#to see the stories i have in my head come to life on the page

[intermundia]

so my creative status is currently stuck in a tar pit lmao and in case anyone was hoping for chapter updates or my event fic on time, i am so genuinely sorry for fumbling the ball again this month. i'm working on so many things and i tried so hard to get set up for meaningful progress, but it just hasn't happened. trust me when i say that i've tried 🫠 i can't seem to enter the flow state necessary to write when i'm really stressed about some stuff, idk being disabled, broke, mentally ill, addicted, starting T, and fifty other things, all of that is interfering with the thing i love most in the world, which is writing and connecting with people through stories. so anyway, just wanted to say, i am still here, still trying, even when i don't have anything to show for it. hopefully i will soon xx

[cerealmonster15]

u ever get that like emotional paralysis of doing things Only For Fun but ur like Fearing Ur Own Potential Cringe despite being in the privacy of ur own home and no one’s even seeing what ur up to

[blkkizzat]

ꨄ︎『Toji x TumblrSmutWriter!Reader』ꨄ︎

Toji x TumblrSmutWriter!Reader

18+ Minors - DNI

Summary: You shouldn't have left your phone out in the open bestie because now Toji just discovered his cute lil gf has a big slutty imagination and that means you're really in for it ❤︎ . CW: daddy/dilf kinks, humiliation, backshots, outdoor sex, toys, voyerism, breeding, overstimulation, lots of mentions of various kinks, light spanking, light spit play, meta concepts WK: 4.2k Black fem reader coded but no descriptors.

A/N: Y’all can blame my forgetting to take my adhd meds and my hangover yesterday for this one. I was laying on my bathroom floor regretting life choices, waiting on McDs Doordash and thinking up outlines for kinktober when this popped into my head. I thought it would be a quick drabble like 1k words to help my writers block with the "Bumpy Ride" Geto fic but lord knows I can't write shit under 3k, who am I foolin? I don’t even have a song inspo for how spontaneous and random this shit was lmfao but I still had to do a graphic for this one regardless (editing those notifications were hell). Edit- I lied the song inspo is: Girls Need Love Remix - Summer Walker ft. Drake.

Enjoy!

Imagine you are dating Toji and he finds out you secretly write Tumblr smut fics on the low. 

He comes over to your apartment one night after one of his ‘jobs’ ran late. He has a key, but is wondering where the hell you are as you usually greet him at the door. Going into your bedroom, he finally hears you in adjoining bathroom shower. 

Toji begins to strip down in order to join you but he barely has his shirt off before he notices your phone blowing up. 

Picking your phone up off the bed he sees 206 notifications from an app called “Tumblr”. 

Toji has no fucking clue what the hell a Tumblr is but his jealously starts to soar. He already made your ass go private on Instagram and deleted your Tiktok dances. He got tired of threatening every loser who tried to slide in your DMs or even leave a comment for that matter. 

Imagine his surprise when he unlocks your phone (of course he had made you give him the password) and instead he finds out his new vanilla-as-fuck girlfriend is actually a kinky cockwhore who loves writing character x reader stories about fictional men plugging any n' every one of her holes. Sometimes it was multiple men simultaneously, with their massive cocks bullying your readers until you had them crying. Not to mention them fucking you absolutely stupid in every scenario imaginable, with a huge daddy kink/love of dilfs to top it all off. 

Y/N clearly has type, Toji thought smugly as he saw some art on your page of these animated dilfs that looked similar to him.

But goddamn, some of this shit even he hasn’t considered doing with you yet. Honestly, he’s been holding himself back for your sake as you had been pretty shy at first. His sweet naive little college girl, yet here you were a filthy closeted slut this entire time. 

Tsk, Y/N been holding out on me, eh?

At this point you were probably a bigger freak than he was, he mused with an arched brow as he scrolled through what you called your ‘masterlist’.

It was nothing but a collection of pure unadulterated filth. 

More than anything though while going through your Tumblr, Toji is rather impressed at how popular you are. He reads your intro post where you deem yourself the ‘Self-proclaimed DILF Smut Queen’ and an evil grin appears on his face.

Toji abandons his plans to join you in the shower and he waits for you on your bed while he links-surfs through more of your so-called fics, drabbles and thirsts.

You made your own little pictures to go along with your dirty stories too? Aw, what a sneaky yet talented little whore he had. 

ꨄ

When you finally exit the shower, wrapped only in a big fluffy white towel and your hair pulled back into a ponytail, you are surprised to see Toji sitting shirtless on your bed. 

Toji had promised to be here hours ago. He never even sent a text saying he would be late and you’ve been bored waiting for him all evening so he could give you some of the attention you've been craving. 

Your body is already warm from the shower and your legs rub together as you are already feeling a bit horny just seeing him bare chested.

Walking toward the bed you are eager to go pounce on his lap. That is, until you see it’s your phone he’s scrolling through again without your permission.

You loudly sigh which made his head snap up to look at you.

You’re so ready to tell him off again and remind him your Insta is still private and you only use TikTok to mindlessly scroll, not post dance videos anymore when gives you a dangerous look.

You stop dead in your tracks.

Your eyes grow wide as saucers as you recognize what he’s actually looking at when waves your phone around tauntingly in his hands. 

No.No.No. Not this. Please god, not this!

But your worst fears are confirmed when he starts reading aloud with a huge shit eating grin. 

“You moaned loudly as you threw your head back and bucked against him hungrily. You knew you had to finish quickly unless you wanted his wife to come home to discover the babysitter on top of her husband, making a mess all over his face. His thick tongue lapped into your drenched folds and he spread your puffy pussy lips wider to suck and nip at your swollen clit….” 

Your mouth was agape in shock. You were a deer in headlights.

A million and one thoughts raced through your mind as Toji continued on. He swiped over to the next one, this time a daddy and breeding kink drabble.

“Or how ‘bout… ‘Take it all like the good little slut you are for daddy, Y/N’. ‘N-No daddy, please I can’t cum anymore!’ You babbled as you succumbed to the overstimulation of him ruthlessly breeding your stretched cunt and filling you as you squirted on his dick for the fifth time that night…” 

You could only continue to stand there and gawk at him. This couldn’t actually be happening to you right now.

“Ya really wrote all this nasty shit, Y/N?” Toji teased while still looking at your phone as he found more of your filthy smut to read aloud to you despite the horrified expression on your face.

You of course had written all that ‘nasty shit’ but most of it was before you started dating him, breaking a long dry spell.

You really weren’t one to run the streets and sleep around but you had some kinky ass fantasies and you not getting any action had you needing to express them somehow.

It’s not like you didn’t eventually plan to open up and share a few of your kinks with Toji down the line. But this was a relatively new relationship and Toji was still a bit intimidating to you. Even though Toji treated you with way more care and concern than he did anyone else you’ve seen him interact with, you still had an insecure fear that he would reject you for a few of your kinks. 

Your last boyfriend had called you a weirdo for wanting to call him daddy in bed, so you resolved then to no longer share that part of you.

Hell, not even your IRL friends knew what you got up to. Only the Tumblr followers and moots, who you all shared peaceful anonymity with, were familiar with you and your writing.

Fuck. You had finally found the perfect DILF daddy too, you didn't want to scare him away. 

You cursed yourself for even opening Tumblr earlier. You did so out of restlessness waiting on his ass to come over. You just were going to read a few fics before you realized you had a story in your drafts you never posted that just needed to be proofread.

Wanting to kill time you decided to edit and post it on a whim, not knowing the mess it would be getting you into now. 

“Earth to, Y/N.” Toji snapped his fingers, interrupting your thoughts.

"Where did my perverted baby’s little mind go off to now, huh? So obsessed with being ruined by imaginary cocks you can’t even respond to your own daddy.”

You could have combusted on the spot as you were sure there was more steam coming off you from embarrassment than from the hot shower you had just taken. 

But wait– wtf, your frazzled mind just connected the fact Toji had referred to himself as your daddy. 

Those words sinking in made your entire body tingle. Your pulse quickened as you chewed your bottom lip and fidgeted with the edge of your towel.

Was he also into this?

The fact was Toji was very into this and you were about to find out just how much he was.

Enjoying your reactions fully, Toji stood up and made his way toward you with a crazed look on his face.

“You’ve written 96 pieces of filth Y/N…”

He inched closer and you instinctively moved back. Every fiber of your body sensing the danger in front of you. You wondered if this is how the targets of his ‘jobs’ felt when he approached them. Toji never lied to you about what he did for work but you never felt like you were his prey, until now.

“You’ve been a very naughty girl, have you nothing to say for y’erself, princess?” 

“I-I-I-”, you stumble over your own words. This was all way too much, way too fast, for you to process in order to say anything coherent back to him.

“I-I-I-” Toji mocked your pathetic tone, an evil grin back on his face. 

“Lost your words, Y/N?”

Your body instinctively keeps moving back to keep distance between the two of you as he continues to advance on you.

“But you have so many words to say here, isn’t that right slut?”

Toji toyed with your phone in his hand, spinning it around.

“Slut. That’s what you liked to be called in these stories, eh? The dirty slutty whore with a sloppy cunt just ready to slime all over her daddy’s cock, yeah?”

You gulped as your back hit the glass of your bedroom balcony door with a ‘thud’. You had no more room to run while Toji closes in on you.

He pressed both of his massive hands against the glass as they framed your head, his body hovering over you. You couldn’t help but notice how much bigger than you he was as his frame enveloped you and blocked out the rest of the room. You were trapped.

Too nervous to look him in the eyes, you settled for his chest and Toji’s muscles flexed tantalizingly under your gaze. You lost yourself for a moment as the familiar scent of his heady masculine musk invaded your senses.

Your eyes roamed lower and lower before resting on the bulge beneath his sweats and you softly pant. 

“You’re staring at my dick like you want me to stuff that pretty little throat cunny of yours full. You aren’t making good use of your mouth right now anyway Y/N, might as well see how much of me it can fit.”

You looked away from him completely but that only ignites Toji's flames more.

“Look me in the eyes little girl...” Toji’s hand roughly grabbed your jaw and squished your cheeks together as he brought his face closer to yours.

“This shy act won’t cut it anymore, slut.”

His intensity was overwhelming you. Various emotions threaten to bubble to the surface as you squirm in his grasp and your eyes become glossy with tears.

“You didn’t think you finally had a man who would be into this wild ass shit, now did you?”

You wanted to question him further but you felt your gravity shift as the balcony door whipped open behind you. Toji ripped off the towel covering you as you practically tumbled backwards onto the small landing buttass naked.

The crisp fall night air hits your dampened skin giving you goosebumps. You shiver and immediately drop down in a crouch to cover yourself. 

“T-Toji!! Are you insane?!” You gasped at him in a hushed tone, your silence finally broken. 

Promptly, you scan the seemingly deserted neighborhood streets through the railing for any sign of movement or signal that someone else was outside.

To your relief there was no one in sight.

Thankfully this was a relatively quiet neighborhood and no one was ever really out at this time of night. Nevertheless the shock of it all was sending your nerves into overdrive.

“Toji my ass bitch. It’s daddy to you moving forward–,” he roared jerking you up off the ground, “–and we are going to do every single fucking thing your slutty mind has ever fucking written starting NOW.” 

Your eyes darted as around him if you wanted to run back inside but there was no getting past his brutish build as he quickly slammed the door shut, shaking the frame.

Frankly, you didn’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified as you had written some depraved ass shit over the past year in the midst of your cockdrought. Some of it you had never even seriously thought of actually doing IRL. 

“Let’s start right ‘ere, eh? Did you think I wouldn’t notice the description of the place in your little balcony story matched your own?” 

Your eyes almost popped out of your skull as you recalled what you wrote in that particular smut fic.

ꨄ 

“A-AH! N-NOOO TOJI, W-WAIIIIIIIT!” You whined through gritted teeth. 

You tried (and failed) not to release any noises from the unrelenting backshots Toji was currently giving you as he folded you over the balcony railing. The tips of your toes barely rested on the cold floor as your ass bounced back into him and had your clit throbbing when his heavy balls smacked against the sensitive nub.

You had previously only fantasized about Toji being this rough with you, but now that it was actually happening for real you couldn’t think straight. Your lungs burned from sucking in the frosty night air and your cunt pulsed from his thick girth stretching you open. 

Shockwaves ran along your body with every cruel thrust of his hips. The force of it reduced your legs to jelly and you were sure you would have collapsed had he not had you suspended like you were, between him and the railing. 

Toji seemed both unfazed by the cold and your cries for mercy as he shushed you with a harsh spank. He enjoyed the way your fat ass rippled under his heavy hand in the moonlight so much he gave you a few more for good measure.

Your tits violently swayed over the edge as one of your hands grasped the railing for stability and the other held your phone in front of you. Toji was making you dictate your story for him as he reenacted the play by play assault on your cunt.  

The bright screen you held was near blinding to your teary eyes. You mentally cringed as you knew it would act as a shiny beacon to view your activities if anyone walked by the small apartment complex or hell, even stepped out on their balcony. 

“T-Toj- Daddy, w-what ‘bout– neigh-h-b-bor-s?”

You managed to croak out over the sloshing of your cunt and slapping sounds of flesh that echoed into the atmosphere everytime he rammed into you. You couldn’t bear to look around to see if any of your neighbors had started to investigate.

“Pshhh, Fuck your neighbors Y/N! They clearly don’t have a cockcrazed baby to please that writes dirty little stories about imaginary men like I do.”

If you didn’t know better you would think he was actually jealous of the DILFs in your stories too from the way he was sadistically fucking into you. 

His thrusts caused your icy tears to run down your face and sent your tits bouncing into the wind. Your cold and neglected nipples hardened in the chill to the point of delicious pain.

“B-but- it's too c-cold out D-Daddy!”

“Mmn, yet your pussy feels warm enough, Y/N. Too hot even. This is for your benefit, you know–,” Toji stated matter-of-factly while he increases the speed his pounding into you, “–So you remember you have your own Daddy who will fuck you anyway you want, anytime you want…just, fuck, tell Daddy what his slutty baby needs.”

The way his hips are driving into your core knocks the wind out of you. Toji tightens the already brutal grip on your hips which assists him in pressing deeper into your cunt. The movement has you almost slipping. You nearly drop your phone off the balcony when your toes stepped in the growing pool of shared juices flowing down your legs and collecting at your feet.

“Hold that shit tight for daddy baby, got it? You drop it and we gotta start over, yeah? I’ll make you walk downstairs ass naked just like this to get it too,” Toji breathed out huskily. 

You realize you’ve never heard him sound this needy before now.

“What’s next, in y’er lil’ story huh?… Speak up so I can hear it over this messy cunt.” 

There was an edge of desperation for you clear in his tone. Although to your dismay it causes your body to gush around him harder meaning you would have to speak up even louder as your pussy squelches grew more vulgar in volume. 

You nearly shouted out the next part groaning and mixing in incoherent babbles throughout the smut filled paragraph as Toji doesn't slow to help you. If anything Toji picks up speed and grows even harder inside of you as he's encouraged by his baby's filthy words.

“...H-he- lifts your leg, r-resting your knee on the edge of the bal-c-cony. T-T-The angle allows h-him, fuck, deeper access to your c-cunt. Ah-h-h-a clear view of his c-cock badgering your core f’er a-anyone who happens to p-pass belowwww-ohmygod. Y-you seeeeee s-stars as he callously s-slams into your c-cervix, shitshitshit, n-nearly fa-fa-fucking you off the balcony if not for his s-strong hold on youuuu–ah. Y-you violently t-tremble as you c-cum s-screamiiiiing, not fuckdaddyfuckkkk, caring if your n-neighbors could s-see or h-hear you any l-longer.”

“HA! Is that so–” Toji lifts your leg just like you wrote in your fic, “–guess I am gonna to have to keep fucking this tight cunt until you no longer give a fuck about anything else but this dick, eh?”

You hear what sounds like a door slide open near you and you begin to whine about your neighbors again before Toji jerks your head back by your ponytail to whisper in your ear. 

“I wouldn’t worry that nasty, pretty little head of yours about these neighbors babydoll…” 

The new angle allows Toji to bury himself deeper into you just like you told in your story and his tip hits your cervix so hard you think he might actually penetrate. 

“...if I were you Y/N... I would think about how daddy’s needy lil whore is gonna make it through an entire day of classes tomorrow with clamps on your nipples and a remote control vibrator up your cunt.”

He licked the side of your face and spit in your mouth before carelessly pushing your head back. You loudly moaned as his bruising grip returned to your meaty hips as his nonstop aggressive assault on your cunt proceeds.

You feel yourself getting close, your eyes rolled back into your head and drool seeped down the corners of your mouth. You cursed your weakness for this shit as you felt yourself give into the pleasure. You surprise even yourself as you never actually thought this kinda sex could be so fucking good you wouldn’t care about shit else for real. 

“Goddamn mamas, squeezing me so hard–” Toji’s hips snapped into you with every syllable, his voice becoming more animalistic, “–you want me to fill this pussy up? Mmm, I fucking know you do the way she’s milking me. Fuck, might even put a baby in you, give ‘gumi a sibling. We won’t be able to do some of that kinky shit you wrote unless I knock a baby up in this cunt, ya know.”

Of course, Toji being the sexy ass DILF straight out of your dreams would love breeding kinks too.

His ramblings cause you to tighten and clench around him even more. You’ve wanted to beg for him like this since you first started dating. Just thinking of the words spilling out of your mouth nearly pushed you over the edge.

You were so close to release.

“I-Inside me D-Daddy pleasepleaseplease!,” you slobbered out, struggling to make sentences from all the pleasure within you.

“F-fill me– fill me D-Daddy, knock this tight little cunt up, w-want it– want it– w-want it–!!!”

Your voice caught in your throat and you nearly choked once you felt your peak hit. Your pussy sent tremors around his dick as you creamed around him. You can't think of anything else but him inside of you.

You just came but Toji allowed you no rest. He still pummeled inside you as he chased his own high and slurred vulgar curses of praise for his pretty lil’ whore's dirty mind, while planning the next debaucherous smut for you both to reenact.

“Ya think it's too late now f’er prime next day delivery for those toys, baby? Fuck, look that up while y’er still holding that phone.”

You didn’t even realize you still had your phone in your hand but were just thankful you didn’t drop yet. You didn't think it would survive the fall.

Groaning you tried to rally the strength to even lift the phone to face unlock when you locked eyes with someone below. You instantly recognized the person as the elderly woman with the flower garden from down the street.

The old lady had always been very kind to you, making pleasant conversation, offering you fresh flowers for your kitchen and praising you for how reminded her of her own sweet young daughter at your age. 

Unfortunately for you both, she was casually walking her two mini poodles when her eyes were affronted with you practically hanging off the balcony. A blissed out expression plastered across your face while Toji held you, battering your slick pussy full of his thick cock.

The old woman’s eyes widened in terror as if she actually witnessed a crime scene as she panicked, yanking her two dogs away swiftly back in the direction of her home. You knew you would have to take the long way home from now on.

Nevertheless Toji, who was none the wiser and wouldn’t give a single fuck regardless, merely continued planning out your next smut fic enactment.

“Nah fuck it, we’re going to the library tomorrow. See how many pages you can read of that dull ass biology book while y’er warming my cock... Tch, or should we do the one where y’er fucking the coach in the men’s locker room, whacha think baby?”

"Hmmmnmmrgh", you could only moan in reply.

You were already near hyperventilating from your own climax, the shame of now having to avoid your neighbor for life and Toji’s fiery body creating a storm of friction clashing with the freezing temperatures.

But your senses were now wholly overloaded once you felt him reach down to pinch and rub at your clit. 

“Cum again with Daddy baby, shit, can ya do that f’er me?” Toji sounded like he was close and he slapped your clit even harder causing you to scream out.

Cockdrunk and overstimulated you could no longer communicate as your entire body felt like it was an extension of your pussy. The thick fluids flowing out of your body increased the sizable puddle already at your feet. You utterly surrendered to the feeling and your body wrecked with pleasure electrifying you. 

You almost blackout as you feel his cock bust hot seed into your tummy melting your insides and causing you to cum all over again.

"Fuck, that’s it, take it all. Can't wait to see this belly and these tits full mama."

The aftershock of your orgasm feels near endless as Toji continues to fuck thick ropes of his cum into you. 

Losing track of time you weren’t sure how long it was before Toji finally pulled out and took you off the railing. Holding on to you so you can balance and turning you to face him he places you down on your unsteady feet. You immediately bury your head into his chest as his heat envelops your cold skin. Your breathing finally starts to calm in his embrace. 

“So good f’er daddy babygirl,” he murmurs into your hair, savoring your scent.

“Warm bath, yeah?”

“Sure, but you gotta carry me daddy.”

You yawned while Toji’s already lifting you princess style in his strong arms. You were exposed still in the night but at the same time you have never felt safer. 

You curl further into his warmth as he kisses your forehead and finally brings you back inside.

Once inside the bathroom Toji sets you down on the edge of the tub while the water runs and he leaves to grab some fresh towels.

You can’t help but feel euphoric as you smiled to yourself. You are too giddy!

You finally have the DILF daddy you always wanted and could be open about your kinks without any judgment. 

However your mood shifts when Toji returns. You give him an incredulous look as you see your pink waterproof vibrator in his hands. 

Toji turns it on and saunters over to you, his scar twisted into a devilish smirk.

“95 more fuckfics to go ma’, we don’t have time to waste…”

Fucking hell, you had entirely forgotten about the overstimulation in the bath drabble. 

You quiver in both anticipation and distress as you aren’t sure how your completely spent and nearly frozen body is gonna be able to cum four more times tonight. 

Could there ever be too much of a good thing?

You weren't sure what those limits were exactly.

“Ya know, Y/N–," Toji started slyly, interrupting your thought.

”If I hit up Shiu and you asked him nicely with that pretty lil' mouth, I’m positive he would be down for some double daddy Eiffel Tower action.”

However from the feral grin on Toji’s face he appeared determined to test those limits with you.

You could thank your Tumblr smut fics for that. 

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ.

A/N: I honestly have to say I am a bit impressed with myself as I’ve never finished a story in one day before ever (although it took most of today to proofread and I still think there might be errors soz). Hopefully this is a good sign for powering through those Kinktober fics once classes start up again this Weds. Also If there is any interest possibly a PT 2 after Kinktober featuring a threesome with Shiu at his office.

Edit: errors/grammar fixed as of 9/26.

This one goes out to all of us dilf smut queens who simp Toji ❤︎

Please reblog to have DILF Daddy Toji dick you down, but likes and comments are always appreciated just the same!

[writingouthere]

neighbor!Sukuna x singlemom!reader. In the aftermath of your apartment flooding, Sukuna makes you a deal that is too good to pass up. You don't fully know what you're agreeing to, but if you did would it have really changed anything? Reader POV

cw: Sukuna may seem like just a nice guy stepping up but really he's a red flag you're just too tired to see. It's hinted reader has not been treated well in the past but no specifics.

