No, you needed him to react, you needed him to take what he wanted from you with force.

So biting the insides of your cheeks to keep you from smiling, you defiantly kept your mouth shut as you looked up at him from your knees.

The corner of his lip twitched as he hummed at you.

The sting across your cheek came quickly and stunned you enough to open your mouth in a gasp, exactly as he had planned when he slapped you. He grabbed your jaw with the entirety of his hand and squeezed at the joint meanly, mouth falling open further in pain.

Aemond slid his cock straight into your open lips, his heady weight sitting upon your tongue as he looked down at you, still holding the base with one hand, your jaw in the other.

“There you go. Far more useful with my cock in your mouth.” He grunted, pulling out slowly as you curled your tongue upwards, running it along the underside of his shaft, pressing into the long vein that travelled along it.

Aemond began to thrust into the back of your throat, letting go of the base so that the whole length of him would slide into your mouth. His cock was salty on your tongue, hot, swollen, and heavy in your mouth as he forced you to take him as deep as it would go.

You gagged on his length, eyes watering as you shut them tightly.

Two little slaps on your cheek made your eyes open back up, staring at him as he looked down at you, “Eyes on me while I fuck this pretty little mouth of yours.”

You moaned around his length, thighs rubbing together in an attempt to relieve the tension that was building between them. But it was fruitless. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what you needed, and what you needed was his fingers, his tongue, or his cock inside of you.

The silver haired man thrusted into your mouth the way he would into your cunt, deep, long and hard, his tip beating against the back of your throat as he used you for his own pleasure.

It was exhilarating, intoxicating, and exactly what you had wanted.

You wanted him to use you like this, to get it all out, to get out all the tension that had been hovering over him the minute he stepped into the Keep.

He needed this just as much as you did.

A thick line of saliva ran down your chin, dripping onto your thighs below as both hands wrapped around the sides and back of your skull, dragging your head up and down his length roughly. His brow was furrowed as he watched, mouth agape as he breathed shallowly and grunted.

“Look at you," He cooed down at you, "Just a hole for me to fuck. Just a little slut begging for daddy’s cock, isn’t that right?”

You hummed around his length, sucking your cheeks inwards as much as you could. Aemond hissed at the pressure, eye sliding shut momentarily as his hips stuttered.

It was a glorious sight.

You below him, looking up as his head was thrown back, ecstasy breaking out on his features as his pearly hair cascaded around his shoulders.

Your head was pulled away, length slipping from your lips as you gasped for air, a line of spit connecting you to his tip as he cooed at you.

“Open.”

You opened your mouth wider, tongue poking out for him. His cheeks hollowed and then Aemond spat onto your tongue, its warmth spreading from your mouth, all the way through your body.

You moved to shut your mouth to swallow for him like you thought he wanted, but he stopped you with a finger, pressing down on your tongue as he smeared his spit along the wet, pink muscle messily.

With little care, two fingers slid down to the back of your throat as he looked at you, your mouth still open waiting for a command. Aemond slowly fucked your throat with his fingers, grinning at the small gags that he elicited from the action, before pulling his fingers from your mouth, smearing his spit and yours across your face, the wetness sticking to your heated cheeks.

“Such a messy girl. So dirty.” He purred, lining his cock back up to your mouth which you took with ease, except this time, Aemond didn’t fuck your throat.

He slid his length all the way down your throat, cock pressing into your gag reflex and blocking off your air. Your nose met his pelvis as he looked down at you, shaking your head slightly side to side on his length.

“Hold it.” He growled, watching as a tear ran down your cheek as you tried to not cough or splutter on his length, chest heaving as you gagged, no air being able to pass through your nose.

Your head grew dizzy as you looked at him, lungs beginning to burn, but still he didn’t let you pull back. Holding you down onto him by the back of your head.

Your hands flew to his thighs for grip as you tried to pull away, but Aemond kept his cock nestled deeply in your throat.

“You can do it, pretty girl." He told you, "Five more seconds.”

Another tear slid down your cheek, the weight of him in your throat making your core flutter around nothing.

“Five.” He began to count down, watching as you squirmed below him.

“Four.” Your nails dug into his flesh harshly as you tried to keep on him, throat swallowing around him tightly in reflex, causing a shiver to roll through his body.

“Three.”

“Two.” He grunted, pulling you down harder on his length causing more tears to fall from your eyes.

“One.”

Aemond pulled you off his length, your lungs burning as you gasped in a lungful of air, spluttering and coughing at his feet.

“Good girl.” He praised, wiping the tears from your cheeks that had left wet tracks down your face.

You coughed softly, throat aching and head spinning, feeling embarrassed and aroused all in one. The head rush from lack of air was almost as intense as the head rush you got from your desire.

“Open.”

You licked your lips and swallowed doing as you were told, feeling Aemond slide his cock slowly into the back of your throat again, but this time, you inhaled a large lungful of air in preparation. He pulled your head down all the way, nose nestled into the hair at his base as he looked down at you.

“Good girl, baby. Look at you.” You moaned around his length, feeling tears in your eyes again as he nudged your gag reflex.

“Hold it.” His voice cracked, watching a tear slide down your cheek as he brushed hair away from your forehead gently, “You're going to hold it for ten this time.”

Ten.

Oh shit.

You didn't know if you could.

But you wanted to please him.

You wanted to be good for him.

“Ten.” Aemond began to count down again, pushing his hips slightly forward, making his cock go even deeper than you thought it could, throat bulging slightly from his length, your eyes widening as you squirmed below.

“Nine.”

“Eight.”

“Seven.” Your core clenched as he counted, watching through blurry eyes as he looked at you on your knees before him.

“S-ix.” He moaned, eye sliding shut as he felt your throat closing around him as your body tried to swallow the blockage that was his cock.

“Five.”

The room spun slightly and you began to shift below him, brain controlling you as it tried to pull you away to get air into your lungs instinctually.

“Four." Heat rose in your cheeks as you squirmed, head trying to move backwards from his grip.

"Stay still." He growled down at you. Despite his command, you still wriggled, slick sliding between your thighs as it began to drip down onto the floor below.

“Almost there, baby. Three.”

Your arms tried to push yourself back, pure instinct taking over, your hands on his thighs, vision in the corner of your eyes going dark.

Was he purposely counting slow?

Oh Gods.

He was.

“Two.”

You were almost there. Your fingers fisted against his thighs, and despite his face being blurred by your tears above, you couldn’t help but notice the sadistic smile that pulled at his sharp lips.

“Two and three quarters.”

Dick.

Your eyes narrowed at him, causing the man to chuckle.

“One.”

You ripped yourself away with a gasp, falling backwards onto your bum as you coughed and spluttered, drool hanging from your lips as you tried to steady your breathing.

Aemond knelt in front of you, swiping up the spit on your chin, “Good girl. Such a good girl for me - You did so well.” You keened at his praise, leaning into his hand.

Aemond helped you to stand, pulling you over onto the bed as he stripped himself bare, watching as you still fought to catch your breath, devouring him with lust filled eyes and swollen lips.

“Let's see how wet you are from me using your mouth like that, hm?”

You parted your legs on instinct, giving him view of your glistening folds.

Aemond inhaled sharply, “Look how fucking wet you are. You're dripping all over the bed.”

You nodded your head dumbly, brain feeling light as a feather. You didn’t know if it was from the lack of previous airflow, or if it was the way he was treating you, slowly sinking you down into the comfortable little space you loved to float in with him.

“Are you all dumb, baby?” He meanly cooed at you with a sadistic pout, stroking the hair atop your head.

You nodded again as he chuckled at you, running his fingers through your slick folds, the sound of him parting them obscenely wet.

“Just from being daddy’s little fuck hole?”

You moaned, pushing your centre into his hand as he swirled a digit around your swollen clit, sparks of pleasure flying up inside of you. His finger dipped inside of you, immediately crooking upwards into the spot you needed it most.

“Look at this needy little pussy sucking me in. Do you need daddy to help you?”

You moaned at him, thrusting your hips downwards onto his hand as he added another finger, beginning to fuck them inside of you.

“Use your words.”

It took whatever remaining braincell that was left inside your head to string together one measly word, “Please.”

Aemond smirked, “Please what, little dummy.”

You whined, shutting your eyes as heat flooded your cheeks.

“Come on. Use your big girl words or you won’t get anything.”

“Please, daddy. P-please fuck me.”

Aemond smiled victoriously, kissing a tear that was drying against your cheek, “There we go. That must have been real hard when you're all dumb, wasn’t it?

You whined at his teasing, and then again when he removed his fingers.

“Shh.” He hushed you, “Daddy’s going to give you just what you need.”

And he did.

Aemond slid into you immediately, aided by how wet and open you were for him. He sighed into the crook of your neck, your legs immediately wrapping around him as he began to fuck into you, slowly building up the pace.

Your breasts bounced with each thrust, his hips snapping into your own as pleasure bloomed within. You moaned and cried beneath him, his pelvis rubbing against your swollen bud with each deep and rough thrust he gave you.

“You gonna cum already? I can feel you gripping me.” He huffed, watching his length disappear into your folds.

“Please.” You wailed, hands gripping the sheets beside you tightly in your fists as you begged him with your eyes.

Aemond took pity on you and slid a hand down to your pearl, rolling it in time with his thrusts, “Come on then. Cum on my cock.”

It took four sharp thrusts before your eyes screwed shut, stars appearing behind them as you came with an earth shattering cry. Aemond fucked you through it, hips and hand not once still until you were a sobbing and slick mess beneath him.

“Fucked the brat right out of you, didn’t I? Pretty little baby.” He moaned, rutting into your centre as the sound of your arousal surrounded you, the hair at the base of his cock soaked with your release, “Just needed me to fuck you stupid, didn’t you?”

You couldn’t form any words, mouth hanging open as little whines and pants flittered off of your tongue. It was overwhelming, and the pleasure of your first peak was yet to settle, bliss sizzling and burning within your gut in a way that continued to mount as he kept rubbing your pearl.

It was almost painful.

“Give me another.” Aemond grunted, pressing his fingers against you again harder, watching as you tried to shift your hips and escape his circling digits.

But it was no use, and Aemond ripped yet another peak from you with precision, your head lulling to the side tiredly as your body was thrust up the bed with his hips. You laid limply beneath him as he continued to fuck you, lip pulled into your mouth by your teeth as you whimpered.

“Fuck.” He gritted out through his teeth, hand releasing your clit out of mercy as he gripped your hips tightly in both hands, fucking into you harder and faster than before, beating the air from your lungs with each thrust.

“Gonna fill up this little pussy.” He moaned, watching as your brows pulled together, walls fluttering around his length.

“You want me to fill this pretty pussy with my cum? Want me to fill you up?”

You nodded your head, tear leaking from the corner of your eye as he continued to rut into you rapidly, hands leaving your hips to wrap around your throat, squeezing the sides to prevent the blood flow to your head whilst allowing for air, amplifying your pleasure and making you float even further.

“Gonna cum in your cunt.” He moaned, using the grip on your neck to pull your weight down onto his cock, spearing you open with each thrust.

It was too much.

It was-

Oh Gods-

You were-

Your brain went blank as ecstasy shot through it, scrambling any thought that you had. You heard his cry as he came deep within you, his warmth filling you up, but there was a second wetness that you noticed, that soaked the sheets below you.

It took a while to come back down to yourself, held in Aemond’s arms as he brushed gentle hands over you, holding you to him. You felt warm, safe, and completely and utterly exhausted. You shifted to look up at him, watching as his eye opened to look down at you.

“Back on earth?” He asked softly, watching as you weakly smiled at him, nuzzling into his bare chest. His chuckle vibrated against your cheek.

“Come on, we got to get you cleaned up.”

You buried your head deeper into his chest, “Don’wanna.”

Lips pressed at the top of your head, “Come on. I need to change the sheets.”

This caught your attention.

Had you gotten your period?

Were you sweatier than you had thought?

You lifted your head to look at him, to which he gave you a smug little smile.

“You made quite the mess.”

You frowned, embarrassment creeping into your chest.

“Nothing bad.” He reassured you, kissing your forehead, “You ever squirted before?”

Squirted?

“As much as I love watching your mind turn and work, I’m lying in your wet patch.” He chuckled, shifting to lift you out of the bed.

Low and behold, there it was.

A large wet patch below Aemond that spread out against your sheets, proof of your pleasure and the peaks that Aemond took you too. And despite having no shame, and being roughly and thoroughly fucked not too long ago, heat still flooded your cheeks at the sight.

After lazing in bed for only an allowed moment more, Aemond helped you to the shower, your legs weak like jelly as he washed you and brushed your hair, taking off your makeup with gentle steady hands that made your heart flutter in your chest.

Ever the gentleman, he popped you on the couch as he changed your sheets, remaking your bed before he put on the load of washing. It was entirely domestic, and watching him as he moved, as he doted. on you, as he fluttered around your space which had irrevocably also became his, it only seemed to make the little part of him that had burrowed into your chest go deeper.