You hadn't known what to do when you woke up to the sound of rushing water. You had acted on instinct and grabbed your daughter from the room next to yours and stood in the kitchen, calling your landlord from the number on your lease to no avail. Your daughter was starting to get fussy and after the fourth attempt with no answer, you felt lost.

Your ex hadn't exactly been the reliable type and he probably would have just contributed by cursing and complaining about shitty landlords and even shittier affordable housing but that wouldn't have helped then and thinking about it wasn't helping you now. Single, alone with your daughter who was growing more disgruntled by the minute.

You hated to even consider but, there was someone who you kept coming back to that you thought could help.

Sukuna.

The tattooed man across the hallway hadn't struck you as the friendly type, but he had proved you wrong in the few months since you moved in. He looked like the type of guy you would cross the street to avoid, but he always had time to stop and talk to you when he saw you. He also always made it a point to say hello to your daughter and listen to her rambles, even when they didn't make sense to you.

Your other neighbors had warned you about him. Stories that included threats and assaults you just couldn't connect to the man who had taken you and your daughter to the aquarium when your piece of shit ex bailed on you both, again.

You had googled him afterwards and what you saw was pages and pages that included things like attempted, suspected and scarier words like murder, hospitalized and other things that just didn't fit with the man you were still getting to know.

The water was still falling and once your daughter started waking up, you called it and went over to the maybe scary man across the hall, who never scared you.

Within ten minutes, you found yourself in Sukuna's guest room while he stayed behind at your apartment to figure everything out. When was the last time someone told you, "I got it." You were always the responsible one. You were the mom friend, the girlfriend people liked to introduce to their parents. You had basically parented yourself!

But now, there was someone who told you that, "I got it."

So who could blame you for going along with what came next. When the next morning came and Sukuna told you that your super had come too late and the apartment was damage and you couldn't stop yourself from putting your head in your hands as your daughter happily munched on the pancakes he had made you both.

"What am I going to do," you groaned and you couldn't help but lean in when Sukuna placed his hand on your cheek.

"He said he would put you up in a hotel until it can be fixed," he said gently and you sighed. You envisioned the next several months in some shitty motel with no kitchen, sharing a lumpy bed with your two year-old, disrupting the routines you had been trying so hard to build as a single mom. No more afternoon trips to the park that was less than a block away. No more feeding the ducks with your leftover veggies or sharing pick up duties with the other moms at the daycare by your work.

"This sucks, I don't want to have to build my life all over again." And you really didn't. This was so frustrating and over what, a little water damage?

"Well," Sukuna started and he tilted your head so you were looking at him. "I do have the guest room. You could move some of your stuff over here and camp out until it's fixed. Pocket the hotel money, use it for something for the kid."

"Oh, I couldn't impose on you like that-"

"I wouldn't offer if it was an imposition," he said, his eyes glinting and for just a second you could see a little of the danger your neighbors had told you about, but then it was gone and he was leaning over you to take another pancake from the serving tray and putting it on your daughter's empty plate.

"It's not just for you, I would-I would feel a lot better knowing the both of you were taken care of. I doubt the hotel that-" he cut off looking over at your daughter, "you know is putting you up in is going to be the safest place for the two of you."

You couldn't believe you were considering it but you were so tired. You felt like life had just become a series of less than ideal circumstances you were forced to deal with just because you didn't want to settle for the wrong guy or give your daughter less than she deserved.

"I would pay rent," you said and he looked ready to argue but you held up your hand. He smiled, amused and gestured go on. "Just until they can fix the apartment and if we get to be too much tell me. We can tough it out in a hotel. We've dealt with worse," you added and he frowned before nodding.

"Deal." He turned to look at your daughter and smiled. "You hear that bug, you and mommy are moving in." Your daughter giggled and clapped her syrup covered hands.

"Temporarily," you reminded him and he smiled at you.

"Right, let's go grab the stuff you'll need while you're here temporarily." He went grabbed a towel and wiped your daughters hands while she kept laughing and chanting "move in, move in!"

Is it your fault that you didn't know that your circumstances were anything but temporary?

[gglitch1dd]

Oh how I loved him

Past Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Context: You reminisce about your time with Katsuki

Note: Reader is currently married to Dilf Izuku but was with Katsuki in the past. Kane is Katsuki's son who is living with the Midoriyas.

"Did you love my dad?"

You paused at your crotcheting as you looked up at Kane. The blond boy held the TV remote as he sat on the couch near you, Koda sitting on his lap. You blinked, surprised that he would ask such a question.

Kane quickly got pink in the face, his ears glowing, realising what he had just asked you. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to ask that. I-"

"I did." Your answer silenced him as he turned to look at you, his crimson eyes, so much like Katsuki's, wide and innocent. Beautiful and passionate. You smiled gently as you set down your needles in your lap. You sighed. "Your father wasn't a bad person. Not at all. He was loud sometimes, petty as a donkey, grumpy at least half the time, always complaining about something, would never shut up about wanting to be number one but..." You leaned back in your husband's recliner as you smiled as you stared up at the ceiling, old memories about your ex-boyfriend flooding you. "Oh... how I loved Bakugou Katsuki."

"You... you did?" You turned to look at Kane who looked eager to know but was keeping himself seated for the sake of the little four year old green haired boy that napped in his lap.

You nodded your head. "He was a good boyfriend, a good man, despite how he seemed." You started. "And I've actually been meaning to show you something." You motioned for him to pass the TV remote, which he did. You easily caught it as you connected your phone to the TV and easily moved to your Cloud storage trying to find something. "Where is.... Ah! There it is." You tapped a photo.

On the screen was a picture of you much younger than you were now. A huge smile was on your face as you were dressed in Katsuki's large black skull t-shirt as he stood behind you shirtless. The both of you were a mess of flour but a huge smile that one couldn't have known possible, was on Katsuki's face. You caressed his cheek as you leaned against him.

"Your father has such a small heart, but when he gives it to you, its the warmest thing you'll ever feel in your life."

You lay on the bed, your phone facing down as you sat with a book in your hand. You heard the front door of your apartment open but you didn't bother to get up off the bed and go and see your boyfriend who had just arrived. You flipped the page as you tried to resubmerge yourself in the story.

With a heavy sound of his feet, Katsuki pushed open the door to see you sitting on your shared bed. The blond ProHero frowned as you didn't even look up at him. He held the strap of his work bag on his shoulder tighter as he settled his crimson eyes on you. "Y/N." His gruff voice came out.

"Hm?" You let out with a hum, only glancing up at him for less than a second before looking back down into your lap. "Hello Katsuki."

Katsuki's frown deepened. "Come on Y/N, I'm sorry." He apologised. "Is that what you want me to say?" You didn't answer him as you flipped the page of your book. Katsuki let out a frustrated groan as he moved to drop his bag inside his closet before walking into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Admittedly, Katsuki had had a bad day at work (and everyone in the DynaRiot agency could feel it). The reason for his bad day was because you were mad at him. Katsuki had spent another overnight shift when he had promised to spend time with you. By the time he had come back home at an unholy hour of the night, candles were burnt out, your favourite shared snacks were still on the coffee table and you were nowhere to be found but in bed, far away from Katsuki's side.

Katsuki admits, he had been so focused on chasing the Number One spot on the rankings, having just entered the Top ten with Deku, that he was putting time with you in the back burner. He would also admit that he had promised you multiple times this month to spend time with you but hadn't put in the effort.

You had every right to be mad at him.

Hell, Katsuki was mad at him.

Which was why he decided to try.

Katsuki wasn't sure half the time what he was supposed to do as a boyfriend, but he tried. Which is how he found himself in the kitchen setting things up and putting on an apron around himself. You hadn't move from outside the bedroom, no matter anything that Katsuki did, so now he was determined to try and spend time with you.

With the counter having everything you would need, Katsuki marched to the bedroom to where you were.

The door opened and Katsuki made a bee-line to you. You looked up from your book, a raised eyebrow coming onto your face. Before you could even speak, you felt large hands grab at you and hoist you up from bed. "KATSUKI!" You shouted as he hauled you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and marched straight out of the room. You wiggled, trying to get him to put you down, beating against his back to do so. "PUT ME DOWN! WHERE ON EARTH ARE YOU TAKING ME!" You shouted.

Katsuki went down the stairs and walked to the kitchen. He put you down on the tiled floor on your own two feet. He grabbed your apron, tying it around you before motioning to the counter.

You noticed eggs, milk, sugar, vanilla essance, everything you would need to make.... "Katsuki, what-"

"We're making cupcakes." He told you with a serious look on his face, not a hint of a joke on his lips. Then again, Katsuki was never good at joking.

Your face fell as you looked at him, not pleased by his attempt of bridging the gap between you. "And who said I want to make cupcakes with you?"

"Me." He stated as he grabbed the whisk and handed it to you. He moved over to the counter. "Now do you want vanilla or chocolate cupcakes?" He asked, minding himself as he grabbed two eggs and began to crack them.

You rolled your eyes. "I don't want cupcakes, Katsuki."

"Chocolate it is."

"Katsuki, are you listening to me?" You asked as you put your hands on your hips.

Katsuki moved to grab the milk and butter. "Pass me the flour, babe."

"Katsuki!" You frowned as you looked at the stubborn blond that seemed set on spending time with you this way. You looked at the open bag of flour. You grabbed a fist full. "Here's your stupid flour!" You shouted as you threw it at him, making Katsuki pause as white cake flour landed on his face and shoulder.

Your face fell as you realised what you did. You quickly slapped your other hand over your face as he slowly turned to you. He stared at you unblinkingly making you snort. You couldn't help the giggles that went through you as you tried not to laugh.

Katsuki raised an eyebrow. "Oh so you think this is funny huh?" He asked unamused.

"Katsuki I-" You giggled. "I'm so sorry. I-" You were interupted by a egg yoke landing straight at your chest making you freeze.

Katsuki stood with a wet hand that scooped up the eggs he had put in the bowl. He stood with a smug face as he stared at you. He tilted his head to the side, blond tufts of hair letting sprinkles of flour fall. "You know, I think I like you like this." You glared at him. You quickly lunged to the flour but Katsuki saw your plan. "Oh no you don't!"

You managed to grab a handful before he grabbed more. You threw it straight at his hair, making his hair more pale than blond. He threw the flour right back at you, making you gasp in shock. He quickly grabbed you and held you in his arms to stop you from grabbing more flour. You couldn't help but giggle as you took his hands and tickled your middrift.

"AH! Katsuki! KA- TSUKI LET GO OF ME! HAHAHA! OW! LET GO!"

"It's not funny now is it?" He asked with a loud laugh as he tickled you and held you in his strong big arms, lifting you off the ground so that you felt helpless. He managed to find the spot that had you squealing and squirming.

"AAHHHH!"

He laughed at you as he held you. "Say it! Say it!"

You tried to hold back but the tears in your eyes said otherwise. "I'm sorry! I'M SORRY!"

"and..."

"I FORGIVE YOU! AH- KATSUKI!"

He chuckled as he stopped tickling you, leaving you a giggling mess in his arms as he spun you to have your chest against his. He had a broad smile on your face as he watched the restless giggles and snorts leave your mouth.

He bent down to put his forehead against yours, allowing you to calm down as his thumb brushed at your hips. You opened your eyes to look into his own. You could tell his was sorry, you could tell that he was apologetic. You smiled as you cupped the side of his face, kissing his nose making him hum as he leaned in to kiss your lips.

Katsuki sometimes didn't have the words to say what he wanted to say. But his eyes and actions spoke enough for him.

He hummed as he leaned back. "You're my everything." He let out lowly.

You giggled as you nodded. "I know. You can't live without me."

"I can't."

"I'm glad we both agree." You grinned with soft giggles stumbling out of your chest making him laugh as he pulled you into his arms again.

You chuckled as you leaned back. "He was so petty! I honestly don't know what is up with me and falling in love with petty men." You recalled making Kane laugh.

"What about petty men?" Izuku stepped in, dressed in home clothes but holding his work bag as he was now in sight.

You smiled. "Izuku! How was work? I was just telling Kane some stories about his father." You told your husband.

You watched your husband's eyebrows raise. Kane hadn't spoken a word about his father or how he was feeling towards Katsuki since he had moved in with your family after being kicked out. He glanced between you and the blond boy on the couch. He smiled easy, not feeling worried at all. "Let me put down my things. I should tell him about the time me and Kacchan got caught fighting in Delta in the middle of the night for the fourth time by Sensei Aizawa."

"Fourth time!?" Kane asked shocked.

You giggled as you leaned back. "Izuku was a problem child."

"Hey! I wasn't a problem child I was just..." He walked over to you, leaning down. "Different." He offered up. You looked at him not convinced making him chuckle as he leaned down and kissed your lips. He smiled as he walked over to Kane ruffling his blond hair, making the blond scowl. "To be fair, your father started it."

-Glitch1d

[honeybeefae]

hi coming in a lil early for Smutty Tuesday but hear me out:

Azriel with a size kink and a corruption kink - a reader who is shy, quiet, easily flustered.

They’re at some party or gathering, reader gets overwhelmed and decides to hide away in a room to read her /definitely not/ smutty romance book. Azriel finds her, finds out what she’s *reading* (he definitely teased her about and her blush gave it away) and whatever resolve or restraint he has just snaps at the idea of ruining her 🫠🫠🫠

*insert rubbing hands together evilly here*

Life Imitates Art (Azriel x Reader)

WARNINGS: Smut, 18+, Size Kink, Corruption Kink, Oral through Panties, Oral

The room you are hiding in offers you peace and quiet, something sorely lacking in the ballroom just down the hall. You were always easily overwhelmed, preferring to stick to the shadows and be the wallflower, so you are certain no was missing you as your fingers turn the page.

You feel your lips curl up in a shy smile as your eyes scan over the page, the vulgarity in the text making your heart race. Nesta certainly has an interesting collection of books...you would have to steal from the pile more often.

Everything around you disappeared as you delved further and further into the story, rubbing your thighs together at the unholy images racking your brain with each word. You were so engrossed that you didn't hear the door open nor the footsteps walking towards you.

A large, scarred hand fell between the pages, and it made you jump. Your face went as red as a tomato as you saw the infamous Shadowsinger above you.

"I knew there was someone missing from the party..." He murmurs, hazel eyes dark as you try to snap your book shut. His hand prevents it though, fingers curling against the bottom and pulling it easily out of your grasp.

"Wait, that's-" You try to reach for it, but he clicks his tongue, giving you a warning glance before turning to read.

"His fingers curled inside me, touching me in places that I had dreamed of him caressing," Azriel's voice was pure sex as he smirked, enjoying the way you shrank into the chair from embarrassment. "I could only see his eyes as he watched me between my legs, his hot breath fanning across my c-"

"Stop!" You plead, covering your ears. "Please, I get it, just don't read further."

"What's wrong, Y/N? You were just reading this yourself, were you not?" He teased, snapping the book shut with a loud thud. "Why are you so embarrassed now?"

You groan and cover your face, shaking your head to try and see if this is simply a dream. However, when you peek through your fingers, Azriel was still there, watching you.

"Did you like it?"

"Az, I didn't mean for you to find me reading-" You protest until he leans forward even more, both of his hands bracing on the arm of the large lounge chair and caging you in.

"That's not what I asked you, little mouse. Answer me." His tone is authoritative, shivers running down your spine as you crane your head back to look him in the eyes.

"I...yes, yes, I liked it." Your voice is barely above a whisper as you see his jaw clench, the fabric of the chair crunching from how hard his grip had gotten.

"Was that so hard?" He asked, gaze falling briefly to your lips before back up to your eyes. "I didn't know a girl like you read those kinds of books. I wonder what else I don't know about you..."

One of his hands came up to rest against the column of your throat, his eyes lighting up with enjoyment at the way you swallowed at the contact. Your breath hitched when he knelt in front of you, his hands falling to your thighs and spreading them with ease.

"Have you ever been tasted before?" Azriel murmurs, slowly bunching your skirts up your leg to reveal more and more skin.

You felt like you were going to faint as your brain tried to catch up with what was happening, confused as to how this had escalated so quickly but not at all upset.

"Y/N." He calls, pinching your thigh and making you squeak. "Answer me when I ask you a question. Have you?"

"N-No, I've never...I've never done anything like this..." You mumble.

Azriel stops at the top of your thigh, his eyes closing for a brief moment as his nostrils flare. You try to sit up, worried you've upset him, but gasp when he all but shoves you back down into the chair.

It takes him a moment to speak again, his gaze fully concentrated between your legs where your panties were just starting to become visible. You swear you saw him shaking, his wings extending as he finally stops when he reveals yourself fully.

"Little mouse..." He moans, wrapping both of his arms under your thighs and yanking you forward until your ass was hanging off the end of the seat. "I can't wait to ruin you."

He immediately licks a long stripe over your lace underwear, his spit soaking through as the sensation sends your body buzzing. You whimper as he eats you out through the thin material, making sure to soak your entire underwear as you wiggle and roll your hips.

When he's had enough teasing, he moves his hand to each side of your hip and rips through them like paper, wasting no time in getting back to feasting on your pussy. Your fingers grasp his short hair, your eyes squeezing shut as your pleasure only increases.

"Oh, Az, please!" You gasp, back arching when he hums his praises of your vocalizations. "Fuck!"

"That's it, pretty girl," He moans, sucking and nibbling on your clit as his ring finger circles around your entrance. "Scream for me."

As he gives you another particularly hard suck that makes you see stars, he also pushes his finger into you. You moan loudly, walls clamping down on the intrusion as he curses.

"Stars, you are so fucking tight," Azriel hisses, thrusting in and out. "I can't wait to stretch you out, princess. To see this tiny cunt swallow me whole."

"I want it," You whine, looking down at him desperately. "I want you so bad, please I can't take much more."

There was the familiar feeling of your orgasm building, but it felt so much more intense than you were used to. You didn't have control over your body or your words as pleas and whines flow out like water.

"You can and you will." He snarls, pulling away as he adds a second finger and starts scissoring you open. "You'll take everything I give you. Do you know why?"

You shake your head, your clothes feeling too tight on your skin as he curls his fingers and hits that spot that makes you scream.

"Because this is mine." Azriel curls his fingers again, bringing you that much closer to the edge. "Your cries, your moans, your pleasure, it is mine and mine only. Only I can give you this, bring you to this point, and you'll take it and thank me."

"Yes, only you!" You repeat, barely coherent, as you start to clench around his fingers. He adds a third one, coming back to hover his mouth over your clit.

"Do you want to cum, mouse? Want to make a mess all over this chair, my fingers, my face?" He taunts you, watching as your cheeks heat up again from his words. "I want to hear you say it before you cum."

"Az, please!" You cry, hips bucking as he starts to flick your bud with the tip of his tongue. However, your words fall on deaf ears as he waits for you to give in, to speak those filthy thoughts aloud.

Shame will come to swallow you whole at a later time, your pleasure fogging your mind until all you can think of is Azriel's tongue, fingers, cock...

"I want to cum! I want to cum on your fingers, on your cock, I don't care!" Your voice breaks as he keeps you on edge, his pupils blown wide as he watches you fall from your pedestal of innocence and into his awaiting arms. "Please, please, please. I need it, I need you-I just-"

You can't finish your sentence as he mumbles against your sopping cunt and starts curling his fingers again, licking your clit just right to send you falling into an abyss of carnal rapture.

Your entire body seizes up, your mouth falling open to silently scream. He continues to fuck you through it, prolonging your pleasure as tears form in the corner of your eyes. You had touched yourself before, had made yourself cum, but it never felt this powerful.

Azriel watches you, his breathing ragged as you look at him with hazy eyes. It takes you a moment to realize he had picked you up and was carrying you out of the room and up the stairs, your head resting against his chest.

"Where are you taking me?" You ask hoarsely.

"To my room. I told you you'd take all of it, Y/N, and that doesn't just mean an orgasm."

[macfrog]

san angelo | one shot

what happens when joel miller meets his star-crossed lover?

big love to @mrsmando and @5oh5 for cheering me on with this one, and @bageldaddy for being my eyes, my ears, and - only sometimes - my brain.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader summary: it's the summer of two thousand eight. after two weeks following his little brother cross-country on the back of a harley, joel follows him through the doors of a dive bar - where fate delivers him to you. warnings: story is inserted into canon, so cordyceps outbreak happens, sarah dies (off-page), joel dissociates, doomed love, lots of mention of fate, alcohol consumption, reader is a smoker, cursing, drunken one-night stand, oral sex, unprotected piv, joel's cock is massive, a lot of angst, a lot of fluff, a lil smut to tie it all together. enjoy! word count: 9.8k

moodboard | main masterlist | playlist [in case you wanna vibe in sad] | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 🤍

Palm lines.

It’s the first thing he thinks as soon as she stops moving in his arms. The second her little whimpers cease, the moment her chest stops heaving and her eyes glaze over. Suddenly, Joel’s little girl weighs more than he can bear.

Palm lines. And he has no fucking idea why.

He closes his eyes and there you are. The whir of the ceiling fan, the tinkling of bracelets loose on your wrist. You have sorta earth hands, you told him. Or, well – they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way. I don’t really know. I’m still learning.

You told him that air hands were long, spindly. And Sarah was always a lanky kid – tallest on the soccer team, head and shoulders above the other girls by the third grade. Her hands, he thinks, must be air. They must be.

Her fingers are still twisted around his right now. Lifeless, slippery with the blood still wet and quickly cooling.

Joel cradles her, squeezing so hard that he wonders whether he might be able to fuse their bodies together. Lock them in some white-knuckle grip so that he never has to let go of her – never has to leave this hill covered in dirt and blood.

His palms are ruined; a maroon river carving its way down his heart line, dirt deep in the groove of his life line. Why does he even fucking remember what they’re called?

Why the fuck are you what he’s thinking about, right now?

“Tommy,” he says, opening his eyes again. “We gotta…we gotta get to…”

She’s limp, draped over his thighs as though she’s nothing more than a stretch of crimson curtain. He looks down at her and begs her to come back, begs her to open her eyes and look up at him again.

But the night is passing and she’s still not breathing. Dawn is breaking and Joel’s daughter is dead.

He sucks in a shattered breath. “…to San Angelo, Tommy.”

The younger Miller stuffs his gun into the back of his jeans and paces over, soles coated thick in shit and grass. “I hear you, Joel.”

“You ain’t listenin’ to me, I –”

“I’m listenin’ fine, Joel.” Tommy hooks his hands under his niece’s arms. “Now, help me lift her. We can’t…” his voice strains, fighting the death grip his brother has on the girl, “…we can’t leave her here.”

Joel’s frozen to the spot; sinking further and further into the earth. Staring at his open hands, the stains like rust on his palms. He says to San Angelo again, and Tommy snaps.

“Jesus, Joel, enough! I’ve heard enough goddamn it! I see your hands, now – we gotta fuckin’ bury Sarah.”