You ordered in that evening, getting pizza in a strange reminder of what it had been like when he first moved in. The same pizza order, the same pizza place, the same two spots on the couch as you ate.

The two of you had come a long way since then. A very long way, and in many ways, coming to a place that you would not have thought possible or even to have thought to cross your mind.

You watched his favourite movie in comfortable silence after eating your dinner, before suddenly you remembered something. You jumped up from your spot, hissing slightly at the soreness between your thighs as you ran to retrieve two spoons from the drawer, then opening the freezer door to dig around inside.

Ah.

There it was.

The forgotten tub of ice cream you had carelessly thrown inside when a certain person was in your home.

You held it triumphantly as you walked back to the couch, holding it as you would a prized jewel on show for him. Aemond chuckled at your antics as you pulled the lid clean off, offering him a spoon.

“The first dip, My Lord.” You joked, bowing your head to him.

Aemond huffed a laugh, the pressure of him digging into the tub with his spoon pushed into your wrist.

“Ñuha Riña.”

The accent sent a pulse straight to your core.

Down girl.

You dipped your spoon in after him, lifting it to your lips, “What does that mean?”

“My Lady." Aemond hummed, returning his attention back to the tv.

You savoured the ice cream, the tub becoming half full in no time as you slowly but surely demolished it together. It felt good to be at his side, to know where you both stood. To know what you both wanted, and for it to not be a secret anymore.

But you still couldn't get your mind to stop thinking about the way his tongue had rolled when speaking High Valyrian.

“Aemond?” You turned your head to look at his profile, watching as his tongue darted out to lick at his spoon.

“Hm?”

“Will you teach me?”

His brows furrowed, “Teach you what?”

“High Valyrian.” You asked him shyly, suddenly feeling like perhaps you shouldn’t have asked him that at all. Maybe he wouldn't want to teach you that. Maybe it was a family thing only.

Was that weird of you to ask?

Would it be a reminder of the tension back at home?

A reminder of his father?

Your swirling thoughts of doubt were cut short as a soft smile spread across his shape cheeks.

“Hen rhinka.” Of course.

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you, ñuha jorrāelagon.”

My love.

That night you slept in each others embrace, fresh and warm sheets on the bed, surrounded by his scent. It was no wonder that you drifted off to sleep so easily after the romp you had had earlier, not to mention how tumultuous the days before had been.

Yet when you woke the next morning, you felt refreshed, ready for a new start.

A new day.

A new beginning.

With him.

Aemond wasn’t in bed with you, but rather than feeling any sort of panic or anxiety about his absence, you crawled out of bed and went to where you knew he would be.

Standing tall, leant against the bench, Aemond sleepily sipped from his coffee in the kitchen as he blew the smoke from his cigarette through the open window. He was clad in only black shorts, his silver hair messy and tangled, and the press of his pillow embedded in his cheek.

Hearing your approach, he turned to you and smiled.

Your stomach did flips.

“Morning.”

The familiar sound of porcelain on the bench scraped in your ear.

There, at the base of his fingers, was your steaming mug of tea.

You took it gratefully from him with a smile before sidling up to his side, leaning your head against his chest as he wrapped one arm around your shoulders pulling you closer.

“What do you want to do today?” You looked up at him, watching as he smiled down at you.

“Anything you want.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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twst-kumi · 2 months

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Twisted Maiden [Act II]: Curse of a Dreaming Rose.

[Act II] CHAPTER 1

[Name] hummed pleasantly as she was dressing herself up. She sent a message to Vil who asked when she would be at NRC to watch the competition. She checked her reflection as her eyes fell on the apple-shaped birthmark. It was very small so she barely noticed it until now.

“_ [Name], your friend is there.

_ I'm coming!”

She dressed up and hurried down to see Heric waiting for her eagerly. It has been a few days since the incident. Flora looked at her relieved she was able to move on. The fairy had been worried she would get some trauma. But from what Mr. Pot said, they didn't need any for now.

Mr. Pot, although he is their history of magic teacher, has a diploma in psychology. Since they needed to keep it under wraps for the sake of some students (Vil and [Name]), who worked in the entertainment industry. Mr Pot took some time to have some therapy sessions.

Hugging the fairy, the young girl left excitedly with the Kingsword student. The trip was short. A quick ride on the bus and they were standing in front of the school gates. There were a lot of people and even people from the national channel. Of course, because of her recent rise in popularity, some people did recognize her.

“_That… It's her…”

Silver was walking in the crowd with Sebek when he noticed a familiar silhouette. He could recognize it from afar as he had been seeking her for many nights in his dream now. It was to the point that he dreamt of her when he couldn't find her dream to visit her. The young man could feel his heart beating fast. To the point, he was worried that everyone could hear it.

“_Who?”

Sebek looked in that direction before looking back at his friends. He looked around in disbelief. Silver just left him behind, worst he abandoned his duty. They had to protect Waka-sama, even more with the warning the guys from Heartslabyul gave them about Leona’s devious plan. But no, instead his upperclassmen left everything behind for a girl he only met in a dream.

[Name] was exploring the campus with great excitement. She and Heric split as she was planning to see Vil.

This was until she noticed the strange mood around. It was heavy, almost like something was going to happen. She looked around to see if she could see any of the main cast. Feeling a long shiver in her back, she suddenly turned around.

“_ Uh? Ruggie?”

She grabbed his hand as he was going to pickpocket her. The hyena was a little surprised. [Name] tripped, taking Ruggie with her in her fall.

The young girl’s mind was in shambles as she looked at the hyena. His hand firmly on the small of her back, he held her against him. Ruggie looked surprised himself as he prevented them from hitting the floor. She was beautiful. Unlike the Hyena women, she looked soft and delicate, very different from the rough and dominant nature of his species.

“_Did we meet before? How do you know me?”

[Name] was surprised for a moment. Right, they never met so she wasn't supposed to know him.

“_Ah, I saw you play Magicshift on TV. You were really cool!”

The young girl improvised a bit. Ruggie could feel himself blush. It felt good to be recognized like that. His tail was wagging as he held her. The hyena couldn't help but pick on her scent. It was a sweet and flowery aroma, he could smell raspberry on her with a note of rose and peach.

Ruggie wanted to take a nip, he was sure she would taste sweet like candy or a Raspberry donut.

“_I see, did you come to watch the competition?

_ Yes… I… uh …”

[Name] blushed as she felt him nuzzling his face in her neck. His eyes closed as he took a deep breath in her neck. The young girl pushed him slightly forcing him to come back to his senses. Ruggie looked at her shocked by his action. She smelled good, yes. But he had never done anything like that before. What would his grandmother think of him? She would be disappointed in him, right?

It was like the young girl was making him lose control.

Ruggie let go of her and stumbled back in shock. [Name] groaned in surprise as she glared at the hyena. She didn't know what his problem was. First he try to sneak on her, then became touchy with her, and now threw her on the floor.

Ruggie’s ears flattened on his head as his face burned red.

“_Uh… sorry I didn't mean to do that. Anyway, I will go now.”

Before she could say anything, Ruggie had already scurried away. She said she was a fan. HIS fan (in his mind). This gives him another reason to give his all for the matches. They better make sure that their plan works.

[Name] looked at Ruggie's shadow disappearing, dumbfounded. She took a minute to understand what happened. Did he have to be so rude as to drop her and run away like that?

“_ Are you alright?”

She turned around to look at the silver-haired male kneeling next to her. He stared at her with worried light blue eyes. [Name] could recognize Silver even among the crowd. After all he was the prettiest man she had ever seen… after Aurelius and Vill of course.

“_Yes, thank you. I tripped down.

_ Everytime we meet you are sitting on the floor.

_ Pardon?

_ Here let me help you.”

Silver smiled softly as he helped her up. He couldn't help but wonder if they were destined to meet like this everytime.

“_ Thank you, I'm [Name], Yamada [Name].

_ I'm Silver, Silver Vanrouge. You said your last name is Yamada?

_Hm? Yes.”

Silver wanted to question her about her name when Vil interrupted them.

“_ There you are! I was looking for you.

_ Vil?”

Vil hurried to reach her. He didn't want her to know that he didn't like the idea of other getting her attention. Vil wasn't jealous of course, in term of look he was the best. And in term of wealth, he was better than Silver.

Vil felt good in the fact that he was one of the best eligible man for her. A hand on her back, he took her hand out of Silver’s grasp and walked to the stadium.

“_ Thank you for helping her Silver. We will take our leave now.

_ Ah sure….”

Silver could feel the small hostility behind his smile. Could it be they were together? Silver should be happy for her but he felt a pang in his chest. Silver couldn't feel happy at the idea.

“_ Khee hee! Children sure grow up fast.”

Sitting on a branch, Lilia watched the scene unfold. The young girl looked familiar, like someone he used to know. That being said, it looked like his son was in some sort of love triangle.

Vil was trying hard to found Yuu while pulling [Name] along. Once Rook told him he was at the stadium, he took her there saying he wanted to show her around. The young girl could see, he was hiding something.

***

It was chaos, it hasn't been long since she survived Neige’s Overblot. And now, before her, or at least 5 meter away from her and Vil, Leona Kingscholar was in middle of an Overblot.

The area was so dry, it made her throat hurt. It was like she was choking on dust. Vil tried to shield her face as things were becoming ugly.

“_ No way!”

[Name] felt her heart drop but this time not because of Leona. Before her, facing the Savannaclaw dorm leader, someone she recognized easily. She pushed Vil out the way as tears gathered in her eyes. The young girl couldn't help but stagger as she tried to reach him. How long has she been looking for him? How worried was she?

“_Yuu!!”

The young man was startled as he heard the pleading voice. She looked different, older, maybe a tiny bit more mature but it was her. His treasure, his reason for living… his sister.

It was like everything around him was muted so he could always notice her. Almost like in trance, his hand moved up to touch her.

“_Kyaak!!”

Overblotted Leona grabbed her arms while sneering at them. She was pretty maybe even prettier, with tears in her eyes in his twisted mind.

“_I will keep you. You will be perfect to stand by my side.

_ What the fuck? No!”

Before Leona could even say anything more, his head was met with a flying kick by Yuu. Everyone stayed silent for a few minutes looking at the lion who was sent flying on the ground by the magicless prefect. Yuu hugged [Name] against him as he glared at the Overblotted dormlead.

If looks could kill, Leona would have died a thousand times with Yuu’s terrifying glare. They weren't sure, they ever saw anything scarier.

tag:

@cocomollo @owodi @illytian

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myownwholewildworld · 2 months

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wherever you go (a joel miller’s ff) - chapter 6

chapter 5 | series masterlist | main masterlist | chapter 7

pairing: outbreak!2003!joel x f!reader. (it's actually 2004 now)

summary: after months in the wilderness, you finally arrive at chicago. adapting to this new life has its cons, but also its perks. joel's birthday is around the corner, and you have planned for a couple of things you hope he likes...

a/n: hiya! here's chapter six!! it's packed with a bit of everything, especially drama because why not? 🤷 i want to thank you all ― i just realised that the first 3 chapters have hit over 100 notes each! i'm so damn grateful to all of you, honestly. as much as i'm writing for myself, i'm loving how hooked some of you are with this story 😳 also, i'd like to apologise in advance if i have butchered chicago's layout or its history, i did try my best doing some research. as always, thank you all for engaging. i do appreciate any comments, reblogs and/or likes you may want to leave! even asks/requests if you want to! take care lovelies <3 x

warnings: 18+, mdni. mention of Sarah's death. angst. fluff. filthy smut (don't you know me by now?). porn with plot or plot with porn (however you wanna look at it). irresponsible use of contraception (don't do that). consensual somnophilia. dry humping. unprotected piv. masturbation (m and f). creampie. pussy slapping. fisting. squirting. cum play. a bit of assplay. makeup sex. sir kink. “bar” fight. alcohol consumption. blood. stabbing. swear words. mention of past racist events and the precursor to the chicago race riot of 1919. soft!dom!joel. a bit of aftercare. pet names (darlin’, sweetheart). i'm sure i'm forgetting something lol. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is now 37 (🎉!). no use of y/n. joel’s and reader’s pov.

w/c: ~6.9k.

tags (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!): @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @pedrospurplerain @missladym1981 @fancyyoouu @smolbeanzzz

Chicago was definitely not what you had expected at all. Shit had gone down really badly in this place. It took you a week to cross the southwest area, keeping close to Interstate 55 as a reference. The worst you had seen was Chicago Midway International Airport. Airplanes had crashed on the runway, the esplanade was a makeshift cemetery even almost a year after Outbreak Day. Bodies piled on top of each other, fires would break out in the adjacent buildings. The control tower was completely dilapidated. And the grounds were full of clickers.

Tommy, Joel and you made it through the worst neighbourhoods. As you covered more miles, Tommy and Joel realised that this had not been the best idea. But you were already there, so the best option was to move forward. You all had to defend yourselves, and each other. Although the Miller brothers took out many attackers ―humans and infected alike―, you also had your good share of action. You didn’t like it, but you were good at shooting. Your clothes were stained with blood and sweat. You endured, and you survived. That was what mattered.

The whole city was in shambles, divided by two different groups: the government and the rebels. The government held the north side of the Chicago River, from River North Gallery District all the way to Old Town ― basically everything to the east of Interstate 90. The rebels, on the other hand, controlled the south ― all the movable bridges along the whole Wacker Drive, from New Eastside to Chinatown. Anything further south or north, and between Interstates 55 and 90, from Little Village to Naperville, was no man’s land.

You ended up on the rebels’ side randomly. Tommy was not very happy about it, blaming the communists for overpowering the government, but it wasn’t like you had a choice. If you tried to cross any bridge to go northwards, you would be shot at with no warning. From both sides.

It took a while to convince the Rioters ― that was how the rebels called themselves. Two weeks later, on the 20th of August, you were given a place to stay near the Art Institute of Chicago, which was also the operations base. You did try to integrate yourself in this society as you knew it was better to have more friends than foes. The Millers, however, kept to themselves ― Joel more than Tommy, as you had expected. No surprises there.

The flat you were in was in urgent need of repairs but was better than sleeping rough. You and Joel fixed as many things as you both could, while Tommy took cleaning very seriously. It wasn’t much, but it was the place you called home for the last month. The only downside was that it only had two bedrooms, so Joel and you sadly had to share the only double bed available, while Tommy had his own room.

You wouldn’t lie to yourself ― the last four weeks had been pure bliss in a sense. Waking up every day besides Joel had become a delightful habit. He had awakened you many a times either in the middle of the night or in the early morning to give him a hand. Literally. And you had done exactly the same thing when you had needed it. You were sure Tommy was sick and tired of you two, but you didn’t care.

You stretched out, still lying in bed. The morning light had not come through the curtains yet, but it soon would. You rubbed your eyes and then let your arms drop to your sides dramatically. You were not a morning person, but your sleeping schedule was all fucked up. You rolled to your other side in an attempt to get comfortable.

Joel was sleeping on his right side. You had noticed he usually did in the same position. When you had asked him why, he had explained his hearing in his right ear was messed up since his suicide attempt. You wished you could have been faster that day to prevent the gun from going off. Ah, the regrets you both had…

His back was towards you, him facing the door. Despite the repairs you all had done to the flat, it was still not the safest. Every night one of you would make sure all locks were engaged and would bar the front door. A few days ago, someone attempted to break in. Since then, all of you would sleep with a firearm nearby.

Today was Sunday ― 26th of September. Which meant it was Joel’s birthday, as well as the first anniversary of Outbreak Day. The anniversary of Sarah's death would be tomorrow too. You had tried to talk to Joel about today, but he didn’t seem to be interested in celebrating at all, which you completely understood. As much as you wanted to do something, you respected his decision. You had only planned for a couple of low-key things, which you hoped he wouldn’t mind.

He had fallen asleep only with his briefs on, the bedsheet draping around his legs. You couldn’t see, but you were damn sure he had his arms crossed at his chest, always on guard. Your eyes dwelled on his upper body, two perfect dimples on his lower back. His shoulders were broad and toned, his waist smaller. He was not the most muscular guy you had ever seen, but he was perfect the way he was. His calloused hands had shown you multiple times how good he was for you, despite what he thought of himself.

You couldn’t resist, your mouth dry. Your fingertips traced the curve of his neck, then his left shoulder down to his elbow. Your hand caressed his left hip and slipped down to his front, following his V line. Your fingers touched the elastic of his briefs ― and something else.

You gulped down the knot in your throat, your heart beating harder in your chest, when your fingertips brushed over the damp tip of his cock. Joel’s morning wood was so prominent, his glans had slipped out of his underwear and was showing. You wetted your lips as you stroked him carefully. A deep, almost guttural growl flowed from Joel’s chest.

You got closer to him in bed, your nipples grazing the skin on his back even through your pyjamas. It probably wasn’t the best time ― you knew he was tired, but you wanted him so badly. Liquid fire was pooling in your furrow, knowing his erection was right there for you to play with.

Your internal battle didn’t last long.

You pulled down his briefs to free his warm dick. You didn’t need to look to know his shaft was resting against his happy trail, the head touching his belly button. With no hesitation, you wrapped your fingers around his cock, squeezing him delicately. Then you slid your hand down his meaty column, holding him firmly, in a very slow but strong pump.

He groaned, still asleep as far as you could tell, as you started pumping him ― more heat and excitement gathering in your pussy. You dunked your fingers in your panties, touching yourself. You were already wet, the mere thought of making him yours was enough. You kissed his left shoulder at the same time he uncrossed his arms ― his left hand over yours, feeling the rhythm you were imparting on him.

He was awake.

Joel didn’t remember what he was dreaming about, but he was sure it wasn’t this. When he looked down and saw your tiny hand trying to muffle his cock, he closed his eyes with a sigh. That felt damn good. He was knackered after last night’s patrolling shift, but this was exactly what he needed to decompress.

He turned around, his back flat against the uncomfortable mattress. His eyes were pinned on yours, your sweet hand upping the speed. You leaned towards him and invaded his mouth with your devilish tongue. Joel moaned in the middle of the kiss ― his brain completely switched off. He could not think straight when you were handling him like that.

Quickly letting go of his erection and mouth, you got rid of your pyjama shorts and your underwear. Then you doubled down your efforts with the handjob ― his throbbing cock was calling for you. You could see a few drops of precum sliding off his veiny shaft, which you swiftly gathered with your thumb to rub them against his leaking slit. You felt his dick pulsating hard for you ― your cunt palpitating at exactly the same time, anticipating. Your bodies were fully synchronised.

You then climbed on top of him, his balls welcoming the touch from your puffy lips. You rolled your hips against his, looking for that friction you so much loved, and took a deep breath before taking off the top of your pyjamas, throwing it to one side. You bended down, your mouth looking for his, so thirsty.

“Good morning, handsome”, you whispered as a greeting.

“Mhmmm”, was the only thing he managed to hum, sleepy.

You smiled and broke off the contact, straightening your back. His rough hands slid from your knees, across your thighs, to your butt. He clasped your ass cheeks with assertiveness. With no more words than those, you took his steely cock in your hand and lifted your hips. You glided his glans over your damp fold a few times, your cunt beseeching to be stuffed.

You guided his tip to kiss your entrance and descended on his dick slowly, very slowly, the palms of your hands flat against his lower abdomen to steady yourself. You closed your eyes, head tilted backwards, and whined loudly. Each inch was a blessing. Once his cock was entirely inside of you, you peeked back down at him and did a circular motion with your hips. His eyes were so intense you couldn’t look away while you started riding him.

Joel closed his eyes unwillingly when the muscles in his lower belly cramped. He didn’t want to miss a single second of this, so forced himself to open them again ― he loved seeing how the pleasure transformed your beautiful features. Your half-lidded eyes, your lips parted, a river of pearly sweat coming down in between your bosom. Your perfectly round breasts bouncing in front of him. He was a lucky bastard.

He liberated your ass, his hands drifting to your bust, holding your tits. While he kneaded that tender flesh and coddled your nipples, you covered his hands with yours. You were still jumping on top of him, albeit more erratically, as you felt an orgasm hit you with full force. You mewled as your needy pussy discharged the seed of your pleasure all over him, hugging his hard erection, strangling his cock, encouraging him to come with you.

Joel was so damn close to coming, his nuts contracted with equal parts of pain and lust. He could feel your gush soaking his dick. He was about to lose his goddamn mind ― he needed to stop. His hands abandoned your breasts to place them on your butt to help you lift it up, so you would release his cock before it was too late.

“No, it’s okay. Fill me up, please, sir”, you wailed, your palms against his chest, your hips grinding against his.

Joel glimpsed at you with doubt. It was like you could read his mind, because you knew what he was thinking. You smiled softly, your wet pussy palpitating around his cock. You forced your inner walls to contract against him as you leaned forward to kiss him.

“I’ve got the morning after pill. Please, please, Joel, come inside, I beg you. Trust me”, you wept, laying down on top of him.

He thought himself mad for believing you, but he did. Because he was mad for you, regardless of what he tried to convince himself of. He lifted your butt up off his lap with his hands ― with the help of his legs, the heels of his feet against the bedsheets, he thrusted into you like a madman while you remained still on top of him. Drilling your weeping cunt, as hard and fast as he could. He just wanted to know how it felt just once; he wanted you to milk him dry.

Joel fucked you like there was no tomorrow, the room echoing with the squishy sounds and the impact of flesh on flesh. He was fucking you so hard that you came again at the same time he spilled his spent in you ― Joel groaned like you never heard him before. The slick warmth you felt inside made you smile, your face buried in the curve of his neck, your nipples brushing his. With his pulsing dick still inside of you, you bit the skin on his neck, leaving a mark behind.

“Happy birthday, sir”, you whispered in his ear.

That was your gift to him. And to yourself, because you had wanted this from the very first time he impaled you in the forest. You had had to trade a few bits for the morning after pill, but it was worth every single one of them. You felt your cave so clogged with him and his cum, you thought you had descended to hell.

You both stilled, catching your breaths. His dick was still twitching, housed by your greedy, soaked cunt.

A minute later, he sat up on the bed, bit your mouth and lifted your butt up, his cock becoming free. He quickly laid you down in fetal position ― resting on your righthand side, back slightly curved, head bowed, your knees bent touching your breasts. He placed a hand on your left hip and tilted your pelvis a bit forward, so he could inspect your heart-shaped ass and your puffy, reddened pussy framed by your inner thighs.

Just in time to see his cum gushing out of your hole, dripping across your perineum and then going downwards, skidding through your butt cheek. One of his digits caught the semen before it hit the bedsheets, retraced its steps back and shoved the cum back inside of you with the push of his finger.

“You can’t waste my gift to you, baby, it’d be so fucking rude of you”, he purred in your ear, his voice coarse and warm at the same time.

He laid on his side behind you, moving his index in a circular motion, looking for your g-spot and finding it. He stroked it dextrously, sliding it in and out slowly. You closed your eyes, and fisted the bedsheet in your hand, trying to hold onto something. Your mouth shaped a perfect ‘O’ when he bottomed out, quickly adding a second finger. And a third. Then a fourth.

It didn’t take long for your pussy to adjust to such delightful intrusion ― your inner walls felt like clay, reshaping around him. Joel could feel you relax around his fingers and took the chance, introducing his thumb in your pussy too. Now his entire hand was buried in your fluttering cunt, down to his wrist. He remained still for a hot minute while your muscles loosened up to house him.

Then he slowly started to pump his fist inside of you, back and forth, building up a steady pace. Joel bit your shoulder and then kissed it ― his tongue tasting the saltiness of your sweat.

By that point you couldn’t stop moaning very loudly ― the whole building was probably listening to your whoring screams as Joel fisted you relentlessly with his whole hand. Each push propelling his cum further inside of you as if he wanted it to take. He was thrusting you so harsh, your entire body was rocking back and forth on the bed. He was fucking you senseless just with his hand ― and you were loving every single second of it.

Your sticky cunt couldn’t take it for much longer ― it was wet, pulsating, contracting, overstimulated, yearning… Your pussy literally was his, and only his. The orgasm had been building up for so long now that when you let it go, weeping at the top of your lungs, it hit you like a motherfucking truck. Your whole body went into shock while you squirted ― you were shaking due to the force of your own release. For fuck’s sake, you could barely breathe.

You whimpered again when he removed his hand and rubbed your wetness all over your delicate folds. Before you could form a coherent thought, he spanked you on your crotch so firmly it tingled ― you almost died and went to heaven right there and then, biting into the pillow underneath your head. He kept on slapping your quivering cunt until your sensitive clit twitched one last time with devastating pleasure, contracting your uterus so the last trickle of cum oozed out of you. He caught it with his thumb and brushed it gently against your asshole, caressing the tight ring, until you fully relaxed.

You sighed, unable to move. You even felt dizzy. Your limbs felt so limp you didn’t think you could sit up, so you just stayed there, melting against the bedsheets. You hadn’t realised your eyes had welled up until a few tears ran down your cheeks. Tears of complete, utter joy ― there was no other way of describing it.

You were so damn grateful for this man, you swore to yourself you would never let him go. You had been with others, but none of your sexual partners had been so fucking attentive. Joel would always make sure you were completely satisfied, without fail. And that said a lot about him.

You rolled onto your back to look at him, wiping away the tears with a satisfied smile and dreamy eyes. He was still lying down on his side, his elbow against the bed, his head resting on the palm of his hand. He returned your smile ― such gesture transforming his rugged face. So gorgeous it tugged at your heart.