Your fate line, your nail tickled, and Joel held his hand steady, It can change, if something big is coming.

Somethin’ big? he asked. A little younger, a lot more naïve. Still a healthy dose of belief in the world, an echo of the god-fearing faith that raised him.

His hand felt so light, cradled in two of yours. He half hoped he’d never have to let go – just lie there with you forever. Your legs tangled with his, the sheets disturbed; the room injected with amber from the streetlights outside.

You nodded. A big shift, or something.

And he scoffed. He actually scoffed, right there and then. Incredulous. The hell kinda big shift is comin’ our way? he asked, laughing.

You just smiled back, shrugging. You were so fucking casual, that whole night. It would’ve unnerved him, if he hadn’t been so swept off by the sparkle in your eye, the glowing cherry of your cigarette.

Guess we just gotta wait ‘n see.

It’s August thirtieth, two thousand eight.

Almost five thousand miles on the back of a Harley, and Joel just wants to go home.

He arches his aching back, palms flat against the crests of his hips, and blinks in the light from the food mart in front of him. Twenty-six, he thinks to himself, only twenty-fuckin’-six.

It’s ninety degrees out. An uncomfortable heat, for a man who feels ten years older than he really is. For a man who hasn’t had a decent shower in almost two weeks. For a man who’s spent the last six hours tailing the brake lights of his little brother’s bike.

The sweat gathers sticky between his shoulder blades, prickles along the nape of his neck. There’s dust spattered down his bare arms and buried in the grooves of his knuckles.

He’s tired. He’s tired, he’s dirty, and goddamn, he wishes he was back home.

He holds a hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, the yellow sky melting to a purple haze. Squinting, he follows the soar of two swallows overhead, looping through the sky, until he’s rubbing the image from his eyes with the back of his wrist.

He’s gotta remember to call Sarah before she goes to bed.

The door opens with the tinkle of a brass bell older and rustier than Joel feels. A swaggering figure splits the glow from the store in two – a figure with a pack of Marlboros in one hand and an already half-empty bottle of water in the other.

Tommy holds them both out to Joel, who swipes the water with a scowl.

“Ain’t killed you yet, brother,” Tommy scoffs, stuffing the cigarettes into his back pocket. He swings a frayed-denim leg over the seat of his Harley.

Joel drains the bottle, panting as he crushes the plastic in one fist. “Damn near tryin’,” he mutters, tossing it in the trash. He runs his tongue across his bottom lip.

“Where are we?” Tommy asks. He glances over his shoulder, staring from the cracked roads to the telephone wires overhead. A Syclone pulls into the lot; a dehydrated squeal as it rolls to a halt.

“San Angelo,” Joel says. “Only a few more hours to go.” He settles on his own bike, pulling his leather jacket over his shoulders. “We passed a Super 8 coming into town, if you feel like restin’ up. Or – we leave now, be home around midnight.”

Tommy chuckles. “What’s the rush? We ain’t gotta be anywhere anytime soon.”

And Joel agrees – for the most part.

His mom is watching Sarah while they’re gone, and he reckons she’s hardly missing him. Too smart for her own good, Joel’s realizing: plotting and scheming her way into staying up past her bedtime, drinking Pepsi at dinner, watching Curtis and Viper – and swearing that her dad lets her do it all, too.

But, still. He misses his kid.

It’s the most they’ve ever been apart – time or distance. The longest he hasn’t had her climbing up his back or hanging off his arm. The least he’s been called Dad since he was eighteen years old.

He just…misses his kid.

He sighs, drumming his fingers on the body of the bike. “Tommy, I gotta get back home to Sarah.”

“Look,” Tommy says, and Joel knows that the argument is lost already, “By the time we got back, she’d be asleep anyways. Let’s leave in the morning – first thing, I swear – and we’ll be home in time for breakfast. Deal?”

They stare at one another, a stand-off in the parking lot. Both waiting for the other to break. The swallows gather on the roof of the store, basking in the weak wash of flickering fluorescents.

“Come on, brother,” Tommy pleads, “It’s one more night.” He lifts his helmet, punching it over his mop of shaggy hair, and kicks the bike to life.

Joel growls to himself, watching it drift over to the side of the road.

He considers heading to the Super 8 alone, grabbing a room only to shower and get some food, then hitting the road and leaving his little brother in the dust. Waiting for him to stumble through the door tomorrow morning – tired, groggy, probably hungover – while Joel, fresh as a daisy, drizzles syrup over Sarah’s pancakes and pours her orange juice.

He’s a pragmatic man. He’s a grown-up. Scares away the ghosts and ghouls and monsters of his daughter’s nightmares. Shushes her back to sleep in the crook of his arm, tiptoes as lightly as he can out of her room so as not to wake her.

Things like God, like the universe, things like horoscopes and laws of attraction…for the most part, Joel can do without them. Has done his whole life.

But then – the glow of indigo overhead, and the mysterious shadows lurking behind the buildings. The birdsong tittering in his ears, the twinkle of the sun in Tommy’s helmet – something distant in the dusty sphere.

Something, someone, winking at him from far away.

Something a little heavier than the breeze nudges at his spine, and Joel’s arms lift – fitting his own helmet over his head. He swings the heel of his boot into his kickstand and revs the bike, Harley roaring as it joins Tommy’s out on the boulevard.

Murphy’s is a small, green bar on the corner of an intersection. All peeled paint lettering and buzzing fluorescents – the y burnt out and pulsing.

Joel doesn’t think Tommy picked it for any reason other than the huge Lone Star mural on the side of the goddamn building, the way he tosses his thumb to it as they park up. A squint smirk on his face, muttering something like ‘s good to be home, big brother, as they hook helmets over handlebars.

Tommy leads Joel inside, their boots tacky on the wooden floor. Walls paneled by aged frames and sun-bleached photographs; air hanging thick with a smell like vinegar. The babble of slurred conversation is pierced by the sharp crack of pool balls breaking.

Metal-plate belt buckles snaked through strained jeans; low eyes which shift to size-up the two strangers. They all turn back to their fingerprinted glasses when Joel and Tommy settle into an empty booth.

It feels hotter in here than it is outside, stuffier. A thick humidity which clings to Joel’s bones, humming like the string lights draped from beams above his head.

Tommy reclines between the creaking leather cushion and the wall. He pokes at a yellowing poster of some Western, hums to himself, and then looks across the table.

Joel’s eyes loop once around the room before they meet his brother’s. “What?” he asks.

“First round is yours, old man.”

“Oh, is it, now?” He cocks an eyebrow. “Thought this was your idea?”

A weedy grin stretches across Tommy’s lips. He needs to fucking shave, Joel thinks. Whiskers poking from around his small mouth like pine needles. “’s my birthday trip,” he reasons.

And can Joel argue with that? Does he have the fucking energy? Will it get him out of here and back to Austin any quicker?

“Goddamn it,” he grumbles. He pushes himself to his feet, heels of his palms against the tacky wood.

He wanders over to the bar, tugging on the front of his tee to unstick it from his damp chest. Slots in beside an ivory cowboy hat with a pair of jeaned legs. The man fixes his bolo tie and watches Joel’s hand as he flags the bartender down.

And then he feels it.

You.

Then he feels you.

First, the weight of you – crashing some into his back. He shunts forward from the suddenness of it, knocking his ribs against the bar, and lifts a hand to brace himself on the ledge.

And then – heat, like an iron. Like every hair and freckle on your skin is branded into his the second you come into contact with him. A feeling like the roll of a wave against his spine, a hand hooked around his forearm when he begins to turn.

“Shit,” you hiss, steadying yourself on the curve of his shoulder. You glance down at your feet, clicking between your black boots. “I’m sorry, that was…that was my bad.”

“’s alright,” Joel says instantly. He holds his arm still until you let go and he sidesteps – though only a little. He watches, dumbstruck, as you rest your elbows on the bar and lean forward. His eyes linger on your back, trailing the crisscross straps wrapped tight over your spine.

You squint up at the menu pinned above shelves of crystal bottles. Your eyes move back and forth across the chalkboard, slowly descending until they’re meeting his in the speckled mirror opposite – a sweet smile growing on your lips.

It runs like whiskey through Joel’s veins: warm and dangerous.

And the way his head spins, the way the world blurs for a moment into one swipe of color around you; the way your cooing laugh echoes between his ears long after he’s heard it –

Joel’s already intoxicated.

He’s still staring when you pull back and motion to the bar. “You can go first, by the way,” you say, waving a hand. “I wasn’t cuttin’ in line. Just trying to read the drinks.”

“I’ll wait,” he replies, remembering how to be polite, how to be charming. Old cogs long out of use jerking to life inside him again. “Can’t read any of ‘em, either, anyways.”

It draws from you that same little laugh, a puff of air from your nostrils. You nod, biting your bottom lip.

He’s quickly forgetting why he’s stood in this room, why he’s in this city. He’d probably forget his own fucking name if you asked him right now what it was.

“’nother drink, darlin’?” a low voice interrupts, and you’re turning away.

Joel’s eyes follow you – a moth chasing something golden and radiant – as you face the wiggle of a snow-white mustache poking from beneath the brim of that ivory cowboy hat.

You shake your head, lifting two fingers with a bill slipped between them. “I’m good, thanks, George. Maybe next round.” You wave to the kid behind the bar – some name that Joel’s too fucking mindless to hear. Too distracted by the glint in your eye, the sparkle of your crescent moon earrings in the light.

If only he knew this feeling. If only he could put a name to it. As familiar as the sun and yet, brand new like dawn. His stomach swirls in a fleet of butterflies – as though he’s fifteen again, bumping elbows with his high school crush.

You nudge him, thumb pointing in the direction of the bartender.

Joel shakes his head. “Ladies first,” he says, heart skipping when you hold his stare.

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head, “Told you I ain’t jumping in.”

He asks the guy for two beers, barely taking his eyes off you. “Alright,” he leans in, lowering his voice, “Then let me buy you a drink. Make up for gettin’ in your way just then.”

You prop your chin on your knuckles, grinning as you push your twenty around the wooden bar top, dodging pooled rings of alcohol like it’s an arcade game. “I don’t do that,” you say, eyes tracing the slick trail left by the bill.

“Do what?”

“Accept drinks from strange men in bars.”

His tongue presses against the back of his teeth, the taste of humor honey-sweet. “Yeah? ‘n how long have you known…” he nods to the – what is he, sixty? Sixty-five? – year-old on your right, “…George?”

Your gaze lifts, eyes wide. Apparently as impressed by Joel’s confidence as he is himself. “We’re actually in a very serious relationship. Marriage proposal imminent.”

“Damn,” he mutters as the bartender reappears with two Coors, “And here I thought I had half a chance.”

You hum to yourself, studying him. Looking from his jaw across the span of his shoulders, his wide-knuckled hands and then back to his lips. Curious and wary, judging the strange animal stood before you.

And he knows he’s weathered from the weeks on the road, and all the years before that. Dirt under his nails and the light sheen of sun on his forehead. The flecks of gray through his thick, brown beard.

You take a deep breath, eyes twinkling, and tell him, “I’m here with my friend.”

“Ain’t that lucky?” Joel glances at Tommy. “I’m here with my brother.”

You look across to the dirty blond, sat tilting a glass candle in his hand. “He single?”

Joel nods. “Is she?”

You nod.

“Alright. You wanna come sit with us?”

Your smirk answers his question. You take the beers, rings clinking off the glass. “Rum,” you call over your shoulder, wandering off, “I drink rum.”

Joel’s gaze lowers to the sway of your hips. “Rum it is,” he says, turning back to the bar.

“So…a cross-country bike trip, and you wound up in San Angelo?”

You’re on your fourth drink, the first one Joel hasn’t paid for – and he only allowed it because it’s a Diet Coke (and maybe you got to the bar first, held his wrists with one hand so he couldn’t stop you from slapping your own money down).

“Yep,” Joel replies, pinching the lime from his drink and dropping it onto a napkin. “Just passin’ through. Shower, sleep, then head on home.”

“Where’s that, then? Home?”

“Austin.”

“Austin,” you pout, “Nice.”

Joel smirks, licking citrus from his fingertips. “Is it?”

“I’ve never been to Austin,” Brooke chirps, fiddling with the umbrella in her piña colada. She twirls the paper canopy and glances up to Tommy.

He snaps out of his slack-jawed gaze when he realizes what she’s implying. “Oh – yeah, well…” his head wobbles as he stutters, “…you two ever come down that way, we’d be happy to, uh…show ya ‘round, huh, Joel?”

Joel doesn’t reply, staring back at his brother with the same amused expression you are.

You’ve been an inch apart all evening – doused in the dive bar darkness, the shrouded conversations and muffled TV static. The tip of your nose and curve of your shoulders lit only by the luminous signs dotting the walls.

Tommy and Brooke are already deep in conversation again about the best car Tommy ever owned. Joel watches as your eyes flit between the pair, entertained by the way they trip over each other’s sentences. Your cheeks lift when Brooke lays a hand over Tommy’s, and he squeezes her fingers back.

Where did you come from? Joel’s thinking. He takes a swig of his whiskey, feeling your eyes on him. As he lowers his glass, you lift yours. When he turns in his seat towards you, you’re already facing him, back against the wainscotting. He smiles, and so do you.

Every movement feels choreographed, some merry dance only you two know. You’re in your own little world.

Where did you come from, again, and where have you been my entire fucking life?

“So, what about you?” Joel asks instead, swallowing – all warm-bellied and brave. “You grow up here?”

You shake your head, taking another sip. “Nope. Just liked it enough to hang up my coat for a few months. I grew up in Phoenix.”

“You travel a lot?”

“I’ve been around. This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place since I was a kid.”

He thinks of home: of Austin and its silver-snake river, burnt-orange jerseys and the pleated bunting lining Sixth Street. He thinks of late nights on lawn chairs, nursing a beer and shooting the shit with his brother. Keeping their voices lower than the buzz of the cicadas, looking more at the dusky sky than at each other.

“You don’t ever get tired of it?” Joel asks. “Of moving around so much?”

You scoff, breath clouding the inside of your glass. “Three weeks on a motorcycle starting to get to you, huh?”

He breathes a laugh, loose again. The cicadas fade from his ears.

Your head tilts in a shrug. “I don’t know. I guess the universe keeps on surprising me.”

Joel doesn’t do this. At least, he hasn’t done this since he was a teenager – crate of beer under his arm and a chest full of courage. He’s long forgotten the feeling of heat blooming in his cheeks, the twitch of his heart anytime you look at him.

But fuck, if there isn’t something about you. Something in the way you move, the way you look at him. Something in the way you play with your straw, knocking ice cubes around and chewing on the plastic once you’ve drained the glass.

Something – though it’s a little too early and Joel’s a little too tipsy to tell just what. He tries to remember that he’s pragmatic. A grown-up. He chases away the monsters in his daughter’s –

“Oh, shit,” Joel says suddenly, scrambling to pull his cell from his pocket. It’s nine thirty. He was supposed to – “I forgot…”

A miserable tone from his Motorola cuts him short. The screen flashes an empty battery before fading to black. He jams a thumb into the keypad a couple more times, cursing at the winking symbol.

“Someone you gotta call?” you ask.

He meets your eye and winces. “Yeah, I’m…I said I’d call an hour ago.”

“You wanna use mine?” You twist around, fishing in your purse for your own. “We can go outside.”

“No, no, it’s…it’s alright, I’m sure she won’t mind, she –”

You shake your head. “Shut up. Come on, let’s go. I could use some fresh air, anyways. Be back in a minute,” you tell Brooke – who nods and turns straight back to Tommy.

Joel extends his hand to help you out of the booth, then follows you to the door. The cool air tugs every nerve in his body to attention, pin-sharp when he steps out of that lazy heat. Under the emerald glow of the Murphy’s sign, he settles his glass on a window ledge. “Next round’s on me, alright?”

You roll your eyes, pushing the phone against his chest. “Just call, Joel.”

One last apologetic glance, and then he’s dialing. He makes to wander along the curb, the tone already pulsing in his ear, when he notices –

“You ain’t brought a jacket?”

You’re sitting on the ledge, clutching your elbows. Swatting midges from the light you’re bathed in, charms on your bracelets jingling. “Hm?”

He tuts. “A jacket. Here.” He shrugs his own off, sitting it around your frame. It’s warm from the bar and from Joel’s body heat, and you sink into it – letting the dark leather drown you as you rummage through your purse again.

“Nice,” Joel’s eyes narrow, “Fresh air.”

You hum into your hands, flicking your lighter. The cigarette trembles when you murmur, “We all got our skeletons, I guess.”

He turns on his heel when a familiar voice picks up.

“Hey, hey, M–Yeah, sorry it’s late…Yeah, we got held up. My phone died, so I’m using…Is she still–? Can I–? Oh, Sarah. Hi, baby.”

His little girl begins chattering down the line immediately, telling Joel everything she’s been up to since they last spoke this morning.

“…and then, Emily thought I was one of the Armadillos – I don’t even know how, ‘cause they play in red, remember Dad? – but she did, and she slide tackled me so bad that Coach Thomson had to sub in Akari for me so I could ice my ankle. Grandma was kinda mad about it, but she took me to Burger King after to cheer me up, and…”

Joel wanders back and forth, smiling to himself and scuffing the heel of his boot along the concrete – barely able to squeeze more than two words between her chirping. It’s all, Yeah, baby? and Wow, sweetheart; all uhuhs and mhms until she finally quietens, excitement plateauing again.

“Alright, well. You know what time it is, right?”

“Yeah,” Sarah groans. She knows it all too well.

Bedtime.

“…But you didn’t call when you said you would, Daddy, and it’s Saturday, it’s –”

“I know, baby, I know. I’m sorry. Just…somethin’ came up. But I’ll see you tomorrow, right? We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Where’s Uncle Tommy? Can I talk to him?”

Joel turns to face the bar. “He, uh…I’m not with him right now, sweetheart. I’ll tell him you asked after him, though.”

Sarah concedes, and then begins asking questions Joel knows she’s only asking to stay on the line a little longer – to stay awake a little later. But still, he answers each one – humoring her and, at the same time, letting himself listen to her voice just a little more before he has to let her go.

He thinks of scooping her up in the morning; thinks of being slumped on the couch after dinner with her head on his stomach – fast asleep with whatever movie she chose droning on in the background.

Despite the thousands of miles and close to two weeks between them – she makes him feel closer to home. She always does.

When Sarah asks where he is, he glances your way. Clocks your flat expression, the half-burnt cigarette hanging from your fingers.

You flick ash to the ground. Eyes unreadable beneath low brows, a tiny crease between them that Joel’s only just seeing for the first time.

“Uh…” he clears his throat, “…just a little – a little north of you, baby. Home first thing, I promise.”

He tells her he loves her and she says it back, and he tells her to sleep well and she says that back, too. And then he’s hanging up – Alright, see you soon, bye, Sarah, bye-bye, byebyebye – and pressing his thumb into the red button.

He wanders back over to you – ears flat like a guilty dog, though he isn’t quite sure why. He mumbles a quiet thanks as he passes the phone back, then stuffs his hands in his pockets.

You lean back, ankles crossed, studying him. Swirling what’s left of the cigarette in your fingers – the smoke lifting like a winding snake to the dark sky. “So,” you pout, “What are you doing flirting with me, if you got a wife and kid back home?”

His jaw ticks, a hand coming up to scratch his beard. “I don’t have a wife,” he says.

You stare blankly, filter back against your lips. “Okay, then – a girlfriend. Does she know you’re out tonight with us?”

He shakes his head. “No wife, no girlfriend. I don’t have an anything.”

“But you have a kid.”

Joel nods once, tongue in his cheek. “Uhuh.”

And then the penny seems to drop. A small oh; your jaw slack and eyes wide. The cigarette smolders between your fingers. “Fuck,” you whisper, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“No, hey,” Joel steps closer, “You didn’t know. It’s alright.”

He straightens the jacket on your shoulders. When you finally look at each other again, you snort.

“Sorry,” you repeat, shaking your head. “Is she okay? Your daughter – is she…?”

“Sarah,” Joel says. “She’s…she’s fine. Thanks.”

You look down, stubbing your cigarette against the brick. Voice quiet, you ask, “Her mom’s not around anymore?”

Relief settles in his chest: you’re softening to him again.

Joel slots onto the ledge at your side. Shoulder to shoulder. He reaches behind and lifts his drink. “Not since she was a year old.”

Your mouth pulls in a wince. “Jesus. That’s rough.”

He doesn’t reply. He doesn’t have to – you’re not asking him to explain – and he doesn’t want to, either.

You’re not stupid – you’ve seen enough of the world to hear what he’s really saying. The darkest, dustiest corners of it – all the places no one ever wants to look.

You don’t seem disturbed, barely even moved by the reality that…well, shit happens. People leave, families break; a two-car driveway is suddenly taken up by just a pick-up truck and a little pink bike with tassels.

He figures you get it. You don’t need to know how can that be? – you just…know that it can.

“So, uh…” you look up at him again, “…my apartment is, like, five minutes away if you wanna…you know. You can charge your phone, can shower – if it’s bugging you that much.”

Joel’s eyebrows lift. “Oh, really?”

You simper, eyes thin. “Really.”

“Charge my phone ‘n shower?” He stands, palm flat against the wall above your head, and leans in. His face is inches from yours.

You look up, mirroring his expression. “Yes,” your voice curls in a half-truth, “What’s the big deal?”

“What a goddamn line,” Joel says, smirking. “How long you been sittin’ on that one for?”

His blood thrums faster, harder, louder in his veins when you stand up, hands on your hips.

“It’s not a line, I’m serious –”

“I didn’t take you as the type, baby, I really didn’t – but if that’s how you wanna play this, then –”

He feels you before he sees you moving, like he’s stood at that bar all over again. Your hands on his jaw, your chest pressed to his. Your lips – soft as satin, with a tinge of sweet rum and smoke – against his.

Joel barely misses a beat. He closes his eyes and lifts a hand to the back of your head, kissing you back. It’s dizzying, the taste and feel of you so close; the wet of your tongue on his. The little scratches of your nails in his beard, the moans caught in your throat.

Dizzying – and fucking perfect.

You break apart and lean in to each other, catching your breath. Joel’s hands slip beneath the heavy leather of his jacket onto your waist.

“Unless…” you whisper, pulling away from him, “…you don’t want to. In which case, I’ll just…” You twirl back towards the door, batting your eyelashes.

Joel smiles. He catches your wrist and reels you back into his body. “I want to,” he breathes, kissing you again. “I want to.”

“Let’s go.”

You make it to your apartment door, fumbling with your keys – and Joel’s hands are glued to your waist.

You miss the lock over and over as he kisses your neck, grazing the skin with his teeth. Anything to satiate the hunger quickly taking over, the tightening in his jeans.

He pulls you against his hips – rough denim grinding into the curve of your ass. He can smell your flowery perfume, a strange melding of peony and menthol sharp in his nostrils.