“Y’know, it was supposed to be all the way around today ― me fucking you until you begged”, you confessed, although it was not a complaint.

He grinned, his hand possessively cupping your mound. You parted your legs slightly so he could massage your sensitive furrow. It felt so calming after all that pussy-slapping he gifted you with.

“As redundant as it sounds, plans rarely go according to plan, sweetheart”.

Understatement of the fucking year, you thought.

You just laughed while his hand was still kneading your sticky flaps. Joel kissed your forehead before he took out his hand from in between your legs, your damp, intimate skin being swept by the cold air.

“The morning after pill?”, he asked a minute later.

“I got it from Kelsey, it’s in date. Don’t panic, it’s okay. I have three days to take it. Which made me think… I don’t need to do it straight away, right?”, you glanced up at him, a wide smile on your lips.

“Mhmm, I mean, it would be a waste otherwise, I guess”, he replied, tucking a stray hairlock behind your ear. “But I need a minute here, darlin’. You work miracles, but even I have limits. Wait up”, he mumbled grumpily as he palmed his left wrist, and then got out of bed while he tucked away his member back in his briefs.

Joel headed towards the en-suite bathroom. He came back out only a few seconds later ― you could see panic in his eyes. You sat back up on the mattress quickly.

“What is it, Joel?”, you asked with worry, kneeling on the bed.

“My wristwatch, I can’t find it. I am sure I left it by the sink before I came to bed last night. I can’t lose it. I can’t”, he was now frantically searching his bedside table, panic growing in his tone.

You bit down your lip, because you knew where it was. In the drawer of your nightstand. You had taken it in the middle of the night because your second present was getting it repaired for him today.

“I have it”, you whispered, shrugging with an apologetic smile.

“What? Why?”, he approached you, extending his hand towards you, his tone so serious. “Give it back now”, he almost growled at you.

His reaction took you completely off guard. Why was he so possessive over a broken watch? Trying to understand the sudden change in Joel, you opened the drawer and took it out.

“I just wanted to get it fixed for you, as a gift”, you didn’t understand what was happening.

“You have not fixed it, have you?! Because if you have―”, he snatched it off your hand, inspecting it.

You frowned ― his attitude towards you was completely off. What the hell was going on?

“Don’t you dare touch my fucking things, is that clear?”, he snapped.

You looked at him blankly, speechless. Then your own temperament started to shimmer under the surface.

“Wow, wow, wow ― Calm the fuck down, Joel. It’s just a broken, useless watch―”, you stopped yourself because of his perplexed look.

“Shut up. It’s not just any watch. You don’t fucking understand”, he yapped.

“I would try and understand if you just fucking explained it to me?!”, you shouted at him while you got dressed. “What is your fucking problem, Joel? What’s up with that watch? I don’t read minds!”.

“Forget it”, he grumbled, strapping the watch to his wrist before putting his trousers on and grabbing a T-shirt, heading towards the door.

“That’s it? You just up and leave?”, you repressed the urge of throwing a pillow to his head.

“I’ve got stuff to do”, he muttered.

A few seconds later, you heard him opening the front door. Then he slammed it shut.

It was around lunchtime now and you had not seen Joel since this catastrophic morning. While you had the impression that Joel’s reaction was due to something he would not speak about, he had no fucking right to treat you that way. You were just trying to do something nice for him, that was all.

You walked through the main hallway of the Art Institute of Chicago. It was rammed with people running around ― some armed, some not. You didn’t think that humanity would prevail in big groups in such circumstances, but it did.

The Rioters had established some sort of order. People had tasks to do, everyone working together to build up a community. Chores were allocated according to people’s skills. Joel had been put on patrolling shifts, Tommy was helping with carpentry and other building jobs, and you were in the hunting group. As much as you hated pulling the trigger, you were a very good shot. All thanks to your good old Texan father.

You were on your way to check with the group if there were any plans of going out today when you got interrupted.

“Hey”, someone tapped you on the shoulder.

“What’s up, Joyce?”, you looked at the older woman when you turned around.

Joyce was around fifty five years of age, maybe more, and was the kindest soul you had ever met. She had welcomed you to Chicago like a mother a daughter. Joyce showed you around, explained how the Rioters worked and guided you in the right direction. Because as good as everything looked, there was still darkness lurking around.

She was also the best cook ever. Like, no jokes, she could transform a tasteless rabbit in the most flavourful stew your tastebuds had ever been in contact with.

“I just finished cooking, do you want some stew?”, she asked with a warm smile.

Your stomach growled at the mere idea.

“Fuck yeah”, you replied ― your duties could wait, surely.

“Watch your language, kiddo”, Joyce reprimanded you.

“Sorry, sorry”, all that time you spent with Joel was showing.

You followed her to the canteen and patiently waited for Joyce to pour some stew in a bowl. You then went with her to a table where more people were sat down. You didn’t know any of them, so Joyce introduced you. You were damn sure you weren’t going to remember one single name by the time you walked out the door.

“So, you’ve never heard the story of Eugene Williams?”, one of the men asked rhetorically to a younger fellow across the table, who shook his head in reply. “He was a black kid in 1919, when racial segregation was still in place here in Chicago. The summer of 1919 was so hot the kid wandered off to the white side of Chicago beach without realising. A man threw stones at him until the kid drowned and died. That was what ignited the Chicago Race Riot of 1919 ― and why we, the resistance, go by the Rioters”.

You listened to every word while you ate your meal. After hearing that explanation, many things made sense. Although they named themselves the Rioters, there were no riots in the streets ― actually, people seemed happy here, given the circumstances.

“That’s right, Walter, younger people need to learn about the past, so those mistakes are never repeated again”, said Joyce.

The conversation then moved on to present times, the people talking about the continuous fight against the so-called government.

Joel got the afternoon patrolling shift that day, which he thought was a killer, considering he did the night shift last night. But it was good in a sense ― it would keep his mind occupied. You had angered him so much this morning, it had set his mood for the rest of the day. The thought of you erasing that memory had maddened him so bad, he had to walk out before he said something he would later regret.

That watch was the only anchor chaining him to what little remained of his humanity. A gentle reminder of what could have been but wasn’t. Every day he wondered how Sarah would be doing in this new world. And most days, he was just somewhat grateful she wasn’t here to see what had become of civilisation. The unspeakable horrors she would have witnessed and suffered but didn’t ― it was very little consolation to a father, but it was better than nothing.

He absentmindedly touched the watch on his wrist, ensuring it was properly fastened.

Joel was stationed with other people in front of Bataan-Corregidor Memorial Bridge. In those long, never-ending hours, there was no activity on the other side of the bridge, but they had to remain vigilant nonetheless. By the time the next group showed up, it was already half eight in the evening.

Joel headed towards the headquarters to sign off and go home. He was already on edge, thinking about what he would say to you to appease you. Because he was damn sure you would be waiting for him, ready to pick up the fight where you both left it. As Joel walked past the canteen, he heard a familiar voice.

Tommy was on his feet, yelling at a man, his accusatory index pointing to the guy. Joel rolled the eyes to the back of his head ― he was sure his brother was so drunk he would probably not remember any of this the next day. Joel shook his head with disappointment ― some things would never change, not even when the world had gone to shit.

He planned to ignore the situation and get back home to you, when a fight started. Joel groaned in despair, debating what to do. But a man chose for him ― he saw how a bloke approached Tommy from behind, knife on hand, and he knew he had to do something. Joel quickly closed the distance in stride and grabbed the man from the neck of his shirt, pulling him backwards until the dude stumbled with his own feet.

Madness broke out, the whole canteen becoming a battling ground. People were fighting each other over absolutely nothing, throwing punches in the air.

“Tommy!”, he shouted angrily, while the younger Miller turned around and simply smiled.

That fucking pissed him off big time.

“Are you fucking out of your mind? How much have you been drinking?!”, Joel wanted to punch his brother so bad, he really had to control himself.

“Not enough”, he babbled.

As Joel approached his brother, ready to fight him if necessary, the man he had pushed away from Tommy tapped his shoulder. When Joel turned around, the dude punched him in the face and then stabbed him in the lower stomach.

Joel froze for a second, his back slightly curved, his brain coming to terms with what just had happened. He looked down while his hand gripped the handle of the knife. He knew not to remove it because it was the blade what prevented him from bleeding out. Then Joel glanced back up at the same guy and, without thinking, he removed the knife from his flesh and sticked it on the man’s shoulder with a growl.

Joel’s wound started to bleed like a pig in a slaughterhouse. Not that he noticed anyway, because hell literally broke loose.

It wasn’t late late, only ten in the evening, but none of the brothers was around when you returned home, which was weird. You could understand if Joel was avoiding you, but Tommy? You frowned as you called for them, shutting the main door behind you. Nothing, no reply at all.

Before you could walk to the living room to see if there was a note or something, someone knocked on the door.

You looked through the peephole. Joyce was standing outside, worry wrinkling her aged face. You opened the door.

“What’s the matter, Joyce?”

“It’s Joel, he’s in the infirmary”, she whispered while placing a soft hand on your forearm.

You just stared at her, bewildered.

“Huh? The where?”, you repeated, while her words started to sink in, your stomach contracting with fear.

“Come with me, kiddo”, Joyce took your hand, guiding you through the apartment building.

The next time you blinked, you were in an outbuilding outside the headquarters. Joyce palmed your hand with hers, in a calming gesture, while she took you to the far end of the shelter. The old lady planted you in front of Joel’s bed, and let go of you with a “take care”.

You stood there for a long minute, still trying to grasp what the hell had happened. He was asleep, his head slightly tilted away from you ― or so you hoped he was. Joel had no shirt on, a bloody bandage covering the right side of his abdomen. You got closer, your heart pounding in your throat.

“He’s fine, it’s just a scratch”, you looked up, befuddled.

Tommy was sitting in a plastic chair on the other side of the bed. He was crouching forwards, his elbow against his knee, head pressing against the palm of his hand. Tommy then smiled, which completely perplexed you.

You were about to reply, but suddenly Joel did instead.

“Fuck off, Tommy. Get your ass somewhere else”, he gritted his teeth.

You hadn’t noticed it yet, but you had been holding your breath, because suddenly you felt a stone being lifted off your chest. You glanced at the younger Miller, who had gotten up with a smile. When he walked past you to go outside, you smelled it. The stench of alcohol made you wrinkle your nose unconsciously.

Joel wrapped his fingers around your wrist to get your attention, so you turned around to look at him, so confused you couldn’t even form a sentence. Joel had already adjusted the pillow on his back so he could be somewhat sat up.

“It’s alright, no need to cry”, he said raising one of his hands to sweep away your tears.

You had not realised you were crying. Giving it a second thought, you probably had been since you left home. You pursed your lips and nodded, quietening your sobs.

“What…?”, you muttered, resting your cheek against his palm before placing a kiss on it.

“Tommy got into a fight in the canteen. He’s so drunk he probably won’t remember a thing tomorrow. A man tried to stab him, and I got in the way ― that’s all, sweetheart. No serious damage, just some stitches”, he tried to calm you.

You wished Tommy was still in the room, because you would have loved to slap the shit out of him for being so irresponsible. What the hell was he thinking? Joel was hurt because of him, and he had just left smiling as if it wasn’t so serious.

“Just leave him be, it’s worthless trying to speak to him in such a state”, something in Joel’s voice told you this wasn’t the first time he had been in this situation.

“Are you sure you’re fine? Joel, please, don’t lie to me―”, you mustered, trying to keep your tears in check, as you caressed his cheek.

He heavily sighed as he scooted over to one end of the tiny bed, leaving enough space for you to join him. You got on the gurney quickly, nestling against him, your arm across his chest in a half embrace. His body heat calmed your nerves a bit, although your hands were still shaking.

“I’m fine, I’m not lying. They won’t let me leave yet though, the nurse said I need to stay here for a couple of hours, until she’s certain the bleeding has stopped”, he explained, his fingertips tracing the shape of your right shoulder.

“I’m not going anywhere”, you said with a small voice, your left cheek against his chest.

Joel didn’t fight you on that, so you stayed by his side. His left hand was resting just below your face, his broken watch strapped around his wrist. You bowed your head a bit and kissed his knuckles.

“I’m sorry about this morning, I thought fixing your watch was a nice thing to do, considering it’s been broken since I met you”, you tried to explain yourself, but Joel hushed you by cupping your chin so your eyes would meet his.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I know you meant well. It’s just…”, you heard him gulp down, as if the next words were extremely painful to say out loud. “Sarah fixed this watch for me on my last birthday. It’s been stuck at 2.40 AM since… since we both got shot. One of the bullets broke it”, he recounted in a husked voice, his brown eyes focused on the timeless sphere.

Then it hit you. That was Sarah’s time of death. And, unknowingly, you almost ruined the last memento Joel possessed of his daughter. His most precious treasure. You felt sick to your stomach at the mere idea of being responsible for such a thing. Had you known, you would have never even considered doing what you had planned.

“Gosh, Joel, I’m sorry. I swear to you I didn’t know”, you breathed out desperately.

“I know, baby. I should have told you that instead of getting angry and for that I apologise, but I just couldn’t…”, he clenched his jaw, and you tried to soften his expression with the touch of your fingers.

“Don’t apologise, please”, you kissed his bearded jaw and remained in comfortable silence for the next two hours, until Joel was finally discharged.

The next day you both stayed home. Tommy had tried to apologise when he came back to his senses, but Joel was having none of it. The younger Miller eventually understood that his brother just needed space until he decided to forgive him and gave up in his efforts. You were alone with Joel all day, making sure he was okay and helping him clean the wound. Those stitches were going to leave a nasty scar on him, but it was better than the alternative. It was healing well, no signs of infection, for which you were so pleased ― probably more than him. You almost had to tie him to the bed so he would stop fidgeting around ― Joel was going to get the wound open again if he didn’t remain still for a bit.

You knew Joel was just trying to keep his brain busy because this day marked a year since Sarah was wrongly snatched from his life. That was why he was so taciturn and quiet today, and you let him be for the most part.

When he sat down on the couch in the afternoon, you just nestled against his body, in silence, his arm affectionately enveloping you.

Nighttime came around soon enough, and you both got into bed. Joel spooned you as soon as he laid down behind you, his right arm hugging you, his chest against your back. You soon fell asleep in his warm embrace, feeling protected and content.

Joel woke up a few hours later, one of his recurrent nightmares haunting him. He grumbled in displeasure and got out of bed to change the dressing over the wound. He did so efficiently and returned to bed, slipping under the bedsheets quietly.

Another hour went by, and he was still awake, his eyes on the ceiling.

He rolled onto his left side and saw you sleeping peacefully, in the exact same position you fell asleep. You had not moved one inch. Joel smiled softly as he got closer to you, sliding his arm around your waist and dragging you over to him, looking for your soothing warmth.

Unconsciously, you wiggled your hips to bury your butt in his bulge, and Joel contained a pitiful moan. Your perfectly round ass was innocently embedded in his groin. Now he was sure as hell he was not going to be able to fall back asleep. Irremediably, he pressed his manhood against your buttocks again, looking for that friction.

Joel felt his cock tense up, an erection taking hold. He freed his manhood, slowly pumping himself ― his leaky tip brushing your asscheek until a wet patch adorned your panties. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t resist. You were all curled up, drooling on the pillow, faintly snoring, your knees slightly bent. He cut the distance between you and shoved his dick in your thigh gap, his shaft rubbing against your pussy covered by your underwear.

Sweat gathered on his brow as he rocked his pelvis back and forth, your thighs sweetly compressing his cock ― the tip feeling cold when it overhung on the other side. Joel kissed your shoulder, his hand gently placed on your hip to steady himself.

“C’mon, baby, wake up”, he husked near your ear, gently nibbling your earlobe.

You hummed, half awake. You felt your body being rocked, your eyes fluttering open and looking downwards. Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Joel’s glans sticking out through your thigh nook, then disappearing from sight to reappear again. You smiled pleasantly, shutting your eyes, as you felt your needy cunt melt for him. You pursed your lips with delight.

“Can I have my birthday present again, sweetheart?”, he whispered in a constrained tone.

You nodded, scatterbrained.

You were drenching your underwear so bad, there was a visible damp, darken spot right in the middle. Joel pulled back from in between your legs and pushed the bridge of your panties to one side. He lodged his cock in between your puffy lips, sliding it through your entire slit a couple of times to douse himself with your fluids.

“You’re soaking wet, baby”, he muttered as you let out a soft moan when Joel pressed his tip against your dripping hole, your flesh parting as the Red Sea.

Then Joel slowly pushed his hard cock in inch by inch down to his balls. His right arm hugged you, poising you in place and sneaking his hand under your pyjama top to hold one of your full breasts. He stilled for a second, feeling your cunt sheathing him like a warm glove. He thrusted once, twice, thrice. You lost count after that, Joel plunging into you from behind, gaining erratic speed. You grasped the bedsheet in your fist, your spit pooling on the pillowcase.

You placed a hand on your mound and a few seconds later, you slipped it under your panties. With the palm against your clit to cause some grinding, you could feel Joel coming in and out of you in between your index and middle fingers. Your gushing cunt started palpitating around his slick cock, your inner walls squeezing him hard as you came, mewling like a kitten in heat.

Joel quickly followed you, his cum filling you up, breathing roughly behind you. You tilted your head towards your right to look at him over your shoulder. He kissed you, first gently, then more demanding, while his dick was still throbbing with the last wave of his release. Joel pinched your nipple before freeing your mouth.

“There you go, sweetheart, so you don’t forget who you and your tight pussy belong to”, he groaned as he pulled out of you.

“Thank you, sir”, you said gratefully.

Joel put your underwear back in place and pressed the palm of his hand against your wet panties, his cum trickling out with yours and swamping the piece of clothing even more, saturating it, almost as if you had pissed yourself.

“Go back to sleep, darlin’”, he kissed the nape of your neck, his hand still lodged in your thigh gap, hard pressed against your satisfied, clothed pussy. You loved how possessive he was of you, literally claiming your cunt for himself at every chance he got.

With a pleased sigh, you tucked your hands under your head and fell back asleep within seconds.

The earth was round again.

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eloise175 · 6 months

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Live reaction of chapter 145 brought to you by yours truly on one half working neuron ✨ (some spoilers here and there from upcoming chapters so beware!)

Penelope looks so sickly, the bags under her eyes are so unsettling, no wonder Callisto lost it and tried to drag her to the palace when he took notice of her condition

She stayed up all night overthinking and couldn’t catch a moment of sleep after confirming her suspicions that Ivonne is indeed the Laila and she wasn’t mistaken on Soleil…she is exhausted and ready to give up, free my girl she went through enough 😭

I didn’t think it would be possible but her wrists are even thinner than last time…PENELOPE GET BEHIND ME. I’ll protect you from these stinky men eugh🤺🤺🤺

Callisto tends to be really headstrong and protective when it comes to Penelope, but despite being very over the top on different occasions he was not exaggerating with this one. He had a good reason to lose it *sobbing*

like. her wrist are shaped like scrawny twigs 😭 Penelope I love you, but please eat

FEAR NOT CALLISTO IS HERE TO SAVE THE DAY 🗣️🦅

I really like that she actually called Callisto by name instead of his title again, this is the first time she calls him by name out loud 🥹

And it’s always his golden hair that she notices first, she’s so real for that. Penelope probably has a hidden fantasy of running her fingers through his hair, who wouldn’t tbh

AUGH he looks so soft here, I cannot comprehend how Penelope managed to restrain herself from yanking him down and kissing him, in her place I would’ve done that a looong time ago

It’s this scene from chapter 161 of the novel, I can’t believe we’ve come this far, this scene is finally getting illustrated. Still feels like a fever dream 😭😭

Snippet from novel chapter 161:

Arm still covering my eyes, I called irritably, "I said to let no one in."

"Does that include a member of the imperial family?"

The voice belonged to someone I hadn't been expecting to hear. I quickly lowered my arm, the sudden light stinging my eyes. I could make out his luxurious golden hair and ruby-red eyes, even as my vision blurred, trying to adjust.

"Callisto?"

I wondered if I was dreaming as I stared blankly up at the man in front of me. His ruby eyes suddenly darted downwards until they were much closer to my face, and his golden hair was tickling my forehead.

He scrunched up his nose, "I can't have you waking up already. I haven't even kissed you yet." His laughing baritone was loud and clear thanks to our close proximity and his words jolted me to attention.

I will print this panel and plaster it on my wall so it can be the first thing I see when I wake up. Father and mother are back to serve us the most delicious, toe-curling, gut-wrenching angst

There’s a certain appeal in knowing we’ll get Callisto in shambles in the next chapter. He will be so angry too, can’t wait for his new range of expressions, Suol is going so hard with these last few chapters, literally feeding us with masterpiece after masterpiece ✨🤭

Y’all better get your ibuprofen ready because we’re suffering from now on, and it’s only suffering, hurt no comfort type of thing. The coming of age scene where Penelope collapsed will be in about 7/8 chapters at most so we’ll be served angst continuously ✨🫶

#calliope angst #it hits so hard you have to take ibuprofen #get your therapist on speed dial #GRRRR GREENHOUSE SCENE MY BELOVED #penelope eckhart #penelope eckart #callisto regulus #penelope eckart x callisto regulus #villains are destined to die #vadd #(non-official tags):#death is the only ending for a villainess #death is the only ending for the villainess #el’s rants #el’s thoughts #chapter analysis #but it’s more of a live reaction

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avocadorablepirate · 5 months

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What Do We Call This? - 07

prev || mini masterlist || next

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x fem!reader

Summary: On a quest to find what you've been looking for, you acquire the help of the Straw Hat pirates, who've agreed to let you temporarily join them. There are however many challenges that come along with your temporary recruitment - an alliance with a certain Trafalgar Law being one of them.

Word Count: 1.2K

Warnings: fluff, angst, kinda slow burn, swearing, the occasional OP spoiler, they're both kinda mean to each other in this one

A/N: I don't know whether this series has a great flow, and honestly I don't know how well I've portrayed Law's character, but that's okay cause I'm very happy with how this chapter turned out <⁠(⁠￣⁠︶⁠￣⁠)⁠>. I hope you like it too!

—⁠☆✿☆—⁠

Having boarded Law's ship you trail behind him into the submarine, leaving his crew and the Straw Hats on the deck. While you mindlessly followed him, you took note of the stark difference between the Polar Tang and the Thousand Sunny. Although it seemed a lot more cold, the grey metal walls of the submarine also offered a sense of security in their own way, the faint beeping noises oddly comforting.

Shifting your focus from the walls back to the man walking in front, you called out to him when you realised he hadn't noticed you following, or at least hadn't bothered to acknowledge your presence. On hearing his name Law slowly turned to face you.

"So what did you need my assistance with?" you ask, tilting your head in curiosity. From the time you had spent with him, you knew that when it came to planning, Law was always two steps ahead of the rest. So maybe his plan required you to be in Wano, or maybe he required your assistance with something on his submarine.

"You'd only hurt yourself more if you went with Straw Hat-ya to retrieve Black-Leg. It's better for you this way."

Or maybe not.

"Really? So, that whole needing my assistance thing was a lie?" His lack of a response was enough of an answer.

"I can take care of myself Law. I don't need you constantly watching over me like I'm some child," you assert, ready to storm off before your frustration escalates. But before you can retreat, an all too familiar blue aura envelopes you. "Law-" you try to protest to his actions but your words fall on deaf ears.

"Room."

"Shambles."

The room shifts to what looks like the infirmary of the Polar Tang, and you find yourself already seated on the white matress of a surgical bed as Law shuts the door to the room. Before you can inquire about his intentions, he answers your unspoken question.

"You haven't changed your bandages since we left Dressrosa," he remarks, pulling out a gauze wrap from a drawer and positioning himself in front of you.

"I changed them yesterday," you counter, but this only leads him to roll his eyes, "Clearly, you didn't do a good job of it," he chides, gesturing at the gauze that had been haphazardly wrapped around your torso. In your defense, you were in a bit of a hurry. Robin had found some books in Zou that she thought you would like, and you were all too eager to read them (plus, lingering in the infirmary for too long risked someone seeing your wounds)

"They don't need to be changed. I'm fine. It's all healed." You once again try to convince him, but you're met with a stern look this time. "Just because filling yourself up with alcohol and sleeping every chance you get numbs the pain, does not mean you're healed."

You're caught off guard by Law's reply. Though you think to yourself that maybe you should have known that someone like the Surgeon of Death, who knew how your devil fruit worked would notice that your consumption of alcohol and constant need to sleep were clear signs of you trying to distract yourself from the pain. Evidently, you had no memory of what you had said to him a few nights ago.

"Law-" you once again try to protest, but he's already removing the bandages, and you wince as his hand lightly grazes your side. He looks at you confused, your wounds shouldn't hurt just from this, he thinks to himself, and quickly but gently removes the rest of the gauze. His expression changes from one of confusion to frustration as he looks from the fresh blue-black bruises spattered across your torso to you.

"How did this happen?" he asks, and you shift in your seat, biting down on your lip as you contemplate telling him or not.

"How did this happen?" he spits through gritted teeth, and you shift your gaze away from him, at the same time realising that he wouldn't relent until you gave him an explanation.

"Some of the Minks were still injured before we left Zou, and Chopper wasn't around, so I helped them."

You notice his fists clench and unclench in response to your answer, a sign that he was trying to control his emotions. You choose to slowly meet his gaze as he takes a deep breath before letting out a sigh, already anticipating your response to his next question, "Why didn't you call me?"