It’s the hungriest he’s ever felt, he thinks – a starved animal pinning his prey to her flecked apartment door. He pauses, bottom lip damp against your neck; breathing a liquor-laced laugh over your skin.

You jam the key into the lock. The door finally shunts open and you spill inside, dragging Joel with you.

Your place is dark. Angled strips of streetlight thrown high up the bare walls and across the ceiling, splintered by tilted shades. The spill of a blanket draped over an empty couch; a pair of sneakers left on the rug. Joel’s knees brush by a houseplant guarding the door – heavy leaves which pfft when they sway out of his way.

It’s half-decorated. Temporary. Caught somewhere between home and away. Little fragments pieced together into something the shape of home: a mosaic vase that scatters light across the surface of the coffee table; a beaded curtain pinned around the closet doorway.

Like you’re a little magpie, collecting trinkets of silver and gold until your nest feels like yours. Bags dropped long enough to keep a Monstera plant alive, not to put nails in the wall for the frames propped against the skirting board.

You shrug Joel’s jacket off, dropping it over the back of the couch. When you spin back around to him, he lifts your chin with two fingers and presses his lips to yours. You lead him down the hallway, tumbling into your room.

He follows you over to your bed, collapsing onto a tousled mess of sheets with his hips between yours. The hem of your dress rides up your thighs, bunching around your hips and revealing a flash of pink lace underneath.

The world around him seems to sober up for a second, sharpens into focus. It begins to seep in: the realization that he has you – some girl he met no more than two hours ago in a bar – pinned to your mattress. A slick gathering in your underwear and a weight building in his.

Right now, he should be sinking into squealing bedsprings in a Super 8. Bathing in the flicker of a television set twenty years too old. He should be showered and rested – ready to head home at sunrise, if not sooner.

But then something led him to you, and – well.

There’s no fucking helping him now, is there?

Joel’s fingers hook around your panties. He pulls down, leaving a trail of kisses along your bare leg, until that same pink lace is dripping from your ankle.

His eyes flash up to yours, love-drunk and sparkling. He pushes your knees apart, watching your velvet folds open for him, and – oh, he thinks, staring at the glistening arousal smeared around your cunt. Such a slick little mess for him already.

“Goddamn, darlin’,” he licks his lips, “She’s so pretty.”

You hum, hands lowering. Your fingers separate, spreading your pussy for him. Your middle finger swirls around your clit, dips along your seam. And the n, silky and shining, you lift your hand again and slip your fingers into your mouth.

“Tastes even better than she looks,” you murmur, dappling your fingertip along your bottom lip.

Joel growls. He pushes down on your thighs, ignoring your little yelp, and drags the tip of his tongue through your slit.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp, back arching. Your fingers knot in his hair, twisting and tightening. “Shitshitshit.”

“Mhm,” he hums against you, tongue pushing inside.

Fuck, you’re just so perfect: so soft and warm and fucking dripping for him. He laps at your sweet center, wet already spreading all over his mouth and beard.

A dampness blooms in his boxers. He’s throbbing, fucking aching the longer he goes untouched. He grinds against the mattress, denim rough against his solid erection.

He lifts his chin, panting – satisfied by the way you squirm under the weight of him. “You like that, huh?” he asks, a sodden kiss to your mound. “Fuckin’ love it.”

He spits a thick bead of saliva, watching it dribble down your folds to your ass. His tongue swipes it back up, circling your clit, all slippery and swollen.

“Fuck, Joel,” you moan, tugging on his hair. Your legs spasm, hips lifting.

He loves the sound of his name when you say it. Broken in two, a lilt to it as it rolls from your tongue and down his spine. Like it’s yours as much as it is his, now.

He sucks hard on your clit, his tongue flicking. And he can tell you’re close; can feel your hips starting to lose rhythm, see your back desperately arching higher and higher.

Joel groans, pushing up to hover over you. He cups between your legs, dabbing two thick fingers at your entrance, and pushes in.

Your pussy draws him in knuckle-deep. Your chest lifts, the loose neckline of your dress exposing more and more. You grab your breast, pinching your nipple – a roll of pebbled flesh between your fingertips.

He lowers his lips to your ear – watching as you toy with yourself. “Come on, baby,” he grits his teeth, “Give me one. Let me feel this pretty cunt.”

Your head rolls back into the pillow; a high sob as your orgasm crests. Clamping tight around him; a warm flood down his fingers.

Joel kisses you as you come. You look so pretty, he thinks, with ecstasy behind your eyes and his fingers between your legs.

Christ, he wants to be inside you so badly. Wants to feel your cunt do all this around his cock instead.

The blood rushes between his hips.

His fingers slip in and out, bringing you back around. Joel’s lips are on your neck, murmuring, “Good girl, that’s my girl,” as you resurface.

Your eyes open again – glossy, glazed with the aftershock of your high. “Fuck,” you breathe, playing with the hem of his shirt.

He pulls his fingers out and sucks them clean. Whips the tee over his head in one motion; another kiss tucked under your chin as you peel your dress from your body. He tosses it to the floor.

Still dazed, your body still trembling, you ask, “Do you have a condom?” All dreamy and distant, your hands trailing along his belt.

Joel pauses. Tilts his head, frowning. “I’m on a road trip with my brother, baby – the hell would I bring condoms for?”

You roll your eyes, sighing. It’s the cutest thing Joel thinks he’s ever seen. You thread the belt through the loops of his jeans. “In case you meet a really cool girl at a bar and wanna take her home, maybe?”

He lifts his eyebrows, impressed. He slips his salty tongue over yours again.

You moan at the taste. “It’s just I’m…I’m all out.”

His belt drops to the floor; buckle clinking against hardwood.

“Well, shit,” Joel whispers.

It’s not exactly a scenario he predicted, setting off from Austin. Meeting you wasn’t on the bucket list for the trip. It’s another three, four, probably five things to add to the list of shit he doesn’t do, shouldn’t do, wouldn’t fucking do if it hadn’t been for you.

No, Joel thinks, groaning as you palm the solid shape of him – he didn’t bring a goddamn condom. Jesus, the most he has in his pockets right now is fifteen bucks and a stick of gum.

You unzip his pants, shrugging the denim loose. “We can just do it…without,” you offer.

Joel stares down at you. “You sure?”

You nod, biting your lip. “Just pull out, right?”

“Just pull out…” he echoes. Your hands are cold on his heated skin, but he’s not about to fucking stop you.

You tug his underwear down with his jeans, following the darkening hair from his navel down. Another quiet pull out passes your lips – your voice dissolving when you spot the thick base of his dick.

Joel’s shaft springs free, heavy against the inside of his thigh.

“Holy shit.” You push yourself up on your elbows, eyes flooding black.

His tongue runs along the bottom of his teeth. He thrusts forward into your hand, a glassy drop of precome dribbling from his slit.

Your thumb swipes across his flushed tip, fingers wrapping around his width. You roll his balls in your other palm, massaging and squeezing just the right amount.

“Easy, easy,” Joel whispers. Too much, too soon. He can’t come yet, not until he feels your fluttering cunt around his cock.

Instead, you reach up – snaking an arm around his neck. You pull him back down, his naked body flush against yours, and hike a knee over his hip.

He grinds into you, his cock nudging between your legs. They fall apart for him – pliant and keen, like petals unfolding. He covers himself in your slick, his tip catching below your clit.

“Pl-ease,” you whine, scratching at his shoulders.

Joel nips at your damp neck. “Please, what?” he taunts.

Your breath is hot against his cheek – a stifling request which curls up in the shell of his ear. “F-fuck me.”

And his hips roll into yours.

“Jesus f…” your face buries into his chest, “…you’re…you’re so fucking big, Joel, I can’t –”

He nudges between your walls, groaning into your skin. You’re even tighter around his cock, even cozier. “I know,” he pants, “I know. Take it, baby, know you can take it.”

You stretch around him, opening up the deeper he pushes. “Fuckfuckfuck,” you pant, the thick hair at his base finally brushing against your clit. “Fuck, Joel.”

“Look at me,” he taps your jaw, “Hey. Look at me. Breathe.”

You exhale, hot and shaky across his lips.

“Good, that’s good.” Joel nods. He holds you by the waist, lets you adjust to his size.

He pulls back, your cunt clamping around him. Halfway out, and then in again. Feeling you open up, inch by inch, until he builds a steady rhythm.

“Jesus, baby, she’s so…” he moans, “…she’s so goddamn tight.”

You drape an arm over his shoulders, a hissing pain where your nails dig into his skin. Yelping each time he bottoms out, your leaking cunt wrapped snug around him. “So – goddamn – big,” you whine, a ruined smile on your lips.

He slams his body into yours again, watching the way your tits bounce. Nipples hard, skin tacky and shining with sweat. Your pussy pinches, and he starts to unravel.

Fuck the road trip, Joel thinks, fuck all of it. This is where he should be: in the middle of your bed, burrowed deep between your legs. This is the only place he wants to fucking be, right now.

So he fucks you harder; the headboard hammering against the wall. A fistful of the pillow, his knuckles whitening. He guides his cock when he slips out – a filthy sound as your clutch sucks him back in.

“Fuck,” he growls, gripping your hips so hard he worries he might bruise you. His thrusts become sloppy – quick and desperate.

“So close,” you gasp. You’re squeezing him so tight that he sees stars. “I’m gonna – I’m…”

Perfect, Joel thinks, watching you bloom. You’re so fucking perfect.

He coaxes you through it. Slows enough to feel you come around his cock, your warmth as it gushes all over him. “That’s it, baby, I got you. Shit, you’re gonna make me come.”

He pulls out just in time to coat your stomach; a throaty groan as he comes. He pumps his shaft, covering from your sternum to the plush of your tummy. It dribbles down your waist, spurts between your breasts.

He collapses over you, pressing his forehead to yours. His dick, soaked and softening, smears the ejaculate across your skin.

You giggle, leaving sticky kisses along his beard.

“You okay?” he asks, breathless.

You nod, and his tongue dabs at the inside of your lips. You taste like sex and sweat – sweet and salt.

Joel shifts to the edge of the bed. He feels you follow, your lips featherlight on the curve of his shoulder.

You make to stand – going to clean yourself up, he reckons, your tummy dripping with his semen – and he locks a hand around your bare thigh.

“Stay,” he says, voice low and rough – sex still smoldering. “Let me get you a towel.”

You smile, resting your chin on his shoulder. Your fingers link around the other side of his waist. “I’ll get it. Just relax.”

And for a minute or two, you stay like that. Hooked onto one another, tired eyes closing over, breathing in rhythm. Your cheek on his shoulder, your knee brushing against his tummy.

It’s simple; quiet and still. Joel feels like half a person – the other half tracing her chipped nails along his bare thigh. Eyelashes fluttering, teeth holding back a grin that she thinks might give her away.

Eventually, you move. Shimmy yourself down the mattress, swipe a crinkled tee from the ottoman – and slink off to the bathroom.

Joel lies back against the headboard, body sticky hot. He watches the shadow of your figure stretch across the open door. His eyes drift upwards to the looping ceiling fan – only half as dizzying as the sound of your humming in the next room.

And just when he starts to think he might be fucking missing you, you reappear in the doorway. Leant against the frame, some worn band tee hanging from your shoulders. Arms crossed; smiling back at him.

A rush of words floods to the tip of his tongue. You look beautiful. Your makeup’s smudged, chains of your necklace twisted; your shirt is frayed and splotched with faded stains – and you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

He holds his arms out and you prance over.

You crawl over his figure, kissing your way up to his lips, and then turn in his lap. Cradled against his broad chest, your head nuzzling into the dark threads of hair between his pecs. You clasp one of his hands in two of yours.

“Offer’s still there for a shower, if you want it,” you whisper, kissing the pads of his fingers.

Joel tilts his head, mumbling against your temple, “Will you be in there with me?”

You answer something shaped like a tease, just as sharp with wit – but he’s too busy watching your nails trace his open palm. Too distracted by the sweet scent of your skin: a fresh burst of fruit, singed with the edge of tobacco.

“What do you do for work?” you ask.

He makes some sort of sleepy sound – a grunt, a hm? into your skull. “Oh, uh – I’m a contractor,” he says.

Your chin lifts. “That why your palms are all…?” Your thumb strokes light as lace against his worn skin.

“Probably,” Joel admits. He draws shapes on your thigh with his free hand.

“Do you sand the wood with your bare hands, or somethin’?”

Joel scoffs. “Alright, alright. You liked my hands plenty, twenty minutes ago.”

Your cheeks lift, a low hum caught in your throat. You angle your head to let his lips trail along your shoulder, pressing into the hinge of your jaw. A dark nail following the landscape of Joel’s skin – each score and divot, the callused pads at the bottom of each finger.

“You have sorta…earth hands, I think.”

It sits in the air for a few seconds before Joel turns to you. “What?”

“Earth hands. Or, well – I guess they could be water, if you look at ‘em this way.” You open up his hand, fingers stretched. “I don’t really know. I’m still learning.”

He looks down at you. Feels the now-steady pulse of your heart on his sternum. “Learnin’…hands?”

You snort. “Palm reading, Joel.”

His brows draw tight. He licks the inside of his whiskey-stained cheek. “You’re into all that hippie sh…stuff?”

You knock your knuckles against his chest, still staring at his hands. The hills and their valleys, the ravine-like lines; the worn skin and hatch marks.

“Let’s see…Your heart line,” you whisper – more to yourself than Joel, but he’s listening all the same. “It’s pretty deep, which means the relationships you’ve had have been…important. But it’s kinda…it tails off right here, see? It’s broken. So…I guess they didn’t end too good.”

Joel raises an eyebrow – playful, encouraging your timid smile. Keep figuring me out, he thinks, stoking the curious flame behind your eyes. “Alright,” he says, “Now tell me something you didn’t already know about me.”

You gawk, holding his wrist up. “You don’t see that? The way it breaks up? I’m not bullshitting you, Joel, it’s –”

“Naw, I see it,” he nods, squinting a little at his palm, “Just – tell me more. What’s all these other lines mean?”

“Well,” you adjust between his hips, “you got your life line right here. Short, which means –”

“Don’t tell me that part.”

“No,” you roll your eyes, “It just means you’re independent. You never needed much from anyone. And it runs past this mount – these are called mounts – right here. Venus: all to do with love and sexuality.”

Joel holds your open palm next to his, comparing them. He takes less than a second’s look, lines his lips to your ear and says, “Seem like a pretty good match to me.”

You wriggle when he tickles your ribcage, trying to twist out of his grasp. You’re laughing again – the same laugh he’s been hearing all damn night. The same giggle that’s had his stomach somersaulting since he first heard it.

The room seems to light with it, this glow he feels from you – as if you’re the sun. Spent and still half-drunk; lazing with a stranger in the middle of her bed. Tracing the lines and scars on his palm, telling him how logical and grounded he’s supposed to be.

As if the world orbits around you – everything you touch turning to molten gold. And for what feels like the hundredth time tonight, Joel looks at you and wonders: Where the hell did you come from?

You hold your hand against his, folding your fingers perfectly together. The evidence of your night flaking from Joel’s knuckles; sweat still simmering on the nape of his neck.

He hasn’t done this for years. Hasn’t felt this gentle aftermath. It’s usually a rush, a hastened zip and clink of his pants. An awkward dance, plucking clothes from the bedroom floor and pacing back to his truck.

It’s never like this. Talking and laughing, holding and kissing. Questions about his parents and yours; his biggest dream as a kid, or the time you broke your arm falling out of a tree.

He tells you stories about growing up with Tommy; tells you Sarah’s favorite flavor of cake. He tells you about the time they tried to make it for a school bake sale, forgot to turn the oven off, and almost burned the damn kitchen down.

You snicker and tell him that never would’ve happened if you were there.

Yeah, well, Joel smiles, I wish you were.

He notices you’re drifting off, despite your slurred protests and your weak grip on his wrist. He pulls you under the covers, curving his body around yours, praying that the quickening drum of his heartbeat won’t wake you.

His nose nuzzles into the curve of your skull, his hands link in front of your tummy. And he wonders whether his body was made with yours in mind.

He glances out at the sky – light starting to bleed from the horizon – and wills the turn of the sun to slow. Only a little; just let him stay here a little while longer.

Just a little while.

Dawn forces her way in eventually – more unwelcome than ever before.

There’s a throb between his temples which swells to life when the light floods past his pupils. “Jesus Christ,” he grumbles, face turning back into the pillow. He gives you a gentle squeeze and then pushes up from the mattress.

You roll to the middle of the bed, still sound asleep. The sun spills golden all over the valleys and crests of your body. The bedsheets carve pathways up to your hips, dipping at your waist.

Last night, there was something so mystical about you – so otherworldly. Joel felt himself drawn towards you like a compass needle shooting north, the second he felt your weight crash against his spine.

A figure behind a cloud of smoke, like the mountaintops disappearing into a thick mist. And now, blood drained of alcohol, you’re just you.

Your shirt is twisted around your shoulders. Your lips puffy, mumbling to yourself in your doze. Makeup smudged like chalk under your eyes, and still – just as beautiful. Just as radiant as you were ten hours ago.

Joel rubs his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. He blinks down at his bare feet, the morning sharpening into focus. As he lifts his phone from the nightstand, the cable drops – hitting the wooden floor with a snap.

He pauses, shoulders hunched. Hears you stir over his shoulder, and turns around.

The earth of your body shifts beneath cotton hills, clouds of sleep clearing from behind your eyes. “Hey,” you whisper, voice pretty and broken.

A little bird in the palm of his hand – that magpie curled up in her nest of gems and trinkets.

“Hey.” He leans down and kisses your cheek. “Sorry, darlin’, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You wrap your arms around his wrist, tugging. “Are…are you…leaving?”

Joel feels a pang in his chest, and he doesn’t know why. He takes a deep breath. Your scent fills his lungs and steadies his heart. “I…” he sniffs, “…I gotta go home, baby.”

You give a slow and heavy nod. “S-Sarah…”

He strokes your head with his thumb. “Yeah. Shh, go back to sleep. It’s still early.”

He glances at his phone – it’s just after six. He knows Tommy will be waiting for him, parked outside the Super 8 and wondering where the hell Joel is. He knows Sarah will be, too – sat by the living room window, listening for the rumble of their bikes.

And still, he thinks – How do I fucking leave you? Leave this?

He shouldn’t even be entertaining the thought. He has a kid waiting for him back home; soccer practice, packed lunches, homework and bedtime stories. He has work to do, bills to pay, a roof to keep over their heads. It’s all waiting in Austin, two hundred miles away.

As though you can see the question flipping in his mind, you pull him closer. A weak finger in the palm of his hand, drawing circles. Your bleary gaze meets his, and you whisper, “In the next life.”

Joel smiles. Twelve hours ago, he’d have laughed at the idea of it. Now, he’s not so sure. He kisses your knuckles, muttering, “Promise.”

Another wave of sleep washes over you, and you’re gone again.

Joel pushes himself from the bed, reaching for his clothes. His back twinges as he stretches, pulling his T-shirt over his shoulders. He steps into his jeans; pinches his belt between two fingers and lifts it from the floor.

He leans over and tilts your shades the opposite way, dulling your bedroom. He unplugs the charger, neatly winds the cord, and sits it on your nightstand. He fixes his side of the sheets: folds them over the mattress, tucks them in at your back.

With a deep breath, he makes for the door.

His jaw turns, eyes still low. Your dress is in a heap at the foot of the bed; a tube of lip gloss lying next to it. He looks up, following the landscape of sheets – the slope from your ankle to your hip. Your hunched shoulders, your cheek smushed into the pillow.

If he looks too long, he’ll never leave.

The image burns golden into his eyes. He hopes for half a heartbeat that you’ll wake again and pull him back into bed. Kiss him all over, whisper something sharp and sweet in his ear. Touch him and graze him and wrap yourself around him – anchoring him right here and now.

But you don’t.

And Joel slips out of the room.

Jackson stirs to life over his shoulder.

A white lump in the snow-covered valley, the settlement seems so far away now. Tommy sets off up ahead, leading the way to the outpost. The blizzard is picking up – it almost swallows the silhouette of him whole.

Joel had tried to warn him: the weather would be too bad to see five feet in front of them, never mind any infected. But Tommy argued with the same determination that dragged the pair of them into that dive bar thirty years ago, and Joel didn’t have half the energy nor the will to argue back.

He’s thinking about you. He always is.

Your searing gaze over the rim of your glass; the weight of you against his chest. The tickling of your nail on his palm, severing each line and changing him forever. You and your palm lines.

You were just learning to read them. Joel didn’t know a thing about any of it, and he told you so. You took his hand in yours and said, Here. Let me see.

He runs a thumb down his fate line, swaying in time with his horse. And he shakes his head with a little smile – he still remembers which one is fate and which is heart.

He still remembers all of it. He has earth hands. All salt and soil and solid as stone. His earth hands have gotten him this far, right? Twenty-five years and he’s still here. Gray and grown; stiff joints and sewn-up scars.

His head line has channeled more strangers’ blood than Joel can count. Mounts that’ve stopped breath in the throat of any man who crossed him. He doesn’t think you’d recognize his hands anymore, if your fingertips traced over them again. Broken and bruised and bloody.

And he doesn’t think he’d want you to – doesn’t want you to meet the shadow of the man you knew back then. He’d prefer you remember that same brown-eyed, soft-touched stranger with enough charm and naivety to survive anything. No need for bone-breaking fists or bloodstained hands.

Where are you, he wonders?

The answer knots deep in his stomach: the same old rope twisting into the same old shape. A fist of anger, of guilt. Some terrible cocktail of both, spilling poison through his veins.

He’s terrified to wonder what might’ve happened if he had ever made it back there. What he might’ve found in your apartment – what he might not.

Where would you have gone, that day? Would you have fled, or would you have stayed?

You were smart, he knows that much. He saw the cogs of your mind turning right in front of him, standing opposite each other in that bar. Barely thirty seconds in and he could’ve sworn you had him all figured out.

But – oh, Jesus, you were kind. Open and willing to help a stranger with a dead phone and a tired smile. Would that kindness still glow as bright against the flicker of a world on fire?

A lone hawk swoops down before him, shooting straight between the pines. Joel slips his glove back over his freezing hand.

He thinks about you every day. Every fucking day, and it never eases. Never loosens. It keeps him up some nights – the truth he’s too afraid to look square in the face.

You live now in the back of his mind like a little ghost. His little ghost – still floating around that dusty city; the warm light of life and innocence still bright in your eyes.

Tommy glances over his shoulder. He gestures ahead as if to say, Would you take a look at this goddamn storm?

And Yeah, Joel thinks, I’m lookin’, brother.

All he wants is to go home. Jackson, Austin, the bedroom of your apartment in San Angelo. Just let me go back.

He blinks, and the snow melts to cracked asphalt under a lilac sunset. Tommy’s holding handlebars instead of reins. The horses’ hot puffs of breath darken to clouds of smoke, choking from the exhaust pipes of the Harleys.

You’re somewhere on the other side of town, waiting for him in the faint glow of a jukebox. Sipping what’s left of your rum and Coke, fishing a twenty from your purse for the next round.

Just let me go back home.

He tugs on his horse’s reins and pulls off after his brother.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

The Perfect Life || CL16 {3}

Summary: Charles is beginning to see the cracks in your facade and it only leads to more questions than answers in his quest to get to know you. Warnings: angst, swearing, sarcasm, abusive parents, flashback to Jules WC: 2.1k

One || Two || Three || Four

Ten Years Ago The nurses greeted you by name as you walked into the ICU ward with a book in your hands and your school backpack slung over one shoulder. For the last six months you had visited your friend twice a week and learned the names of all the staff while you sat at his side. 

“I have the new, unreleased, Jack Reacher,” you said as you took your seat between the bed and the window. The only other sounds in the room were the quiet whoosh of the ventilator and the rhythmic beat of the heart monitor. “Father knows the Editor at Bantam Press.”

You dumped your bag on the floor and opened the novel. The action thriller wasn’t something you would choose yourself but Jules had liked the series so you read it aloud. The neurologists seemed to think it could help him and the psychiatrists seemed to think it could help you.

“Moving a guy as big as Keever wasn’t easy,” you began the story. Time slipped away as you turned each page and you were so engrossed in the words that you didn’t notice your phone vibrating in your bag. You were late to your piano lesson, but more importantly someone else was arriving for his weekly visit.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Charles snapped as he breezed into the room and crossed his arms. 

“Same as you, visiting,” you murmured as you packed your bag up, leaving the novel on the table that had a vase of fresh flowers. You touched Jules’ hand with a silent farewell and kept your eyes low as you made your escape. 

You were almost to the door when an arm blocked your way. “Don’t come back again,” Charles growled. 

Your fists clenched at your sides as you dared to lift your head and meet his glare. “He is my friend too.”

Charles rolled his eyes. “You’re just a stupid little girl. He avoids you because he finds you annoying.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about.”

“I know he wouldn’t want you here.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded because he was probably right. That was the last time you visited Jules, and the first time you truly hated Charles. 

“That was harsh,” Lorenzo stated as you passed by on your way out of the room. 

Charles waited for the door to close before he asked his eldest brother, “Were they friends?”

Lorenzo chewed his lip and shrugged. “They weren’t friends,” he admitted and Charles turned his back with a scoff as he made his way to Jules, missing the quiet confession tacked on to the end, “They were closer than that.” 

You had been so furious when you left the hospital that you smashed your fist into a wall in the car park where your driver was waiting. 

“Phew, that’s quite the punch you pack, little lady,” a stranger had chuckled between the drags he took on his cigarette. “With a bit of training you could do some serious damage.”

You looked at the blood running over your knuckles but you were numb to the pain. “I like damage,” you commented quietly. “Do you know any trainers?”

Present Day Charles drove along the scenic coastal road towards Saint Tropez rather than the faster highways. He lowered the windows and donned a pair of sunglasses as the breeze whipped his dark hair back. Everything about his ostentatious image screamed old money until he smiled and it was too carefree. Old money didn’t show such emotion, your mother said it was uncouth to feel anything except superiority. Those weren’t her exact words but it was the gist of the conversation.

“You frown too much,” he commented as he handed you his phone. 

“I hardly have anything to smile about.”

“For starters, we escaped that - whatever that was, because it certainly wasn’t charitable. And now you are in control of the music. I think that is enough for a little smile.”

You tossed his phone back on his lap and turned your attention back to the waves breaking against the rocks. “I don’t listen to music.”

“Everyone listens to music.” 

He fiddled with the stereo and the slow melodic beginning to Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata filled the car. Each note sent echoes of pain shooting through your fingertips and you closed your hands as they began to shake. Your knuckles throbbed with the memory of sitting before your mother and reciting the classical greats you had been made to learn. You were constantly showcased to her friends, placed on a pedestal to flaunt skills that had no real purpose other than to illustrate the other families' mediocrities.

Until you made a mistake. 

You flinched as the allegretto movement began and your hands snapped close to your chest as you felt the piano lid come slamming down on them again. It was like falling in a dream and startling as you woke up. Charles was watching carefully as you found yourself back in the leather seat and not the velvet bench.

“Turn it off.”

He hit a button on his steering wheel and silence descended in the small space. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.” 

Charles thankfully let it go and concentrated on driving to Monaco. You didn’t even bother to argue with him when he passed around the outskirts of Nice without stopping, you had found a small distraction by making shapes out of the clouds. It was only when he slowed to drive through the signature winding street that passed the casino that you looked down at your chiffon gown and frowned. “I am overdressed, even for this place.”

“You can wear something of mine.”

“No thanks,” you said, quickly shutting down the offer with a shake of your head. You grabbed your phone from your clutch and sent a quick message to Arthur. “I have some spare clothes at your brother’s place, we can just pick them up.”

Charles’ brow lifted. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to stay in this dress all afternoon?”

“No, why do you have clothes at Arthur’s?”

“For when I stay there, obviously. Do you think I stay in a hotel here?” You rolled your eyes. “No, wait, you probably thought ‘Daddy bought me a penthouse’.”

He had the good sense to look guilty but it also confirmed your suspicion. 

You knew the small city almost as well as Nice and found your bearings as he made his way to Arthur’s apartment complex. It wasn’t far from Charles’ but you had never been there, Arthur had just pointed it out on one of the many outings into the city. 

“You have a key too?” Charles asked as you unlocked Arthur’s door instead of knocking.

“You’re starting to sound a little jealous now.” The door swung open and Arthur waved as you shot past the sofa he was relaxing on and ducked into his bedroom to change into a pair of leggings and one of his old Prema shirts.

“Who’s jealous?” he asked as you flopped down beside him and used his thighs as a pillow. 

You draped a hand over your forehead and sighed dramatically. “Your brother is madly in love with me, but he can’t get over how close we are, Tur. There may be a duel at dawn, ready your pistols and kiss your mother in case it is the last time.”

“You really need a nap don’t you,” Arthur teased. His fingers carefully plucked the bobby pins from your hair and Charles watched on silently as the haunted look that had been in your eyes the entire ride faded away. “Dare I ask why you are here? You didn’t kidnap her did you?”

“I’d probably be floating facedown in the riviera if I tried that,” Charles replied with an indignant snort. “She voluntarily got into my car.”

“Ah, that’s progress, I suppose.”

“It was the lesser of two evils,” you corrected as you closed your eyes. The late night was beginning to catch up with you and a yawn cracked your jaw before a soft blanket fell over you. “Mm, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Your brain hadn’t realised Arthur’s hands were still busy and the voice came from the blanket box where Charles had stood. Rather than question the goodwill, it was easier to pretend he hadn’t been nice because it was starting to really confuse you. 

“Did your genius brother tell you his plan?” you asked as you shifted around until you were comfy and looked up at your best friend. 

“He may have mentioned it on the drive home last night,” Arthur said. “Honestly, it was all he talked about.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.” Arthur turned his attention back to you. “Are you actually considering it?”

You barked a laugh that was a big enough ‘no’ but followed it up with, “Absolutely not. It wouldn’t even work anyway.”

“Why not?” Charles asked, taking a seat in the armchair opposite.

“No offence, but what do you bring to the table? Outside of F1 your name doesn’t mean anything.”

Growing up in Monaco where one in three people were millionaires, Charles wasn’t blind to reality, he knew first hand how elitist the ‘old money’ families were. “So why marry Jules?” 

You heard the pain that one question held and sighed as you sat up, woefully abandoning the idea of sleep. Charles didn’t like how the question made him sound petulant, or that he was somehow a better choice than Jules was - he didn’t think that at all, he just couldn’t understand why the plan wouldn’t work.

“It wasn’t about Jules. You forget that while he raced under the French flag the Bianchi’s came from Milan. The Italian market is one Father wants to break into.” You got up and went to the kitchen, pouring yourself a glass of Prosecco from the fridge. It was a little flat after being open a few days and you swirled the drink around, watching the bubbles rise to the surface. “Father’s five year plan was for Jules to win a championship with Ferrari, cementing the name back into Italian households, and then train his new son-in-law to join the family business.” 

The silence was heavy but Charles eventually recovered from staring out the window deep in thought. “Did Jules know this?”

“He knew enough.”

“What does that even mean?”

“He knew he was important enough to blackmail my father, kind of ballsy if you ask me, but it worked. Jules threatened to quit racing if he revoked the funding for your driving academy.” You drank down the Prosecco in a few unladylike gulps before refilling it as the bitterness in your belly grew. “Must have been nice to have someone fight all your battles.”

“I’m trying to help you now, but you’re being stubborn,” Charles said as he crossed the room and took the bottle away. “I don’t understand why.”

“You don’t understand? Maybe it’s because you treated me like shit for years and I can’t trust you.”

“I thought Jules didn’t like you, I figured it had to be for a good reason.”

“No, you figured you could judge me without even trying to get to know me. That’s pretty fucking shitty, but you know what? I’ve come to expect it from everyone. The only person that’s ever treated me like a fucking human being is sitting right there.”

Charles followed the angry point of your finger to his brother and sighed. “I can’t change the past, okay, but I am trying to make up for it now. Please, just let me help you, it’s the least I can do - for you and for Jules. It’s just a job.”

You crossed your arms and tipped your chin back to look him in the eyes. “What makes you think I would even protect you? I could let you get mobbed and point them in the right direction.”

Charles smiled and you realised you were no longer impervious to the fact he was quite handsome but it was his words that shocked you more. “Because I believe you’re better than that.”

“That might be your biggest mistake.”

Charles held his hand out. “We will have to test it and see. Deal?”

You looked at Arthur and so much hope filled his face it was impossible to stomach the idea of watching it fall away. So, you shook Charles’ hand and swore you heard Jules’ laugh in the seagulls' cries. Yeah, he would probably be laughing, he always laughed when you made a mistake. 

“There’s no use crying, lapinette, might as well laugh and learn,” Jules would say.

You only wondered just how bad this latest lesson in the school of hard-knocks would be.

Part Four.

[trikaranos]

TRIKARANOS CHAPTER I: S·T·T·L

TRIKARANOS is a dramatized narrative based on ancient events following Crassus (and Pompey and Caesar) through the years 87-48 BCE. Intended for an adult audience.

⭐ Trikaranos will always be free to read. In the near future, you’ll have the option to support this comic & my ability to spend time making it (I Am Extremely Fucking Broke And Have Bills To Pay etc etc) through Patreon! currently, I have a tip jar!

⭐ There is no set update schedule (chapters vary in length and will be posted as I finish working on them)

⭐ alternative places to read it (coming soon!)

CREDITS all additional art used are in the public domain, and the specific images used are open access, etc

🍊the first collage panel is combination of: Plate 113: Greeks Battling the Trojans (from Ovid's Metamorphoses), Antonio Tempesta / The Trojans pulling the wooden horse into the city, Giulio Bonasone (after Francesco Primaticcio) / Terracotta hydria displaying Achilles waiting to ambush Triolos and Polyxena 🍊the second collage panel is: The Lictors bringing Brutus the bodies of his Sons, Jacques Louis David / the paint over of Brutus executing is own sons is my own work based on the composition of this relief of Brutus and condemning his sons to death. 🍊I also used my own art: a panel from the Prologue, and my own illustration of Brutus with the bodies of his sons

📖 PREVIOUS CHAPTER | START HERE | ToC (under construction!)

UNDER THE CUT creator’s commentary, ancient citations, whatever else seems relevant. ideally, this is optional! you shouldn’t need the citations for it to make sense as it unfolds since it’s a comic and a story first and foremost, but it’s here if you’re curious about something or want to see where the inspiration is coming from!

I'm so fucking normal about Crassus and his family (<<< this is a lie)

Marcus Crassus was the son of a man who had been censor and had enjoyed a triumph; but he was reared in a small house with two brothers. His brothers were married while their parents were still alive, and all shared the same table, which seems to have been the chief reason why Crassus was temperate and moderate in his manner of life. When one of his brothers died, Crassus took the widow to wife, and had his children by her, and in these relations also he lived as well-ordered a life as any Roman.

Plutarch, Crassus

like, it actively fucks me up that this is something that's survived about him for over 2,000 years. they all ate together at the same table. Jesus Christ.

so! Crassus' dad! Publius Licinius Crassus (consul 97) fought on the side of Cn. Octavius (consul 87) in the Bellum Octavianum, and it didn't go great for him.

Crassus: A Political Biography, B.A. Marshall

also. currently, if you look Publius Licinius Crassus up on wikipedia for an overview, his page lists his son (and also my main character for this comic) with the cognomen Dives, which is in-fucking-correct.

Marcus Crassus and the Late Roman Republic, Allen Mason Ward

and to circle back to houses and meals shared with family, some citations that made me feel some kind of way when I read them

Marcus Crassus and the Late Roman Republic, Allen Mason Ward

finally, there is discourse or whatever on the placement of the sons of Publius Licinius Crassus. Crassus is the baby brother here simply because I'm writing this story and I get to pick the themes, but also because no one has provided a solid enough argument for him being the second eldest son that I'm willing to buy into with enthusiasm, and I'm more inclined towards G. Sampson's conclusion on the matter.

Defeat of Rome: Crassus, Carrhae, and the Invasion of the East, Gareth C. Sampson

and while I'm just kind of talking about stuff that I read that I enjoyed, this article by Martin Stone lives in my head rent free

A Year of One's Own: Dating the Praetorship of Marcus Crassus, Martin Stone

[satorusugurugurl]

i love ur work sosososisoso much <33 thank y for sharing ur writing ahh!!! could i request a satosugu fic where toru gets punished by sugu and reader??! maybe for like.. getting off alone or flirting w someone else?

Summary: You and Geto went to a local bookstore, leaving Gojo to fend for himself at home. It’s not like the two of you didn’t invite your boyfriend to join you on your outing. But shopping for books, of all things, didn’t spark his interest. But as the boredom of being alone settles in his bones, he decides to do the only thing that sounds remotely fun. Beating his meat.

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x FAB!Reader x Geto Suguru

Word Count: 2,876

Warning: Masturbation, cursing, oral sex, degrading, edging, smut, creampies, holy

A/N: Anon thank you so so much for the sweet words! I'm glad you're enjoying my stories! ❤️❤️❤️🥹This gave me brain worms and I just had to write it! Two of my weaknesses are SatoSugu x Reader and masturbation.

Lazy Sunday Afternoon

”Are you positive you don’t want to come with us?” Suguru questioned, cocking an eyebrow at his white-haired boyfriend. “We were thinking about stopping for lunch after.”

”Nah.” Satoru is leaning against the wall, watching as you tie your tennis shoes. “The idea of a crowded bookstore makes my skin crawl. Plus, that's you guys’ thing. Books and reading.” He shrugged his shoulders lazily.

You hooked your arm through Suguru’s, leaning your head against his upper arm. “Okay, do you want us to bring you anything home?”

”Nope, have a good time. I’ll see you when you get back.” He waved his partners off with a smile before heading back to the living room to enjoy his Sunday afternoon.

The first hour was fun, trashy reality television, and the cupcakes you had made the previous day. Thirty minutes later, he groaned, flipping through Netflix to try to find something, anything to watch. Two hours into being alone, all by himself, Satoru groaned as he started to regret his decision to stay behind.

The apartment was so quiet and lonely with you or Suguru there. The room wasn’t as bright and full of the life it usually radiated. Jeez, was this what his life had been like before the three of you had gotten together two years ago? He was so used to going on dates, cooking food, and just existing in each other's presence now. What had he used to do in his tiny dorm when he was alone?

He would eat take-out, play on his phone, and jerk off to porn videos on Twitter.

Satoru sat up straight, a grin slowly tugging at his mouth. Yeah, he used to jerk off constantly. Since you three got together, he didn’t need to please himself. Seeing as either you were sucking him off, or Suguru was giving him a handy in the shower. It was like heaven, being able to experience pleasure with the two of you.

But thinking about wrapping his hand around his cock, going at his own pace, had him throbbing with excitement. You and Suguru wouldn’t be back for a bit. When you two shopped for books, you shopped—going down each aisle, flipping through pages, geeking out over your favorite series. He had plenty of time to jerk off and recover in case things got heated once his two partners returned home.

Leaning back onto the couch, Satoru turned the television to some random movie on Netflix. Mostly for background noise, and if you two were to come home in the middle of his solo session, this might cover him until he could readjust himself. With his eyes on the screen, Satoru slowly began rubbing his cock through his gray sweatpants. Up and down, just warming himself up.

Gojo was surprised that he was as hard as he was already. Was it the excitement of possibly getting caught or just that he hadn’t pleased himself in so long? Whatever the case, maybe he could care less. All that he could focus on with the warmth that was beginning to settle in his groin as he pushed his sweats down to his upper thigh to free his cock.

It was so hard, standing at attention with a slight twitch. “Oooh fuck.” Satoru pulled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Fuck, I’m so hard.” He spit into his hand before wrapping his bare palm around his shaft.

His hand slowly began moving up and down, coating his length with spit. He squeezed himself harder with each stroke. He was imagining it as you or Suguru’s hand. Both are so warm but different. Suguru’s hand was larger, more calloused. Y/N’s hand was smaller, more delicate, and her manicured nails always looked o pretty around his cock. The faster he moved his hand, the more the television sounded like white noise as his mind swam around his two partners.

Satoru found himself mimicking the movements you and Suguru would do. He gripped himself tight, like Suguru, stroking fast and hard. When he reached his tip, his pointer finger would tease his slit that beaded thick droplets of pe-cum, as your smaller hand would do so gracefully. Imagining his two partners worshiping his cock, was better jerk-off material than any porn video.

“Mmm, ooh fuck me.” Satoru’s hand squeezed his thick length hard, his hand moving faster. “That’s it, Y/N, just like that, Sugu.” Looking at his cock through his lashes, he gritted his teeth. His tip was leaking pre-cum, his balls were tightening as he felt himself getting closer and closer to cumming. “I’m so fucking close, so close, don’t stop.”

Grabbing his shirt, he placed the hem of it between his teeth. The last thing he wanted was to get cum all over it. Having a new shirt on when you two got back would be hard to explain, seeing as he stayed home alone. It would be much better to paint his stomach. It would be easier to clean up that way.

“Nnngh, fuck.” Satoru’s muffled moans grew louder, his cock twitching harder under each stroke of his hand. “Fuck yes, fuck yes.” The familiar burning coil in his abdomen tightened, and he never heard the door unlock. “Fuck, gonna cum—“ And tightened as his partners called his names. “Gonna cum, gonna cum!” And tightened before it snapped as Y/N and Suguru walked into the living room. “Cumming fuck! Fuck!”

Satoru jerked his wrist frantically. Ropes of hot cum coat his hand, stomach, and chest. His pace finally began to slow as his cock started to soften in his hand, his white seed shining under the sunlight flooding the room. Fuck, he didn’t realize how much he missed jerking off. Especially since he had the two hottest people starring in his dirty mind.

In the afterglow, Satoru lazily looked towards the end table in search of a tissue. To his horror, he found the two of you watching him. Your jaw dropped, cheeks flushed, as Suguru ran a hand over his mouth, dark eyes glued to the cum on his stomach. The three of you basked in the silence before Satoru quickly wiped at his cum.

“W-Welcome home!” He shouted, doing everything he could to avoid eye contact with either of you. “I didn’t hear you guys come in.”

Suguru chuckled darkly, his eyes narrowing. “Yeah? Maybe that’s because we were too busy listening to you cumming.” All attempts to finish cleaning himself came to a halt at Suguru’s words.

”I well, I gu—“

”There’s no denying it, Toru.” You joined in; faux sadness etched onto your features. “We caught you red-handed.” Your pout was adorable as you looked up at Suguru. “This is why he didn’t want to come with us Sugu.”

“Mhmm,” Suguru gently stroked your Y/H/C, “and to think we felt so bad for not including him. We stood in line for forty minutes at the cafe to get him the chocolate cake they're famous for.” Gojo swallowed as you lifted a bag with the cafe's name to emphasize Suguru’s words.

Slowly getting up on noodle legs from his orgasm, Satoru started walking towards you both. “It wasn’t like that. I just got bored. It’s not like I plotted to stay here to jerk off without the two of you.” The annoyance on both of your faces made him cringe. “I appreciate you guys thinking of me!” His hands reached for the bag, only for you to yank it away. “Oh, come on!” Satoru Gojo pouted, his eyes darting between you and Suguru.

“Huh, funny you did cum, on yourself.” Suguru barked out a laugh at your words. “And you didn’t even let me lick it off. I think that’s what hurt the most.”

”Y/N has a point, Satoru. You cleaned it all off right in front of her.” Suguru took the bag from you and placed it on the breakfast bar. “You know how much she loves our cum. My poor Princess.” You sniffled as Suguru pulled you tight against his side. ”Satoru has been a very bad boy, hasn’t he Y/N?”

”He has.”

Gojo ran both his hands through his hair with a sigh. “I’m sorry, guys. Is there any way that I can make it up to you?” Instant regret settled over him like cold rain. Both you and Suguru’s eyes darkened as sinister smirks tugged at your mouths. “Oh, oh fuck, please wait, have mercy.” He held both hands up, but he wasn’t fast enough to stop you from pouncing on him like a spider monkey.

Hours later, the automatic timer on the living room light came on. Illuminating the lewd scene in front of Satoru. You were facing him. Your back firmly pressed against Suguru’s chest as you rocked back and forth on his cock. Suguru’s hair was falling out of its bun, dark strands sticking out here and there, clinging to his skin. His lips were against the crook of your neck, biting and sucking at your skin. His actions made you whimper softly as you rode him faster.

Satoru wanted to join in, to get onto the floor and drag his tongue up Sugurus length, all the way to your clit. He hated being in the recliner across from you, his hand jerking at his cock. Fuck, you guys didn’t even let him get completely naked. He still had his sweats on and spit-damp shirt clenched between his teeth. He understood this was a punishment for jerking off and getting caught. He had to watch you two, and he'd already cum three times. But this was getting to be just cruel at this point. He wanted to join in!

Instead, you watched him, smirking at the flush dusting his cheeks and neck. The tears that formed in his oh-so-pretty blue eyes, and the way he fisted his cock to another orgasm. Arching your back, you gasped, Suguru’s tip hitting your G-spot as he bit your shoulder. Your arm reached over your head, fingers fisting in his hair. The sight of you getting closer to the edge made Satoru want to join in even more. If he could just get his lips around your clit, he knew you would squirt all over his face.

”Guys, pwease!” The cloth muffled Satoru’s words in his mouth. “I wanna help!”