"You were meeting your crew after so long, I didn't want to bother you."

He tries to remain calm, but your answer only fuels his frustration. His fists clench once again and he bangs them into the table causing you to flinch. Law's hands now enclose you on either side, his head bent down, so that his hat just about covers the way he's clenching his jaw.

"Why are you always finding ways to hurt yourself?" he murmers, his voice barely above a whisper. But he doesn't give you a chance to repond, "Do you care so little about your life?"

"It's just a few bruises," you respond, and this time he meets your gaze, his grey eyes laden with emotion.

"I don't understand," Law pauses, his anger mounting. "Why!? Why do you not care about your own well-being!? Why do you insist on helping people who've never done shit for you!?"

His words strike a nerve, and you scoff. You can only assume that he's referring to the Straw Hats. Your own emotions are starting to get the best of you, and you throw him a glare of your own, "What the fuck do you know!?" you yell back. Law's taken aback by your outburst, but is quick to regain his 'composure'. However, you don't give him time to respond.

"You know absolutely nothing about me Law, and you have no fucking idea what I've been through and what these people have done for me! So stop trying to protect me!" You grab at the gauze wrap and try to push him aside, but he doesn't budge. His hands grip tightly at the white sheets of the surgical bed, but he doesn't say anything.

"Move Law," you command, but his grip only strengthens, his knuckles turning white.

"I know enough about you to know that you knew Cora-san, and that's enough of a reason for me to protect you."

Law's jaw relaxes, but he remains silent and unmoving, reverting to his stoic demeanour as he waits for some sort of reaction from you, or maybe deliberates over what to say next. You're taken by surprise at first, not knowing how to react to his revelation. But the emotions are quick to come back, and your frustration with him that has been unknowingly brewing over the past month refuses to back down from this confrontation.

"Then you know that he wanted both of us to keep living. Yet you were ready to give your life in exchange for bringing down Doflamingo. So, don't fucking come to me about not caring about mine," you retort with more spite than you intend, your words almost like venom to Law. But you're far too infuriated to take them back. With one final shove you manage to push past him.

"(Y/N)-ya," he calls out to you, attempting to sound firm, but the tremble in his voice is unmistakable.

"I think it's best if we keep our distance," you mumble more to yourself as you walk out the door, leaving Law behind.

_______________________________________________

A/N: This was actually supposed to be longer, but I decided not to include the next part cause it would kinda downplay this part and just lose the drama. So y'all are going to have to wait till next week for them to maybe make up :⁠-⁠P.

taglist: @trafalgardaria @deathsmajestysworld

#law x reader #trafalgar law x reader #law fanfic #one piece x reader #law x you #trafalgar law fanfiction #trafalgar law x y/n

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pawnshopbleus · 2 months

Text

These Are the Days Six - Friends

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader High School AU

For the summary, warnings, and more please visit here.

Previous Chapter.

Rain in California was scarce. No matter how much you prayed for the water droplets to fall from the sky, your prayers were never answered. In Washington, the rain never stopped.

The grey clouds should have been a sign that it would rain, but you weren’t looking at the sky. The whiteboard in front of you displayed some boring war movie. One thing about Mr. Miller is that he thinks a movie will help the class more than a textbook ever could. Last week, he had you watch some Clint Eastwood film about cowboys that went into space.

In other words, Mr. Miller is an extraordinary teacher.

Twenty minutes before the class ends, Mr. Miller pauses the movie and turns on the lights. The entire class groans as their eyes get adjusted to the white lights.

Mr. Miller reaches into his bag and brings out a stack of white papers. One by one, he hands out the last test you all took. It wasn’t about space cowboys (although you wouldn’t have minded that). It was about the three branches of government.

When he gets to your table, he slides your test to you and does the same to Abby. Meet me after class , is written on the front in red letters next to your perfect score. You hear Abby sigh in frustration. You know that this is hard for her, especially with the softball season coming up and their field is still in shambles. There’s so much pressure on her shoulders and no one is cutting her any slack.

The bell rings and students jump at the opportunity to leave the classroom. Abby and you stay behind, slowly packing your things into your bag.

Mr. Miller pulls up a chair in front of you both.

“Now, I know you two have been studying together and I can see Abby trying in class but it’s not transferring to the test. That’s what I need you two to focus on. I want you to succeed, Abby. I really do but you need to practice a little bit more,” Mr. Miller says before pushing off his chair and returning to his desk.

You and Abby make your way to the door.

“Wait,” Mr Miller holds his hand up. “If it helps, you two should go to each other’s houses. Maybe being in a familiar environment could help you focus better.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Your bike is still missing. The posters that Dina and Jesse helped you put up are slowly starting to bleed as raindrops fall on them.

You pull your hood over your head and your headphones in your ears. You curse yourself for wearing canvas shoes on a rainy day and get to walking. The cold air nips at your face and the wind ruffles your clothes.

Most days, the roads are clear but that’s not the case today. Cars are bumper to bumper and their horns are blaring. It must be true that people can’t drive when it rains. There are multiple people from your school that you recognize. None of them even bat an eye at you until you see the familiar truck that carries the unmistakable scent of dirt. This time, it doesn’t just smell like dirt and must, but there’s a flowery scent that carries through the chilly air.

Their arguing is muffled due to the windows being rolled up, but you’re almost certain that you heard the words “pregnant” and “cheating.” You aren’t much for gossip but you really wish you could be a taco wrapper tossed in the back seat right now. You want to know what’s going on because by the looks of Abby’s tear-stained face, it isn’t good.

Abby gets out of the car and slams the door. Owen’s protests are muffled by the sound of rain hitting the concrete sidewalk.

“Abby, are you okay?” you ask.

She turns and looks at you in surprise and then, as if she doesn’t know who you are, turns and walks away.

The rest of the walk home is spent thinking about what you just saw. You’ve never seen Abby and Owen fight but that didn’t seem like just fighting. Over the past few weeks, Abby has been a different person when Owen is around. She never smiles or talks like she used to. The girl she once was is gone and she’s been replaced by this stoic robot.

When you get home, you take a warm shower and get changed into some different clothes. After the day you’ve had all you want to do is relax and watch TV but your phone rings as soon as you sit down on the couch.

Dina’s voice nearly causes your heart to fall out of your chest.

“Have you heard?”

“Heard what?” “Owen got Mel, the captain of the cheerleading team pregnant. Everyone is talking about it!”

“Are you serious?” “Yeah. Poor Abby. She suspected that Owen was cheating on her for a while but she never had any proof until now.”

Dina loves gossip but she has a way of handling the information so delicately. It makes one think why they are vainly talking about another human. But this isn’t gossip. This is simply one friend passing on information about another friend. Regardless, you care about Abby and it seems like she needs someone that she can trust right now.

Dina wishes you a good night and you hang up. Your house is silent which only serves as another confirmation. You need to call Abby.

The phone rings a total of five times before she answers.

“Hello,” she says and it’s obvious that she’s been crying.

“Are you okay?”

“I-” she sighs. “I’m fine. Look, I’m sorry for what you saw today. Owen and I are having some…problems right now.”

“Abby, I know what’s going on. If you ever need anything just know that I’ll be here for you.”

You don’t know if she’s grateful or not because you can hear her sniffle and then cry as the emotions get to her.

“You're a really good friend,” she says through tears.

Something about the word ‘friend’ gets to you. It makes you swallow your words and smile through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, friends.”

The phone is silent for a while. The only thing you can hear is Abby's sniffles and the sound of crickets chirping outside. And that’s how you fall asleep. On the couch while on the phone with your friend.

Next Chapter.

Taglist: @soupycloud

Thank you for reading!

#lesbian #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #abby anderson #the last of us part 2 #joel miller #dina tlou #ellie the last of us #jesse tlou #owen tlou #mel tlou #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us part two

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lazysublimeengineer · 4 months

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Isagi and his Football Theories of Personality

I knew at some point in this manga we will have an intervention of personality types attached to players based on how they play lol.

Sometimes I really think that the author himself has read numerous books about psychology such as Theories of Personality by Feist. How did I have a random thought like this? Just looked at Isagi's inner monologue about World Type Ego and Self-Type Ego.

That is the closest thing you can compare it to the MBTI of people.

At first it's amusing to read to have Isagi categorized the players according to what motivates them to play soccer. But it's also creative because the author is injecting another angle and subject other than playstyle and strategies out there in the field.

An explanation of World Type Ego vs. Self Ego Type is also helping the reader to get a glimpse of the character's motivation and reasons for playing that sport.

In this chapter, it is revealed that Kaiser has a World Type Ego just like with Isagi since in the previous chapters he couldn't ascertain which type he is alongside with Rin, Ness and the others. To get a gist of it, a World Type Ego is motivated by the external factors of their surroundings or environment such as prestige, fame, money and other tangible elements that can be calculated and explained in a pragmatic sense. From the start, reputation is an important thing to Kaiser. He doesn't hesitate to immediately assert his top and special position in BM when the Blue Lock players such as Isagi and the others joined their team in NEL. In the recent chapter, Kaiser had shown to abandon everything and go back to "zero" because his playstyle with Ness doesn't work anymore. His position and offer bid is being now threatened by Isagi's presence and skills so now he decided to do what is best even if he doesn't do it usually: teamwork with the other Blue Lock players such as with Raichi and now with Kunigami (or as the orange haired guy as he aptly calls him lol).

Well, in this part you can actually ask then what the hell is all of this and how does it connect with everything?

It's connected because this can also explain why his partnership with Ness is now in shambles and getting worse in each new chapter. Clearly Ness and Kiyora's type is not revealed yet. But well, as a reader we can prolly surmise what Ness and Kiyora is which brings me to the other type of ego according to Isagi: Self Type Ego.

According to what is being explained in the franchise, their motivation is determined by internal or intrinsic factors such as their beliefs, morally right or wrong actions and other personal factors that are important to them rather than the external and pragmatic factors. From the moment we were shown of Ness' character, his interpretation of events and surroundings around him is according to his personal values and beliefs. He makes decisions based on what he feels at that moment and that's a clashing thing to his family who greatly values logic and sound reasoning above everything else.

He decides to follow Kaiser because he sees a potential in him that no one else has and showed him the "miracle" of soccer. His interpretation of his character is independent from the other people's remarks about him being a diva and an asshole. His personal belief about Kaiser is so great as the statue of Liberty that it extended to great lengths of serving him until the end.

Which is quite ironic because in reality they really don't understand each other and their judgment of each other is distorted. For all Kaiser yapping that he molded Ness into being his servant and such, he doesn't really understand him in the end which explains his bafflement in the last chapter of the manga when Ness still declared his loyalty to him despite discarding him out there in the field. One can be the said to the other as well because his reassurance to Kaiser is the last thing that Kaiser wants to hear or see from him and fails to see the bigger picture which is now they're in this mess in the field because they're motivations are clashing: World Type Ego vs. Self Type Ego.

I remember someone asking me, but what about Reo? He's the same with Ness right?

Not really.

Isagi has put Reo in the World Type Ego because first and foremost his original motivation is to win the World Cup which is an external motivation alongside with prestige and money. Reo is shown to be a logical and strategic person well, except for Nagi when he met him. But he is different from Ness. Their situation is different.

That's why when Nagi is losing motivation to play soccer again after beating Isagi and offering the millions of bid that he can gain to motivate him, it doesn't move Nagi as much because he doesn't need it. Nagi is motivated by intrinsic factors in playing soccer and that's why he was clashing with Reo at times. This is quite evident during the second selection.

Well, I can already guess what Kiyora's type of ego is but I'll reserve my judgment on that after we get more from his character in the future chapters.

Guess this is where this ends and my shower thoughts. If you've reached this part then congratulations for wasting your precious time to read this ramblings of mine.

#blue lock spoilers #blue lock #bllk #isagi yoichi #kaiser michael #alexis ness #kiyora jin #nagi seishiro #reo mikage #chapter 264

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desiderio-dixon · 7 months

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Darkest Before the Dawn

Chapter 6 : But I'm Dreaming of You

Pairing : Daryl Dixon x f!reader (endgame), (unrequited) Glenn Rhee x f!reader

Series summary : When Glenn Rhee comes into your life, you become convinced he's a guardian angel sent by your late best friend. You think he's your soulmate. But then he falls for the farmer's daughter, and you find that your own angel may be a little more blatant than expected; wings and all.

Chapter summary : The CDC proves to be a place of refuge...and wine. You get drunk, talk to Daryl, and have a dream that will linger in your mind for a long while.

Chapter warnings : OKAY!!! LET'S HOPE I GET EVERYTHING HAHA!!! Smut!!!! Reader has a sex dream that includes piv, male masturbation, fantasies including oral (f receiving), daryl is thirsting, language, drinking, pleaseeee let me know if I missed anything!!