You chuckled in between soft moans. “Sugu~nngh oh shit,” You watched as Suguru reached a hand around your waist, palming your thigh. “He wants to help~!” You laughed breathlessly as Suguru hummed, his voice vibrating against your sensitive skin

”Satoru,” your white-haired boyfriend perked up, “you wanted to jerk off so bad when we were gone. So you’re going to keep jerking off until we say otherwise. Dirty man whores don’t get rewarded.” Suguru’s hand, which Satoru wished was around his cock, slowly slid up to your clit. “Good fuckin’ sluts, like our sweet Y/N here, they get what they ask for.” You whined, your hand tugging at his hair. “Mmm fuck, baby tell me what my good girl wants~ yeah, be a good example to Satoru?”

”I wanna cum Sugu.” You whimpered, turning your head to face him.

He grinned, pressing a heated kiss to your lips. “You wanna cum?” You nodded your head, kissing him harder. “Go ahead, sweet girl, cum for me, Y/N.” His fingers rubbed circles around your cock. “That’s it; I feel you clenching cum on. Let it out, princess.” His gaze darted down, watching as you squirted hard.

“No, no, no,” Satoru whined like a spoiled brat. “I wanted to taste her cum!”

You were trembling, still coming down from your orgasm. Once you could form words, you tilted your head to the side. “See why we were so disappointed in you?” Suguru slowed his pace, his still-hard cock gently sliding into you. “I wanted to clean you up, but you used a tissue. I think I’ll clean up my mess the same way slut.” Suguru groaned, his cock twitching at your dirty fucking words.

“No! Please don’t. I’ll clean it up!”

”Oh, will you?”

”Yes.”

”And how will you clean up Y/N‘s cum Satoru?” Suguru asked as you slowly began rocking back and forth on his cock.

The two of you watched as your partner stood, his cum coated chest and stomach heaving as he looked to the floor. There was a dark, needy look in his eyes, one a person would only see in a feral animal. You didn’t know what to expect. For him to grab tissues to clean it, like he had done to himself. Him dropping to his knees was something you nor Suguru had anticipated. With bated breath, you watched Satoru slowly slide onto his stomach, his eyes on yours as he stuck his tongue out.

“Holy fuckin’ shit.” Suguru’s cock throbbed harder inside of you as he watched Satoru lick and suck at your cum off the floor. Like some kind of desperate animal. Never once did he break eye contact. His tongue and lips kept moving, cleaning Y/N's essence off the floor in the most vulgar way. “T-That, fuck, Y/N wh—“

“Such a good boy.” You finished for Suguru. Your tight cunt twitched at the sight. “Cleaning up my cum like the horny dog you are.”

Satoru sat on his knees. If he had a tail, it would be wagging at your praises. “Yeah? I did good. Am I forgiven? Do I get to join in now? Please!” He watched Suguru’s face scrunch up as Y/N bounced faster and harder onto his cock.

”Hmm, Suguru, what do you think?” You asked, feeling another orgasm coming close as Suguru's hands gripped your hips, thrusting up into you.

”Let that dirty slut help. I wanna watch him lick your clit like he just did to the floor.”

Before you could change your mind, Satoru leaped into action. He was positioning himself between both of your legs. His tongue immediately went to work, sucking and lapping at your clit like a madman. The sudden added friction had you rocking faster, trying to feel more of his mouth on your sensitive sex. While Geto slammed up into you, chasing his release while driving you to your own.

Watching you both with lust-filled eyes, Satoru started jerking his cock once more. Fat and hard tugged as he took your clit in between his lips, suckling the bud as hard as he possibly could. That was all you needed to send you tumbling over the edge. You screamed so loud you were sure the neighbors would file a noise complaint against you again. Not that you cared as you felt Suguru’s chest heave as he buried his cock inside of you as he filled you to the brim with cum.

Thank fuck Suguru had been right against your g-spot. Because Satoru was bleed to have you squirt in his face. The sweet, tangy taste of you flooded his mouth. He sucked at your lips, tasting both your sweetness and Suguru’s slightly salty bitterness. Like a well-crafted treat just for him. The taste of you both combined had his hand stroking his dick, desperate to cum for the fourth time that day.

In the afterglow, Suguru grunted, kicking Satoru’s thigh with his foot. “Idiot, don’t forget what we just told you.” His best friend slowly smirked as you stuck your tongue out in between pants. “Don’t waste your cum.”

Not needing to be told twice, Satoru jumped to his feet, stroking his cock in front of your face. Only his hand was swatted away, replaced with Suguru’s. The sudden change of hand and pace had Satoru whimpering like the horny fucking dog he was.

“That’s it, Satoru,” Suguru purred, stroking faster, “cum on her face like a good boy.”

That sent your white-haired boyfriend right over the edge. Tears ran down his cheeks as he watched his load, which would most likely be his last for today, spurt over your tongue, chin, and the tip of your nose. You looked so pretty, cock drunk, glazed in his cum. It had him crying out in pained pleasure.

When the last waves of his orgasm faded, Satoru stumbled. Both you and Geto grabbed his arms, slowly easing him to rest on the couch next to the two of you. He gasped, his eyes shut, in post-orgasm bliss. You couldn’t help but smile, gently stroking his hair. Suguru kept himself inside of you, kissing your neck lovingly and putting the footrest up. You and your boyfriend relaxed in the silence until Satoru’s soft snores could be heard.

It's a perfect way for you to end a wonderful Sunday.

[number1jeonginstan]

Hiii!! I saw you take requests! I was wondering if could request something.

Really sweet sex with Chan x fem! Reader. You go out to a fancy party he needs to be seen at. He helps you into your dress and zips it up for you, he applies your mascara. Once they get back from the party, he just wants to show his love, you know? Really sweet sex with chan where he’s super gentle and sweet. I don’t have any preferences for that other than that at some point, he eats us out.

Also, can I be 🌻 anon?

-🌻

A/N: You gave me too much liberty with this fic. Something about Chan in a suit just makes me wanna go feral! I made it so he cough proposes cough because what’s cuter than that? Nothing! Anyway, I had so much fun writing this, it’s my longest fic to date and I’m so proud of it so I hope you like it and it does you justice! It just makes me so happy when people enjoy my writing!

WC: 3.5k (I genuinely asked myself what the fuck I was on when I saw that I wrote over 7 pages… this is the longest thing I’ve ever written)

Minors don't interact, 18+

Pairing: Non!Idol Bangchan x Gf(to a little more?)afab!reader

Warning: Tooth rotting fluff, like I felt like my teeth were falling out while writing this because I tried making it hella cute! Unprotected sex (Is it really one of my stories if they don’t have an underlying breeding kink?) 

“Hey babe, can you please help me zip this up?” you ran into your and Chan’s shared bedroom wearing a black tight-fighting sparkly dress. You guys were attending the Grammy’s where Chan was being nominated for best producer and songwriter. He was dressed head to toe in Givenchy, wearing a full black look. “Fuck baby, you look amazing,” he said while coming behind you and zipping your dress. 

He kissed your shoulder, his face falling into the crook of your neck. “So do you,” you said, turning around to admire him. He had kept his hair natural, his curls framing his forehead. “I’m so proud of you!” 

You kissed his lips, your lipstick slightly rubbing onto his, making his lips look red. “I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve achieved.” Chan had worked so hard to get to where he was in life and you would be stupid not to admit that. You know the time and effort he put into his work and you want him to see that what he has done has not been futile. 

You wanted to see him up on that stage, receiving the award that he has been working the last 7 years for. His close friends, Jisung and Changbin, were also going to be there, rooting him on. “We should get going, we don’t want to be late to you winning that award” you gave him a grin. 

“Babe, there are so many other more talented artists that are up for that award, I don’t think I’m going to win.” He groaned, following suit behind you, picking up your car keys from the counter. 

You stopped him mid-in his tracks. “Are you fucking kidding me?” you turned him around, forcing him to face you. “You are so talented and need to stop looking down at yourself” You fixed his tie, “You are going to win and then when we get home I’m gonna give you a reward.” You walked away from him quickly, hearing him jog to catch up to you. 

“And what would that reward be?” grabbing your waist as you were getting out of the door. “Now that is a surprise.” 

You both finally got into his car, you in the passenger seat while his right hand gripped your thigh, the other on the wheel. It was a comfortable silence, while you zoned out, looking out the window, he occasionally looked at you. He grinned to himself, what would he do without you. 

When you finally arrived at the show, you told him to walk the red carpet alone. “They don’t know who I am, but they need to know you, so please just go.” He wouldn’t budge, “I’m not going without you, I would rather turn around and go home. Jisung or Bin can represent me instead.” 

You groaned out loud, “Why, this is your moment, you should do this by yourself.” He stopped you mid-sentence. “This is our moment, I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for you, so we are going together or not at all. “Fine, let’s go together superstar” you giggled into his ear, eliciting a laugh from him. 

You guys walked through the red carpet, cameras flashing all around you. You felt like you were going blind, but for Chan, it was second nature. Someone had called him over and he dragged you along with him. 

“So Chris, tell us what you are dressed in. If I may say, you look quite dapper.” The reporter stated, causing Chan to laugh a bit. “My girlfriend and I” he wrapped his hand around your hip, pulling you closer to him “are both wearing Givenchy.”  

“Wow, can I say, you both look beautiful, but now on to the serious question. How does it feel to be nominated for a Grammy? 

“I feel great, I’m so thankful to all my fans for putting me in the position where I can make music that they enjoy. I am also thankful for my family, friends, and most of all my girlfriend for always being there for me, giving me constant support, and dealing with my constant all-nighters” he poked your cheek, “to help me get to where I am and do what I love.” 

“Wow, well thank you so much for your time, I wish you the best of luck and I hope the two of you have an amazing night!” 

You both waved the reporter goodbye, wishing her a good rest of her night. You both walked around a bit, meeting big names and saying hi. Looking around Chris could feel the effort he’s been putting in for the past few years. 

The all-nighters, the never coming home, the days where he forgot dates with you or anniversaries. You stood beside him through all of it, you were the one that was constantly supporting him, and that’s why he wanted to surprise you when you got home tonight.

The ring he had bought to propose to you was burning a hole through his pocket. He prayed that you didn’t know, that it could be a surprise for when the two of you got home. He even got Changbin and Jisung in on it, convincing them to let him go home with you after in exchange for tickets to the after-party. 

“Wow, it is beautiful in here,” you said, looking at the room in awe. Then you pointed out the stage, “look that’s where you are going to get your award” you giggled, kissing his cheek. 

“How many times have we talked about this, I don’t know if I’m going to win or not” he groaned into your ear, the both of you walking to your designated seats, sitting down. “How many times have I told you not to think negatively? I believe you are going to win, so that’s good enough for me.” 

He sighed next to you, you had no idea how lucky he was to find you. He would have been lost without you, aimlessly swimming in the sea, if it wasn’t for you, his rock. When the two of you first started dating, you always told him to achieve his dreams. 

It was five months into your relationship, and you both were supposed to go on a date, but he was so wrapped up in work that he forgot about it. He also forgot basic necessities, like eating and sleeping, he was just too enamored with his work. You had ended up calling him and asking him where he was. He profusely apologized telling you that he had lost all track of time, that he would be right there, but you just told him to not worry about it. 

What he didn't expect was that you were going to bring him a basket of food he liked to his studio. “I told you not to worry about it!” you giggled, bringing his favorite dish. “I know how hard you work, so please don’t worry about it. It’s okay if you forget sometimes, I don’t want to get in the way of you and your passion, as long as you make some time for me!” 

That was the moment he knew he was in love with you. From then on, he tried to put a little less focus into his music, and some into you. He loved that after work, you would come to the studio with him, listen to his demos, and give input. His last relationship was nothing like this. He was constantly busy and the girl ended up cheating on him, making it hard for him to trust others again, but when it came to you, everything came naturally. 

It wasn’t just him that loved you, it was the artist he worked with. Jisung and Changbin also loved you, constantly asking to hang around with you. You were perfect for him, and he never wanted to let you go. 

“Are you excited, your category is next!” He had lost all track of time, just thinking about you. He just smiled, he wanted to win, but he also knew that if he didn’t he still had you. You would never amount his success to the numbers or awards he won, but the effort he put into his work. He just looked at you with his signature smile. “Yeah, I hope I win.” 

That was the first time he ever said anything like that and you beamed a smile at him. “I know you will” you whispered into his ear. As the commercial break was going on before the next award was presented, he took a sip of your champagne, trying to cool down his own nerves. You looked at him in shock, Chan barely ever drank. “Something to help with the nerves,” he told you and you just nodded. 

The infomercials had finally ended and they were about to announce the winner of the best producer of the year. You took Chan’s hand in yours in anticipation, “And the winner is… drum roll please” Your grip around his hand tightened “Christopher Bahng!” 

His face was one of shock, he was bewildered seeing the camera on him. You just smiled at him, clapping. He quickly got up and walked to the stage. The hostess passed him a mic while he stood with the Grammy in his hand. 

“Ummm, wow I was not expecting this at all” the room laughed, “I want to keep this short and sweet, but I don’t think I can. I truly appreciate everyone who has been with me since the beginning, it warms my heart knowing that so many people enjoy the music I make and I am appreciative to my close friends Changbin and Han who helped me make my music” 

You heard them shout behind you, while people stared in their direction. “I want to thank my family and especially my girlfriend especially because without them I don’t think I would have made it this far. I am entirely grateful for all the support, and please look out for new music. Thank you once again!” 

Everyone cheered as he got off the stage and you ran up to him, giving him a bear hug. “I told you, I know everything, I knew you would win.” Before you could even finish your sentence, he kissed your lips. “Thank you, for everything, truly, I love you so much,” he said, kissing your lips again. “I love you too.”

After the show was over, you were prepared to go to the after-party, but as you got into the car, you saw the map showing your address. “Channie, don’t you want to go celebrate?” you asked, a bit puzzled. “I do, and I want to celebrate with you, in the comfort of our home.” 

You just sighed, confused by his decision, but happy that he was going to get some rest at home. The drive back was just as silent, you falling asleep, face pressed to the window. You were tired from the entire day and were glad to get some rest, Chan was also glad because he knew the night you both had in store.

When you both got home, you were about to open your side when Chris stopped you. “Nuh uh” he said, wiggling his finger causing a giggle from your lips. He walked around, opening your side of the car. “Wow, I really am a passenger princess aren’t I?” 

“You don’t even know the most of it.” 

Before your feet could even touch the ground, he picked you up, carrying you bridal style to the door. As you got inside, he told you to enter, he had to get something from the car. You just nodded, taking off your shoes at the front entrance, and turning on the light to your apartment. 

You saw an entire row of pedals on the floor, covering every inch. You walked in still confused, seeing your living room covered with pictures of you and Chan, memories from your dates, even the napkin from your first date when you accidentally dropped coffee on his lap, profusely apologizing. “Channie, what’s going on?” 

You turned around to see him on one knee in front of you. “I didn’t expect to be giving two speeches today, but this one is more important than the one I gave earlier in the night. You have been here through thick and thin, you stayed up just to see me and give me a kiss some nights. You sat with me when I got the flu, you make me feel like I’m the only man in the world. That day when you brought food to my studio, I knew I was in love with you. You are the only person in this universe for me. Will you please make me the happiest man on this planet, and marry me?” 

You began to sob in front of him, “Is that a yes or a no? Because I had to bribe Felix to do this for me, and that was hard, I had to buy him a brand new CPU and GPU.” Before he continued to ramble on, you grabbed him, brought him back to his feet, and kissed him. “Yes, yes, yes, a million times yes.” 

He grinned into your kiss, placing the ring on your finger. “Christopher Chan Bhang, this is way too big, how much did this cost?” You looked at the ring placed on your finger, it was huge. “Not much for a Grammy award winner like me” he giggled, picking you up and spinning around. “Now please, let me show you how much you mean to me.” 

You simply nodded, allowing him to take you to your shared bedroom. “Though I think you look absolutely stunning in this dress, let me take it off you?” You simply nodded, allowing him to undo the zipper, slowly pulling the dress off you. You covered your tits with your arms, the dress having padding, making it so you didn’t have to wear a bra. You were just in your panties. 

“Fuck baby, you always look so beautiful,” he said, causing you to look at him shyly. No matter how many times you both have slept together, you always felt like it was the first time. He was so attentive, loving every inch of your body like you were heaven on earth. He placed a kiss to your lips, laying you on the bed. 

You tried to undo his pants as he took off his tux jacket, but he stopped you. “Tonight is about you princess okay? Be a good girl and let me take care of you.” You just nodded, wanting to speak up, but not wanting to stop him. 

“Fuck princess, you look so good. Always look so good for me, look at you.” He dragged his hands against your thighs, kissing you as he brought a hand to your nipple, playing with it. You moaned as he began to rub against it. “Fuck, always so vocal for me.” 

He placed another kiss on your lips before he went down, slowly opening your thighs with his hands. “Just want to taste you, baby”

He began to kiss your thighs, making you squirm underneath him. His kisses were wet and hot, but they felt amazing. He slowly worked himself to the place you needed him most. He placed a kiss on your covered cunt, taking his hand and hooking it to your underwear, slowly bringing it down your legs. 

You could feel the cool air on your pussy, causing you to moan. Before you could even react fully, he licked a strip on your folds, making you moan. “Fuck baby, you just keep tasting better and better, can’t get enough of your delicious cunt.” 

He began to dive into your pussy like a man starved, placing a finger on your clit while he worked in and out of your hole. You moaned and brought your hand to his hair. “Want you to sit on my face, can you do that baby?” You nodded, you had never done it before scared that you were somehow going to hurt him, but he looked at you with his pleading eyes. 

You couldn’t say no to him, it looked like he wanted to do it more than you. You got up, allowing him to lay down underneath you. He rid himself of his clothes first, the only piece of clothing on his body being his boxers. You placed your hands on the headboard as he lay underneath you, grabbing your things with his hands. 

“I have a pretty big nose you know, and it’s perfect for this.” Before you could even giggle at what he said, he began to eat your cunt out. His nose was rubbing against your clit, causing you to moan out his name.

“Fuck, so good Channie, so good, you feel so good.” He moaned in response, the vibrations being sent through your hole and to your core. His tongue was hitting that spot inside of you, making you feel wonders. You didn’t think you could stay up any longer. “Feels good baby?” He spoke into you, causing you to moan even louder. “So good, can’t control myself”

“It’s okay baby, get off on my face, cum all over it baby please.” You moaned, he took one of his fingers, adding extra stimulation to your clit, causing you to cum all over his face. He kept going, over-stimulating you. “Fuck baby, you taste so good, can’t wait to taste you for the rest of our lives. 

“Please Channie, need you, need your cock inside of me.” That was all Chan needed to flip you around. You were underneath him and you could still see your cum dripping off his face. He kissed you, his tongue entering your mouth, allowing you to taste your arousal on him. “Baby, I’m so excited for you to take my cock.” 

He took off his boxers, and let his dick slap his stomach. Chan’s size never seemed to surprise you, he was so big, but it was perfect. His cock was perfect for you, always hitting the specific spots inside you. “Give me a second baby, let me go get a condom” 

You stopped him, “Want it in me raw this time” You looked at him with your doe eyes. If looks could kill, Chan would be dead right now. He felt like he ascended to heaven right there and then. “Fuck baby, gonna fuck you so well then. You weren’t joking when you said you had a surprise for me.”  

He slowly entered his cock inside you, making the both of you moan at the same time. “Fuck princess, this pussy takes me so well, I’m so glad that this is going to be mine forever.” 

His cock was finally fully in you, he slowly began to fuck into you, already hitting that spongey part inside of you causing you to moan his name. “Fuck, so good Channie, you feel so good.” 

He kissed your lips again, you both weren’t fucking, you were making love. He started thrusting inside you faster as you wrapped your legs around him. It was your signal to him that you wanted more, that you wanted to be drilled into the bed, and that’s exactly what he did. 

You were both moaning, your pussy clenching around him and his cock throbbing inside of you. You both were close, your moans becoming more and more as his grunts became louder. “Want to cum with you okay princess” you just nodded, “want you to cum in me Chris”

That was exactly what you both needed to cum over the edge. His cock came inside of you, your walls covered in his cum as your walls milked him dry. The both of you lay like this for what felt like hours until he spoke up. “Let me clean you up”

You allowed him to, he picked you up after he drew a bath for the both of you. 

“What was that surprise you wanted to give me?” he asked as you guys finally got back into bed. “You will find out in the morning,” you said kissing his lips before the both of you fell asleep in each other’s arms. 

You woke up to hear screaming outside your room. “There is a puppy at our door!” you heard him shout from your shared bedroom. He ran into the room. “This was the surprise?” he grinned, his smile spread from ear to ear. “We have to start our family some way?” you said. He stared at the dog in awe, petting behind his ears. 

“What should I name you, huh?” he said in a baby voice. “I’m thinking wolfie, he kind of looks like a wolf, and you. That’s why I got him.” 

He came over, pecking kisses all over your face. “I love you y/n” 

“I love you too Chris” 

taglist: @sclassstay @minhosify @brooklynie

[runningfrom2am]

cold nights // part twelve

summary: may the odds be ever in your favour.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.9k

masterlists / nav / requests

tags/warnings: tribute!reader and mentor!coriolanus, r is very sweet (too kind for this world. literally.), sunshine x grumpy trope kinda, he falls first, violence typical for the source material, r is very smart (as she should), district twelve!reader.

a/n: i can't believe we made it to the end of s1! i am so, so excited to move on to the next era of this story! this is a reminder if you love this series and you haven't already please reblog this or the masterlist! it makes such a big big difference for me and my fellow writers know it all too well lol.

my asks are also open to talk about this series! (i do have emoji anons open now too!)

send me any and all of your thoughts! here!

series masterlist // playlist

Coriolanus wakes up, head on the open pages of Romeo and Juliet as people start to flood in, everyone anxious about what would happen to you.

He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, quickly casting his view to the screen ahead, camera view still locked on you. There was no one else for it to be tracking, after all. Except now, you were on Lamina's beam, lying down with your eyes closed. He wasn't sure if you were awake, or when you had even made your way down into the clearing, but you don't move. He can see the steady rise and fall of your chest as you lay with his scarf bunched up behind your head. Tigris was right, you had survived, but you wouldn't have without him. You looked peaceful- not at all like the girl he had seen crumbling apart on the same screen just a few hours prior.

"I feel as though I should inform you, they'll be going in very soon." Highbottom says, grabbing the boy's attention. "But I'd put my money on those boys being dead in there. Congratulations, Coriolanus. This means almost nothing for you."

He walks away before Coryo is even done processing what he had said. He wouldn't get the prize, most likely, but he would still have you.

You don't stir until you hear the peacekeepers entering the arena, sitting up and seeing them with guns pointed in your direction. "Don't move." One of them spits at you and you nod, eyes wide as you raise your hands. You watch as a designated team in different uniforms make their way up to enter the vents, and others spray something over the piles of snakes, stilling those that were still showing any signs of life.

"Is it over?" You ask, confused.