Word count : 2k

A/N : so things are heating up now

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

The CDC had proven to be some form of miracle. After being on the road, tired and hungry and hopeless, sitting at a large table filled with food and wine was a dream. You sat next to Glenn, head airy and light as you entwined your arms and sipped your wine glasses. After all the loss, this felt like a win.

Your friends gathered around, joking and laughing, sharing stories, it gave your mind and body a peace you hadn't had in months. Even Daryl, who you'd thus far known to be cold and guarded, is nursing his own glass and tossing jokes. "Keep drinking, little man. I wanna see how red your face can get!" He says to Glenn, who giggles over his glass. You laugh, giving Glenn a gentle shove. Daryl points to you next. "You too, girl." You salute with your glass, tipping it back. Daryl refills it. It's fun and lighthearted and hell, it's exactly what you need.

And then Shane ruins it. While Shane goes through his interrogation, you do your best to block out the sad tale he forces out of Jenner. Instead, you stay silent, tossing back refill after refill of your wine and spoonful after spoonful of pasta.

By the end of the dinner, you're nothing short of wasted. Prior to the apocalypse, you hadn't much experience with alcohol. That, in combination with the lack of drinking for months, had thoroughly set you on the path to slurred words and stumbled steps.

You shamble through Jenner's tour, tripping over your own two feet. He finally says something your drunken mind deems important: hot water. There are limited showers, so everyone argues over who goes first. You're too out of it to argue, but someone must state your case, because you're being ushered off in the first group. "Because you'll pass out if you don't go first." Someone says. You take their word for it. Maybe it'll sober you up some.

When the hot water cascades over your back, it feels like it takes the weight of the world away with it as it flows into the drain. You smile into the open air, careless and drunk and happy for the first time in weeks. Getting to wash the grease out of your hair with running water is a privilege you'd thought long gone. The shower is even stocked with razors, but in your drunken state you know that's not a good idea. Instead, you lather in the scented bodywash laid out, scrubbing your skin with a heavy hand. The steam surrounding you begins to smell like roses and lavender. You breathe it in greedily. There are few good smells these days. This place, the CDC, it feels like life before all the death. When you slip, landing thankfully uninjured on your backside, you acknowledge it to be time to pry yourself out from under the stream.

Leaving the bathroom, you stumble through the halls. You can't remember what room was designated to you, and your eyes grow heavier each second. You decide to peek inside one of them, finding the vast space seemingly empty.

You make your way sloppily into the room, flopping face first onto the bed, wrapped in nothing but a bath towel. "Tha' hell?" Typically, the sudden voice would scare you, but you simply can't be bothered.

Instead, you don't even lift your head, mumbling out a muffled, "What?" Into the sheets.

Daryl stares at the back of your head dumbfoundedly. He sits on the couch at the opposite end of the room, nursing a bottle of liquor. He was enjoying his peace and quiet, but of course, you of all people can't allow that. Still, seeing a woman naked and sprawled out on the bed he claimed as his own was certainly an unexpected end to his night.

He thinks you must've fallen asleep in his lack of response, so he stands, approaching the bed quietly. He reaches his arm out to your shoulder, intending to shake you awake to get the hell off his bed, but before he can make contact, you turn and grab his wrist. "What are you doing?" You slur, eyeing him suspiciously. He scoffs, wrestling his arm out of your weak grip and shuffling back a few steps. Your eyes follow him intensely.

"Tryin' to get you out. Ain't in the mood to babysit!" He defends, wiping his arm of where you'd touched him. Your hand was warm, and wet with lingering moisture from the shower. Droplets still glide across your shoulders over your arms. All of your skin radiates with a dewy, clean glow. He feels a familiar burn in his ears, averting his eyes. He pretends the painting hanging on the wall to his left is beyond interesting--but he honestly couldn't give a damn about it. Despite not looking at you, he can still smell you. In fact, he's sure you've infected the whole room with your post-shower scent. It's floral and sweet and very you. He hates that he feels that way.

"...Well! Sorry, Mr. Dickhead! Couldn't find mine and you're a stupid hunter so I didn't even know you were there!" You dramatically flail, tired and drunk.

Daryl huffs, narrowing his eyes at you. "Why don't ya' go find yer damn boyfriend!" He yells. You flinch at his volume, tucking your arms around yourself. He feels a twinge of guilt in his belly.

"He's not my boyfriend." You mumble, turning to lie on your side in a tucked ball. "Prolly won't ever will be." You draw out sadly. Daryl doesn't feel bad for you. You don't need someone like Glenn. Between the two of you, the world would eat you both alive.

But he knows he shouldn't say that. You're sad, drunk, and probably seeking comfort. He's not sure how to give that, so he sighs, sitting on the very edge of the bed, far away from your body. "Why not?" He asks, glancing at you and then back to the floor, lifting a thumb to his mouth to chew.

"I like him, I think. But I don't think he likes me." Your voice trembles, small and quaint like a child. "He's all I have now." That breaks you, tears now fully streaming.

"Nah." Daryl says simply, letting the word hang in the air for a moment. "All our people-- they love ya." He looks at you when he says it, and the blue of his eyes almost shocks you. You can't remember a time he's made such intense eye contact with you, so you allow your teary eyes to roam freely over his own. Getting lost in the different shades and the flow of them into one another. You almost forget why you're crying.

You break out into a drunken, sappy smile. You lift your upper body off the bed, towel slipping down further. Daryl tries not to look. "Thank you, Daryl." You say through a smile that makes your eyes disappear, so wide that it coats your entire face. He flushes. He can't say that a woman, or a man for that matter, has ever looked at him like this. So happy because of something he said. "Will you help me find my room?" He hates the disappointment that flushes over him, but he nods anyway.

He helps you up, and practically carries you through the halls until you come across an open door with your bag on the bed. You hold your towel up as you stumble into the room, holding the door frame with the other hand. You stop before closing the door, giving Daryl a coy smile. "Goodnight, Daryl." You tell him before shutting the door. For a reason he can't identify, those words ring through his mind all night.

Hearing the click of the door shutting, you shrug off your towel. You throw yourself down onto the bed in all your naked glory, wrapping yourself in the pillowy soft comforter and drifting off almost instantaneously.

In the hazy warmth of your dream, you lay among a bed of pillows on your side. You're naked, bare skin brushing against the sheets lazily. Behind you, you feel the warmth of a lover's presence. When you crane your neck, it's Glenn. He smiles at you in that gentle way, running the back of his hand over your cheek. It's gentle, wholesome. You lean in for a kiss, closing your eyes. He meets you halfway, gripping your cheekbone softly.

But, as the kiss grows longer, his lips get rougher, his hand runs lower to caress your neck with a calloused hand. When you open your eyes, it's no longer Glenn. Instead, it's Daryl, eyes blown with lust. He pulls you back in, and you make no move to resist. He bites your lip and presses his front into your back. Bare skin on skin, you feel everything. You feel him, in all his glory. He's trailing one hand down your stomach, applying pressure to push you into him. He starts a slow grind against your backside. "Daryl," You moan out breathlessly when his hand slips between your legs. Your own hand grabs his bicep, hips starting to move against his fingers and his own hips behind you. Then, his hand moves away from you. You whine, but his hand grips your inner thigh hard. And then he's lifting your leg, placing it over his hip and notching himself on your entrance. You gasp, turning to make eye contact and nod feverishly. Just as he starts to push in--

Your eyes snap open, lungs grasping desperately for the breath you'd been holding. It's still dark, likely only an hour since you'd fallen asleep. You've slightly sobered up, but now your skin is clammy and your heart is racing. You wish you could deny enjoying the dream, but the slick you feel between your legs betrays you. Still, you feel a weight of guilt. And so, you decide to just enter back into a frustrating, restless sleep.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

When Daryl enters the bathroom, finally ready to take a shower, he's almost angry at the smell that greets him. That same smell you'd infested his room with. He undresses quickly and haphazardly, tossing his clothes throughout the room. Ever since his earlier encounter with you, he's felt strange.

Hot, clammy. With a ball almost akin to anticipation sinking in his gut. He knows what this is. Knows it when his head starts to swim in the steamy room. He hasn't felt this way in so long. The feeling in his stomach grows and tingles into his toes under the stream of water, he's getting hard. He tries to convince himself he's only feeling this way because of the sudden sense of security, and maybe the alcohol. But as he grips himself, taking a shuddering breath, all he can think of is you.

It's wrong. God, it's so wrong. But no matter how much he tries to push the thoughts away, they always come back to you. You, wet and naked sprawled over his bed. In his thoughts, he tugs the towel off your skin, revealing everything. He'd treat you right, he thinks, panting. He'd kiss your skin and taste the fresh shower water lingering, he'd quench his thirst on your skin. He'd breathe you in before kissing you senseless. Though, he doesn't have much experience kissing. Still, what he lacks in experience he'd make up for in enthusiasm with you. For you. He'd kiss up and down your legs, from your ankles to the insides of your thighs, to where he really wants to kiss. You'd be tangy on his tongue, and maybe you'd whimper out his name. Daryl's gut grows tight, so tight that his toes curl against the slippery shower floor. Maybe your eyebrows would furrow, maybe your hands would tangle in his hair, gripping and pulling. He can almost feel it.

Suddenly, he's grunting, hips shooting forward as warmth washes over him. The shower water cascades over his form, washing his acts down the drain. There's a lingering guilt, but the relief he feels from head to toe overpowers everything. He feels more relaxed than he has in weeks.

You just never have to know that he'd ever jacked off to you, and he never has to know that you dreamt of him taking you apart. Simple enough.

❀~~__~~❀~~__~~❀

⤿Taglist (Open)

@celtic-crossbow @scudslut @itwasntaphasema @ryoujoking @i-wear-wet-socks313

#daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl x you #the walking dead daryl #twd fanfiction #twd imagine #twd daryl #twd smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl smut

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samanthastarss · 11 months

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@afreakingdork chapter 40 has me in shambles!! /pos

I roughed out a stupidly quick sketch, the proportions and size difference are super janky, and not what i had in mind (i wanted to make donnie much bigger whilst still having him all 'small', vulnerable & wrapped around Darling </3 but i kinda forgot when I was drawing until it was too late🧍‍♀️), I was just too excited and wanted to post it so i didnt fix those tid-bits in my hurry!!! :,) ahfsgugjd!!

Also, I think I accidentally took some creative liberty with the pose they're in... The audhd hyperfixation brain totally took over, I was on excitement autopilot when drawing, sorry...🙇‍♀️🧎‍♀️

That aside, I think I'll have another chance to make smth better because im still riding that emotional & creative high after reading the chapter!! So much happened!! I rambled on and on about it all on Ao3 like a freakazoid, so my apologies for the essay, Miss Dork 🙇‍♀️🙏🏻

Ok, i think that's all?? I shall return with more sketches... probably!!??

Kisses! Xx

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princessleechan · 8 months

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“Choi Seungcheol must die” Chapter 30 + [BONUS 18+ WRITTEN SCENE]

Masterlist

📌chapter tags: MDNI, SMAU, inspired by “John tucker must die”, John tucker!seungcheol, college au, revenge fic, written scene under cute (2.6k w.c.) smut tags under cut off, lost friends, mystery mornings, and heart been broke so many times i....

Thank you @highvern for helping me out a bit!

taglist: @silvsie @christinewithluv @stayinhellevator @aiforyuu @2youngsworld @justcruisingalonguntilbamkpop @asyre @simpxxstan @anzellll @hipsdofangirl @plskillme22 @lirtha97 @lixiel0ver @notevenheretbh1 @leah-rose03 @woozarts @expensive-idiot @doveblackboat @the-boy-meets-evil @tamakis-bbyy @freshdetectivenight @mrsdacherry @smilechannie @alltheshineofthestars-blog @ocyeanicc @horanghaezone @wonuqrtz @leewonkyeom @horangboosadan @kkooongie @myghobi @wonunuwoo @wonwootakemyheart @shuasunshine @dinonuguaegi @ckline35 @miriamxsworld @itsokaytobedumb00 @seokgyuu @nishloves @bmkgemz @conwunder @kawaiimusiccollection @humankimbap @huening-kawaii @writingbarnes @strawberryya

Warning: Virgin sex, awkward sex, fingering, banter

Although things go according to plan, nothing prepared you for the events that would transpire the rest of that night.

You don't expect to find comfort in the person you've been bickering with for the better half of the last few months, and you can say the same about finding him drowning in his heartbroken sobs. His typical snarky demeanor decidedly gives way to a gentler, more subdued tone. It speaks volumes, underscoring that beneath even the fiercest of faces lies a simple, human vulnerability.

"Sorry, this is the first place I could think of. I just wanted to get out there."

Chan's apartment is cozy; fit for two people–barely–and has everything you could possibly need. The bare essentials like dish soap and nothing more.