"Not until we can confirm you are the only remaining tribute." One of them answers and you nod, chewing on your lip as you watch the men disappear into the vents.

"Okay... Thank you."

You know what they would find in there, the bodies of the two boys trapped behind your salt line. You could tell them where the boys would be found, but then you'd be outing yourself. You had only confessed to Coryo. Only he could know. Last night, you didn't care. You have to assume he was the only one who witnessed your breakdown, your confession, because if anyone else had, you'd likely be dead by now. You have to hope your secret is safe with him if you want to go home.

The morning drags on forever as you sit there with guns pointed at you from the ground, and Coryo is pacing in the hall. There were many people around, excited to see if you would be crowned as the victor. People were rooting for you, and he was proud of that, but support didn't mean that you were promised a win.

Vipsania and Domitia were the only other two remaining mentors, whispering to each other across the room after they came back. It was eerily silent.

Then, one of the men emerges from the vent, turning all heads including yours as he just nods toward the peacekeepers watching you.

"Alright. Come on down." The same peacekeeper addresses you and you nod, a tear falling down your cheek.

"She did it." Coryo whispers to himself, realization forcing a grin onto his face.

Lucky laughs, clapping his hands together. "She's won! Y/N Y/L/N from District Twelve!" He calls out, making his way over to Coriolanus. "Coriolanus Snow is the Victor of the Tenth Annual Hunger Games!"

Coryo laughs in shock, smiling as the man pats his shoulder. He catches in the corner of his eye as his two classmates storm out, and he's quickly crowded with congratulations and praise.

"I won?" You ask quietly, feet landing on the ground again.

"Yes, they were found." He nods, and quickly your arms are being grabbed as you're led out of the arena.

"Do you know, did Coriolanus get his prize?" You ask them, but your question is ignored as you walk down the hall toward the exit, looking back over your shoulder as the gate is closed behind you.

Just outside the gates, you don't get much of a taste of freedom before you're being pushed into the back of the same truck. Empty. Bigger. Lonely.

"Empty your pockets." The peacekeeper tells you, standing at the entrance.

You do so hesitantly, holding up the compact on a shaky palm. "I'm sorry to ask, but can I have some water? Please?" You ask, once again ignored as the compact is pulled from your hand. "Please, sir, that was a gift... If you must take it can you return it to my mentor? Coriolanus Snow?"

He opens the cold metal, pulling out the piece of paper and unfolds it, quickly scanning it's contents. "That is for him, too. Though, if I had the chance now I would change it." You explain. You knew you both would be in deep trouble if you were caught for what you convinced yourself was no more than salt, and clarity came to you enough to lie about what the compact had contained all this time.

The peacekeeper hums, closing it up again and shoving both items into his own pocket, pointing the gun at you again. "Clothes off."

"Ex-excuse me?" You reply, taken aback by the request.

"Clothes off. Now." He repeats and you nod, swallowing the lump in your dry throat as you begin to slide off your dress, letting it fall at your feet. He moves the gun again, gesturing for you to continue. With trembling hands you remove your underthings, your shoes, and the scarf, placing them on the floor in front of you. He quickly gathers them, taking a step back and nodding to someone outside.

He moves out of the way and you stand there confused, watching as he shakes out your clothes and searches them, when suddenly you're being sprayed down with a hose. You yelp from the fast contact of the cold water pelting against your skin, but it wakes you up. After the initial shock, it actually feels good to be somewhat clean again.

You pant as the water is shut off, catching your breath and rubbing your arms to try and warm yourself again. Your clothes are tossed back into the truck at you before the door is slammed, and you use the scarf to try and dry yourself off a little bit before tying it around yourself the same way Coryo had. By the time you pull the second strap of your dress back on, the truck is moving and you're lurching forward.

You're driving for a while before the door is opened again, and you're relieved to get some fresh air. It was cold in there, and you were shivering in your small dress that was now also damp from your skin.

Once the doors open you're staring down the barrels of more guns as the peacekeepers usher you out and into the train station, right where you were let off all those days ago. Days... or weeks? You don't even know anymore.

"Lay off, why don't you? She's been through enough." A man in a black suit comes into your view, and they drop their weapons and let you go.

He steps in front of you and you wrap your arms around yourself to try and warm up. "Thank you, Sir." You smile, nodding at him politely.

"Nothing to thank me for..." He sighs. "I'm Dean Highbottom from the academy, it's a pleasure to meet you. Congratulations on your victory." Surprisingly to you, he doesn't seem inconvenienced. Someone other than Coryo and Sejanus seemed to be willing to talk to you, to treat you like a human again. When he congratulates you, he sounds sad.

"Thank you, Sir." You nod again. "Do I... Will I be going home now?"

"Yes. In just a few minutes." He nods, gesturing for you to follow him toward the train. "I am extremely familiar with your mentor, Coriolanus Snow." He tells you as you join his side.

"Oh, wonderful!" You force a smile. "I have some things for him, just a note and something he leant to me. I gave them to that man over there. Would you mind making sure they make it back to him?" You point out the peacekeeper as you follow him toward the train.

"I'll see to it that he gets it back, yes." Dean Highbottom nods with a slight roll of his eyes, stopping next to the stairs that would lead you onto the passenger train. "But... if I may offer you some advice?"

"Please." You nod, urging him on.

"Be grateful you survived him."

You want to ask what he means, but the anger you saw behind your friend's eyes that night in the arena would haunt you and you knew that. Surely, that's what the Dean is talking about.

"Yes." You agree, unsure what else to say when he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stack of cash.

"Take this, your prize, I suppose." He hands it over to you. It must be hundreds of dollars. Maybe over a thousand. With this, you could do so much for your family. "Oh, and Miss Y/L/N... You wouldn't happen to know anything about the rat poison that was in that compact, would you?"

You tense up, tilting your head at him with a confused smile. "Poison? No... All I had put inside was salt." You reply. "Sejanus Plinth gave it to me, with food from his Ma. Salt is good for protection, you know, so I kept it for later. Keeps you safe from evil and harm." You ramble on, panic and shock in your tone. Sejanus had given you salt to put on some vegetables and sandwiches he brought you, but now that you're trying to piece the story together, you don't remember even opening the compact until you were in that vent. Coryo had told you not to open it, so you wouldn't have. Your own memory is confusing you.

"I've heard that." He nods, eyeing you skeptically.

The train horn makes you jump before you can even thank him.

"Go on, now." He urges you onto the train, deciding to let slide however you had came across the rat poison. Clearly, you didn't know what you had done. Or you were convincing yourself you didn't remember. "Enjoy your freedom."

You nod and step up onto the stairs. You were hoping you would get to see Coryo again, it disappointed you that you never would. Maybe it was a good thing you wrote your goodbye note, even if you had survived. "I give you, upon my knees, a thousand thanks." You smile to the man still standing on the ground below you who just nods in acknowledgment before you close the door behind yourself, Coryo's scarf still wrapped around your waist.

"Y/N?" Coryo calls out, walking into the high biology lab. He was told you had something for him, no doubt the scarf and the compact.

"She's gone." Dean Highbottom cuts in, just before Coryo spots him in the poorly lit room.

"I was told-"

"I know what you were told. Here." The Dean tells him, pointing to the metal compact on the table.

Coryo looks at it only briefly before returning his gaze to the man who offered it to him. "Where is she?"

"I wouldn't worry about that, Coriolanus. Your work is done." He explains vaguely. "Were you aware that she cheated?"

"Cheated?" Coryo asks. "How?" He feigns ignorance.

"The boys in the vents didn't die from snake venom, or violently, or, naturally- for that matter." The Dean tsk's. "It was rat poison. Which, before you argue with me, cannot be found inside the arena or even within reach of the monkey cage at the zoo. I checked. So be honest, you have no idea how she got her hands on such a substance?"

"No, I don't." Coryo lies. "But she did what she could to survive- don't take it out on her because she somehow cheated your games. Next year give them uniforms, or up security or something."

"Just thought I'd ask. She told me she got it from Plinth." He waves him off, and Coryo ticks his head in slight confusion.

"Sejanus? No, he-"

"She really... declined, in there." Highbottom cuts him off, making it evident that he at least believed that Sejanus wouldn't do such a thing. "Told me it was only salt. Genuinely, it seemed like she didn't know. Or, she forced herself to forget. A sweet girl like that, it doesn't surprise me that that's how she would rationalize her actions."

"Is she alive? Because if you killed her for that I-"

"You'll what, Mister Snow? I thought you said you just wanted the prize."

"She deserved better." He states simply, swallowing the anxiety building in his throat.

"She does. I agree." Highbottom nods. "Which is why you won't see her again."

Coryo furrows his brow. "I... I don't understand how that could be relevant."

"Oh, I know you do, Mister Snow." His superior replies, a condescending edge to his words.

Coryo snatches the compact off of the table and quickly pockets it, storming out of the room. At least he hadn't been caught for helping you cheat, though he was sure Highbottom knew better. Now, he didn't have the Plinth Prize, and he didn't have you.

When he finally got home, he couldn't help but slam the door behind himself.

"Coryo?" Tigris calls out, excited as she puts down the project she was working on and rushes to the entranceway to meet him. "I didn't expect you home so soon! Did you get to see Y/N?" Her smile fades when she sees his expression. "What's wrong?"

"They wouldn't let me see her. She's already gone." He explains, pulling off his blazer.

"Oh..." Tigris frowns, taking the blazer from him to hang it up. "I know you really wanted to say goodbye. I'm so sorry."

"She'll never forgive me." He shakes his head slightly. "If she's even still alive! I doubt they would tell me!" He laughs, bringing his hands up to rub his eyes with his palms.

"They wouldn't kill her, Coryo. People loved her too much." She is quickly reassuring, reaching out to rub his shoulders. "You did nothing wrong... You did all you could for her. She'll forgive you."

"Not that." He mutters. "It's what I told you. You didn't see the way she looked at me, Tigris. Like... Like I was a monster."

"She was already scared. She was way out of her element. I think now, that she's safe, she'll find the space to see it reasonably." She tries to soothe his worries as best she can. "You're a good friend to her, and she's a kind person. She'll understand."

"But I'll never know for sure that she does."

"You might one day... Don't beat yourself up about it, and don't give up on her."

After a long, two-day journey curled up on a bench on the train, you recognize the building the train is stopping at. Suddenly, all your energy is returned to you as it slows to a stop, and you're already waiting at the door. You hear the latch unlock and you couldn't get off fast enough.

No one you knew were there, not that you expected any kind of greeting party. You inhale the fresh air, once again surrounded by the trees and your own people. You walk out of the train station and down the street, in the general direction of your home. You tried waving at a few folks you knew on the way, but people just stared, for the most part, jaws slack with surprise. They had already grieved your death. Sometimes you were met with a sad smile, but no one wanted to speak to you. You understood. You were used to that after your time in the Capitol.

"Y/N Y/L/N, is that you?" An excited voice called after you resigned yourself to a quiet walk home, twenty minutes from the bustle of the train station. You turn your head to look up at the back entrance to the Hob, a wide smile taking over your face when you see the speaker.

Your friend is already barrelling toward you, throwing her arms around you as your eyes fill with happy tears. It was refreshing. "I never thought I'd see you again..." You sniff, resting your chin on her shoulder as you hug her back.

Rhythmically, your best friend sways you back and forth. "Oh, I know, I know, sweetheart..." She hums, rubbing your back reassuringly. You can hear her voice crack too. "But you're home now. You're okay..."

She lets you break down as she practically holds you up as you cry in each other's arms. From happiness or trauma, you're not sure. "I did some awful things, I regret it all..."

"Don't regret a thing." She shushes you. "You did what you had to."

"No, no... You don't know... You didn't see..."

"I watched, Hun. When I could." She pulls away, placing her hands on your cheeks to wipe your tears. "You did nothing wrong. All that matters is that you're home now."

You sniff again with a slight nod. "I fear too early, for my mind misgives; Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, shall bitterly begin."

"No... Y/N/N. You're safe here. You are forgiven." She assures you, rubbing your arms. "Now, let's get you home. A good rest will do you well, your parents have been waitin' on you." She waits for you to nod before stepping to your side, guiding you in the right direction with an arm around your waist.

"Thank you, Lucy Gray." You mumble, allowing yourself to lean into her hold.

taglist: @soulessjourney , @that-veela-girl ,  @dreamyysouls , @rockstarbfs , @maysileeewrites , @baybieruth , @kitscutie ,  @fratboyharrysgf0201 , @totallynotkaibiased , @stelleduarte , @secretsicanthideanymore , @bejeweledreverie , @drewsandsebastianswife , @niicole-87 , @queenofshinigamis , @innercreationflower , @nallasstuff , @scorpiolystoned , @iovemoonyy , @thatmarvelchick19 , @wearemadeofstardust0 , @regulusblackcore , @puredreamagination , @fantasticchaosthing , @becauseseaotters , @secretsicanthideanymore

okay suddenly tumblr isn't letting me tag more people than this so i just made some cuts unfortunately :') i just left the max amount of people i could whose users i recognized and see in my notifs all the time :) if you're not on here and you should be i'm so sorry!

also this taglist is closed now!! if you’d like to get a notification when i update, turn on my post notifications!! i promise i won’t spam y'all :,)

[hundredandsix]

loser!ellie headcanons

✩ I haven't been able to get loser!ellie out of my head so...here we go. I love that this is basically the same thing as canon!ellie. Slutty thoughts at the end so mdni (18+) ✩

✩ I don't think she would be the first to make a move. She would do little, very subtle things like hold the door open for you and then panic because oh no that was too much! You're going to know!

✩ She would think she's being obvious, and she is, but not for the reasons she believes. Let's just say her brushing her hand against yours is not nearly as obvious as the way she follows you around and the way your smile makes her face turn red all the way to her ears.

✩ Speaking of her following your around, she is so unintentionally clingy, even before you get together. You would get up to go to the bathroom and when she realizes where you're going, she tries to play it off like she wasn't about to trail after you. When you bring it up to her, she's genuinely confused because no, she is not following you around on purpose. She would never do that.

✩ It would take her forever to realize you're into her, but when she finally picks up on it, that confirmation gives her confidence. She wouldn't be as afraid to make her feelings more apparent.

✩ Has such terrible rizz that it somehow comes full circle and makes her even more charming.

✩ She LOVES bossy, confident women. Ellie is not afraid to ask for what she wants, and she is definitely not the type of girl that would have you ask the waitress questions for her. But there's something about a woman that could put her in her place that she loves.

✩ At first, Ellie is always rubbing the back of her neck or playing with her fingers when she talks to you. She doesn't want to look like a dork, but she can't help it because you make her so nervous.

✩ She's literally the definition of a golden retriever masc. She's got the beat-up truck (that's actually Joel’s, but you don't have to know that), an outrageous amount of flannels, and carabiners to provide it.

✩ When she gets really excited about something, her brain moves faster than her mouth. She'll fumble her words and stutter. She gets really annoyed when this happens and has to take a deep breath and start over.

✩ She loves to rant about her interests to you. Don't you dare seem like you're not listening because she'll get really quiet and upset.

✩ I could see her having issues with being treated like "the man" in past relationships. It confuses her at first because she wants to protect her partner and care for them, but she also wants to feel that same love and desire toward her. She would be so drawn to you if you don't treat her any differently because of the way she dresses or presents herself. Obviously, she presents as more masculine, but she still wants to be treated like a woman.

✩ She has sooo many playlists. There are some about you of course but she also has some that are so highly specific. When you go on your first date, she has a playlist for picking you up and two different ones for dropping your off, depending on how it went. She definitely has the classic "depressed gay longing" playlist.

✩ She has exactly two pictures on her Instagram. One is her and Joel on his birthday and the other is a selfie she uses as her profile pic for everything.

✩ When you follow her back on Instagram, she loses her shit and starts fantasizing about what it would be like to be with you. She's screenshotting every selfie you put on your story and thinking about them in ways that are not very appropriate.

✩ She's the queen of "this reminded me of you" and will bring you literal rocks because "it looks like the whale from the aquarium we saw last week." Whether it's modern!ellie buying you little trinkets or jackson!ellie bringing you things from her patrols, she loves seeing you in all parts of her life. Even if you're not physically there with her.

✩ I love the pages of her journal we get to see in the game because they show us peeks at her internal monologue. They show us she is still very much the eccentric, starry-eyed girl we see in the first game. She's learned to hide it. Maybe to fit in or maybe because she's learned that wearing your heart on your sleeve can hurt. It's literally canon that she writes about her romantic feelings in her journal, so I think she would have little drawings and blurbs about you. She for sure has a stupid grin on her freckled face as she draws the highlights of your eyes and maybe even the dip of your hips. It's the only way she can think of to get you out of her head.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

✩ She's an ass girl. She loves every part of you and will literally kiss your eyelashes if you let her, but she has to physically hold herself back when you bend over.

✩ I can't think of who posted it, but I remember reading something about Ellie fake fucking you when you're bent over and she would totally do that at the absolute worst times. You'd swat her away and look at her with a raised eyebrow, but there's no stopping her because she thinks it's the funniest thing ever.

✩ The first time you kiss is an out-of-body experience for her. She's panicking because she didn't think she'd ever get this far. She wants to touch you but she doesn't know where or what you would like, so her arms are stuck at her sides. She's 🧍until you grab her hands and move them to your waist.

✩ Has a huge obsession with your neck. Loves to leave marks if you'll let her. Will come up behind you and wrap her arms around your waist while leaving wet kisses all down your neck.

✩ I could see her wanting to be both the big and little spoon. It depends on the day and the context. When she's the big spoon she'll jokingly hug you so tight you can barely breathe and wrap all of her limbs around you like she's trying to suffocate you. When she's the little spoon, she likes it when you play with her hair.

✩ Is an absolute slut for you playing with her hair. She's an insomniac and it helps her fall asleep. When you're arm gets tired and you want to stop, she'll whine and pull your hands back to her head.

✩ She would be more comfortable topping and doesn't want to admit that she likes to bottom just as much. She's a service top that would do anything to make you feel good.

✩ Girly is so shy when she bottoms. She'll get all blushy and tries to cover her face with her hands/arms. She loves it, but it feels so foreign to her to have someone's sole focus be on her.

✩ Loves eye contact, especially when your mouth is on her. If you look up at her from between her legs while giving her head, she has trouble thinking straight.

✩ Likes it when you pull her hair during sex and will groan for you to pull harder. Just move her wherever you want her because she thinks it's the hottest thing ever.

✩ I think she'd use a strap if you wanted her to, but it's not her instinct to grab for that. She rather you come apart on her fingers or mouth.

✩ If you wanted to use a strap on her, I think she would let you, but again, it's not something she would ask for. To Ellie, It would be more about pleasing you than her.

✩ Absolutely passes tf out after sex. She always tries to stay awake, but as soon as both of you are cleaned up, she's dozing off and letting out cute little snores.

✩ In summary, Ellie is the switchiest switch to ever exist and I will be taking no criticism on this

[mochinek0]

Wrong Wayne

Marinette was shocked when she got to work that day, at Wayne Enterprise. Someone had set up a desk and laptop, outside of Damian's office. Some random girl was sitting there, smiling.

Marinette walked over to the office and the girl jumped up from her desk.

"Mr. Wayne, isn't in." she smiled, "Do you have an appointment? I can let him know who you are when he arrives."

"And you are?" Marinette questioned.

"I'm Damian Wayne's newest secretary." she answered.

Marinette turned around and pulled her cell phone out. She immediately began to text Tim.

Coffee Buddy: We have a sitch in front of Damian's office. Bring up CCTV.

Espresso King: Who is that?

Coffee Buddy: Claims new secretary. Send security up and look thru footage. Must have moved someone's desk cuz I can still see my desk in the office.

Espresso King: Got it

Not a minute later, Damian stepped out of the elevator.

"Mr. Wayne, I-" the new secretary began.

"Who the fuck is this?" Damian asked.

The secretary panicked, "I-I didn't get her name! I'm very sorry! I-"

Damian glared at her, "Did I ask you? Marinette, who the fuck is this?"

"She claims to be your new secretary." Marinette answered, "Damian, you didn't tell me you were firing me."

The girl paled, further.

"You-You're stuff was cleared out!" she shouted, "It should be obvious now that you're no longer needed here!"

Marinette sighed, "My stuff is in Mr. Wayne's office."

Damian opened the door, allowing the girl to peer inside. As Marinette stated, there were two desks. One by the door, which she could tell belonged to his actual secretary. The other desk by the windows, must belong to Damian.

"Why?" she questioned.

"I'm barely here." Damian stated, "Marinette does most of the work to keep me updated. I'm here only when I need to be and only then."

Mari smiled, "You have a meeting in ten minutes. I left the details on your desk last night. It's with the board of directors for the new animal clinics on 5th and Main. There's a list on top of important bullet points for you to scan over on the first page."

Damian nodded as he headed to his desk. He picked up the packet and quickly started to read it over.

The lady looked around when security got on the floor. Marinette stood by as they put her in handcuffs.

"Why are you doing this?" she screamed, "I work for Mr. Wayne."

"No, you don't." stated Damian, "I do not know who you are. I tell every secretary, I fire, when it is their last two weeks. Miss Dupain-Cheng is by far, the best person to do the job assigned to her. I have no intention of letting her go."

"You bitch! You can't separate us now! We were meant to be!" the lady shouted, "You helped me that day at the Gala.. You picked up my bracelet after that jerk threw it!

"I rarely attend those annoying things." Damian spoke, "When I do, I tend to stay away from people. The last thing I would do is go out of my way for some trinket."

"We were ten." she smiled, "It was like a dream come true."

"I never stepped foot in Gotham until I was ten." the Wayne heir replied, "My first gala was at age thirteen."

"N-No!" she screamed, stomping her foot, " We met when we were ten!"

"You are likely thinking of one of the children my father adopted; liekly Drake." Damian announced, "He was the youngest Wayne before me."

"Drake?" the girl questioned.

"Timothy Drake-Wayne is the current Co-CEO with Mr. Bruce Wayne." Mari declared, "Timothy Drake became a Wayne at age twelve. Before that, he was heir to the Drake Industries. Mr. Wayne took him in after his parents past away and his step-mother was admitted to a facility in Bludhaven."

"Sharing my life story, Coffee Buddy?" Tim questioned, announcing himself, "We found out who the mystery secretary is. Her name is Maybel Evergreen. Her brother is a night guard. We're having GCPD heading to pick him up now."

"No!" Maybel screamed, "He didn't know about this! I told him I had a lot of work to do and wasn't given my badge, yet! He really thinks I work here! He's a single dad of a two year old. Please, I'll-I'll tell you everything just don't involve him!"

"We'll see if that's true." he spoke, walking away.

He made a call to GCPD to pick up the girl and leave the brother for leverage.

As he walked back to the sobbing lady, he looked her over, closely.

'She seems familiar.'

He snapped his fingers, gaining everyone's attention.

"Gold bracelet with opals." He called out.