Heading straight for the kitchen sink, Chan lets the faucet run, capturing the cold stream in his cupped hands. His damp palms collide against his face, washing away the evidence of his anguish. His fingers rip through his hair, locks clumping together in damp ropes; heartache radiating through the quiet space.

"It's alright. I wouldn't have been able to provide somewhere good either. Head's kind of all over the place," you respond, softly chuckling.

He turns towards you, cheekbones glistening under the play of water and fluorescent lighting. His lips curve into a subtle smile, a sight that retains its beauty amid the unfolding turn of events. "I get the feeling."

"It's funny," You muse, absentmindedly surveying the intricate details of his residence, each corner telling a story of his history living here. "We hardly see each other in person, having only ever texted, and now I'm in your apartment."

"Yeah? I guess it's kind of funny. Funnier than the shit we saw today."

The image briefly flashes in your mind before you dismiss it, shaking your head like an etch-a-sketch. "I’m surprised you saw that. Yeah, um, that could've gone better. Things got a bit theatrical because of it."

"I liked it," Chan shrugs, crossing his arms and leaning against the kitchen counter, "He got what he deserved and I stand by that."

"You would," you jest, slowly approaching him. "Haru must really have a hold on you."

He reveals a bittersweet smile. "Yeah, she does."

"Damn, things are really messed up," you express in disbelief. "What’ll happen now? We return to our normal lives and pretend this didn’t happen while Seungcheol’s in shambles?"

"Well," he responds, pushing off from the marble surface and shuffling into the living room. "I always figure Haru will eventually see the truth that he was just some guy not cut out for her. Show her that the guy meant for her is closer than you think, you know? Me."

"And then Jun…"

His chin jerks as you approach him. "It's never been me. No matter how many times I’ve tried convincing her. And I was so sure it’d turn around this time."

"I thought Jun and I would have something," you fiddle with your fingers, "I didn't know how off I was. Like I never even had a chance."

Chan shakes his head in disbelief. "How did things end up like this? Feels like we're stuck in some bad romantic comedy where everyone's paired up with the wrong person."

You shrug, "I wish I knew."

"To think that we were the ones who could have benefited the most from this, only for it to fail, huh?"

"We're a pathetic pair, aren't we?" You laugh bitterly.

He echoes your laughter. "Yeah…"

At that moment, your eyes exchange a blend of empathy, a silent understanding of the disappointment you both are consumed by in that moment; an unspoken acknowledgment of how awry your lives have become.

"It's crazy that he met someone like you," he admits, avoiding your eyes.

"Why do you say that?"

"Well, you're beautiful," he looks up, his gaze sincere. "Even before all the scheming. It's surprising Jun didn't try to approach you first."

Heat creeps against your cheeks, flustered by his honesty. "Maybe that would've changed things, hmm?"

"Maybe," he smiles. "I'm sorry things didn't go as planned… and I'm sorry that I blew up on you before."

You shake your head, a mixture of understanding and regret in your expression. "You didn't mean it. We were both hurt and devastated… I suppose I projected that onto Seungcheol when I had the chance."

"And it's amazing, the best expression I see on his face. He looked human for once," he adds with a light-hearted chuckle.

"Still, I feel a little bad. Maybe I was kind of harsh. I was just so…"

"Frustrated? That everything you worked towards didn’t go exactly how you want?"

"Yeah. I admit that my feelings right now are a little jumbled up, but I still really like him.."

"Maybe this was a sign for both of us to move different paths. Do something we otherwise wouldn’t do to…get over this?"

You tilt your head curiously. "Do you think we can actually do that?"

“I think you can.” He shrugs, crossing his arms. "I, on the other hand, might take some time."

You extend an open palm toward him. "Shake on it? That we’ll move forward from this."

Chuckling at the ridiculous offer, he reaches out and accepts your hand, fingers curling around yours with a gentle, reassuring grip. The warmth of your hand melds seamlessly with his own, sending a subtle shiver down your spine. You notice how his palm envelops your slightly smaller one, a natural alignment that feels surprisingly right.

When you look up, a subconscious voice prods you with questions threatening the gravity of this premature pact. And all of a sudden, things escalate from there in the blink of an eye. You could never explain how your mouth ends up on his; too lost in the softness of his lips to wonder how it can feel so natural.

For a fleeting moment, Chan snaps out of his trance, distancing himself with his hands planted on your shoulders. His eyes search for answers, blinking frantically as if committing sin for the first time. "W-What are you doing?"

"I-I don't know. I thought maybe this is what you had meant?"

"No, not exactly, but—"

"Do you not want to? Did I make it weird?"

"No, I–,” he pauses to think, lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. “I've never had someone kiss me like that before. I'm not really sure how to process it."

"Well, you can reject me, and I can move on?" you tease, tension thick in the atmosphere.

He shakes his head with parted lips, rapidly closing the space between you with sudden determination. “Instead…”

His mouth meets yours cautiously before chasing after your pace; hands finding your body eagerly, cataloging your figure for the first time. The coolness of your exposed skin registers beneath his fingertips, palms gliding across your soft curves.

You lean into him, softly moaning as your lips part open, and you taste his experimentation. When your hand finds the wet tips of his hair, you comb through from behind, deepening your union before stumbling backward into the single sofa.

Before you could clumsily fall backward, Chan claims your hip to pull you out of the way, only to clutch you like a personal vice. You're startled, releasing from him momentarily to read his intentions, and instead finding him dazed and disoriented.

“Wait, what are we doing?” You ask sincerely, catching your breath.

Chan ponders your question slowly and a metaphorical lightbulb flashes above his head before he blurts out, “I’m a virgin!”

Your eyes slightly widen, taken back by the words coming from his lips. “I didn’t mean—I mean me too, but you probably figured that out.”

His eyes grow as big as saucers. “I don’t know why I said that, that’s not probably what this was—“

“It can be,” you look down, batting your eyes, “If that’s what you wanted?”

“Is that what you wanted?”

You look back up, gulping down a lump in your throat. “I wouldn’t mind it.”

“Are you sure? Swapping virginities?”

You groan. “Swapping—god, what are you in? High school?”

“It’s a serious question,” he answers defensively, “I don’t wanna be—I don’t wanna put you in a position that makes you uncomfortable. It should be something we both want.”

You nod gingerly, “I want to.”

“Really?”

“Mmh-hmm.”

He squints at you. “You haven’t been drinking—“

“No I haven’t,” you interject, irritation simmering beneath your reply from all the questions.

“So we’re really doing this? And you don’t think you’ll back down?”

His shirt wrinkles in your hold, forcing him to meet your eyes as you assert, “We deserve this more than anyone.”

You feel like a pair of sloppy sexually deprived teenagers.

Everything feels new the moment you enter his bedroom, glued to one another like flies in a sugar trap. Clumsily, Chan manages to tug off his shirt and press his bare, taut torso against you; every inch of his skin blistering against your own.

You gasp as he crowds you onto the bed with the simple maneuvering of his lips, urging you to lower yourself into the comfort of his worn-in scent in his sheets. He crawls over you, arms bracketing your figure and backing you up against the bed frame before he escapes your liplock. You finally look at him; sweat kissing his forehead, pink heat covering his entire body, and his erection almost bursting at the seams of his jeans.

You’ve never seen one so close before, unable to look away from its bold presence. Chan instinctively lowers his hands, blocking your view. The pink travels up to his ears and cheeks, lips quivering as he warns, “You’re staring.”

You swallow your nerves, “Well, you know. I’m…taking it all in.”

Chan snorts with amused laughter.

You roll your eyes, “Stop it.”

“You walked into that all on your own.”

“Just do the damn thing already.”

Chan’s moments of shock continue to expand. “You want it already? You don’t want, like, foreplay or anything?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never done this before.”

“Okay, okay. Let’s just make sure you’re wet enough. So uh, do I have permission to undress you?”

You feign a semblance of confidence, hoping to mask the underlying apprehension. “Y-yeah, whatever.”

He leans in to reach for the zipper on the back of your top, gradually sliding it down. The cool touch of the metal ghosts along your spine, sending shivers cascading through your entire body. Holding on to your gaze, you watch as he finishes laying you bare and tosses the articles of clothing aside. Chan takes his time marveling, noting every blemish and curve, retaining it to his memory bank and he grins. “You really are beautiful.”

“Shut up,” you huff before kicking him gently.

He laughs into your lips before moving on to your bottoms and slipping the fabric down past your legs. You can tell his gaze shifts facing you only in your underwear, like crossing foreign territory, Chan seems hesitant to tread lines. “You’ll tell me if somethings wrong, right?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Okay, I’m going in now.”

“Alright.”

His hand lingers to the height of his chest. “Here I go, with my fingers—oh do you give me consent—“

“Yes! I give you consent. Just please hurry up.” You wince. “I’m nervous enough as is, but I trust you.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Finally, his hands make it underneath your underwear, finding your wet fold immediately.

You quietly gasp, “Oh, well that’s really new.”

He looks back up at you curiously. “If I fuck up—“

“I’ll tell you,” you reassure.

“Right. Okay.” Chan says more to himself than you.

He presses two fingers against your slit, letting them sink in soak in your arousal. His gaze fills with anticipation as he watches your reaction each pass of his fingers discovering more and more. His digits move deeper inside, softly stroking you and massaging fluttering walls, earning a small squeak you attempt to silence with your fist.

“Did that hurt?”

You shake your head furiously.

“Then it felt good?”

A nod.

He gives a relieved smile. “Good.”

His thumb strokes above your heat, somehow finding the thing so many people joke about being impossible to locate, and Chan did. Out of all men.

The back of your head knocks against his bed frame, suppressing your moans behind closed lips.

“You like that too?” He asks, circling around the raised flesh.

You nod again more gingerly. “Yes…”

“Am I moving slow enough?”

“You can move faster…”

“Faster?”

“Mmh…”

“Okay.”

It takes some time before Chan finds a comfortable pace, but once he reaches it, you grow limp under his touch. Your eyes flutter in response, small gasps leaving you. You continue to shyly guide him. Faster, harder, deeper. And finally—

“Oh gosh,” you twist the sheets underneath you, “that’s so good, keep going.”

He does as you ask, moving at your desired tempo. You writhe uncontrollably, hips bucking to chase his fingers. Nothing could stop the expressions between your lips, calling his name without meaning to while heat festered all over your body. Pride blooms within him and he's determined to see you through.

His efforts are rewarded when he feels you clench around his fingers. As excitement fuels him, he lets his last thrusts penetrate the deepest they’ve gone, and he hears what a climax sounds like for the first time in person.

You distance yourself with an empty kick, taking in the overwhelming sensations before you letting yourself continue. “Chan, oh my god…”

“Was that…did I—“

“Yes, you idiot,” You move quickly, grabbing him by the back of his neck to reconnect, and dress down until there's nothing between you.

Your bodies become a singular system, forging an invisible bond.

His hand wraps around his exposed cock, generously stroking himself to grow bigger, harder, thick enough to assure your satisfaction. Bigger is always better, right?

“That hurts a little bit…” you resound honestly.

The tip of Chan’s cock hardly makes himself known at your entrance, adjusting to your untouched heat stretched around his size. He gently pulls out, rubbing the condom-covered tip against your dripping slit.

“Sorry.”

“It’s a good pain,” You clarify, “Just take it slow.”

“Okay.”

Gradually, Chan divulges deeper with your permission, hearing the bliss of your moans as you part way and give in to his length. You clutch his arm, steadying yourself with short breaths, counting the beat of your heart.

“It hurts?” He asks, eyes brimming with concern.

“I want it to move inside me.”

Chan swallows, forcing his attention back on the task at hand, stretching you out as he rolls his hips. He moans at your walls clenching around him, absorbed in the embrace that made him longingly ache for more.

You softly whimper, rolling your head back and accepting him, tensing up your lower body. “Mmh-hmm, so that’s what it feels like…”

“It’s good?”

“It’s the start of good.”

He scoffs, not too impressed by half-compliment. “Thanks?”

“W-we’re getting there. Are you ok?” You chuckle, feeling his length wedge deeper in your walls.

“I’m nervous, honestly,” He says, writhing. “But you feel really good.”

“So do you.”

Lowering down, he connects your lips with his smile, moving languidly as he rocks inside you. Your legs border his sides, claiming his shoulders and pressing yourself closer to him. Sighs slip between kisses with each desperate grind against his hips, pushing him deeper. The curve of your back harshens, fitting into his figure and taking every snap of his hips. The pad of your fingers digs into his flesh as you buck into him, his soft words of praise whispering into every liplock.

The end is blurred between shattered expectations and unspoken mourning. Between the sheets of his bed you connect again and again in hope to chase away the pain.

Navigating the realm of intimacy for the first time was expected to be awkward, and, in some ways, it was. However, with Chan, someone you find more like-minded than originally anticipated, a sense of comfort that alleviated the untamed anxious thoughts. You realize it’s what you needed these past couple of months.

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