"Told you." Damian muttered.

The lady looked at him shocked and nodded.

"Why did you harass my younger brother?" Tim questioned.

"Actually, she mixed you two up." Marinette explained.

"Us?" Tim asked, "Me?"

Damian sighed, annoyed, "She claims to have a crush on you since you helped her that day with her trinket. She wanted to 'help' you, too."

Tim blushed, "Oh, um, that's nice, but I'm afraid I'm seeing someone. His name is Bernard."

"Oh." she spoke, looking down at the floor.

"If you still....want to help, you can always apply." Tim offered.

"Really?" Maybel asked.

"You're dedicated; that's for sure." Tim chuckled, "You do still have to go to the GCPD and they can figure out what the damage is. Next time, just apply. I cannot guarantee that you will work with me, though."

Maybel smiled, "Thank you."

"Damian, you have a meeting in three." Marinette announced.

Damian locked the office and left with Marinette at his heels, reading over the packet.

TAG LIST: @animeweebgirl @a-star-with-a-human-name @meme991001 @vixen-uchiha @abrx2002 @alysrose-starchild @fandom-trapped-03 @dood-space @moonlightstar64 @saltymiraculer @marveldcedits20 @09shell-sea09 @icerosecrystal @animegirlweeb @insane-fangirl-of-everything @blueblossombliss @nickristus-dreamer @megawhitleycalderonpaganus @missmadwoman @meira-3919  @princessdaisysolosyourfaves @blep-23 @fangirlingfanatic @darkhinauniverse @ravenr22 @im-a-satanic-ritual @ravennm84  @bianca-hooks123 @a-slytherinish-gryffindor @starling218

[undercoverpena]

under the stars

joel miller x f!reader | masterlist

summary: joel finds that you become a thing of unnatural order, all ethereal as the moonlight kisses your curves.

wordcount: 3.7k warnings: post outbreak. smut. oral sex (m receiving). tying joel up with rope. cutting joel free with a knife. p in v. jo's spelling. feelings, but joel-feelings. softer!joel an: i've had this in my head for so long, getting it down on a page has been the whole wonderful, exciting and exhausting thing. i could sing forever about the moon. thank you to the most wonderful, and amazing @swiftispunk who i threw this at last night and made me feel like i am a goddess of the moon.

Joel had learnt early on that you liked the night.

You’d handed it to him in puzzle pieces—flecks of information that he’d eventually be able to make a portrait out of. First, you’d handed him a story, then a statement and then a feeling.

The only times you didn’t like the night was when it was silent.

No wind in the trees, each branch crunching sounding for miles. You didn’t tell him with your words, but rather your body—frame closer, practically against him.

When he’d seen the abandoned train yard coming into view, he’d already considered it. The night had been closing in, the last embers of daylight casting shadows larger shadows across the tall, wiry grass.

“Ever stayed in a train?”

“Can’t say I have.”

He wonders a lot about the things you haven’t done. If you had a list of things you had hoped to tick off from a list before the world went to shit. Whether you had made a new one when you woke up one day and realised it was kill or be killed.

In another life, he wonders if you’d have been a nurse, a doctor, a baker or a typist—because there’s something about your hands. A soothingness about them wasted on holding a gun or slitting a hole in a person from jaw to pelvis. It’s something which passes over you more when the sun goes down. The sharpness in you fading, as though you truly become the thing you were always supposed to be when shrouded in night and the moon comes out to greet you.

He supposes the night is the constant. The unchanged force that arrived and vanished each day—a fixed point, a welcomed relief. Things don’t appear any more threatening in the dark, no more than the world was before.

Yet, Joel finds that you become a thing of unnatural order, all ethereal as the moonlight kisses your curves. It highlights the lines that bend, and illuminates the sheen which coats your skin as you stare back at him in gratitude, as though the way he makes you feel good can make up for all you were robbed of. He hopes to, not by being the thing you lie next to, but the thing which keeps you safe. A protector, a wall of muscle, bone and flesh that would rip if it meant keeping you whole.

It wouldn’t even matter if it were day or night.

Before it all happened, he’d never have considered that the night was more alive than the day. But he’d witnessed how it was. How the darkness provided by the sky was a gift, the moon licking shadows that added an illusion of safety, one he had used to his advantage.

Your words coaxing him, whispered, all hushed, we can take them—won’t even see us coming. You had been right. Staring up at the sky as you caught your breath, stars inside your eyes and a soul full of darkness.

As he glances over, you’re doing it now.

Peering up through the open hatch of the train roof, cross-legged, dragging his jacket further around your body as you stare, and stare, and stare.

Transfixed, lost. Kidnapped by memories, most likely, ones he won’t rip you from just yet.

He wonders if you had ever wished on them, ever stared up at them with hopefulness swimming in your eyes—their twinkle swirling in the pools of your gaze. Joel wonders whether you’d pleaded for something so hard under the night sky that your nails cut into your palms, only for everything to be robbed from you all the same. Had you ever seen a shooting star, and had you prayed on it for a future that included a white dress or a picket fence?

“Don’t they look so pretty, Joel?”

It falls from you like a whisper, almost innocent—far removed from the killer he knows you can be. From the gutless, powerful soul he sees rip through people when they make you spill crimson and try to take what isn’t theirs.

It’s almost easy, he thinks, to tell you that there’s something prettier next to him. Someone who could rival the prettiest of nights and the most gorgeous of days. Something that could have been fragile, but instead is strong, chaos imagined, all wrapped inside eyes he sees when he dreams.

Head tilting, you meet his gaze, and it’s too much—too strong. It's intoxicating. Feeling drunk off it—that feeling of normalcy you make him want.

“You ever had your cock sucked under the stars?”

You know he has.

Know that under leafless branches and an almost full moon you’d taken him in your mouth. All warm, welcoming—his fingers knotted on the back of your head, biting back each hiss, each grunt as he felt teardrops on the crease of his thighs and hips.

It doesn’t matter what his answer is, you’re already facing him, knees digging into the train floor. Your fingers already working his belt—a glimmer in your eye that has him half-hard already.

Because if lust had a look, he swears it would be you.

That look in your eyes always does something to him. It’s more than just being alive, it’s a glint, a spark of something that he swears would have had rows of people to their knees. Right now, it’s all for him. Only his.

A possessiveness rings through him at the thought; rising up in him when he lingers on it, that he has this with you—has this unlabelled thing where he sees all the shards of you, has met each part which makes you whole.

“I want you to try not touching,” you say, tongue dragging across your bottom lip, mouth close to his.

He wants to taste your request. Breathe it in. Have it merge with his insides, all because of the look that accompanies it. One that makes his jaw tighten, almost tick.

“You think you can do it, Miller? Think you can refrain from touching me until I say so.”

“Yeah,” he replies. “Sure.”

The latter catches on his teeth as the cool air brushes over his weeping cock once you free him from his clothing. Your head tilting, holding his stare as you lick a stripe up your palm, before wrapping it around him, pumping him. Tightening your fingers, murmuring about how hard he is for you, how thick he feels in your hand.

“We’ll see,” you smirk, pausing your ministrations, and lowering your head. "Fuck, your cock is perfect, Miller."

A retort brewed, ready to fire, shoot, land. Then, your mouth wraps around him.

Just the tip at first, pausing, all tentative. Your lashes close to your brows as you stare up at him—the moon painting you in a light which he swears he never thought possible. Because it only highlights the appetite you have for him, the starvation to take more of him.

It makes his fingers twitch at his side. Forces his thighs to tense under the need to grasp the back of your head. He refrains, even if it’s a battle he’s prepared to lose. In time.

For now, he wants more of this. Enjoy more of you licking the head of his cock, from humming around him, testing yourself as you try to take more of him, and more, and more—

A groan vibrates around him, making his eyes flutter closed. The battle having appeared sooner, slammed into him as you took more of him. Moaning sweetly around him, tongue swirling around the head when you come up before the tip hits the back of your throat all over again.

Joel doesn’t think of consequences, he just thinks of the need to feel himself in your throat. Letting his fingers move, slide around, brushing up your neck as you take as much of him as you can, mouth so stuffed—

“Hands, Miller.”

He groans, your tongue sliding up the base of him, lips hovering at the head before you trace your lips with him—those perfect, fucking lips—wiping him over you, smearing him.

“I’ll tie your hands down.”

His cock twitches, and you must notice from the way your brow arches, lifting up from him, bottom lip smothered in spit.

Joel finds most of the time, you have heavenly eyes and a hellish smile. A thing which shouldn’t remain, should have been stolen, ripped from you. Right now, you’re nothing but wickedness and darkness.

“Oh, Miller,” you say, voice lower, his name falling like silk. “Do you want me to tie you down? Stop you from touching me.”

He does.

A thing he doesn’t dare deny. His own eyes having caught sight of some frayed rope earlier, pointing it out, instructing—watching in awe as you move swiftly, boots hammering against the train floor, thudding and thudding until you’re on your knees either side of his, holding in both palms.

“Lie down.”

Your instruction carries weight, your body shifting as he lies down, your body crawling up him.

“Do it like—”

“You showed me?” you smirk. “I know how to keep you down, Miller.”

You lean back onto your knees, jean-covered cunt on his chest. Fuck what he’d do to move his hands from waiting for the circles of the knot you’re going to make—and pull you down to his mouth. Lets his breath puff warm air into the worn fabric, forcing it against your likely soaked core. Watch your lashes flutter as you try to make your identical loops, and see if you can think of overlapping them—whether you even make the knot, or let it fall to the wayside as you plead for his mouth, his tongue, his fucking teeth, before he manages to wriggle your clothing down your thighs.

He doesn’t find out, because he doesn’t move. Shadows disguise your expression, all except your smirk as you slide his wrists through the old rope—the frays tickling, brushing over his skin and hair, before with a pull, you tighten it—applying traction.

“Above your head,” you instruct.

You hinge at the hips, falling into the line of the moonlight. And, there’s a little gruffness to your voice, matching the pools of lust currently trying to swallow him whole—readying themselves to consume him, devour him. He doesn’t mind. He never fucking does.

Joel would willingly die in your eyes if he could—in the pair which sees him, all of him. Not afraid of the way he’s worn, the grief he carries, and the array of stories left in scars.

Best looking man I’ve ever killed for.

Only man you’ve killed for.

Fine. Best looking man I’ve laid my eyes on.

He’d succumb to you if you asked. More so, when you slide back down. The seam of your jeans brushing down his cock—the friction pleasant, warranted, needed.

He’s about to ask you to remove them. To bring yourself back up, allow him a taste, something to tide him over, reward you. He’d maybe even beg.

But, he swears your mouth is heaven. That he must have died mere moments ago. Each scrape of your teeth makes him hiss; each hollowing of your cheek makes him want to coat your tongue in his release. His fingers knot around the rope which binds him, hearing it trying to snap under the weight of his own frustration.

It cutting, grazing into flesh, especially as you take so much of him—further than you did before. Barely two fingers worth of him not down your throat, your eyes staring at him, holding his gaze, almost commanding it.

He pulls instinctually, wanting to grab the back of your head, hold you, stroke your neck, cheek—

But, then he ruts his hips into your mouth. Forcing a gag, a cough to arise from your perfect mouth.

“Careful,” he warns, as if it wasn't his doing. His eyes spot them, little streaks of tears which stain your cheeks, all quickly, tumbling and falling to his thighs. “Y’good for me. Fuckin’ perfect, in fact. But, be careful.”

Your tongue licks up the length of him, balls tightening as you graze your teeth over the underside—before he’s enveloped by you again, all warm, inviting, and then your throat squeezes around him.

He’s falling into it, the pool of pleasure—swimming it, bathed to the neck in it under stars and an almost full moon.

He’s sure your mouth is the meaning behind paradise and torture—both perfect and vicious—and he groans, at it. At the way, you swallow around him.

And he can’t take it.

Can’t handle it—

Wants nothing more than to come down your throat and make you taste him until morning.

Cause this is different than last time, and not because it's not a trunk his back is against. But, rather, because you're moon-soaked, kissed by the night. You're a thing he swears glows in the dark, leads a man to shore from choppy waters or could force a man to walk off a cliff.

You're pretty.

It's why he also wants to bury his cock inside you. Wants to feel you squeeze him, grasp for him, whine for him. You make him want, make him desire to possess you. Even if he'll never try to cage you, never tie you down, the thought, the wish, the desire is there. Just the same as how he wants to have you on top of him, under him, even bent over for him. Anything. Everything. All of it, all of you, all—

Mouth lifting off, your eyes glimmer, something there, growing behind your eyes. Spit tying you to him, a bead beginning at the tip of his leaking cock and ending at your swollen, puffed bottom lip.

Then you sneer. Devilishly, all fucking cunningly. “What did you think earlier, Miller?”

Hand taking him, wrapping it around as it moves in fluid motions. Grip how he likes it, a teasing speed that leaves him hovering there, so close to seeing a galaxy of his own and covering your face in his gratitude.

“Miller,” you mutter. "What, did you, think earlier?"

His throat goes dry, bone dry. Like those times when he hadn’t drunk for hours. And he pulls at the rope, wishing to tear himself free and silence your questioning by pushing you down, cheek to the side, sliding his cock inside you until you’re drunk on him, unable to think, ask.

He can feel his skin bruising, marks lacerating against flesh as he grunts at your knot. One he taught you, made you practice—something he knows you must remember from the wink you suddenly shoot him. And he knows from the smirk that cuts across your beautiful face, that the only way he’s going to get any release—is by telling you. Spilling the thing which should die in his throat, blacken, melt down into other things he’ll maybe one day tell you.

“If you want to come—“

Jaw gritting, he swears he could grind his teeth to dust.

Your hand remains poised, but not moving. His name leaves like a spell, but he knows it's draped in poison. Can tell from how it contaminates the air and makes him curse under its potency.

"Joel."

“Fine. I thought—thought y’prettier than the stars. Prettiest—fuck—” Your head dips, sliding the tip of your tongue along his slit, “—thing I’ve ever seen.”

Lifting up from him, bottom lip sliding across your upper lip—painting that in a mixture of his pre-come and your spit too—you slowly smile. “Wasn’t so hard now was it?”

Gritting his teeth, your breath ghosting over his mouth, eyes locked on him. Burying something light, warm, fucking lovely in his soul.

“Cut. Me. Free.”

Tilting your head, he sees your brow lift.

“Now.”

You blink, a thousand universes swirling in your eyes before you move for your knife. “Now?”

“Fuckin’ now, baby.”

You don't blink at the name, you just press the blade against his skin, so close to veins. Yet, he trusts you. More than he thought he would another person, another soul that wasn’t bound to his by blood.

Each slice of the blade against the rope cut through the air, his strangled breaths fading, even as his cock twitched, pleading for release. His eyes just remained on you—the maths of how he’d move you already calculated—watching the vein in your neck, the way spidery shadows cast on your face from your tear-stained lashes.

He felt the rope go slack before your knife stopped, moving in a flash, knife clattering as he flipped you onto your back. Hovering above, likely lit up by the stars and the moon—leering down on you, watching your chest rise and fall.

“So, you think I’m pretty?”

He growls, the button popped on your jeans before he rips them down as much as he can, moving enough to let you kick yourself free, before he plunges his tongue in your open mouth. Tasting, taking, robbing you of the words that you just spoke, the ones which made you cocky. Even if they were true.

But, he wasn’t good—was an animal, a thing carved from grief and the end of days. But then, you were in your own right too. Something that gnashed, scratched, and buried the softer parts of you deep under layers that had taken him months to unearth. To even find, locate.

The animal in you is what made him want to devour, but it was the softness that made him stand in front of you when branches crunched. It was the latter that made him want to pin you down against stiff surfaces and have you feel good, feel adored.

Taking his cock in hand, he drags the head against your soaked folds. Your slick coating him, sliding up and down, watching you, studying you—a sight full of stars, twinkling, pleading. Nails digging into his hips, an order, a demand.

In one thrust, he slides deep into you. Makes you his, like he does whenever you ask him to, when he can, each chance he can get. Never tiring of it, of you.

A thing he could say, fill your pretty little head with it and then fuck it outta you.

“Thinking about how much you like me, Miller?” you whisper, fingers moving up to scratch at his curls, to wrap them around your fingers. “Or, is it more than like, is that what it is?”

A tug, a swallowed groan. His mouth is on yours again—different than before.

A change, a thing the two of you never used to do, but one you do more frequently. Another thing he doesn’t hate. The change happened, and he realised he didn’t want to go back to the time before it. Not when your tongue plunged in his mouth feels good. When you lick at the back of his teeth, flooding his mouth with the taste of salt and remnants of the canned food from earlier.

“Thinking about how y’the most frustrating thing I’ve ever had under me.”

“Would you have it any other way?”

Buried to the hilt, fingers clasped around the space just above your collarbone, he stares into your eyes—wondering if the stars are ever jealous they never get to live in them.

No, he growls.

Your mouth falling open, a moan there, building on your tongue as he hits that spot—knows it, can tell from the way you lightly gasped. It is further evidenced by the way you grasp his hips, almost pinching when he drops onto his forearm above your head, freeing a hand.

“I do like fuckin’ y’under the stars.”

What began as a narrowing of your eyes, ended with a widening. The way it plays out could make him surrender to you every time, render him useless, even heal a shard of him that he thought was long since ruined.

Then, your mouth drops open, a moan emerging—rearing its head in an almost whine-filled cry, as he sticks a finger in, rolling it over your tongue, coating the pad of him in your spit before he slides his hand between your bodies.

And he knows you won’t last long. Not from the way you're clamping down, from the sounds you make—all beautiful, each rich, and fucking sweet. It’s why he drops his voice low, mouth to your ear, grunting your name, that you’re perfect, prettier than a sky full of stars—all the while drawing quick circles on your bundle of nerves, his hips maintaining a constant speed.

“Close, m’close,” you cry out, back arched into him, fingers finding refuge in his hair, face pinned by your forearms.

I know, he thinks, feeling you reach your pinnacle, hovering, hanging, before he delivers one quick thrust and you’re hurtling, spasming. Your body twists as your walls clench around him, coming on his cock, unravelling entirely as he picks up his speed, as he removes his hand from between you for leverage as he fucks into you. Just a few more, knees throbbing even through the pleasure, before his hips stutter, and he’s spilling inside of you, your name cutting into the air, scratching into it, marking it with each letter that makes it up.

Even before he collapses beside you, before breaths are caught, and your head finds that spot on his shoulder, that it’s coming. A look or your tone, that hint of gentleness you otherwise keep bottled up.

So he waits. Listen to the way your heart calms in your chest and your head feels heavy on his bone.

“Your secret is safe with me, Miller,” you whisper, not turning to look at him, just staring through the open hole of the train. “I won’t tell a soul you have a heart.”

Snorting, he swallows. “No one would believe ya if y’did.”

You hum, letting out a gentle breath.

And he just swallows the good he had almost whispered. Because if no one knows, it’s a thing people won’t try to take. And he can’t let you lose another thing, not when he’s sure the whole part of what remains of his heart, belongs to you.

an: hope you liked this. i am a whore for the moon and the stars.

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Write About You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Writing About Their Sex Life

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Rafe and Y/N finally get to take a class together, but maybe she didn't choose the right class to share with him.

Masterlist

Y/N knew she shouldn’t have let Rafe take an elective with her. She should’ve called it fate when they didn’t get into the same class during the fall semester, but Rafe was very determined to be in the same class as her. She honestly does love being able to spend time with him during class; it’s just that maybe a creative writing class isn’t the best for both of them. Rafe respects her boundaries during class, letting her focus on taking notes and listening to the professor, so that isn’t the problem. No, the problem is that Rafe hates creative writing as a whole. He isn’t great with words and the only topic he wants to write about is his angel. So far he is skating by with his assignments; however, he needs to do decent on his final portfolio to pass the class. Y/N makes it her mission to make sure her boyfriend passes and she is starting to regret it. For the past assignments, she didn’t have time to go over his work before he submitted it, so she was unaware of the recurring theme in all of his work. 

Rafe’s eyes bore into her as she read over his work, anxious for what she had to say. He doesn’t care about passing. If he doesn’t pass, he can always let his dad’s money pass hands to change that F into a B. Except this is a little different, Y/N wants him to do well so he wants to do well. Y/N glances over each word and heat starts to build inside of her heart. 

I don’t believe in religion, 

yet I do believe in Angels. 

Because I found mine, 

And she is absolutely divine. 

I live for her smile.

She makes my life worthwhile. 

She stole my heart

Because she is a work of art. 

His poem has no structure and isn’t long enough per the assignment requirements. It does rhyme, yet she has to admit it isn’t very good. She is sweetened up by the fact that he chose her as his subject. As she reads the rest of his pieces, she notices how she is his only subject. She finally reads the last piece and looks up at him with a soft smile. “You wrote about me,” she states, flipping through the pages. He nods, “Yeah, you are my muse, Angel. Do you like it?” “It’s really sweet, Rafe. I just don’t know how I feel knowing that you wrote about our sex life for your short story and that our professor is going to mark this,” she explains. He flashes a proud smile, “Yeah, I think I really captured your beauty in that one. I was thinking about reading that one during our last class when we can share our work. Show that guy, who sits in front of us who keeps looking back at you, just how satisfied you are with me.” Y/N’s eyes widen to saucers and she shakes her head. “Rafe, please don’t read this in class. In fact, I think we need to work on some of these pieces because you can’t only write about me,” she begs, turning the stack of papers so he can read her feedback. He frowns, “Come on let me write about you, Angel.” 

“You can, but if you want to pass, you have to choose three other topics to talk about. You can choose one piece to keep about me.”

“But I only want to write about you. Plus, I can’t choose because they all have to do with you so I love them all.”

“I know. Maybe we can alter the topic so it is still about me but not as obvious. My favourite is this sudden fiction. Your stream of consciousness is really good and you bring the scene to life with the senses. So let's see what you can write about for your other pieces.”

Rafe nods at his girlfriend’s suggestion. His heart flutters at the thought that she likes one of his works. He takes a second to seriously consider what she says and a light bulb goes off. “How about for the poem, I write about the future family that we can have?” he considers, already writing down the lines he is thinking of. She reads over what he writes and a smile blooms across her face. “That is a great idea. Now, we just need to look at two other topics.” 

———

Y/N is studying in the library when Rafe comes rushing to her with his phone in his hand. “Angel, Angel. Look what I got on my portfolio,” he announces. His phone shoots before her eyes and she has to hold his hand to keep it steady. Y/N looks at the screen, reading the B- on display. She claps her hand in celebration and then wraps her arms around his neck. “This is amazing, Rafe. I am so proud of you,” she kisses his cheek. He revels in her pride, “It wasn’t all me, Angel. I have you and your brilliant brain to thank for the help. You make me smarter every single day.” Rafe couldn’t feel more lucky to have such an amazing girlfriend, who helps him grow as a person and succeed.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @victory-in-the-llama @drewsmusee @starkowswife