#without going into detail about my Leg . all u need to know is that the left one from the hip down is just full of issues

[ratcandy]

i walk up to the podium . er. i limp up to the podium. i clear my throat and tap the mic. i announce “my ankle hurt” before nodding solemnly and taking my leave

[doeidawn]

☁︎ — Gaz my beloved <3 u know that man is a pussy worshiper; f!reader, nsfw 18+ (MDNI)

Just the mere thought of you tested every ounce of Kyle’s self-restraint. Nevermind the years of training wherein he learned just how crucial it was to have patience and control himself—this man would give up everything if it meant he could live between your legs. 

He’s typically on his knees within seconds of walking through the door when he returns home. No matter how long he’s gone or why he left, he kneels and works his mouth like there’s no sweeter prayer; like he’ll cease to exist if he doesn’t taste you. There was no question that the man worshiped the very essence of your being.

Some nights he would be so desperate to feel you cum that he would do everything he could to make you lose yourself hard and fast. But that wasn’t the norm. No, Kyle was a man who loved to see every minute detail—every little reaction—that he could coax out of you. There was no sweeter agony than his determination to turn you into a mess. He knew exactly how to touch you. He knew exactly where to place his mouth and when to back off.

You could always tell straight away when you’d end up with a night of teasing and begging. Kyle would spend minutes rubbing and squeezing the pillowy skin at the top of your thighs before he even thought about touching you anywhere else. He loved to hear the way your breathing grew deeper, loved to watch your legs spread without being asked. If you were lucky, he’d brush his fingers over your panties as a fleeting promise of more. 

He didn’t often grant you that luxury.

No, oftentimes Kyle would hold your legs apart by the underside of your thighs and simply enjoy himself. He’d litter kisses over your thighs, starting at your knee and slowly—by God, did he always go so slow—working his way to the dip where thighs met pelvis. His tongue would dart out occasionally to lap at sweat-slicked skin. Teeth grazed old hickeys and love bites, planting new ones wherever he deemed necessary. He’d do that for long and arduous sets of two on each side until you either begged or squirmed enough. 

He loved it when you wore lighter-colored panties so he could see the fabric darken with evidence of your desperation. It was only then would he lean in to place a wet kiss on your clit through the fabric (and maybe even a second if he was feeling generous.) Long, slow licks with the flat of his tongue covered your panties as if he was trying to taste your slickness off of the fabric. It was almost aggravating; not enough friction to be pleasurable, but just enough to make you need more. 

You’d beg him for more, to take the restricting garment off. “C’mon, Ky…take ‘em off, please,” you’d whine. All he would offer in return was a dismissive “mm-mmm” against the fabric that ever-so-slightly vibrates your clit. 

And he’d do that until he had his fill, until he decided he needed to taste the real thing. He’d tug the thin material down your thighs and off of your legs before his hands return to keep you propped open. He’d take a moment to admire—no, to assess—the state of you.

And of course he wouldn’t give you exactly what you wanted quite yet. He’d lean in just enough to brush his lips over the apex of your thighs, letting the anticipation stir as you grow needier and wetter. His hands would move inward, thumbs spreading your lips apart as his fleeting kisses trail closer. Sometimes his tongue would dart out to collect the slick that coated your entrance, other times he would plant kisses around your hole until you pleaded for more.

The teasing was relentless, almost endless on some nights. It never became easy to deal with when he tormented you with those gentle touches, but, Christ, was it always worth it when his mouth finally connected with your pussy and gave you that hot and wet friction that you needed more than air.

Kyle knew you wouldn’t last long if he completely devoured you—could probably time it if he really wanted—and sometimes he’d grant you that. But, typically, he’d take his time and let you really feel his tongue as it lapped slow strips from your hole to your clit.

Then his hands would slide slowly upwards, taking your hips in his grasp, his thumbs pressed gently into the dip of your hipbone. That was his way of keeping you in place while he worshiped you; he wanted to make sure you felt every little movement of his mouth over your sensitive flesh.

Sometimes it was seconds later, sometimes it was torturous minutes away, but he’d always give you what you wanted. The flat of his tongue lapped hungrily at your clit as he sucked just hard enough to make your toes curl.

Perhaps the best part about his devotion was how much he let you know he loved it too. Aside from the wet sounds your cunt and his mouth made together, Kyle was never one to shy away from moaning at your taste. 

He loved to speak right into your cunt, letting his breath hit your core and watch as you twitch in response. “Christ, you taste so damn good, love. All f’me, innit?” And when you could barely form words because of him, he accepted a breathless but affirmative grunt as an answer. “That’s right, yes it is. Pretty li’l cunt is leakin’ for me.”

He didn’t care if his words were muffled or his praise was lost between groans and sloppy wetness. As long as he could let your pussy know how much he loved it, he would.

He’d slip in a finger or two if you asked for it, but he preferred to make you cum with nothing but his mouth. He liked to see how wet he could get you and feel you clench and throb around his tongue. To him, there was no greater sense of accomplishment. It was an addictive high. So much so that he never left you with just one orgasm; two was the absolute bare minimum. But Kyle wasn’t one to do the bare minimum. 

He was so knowledgeable of your body that he seemed to know your limits before you did. He knew when he could get another one out of you before you crashed for the night. Even if it felt like you had nothing else to give, he somehow always coaxed another one out of you.

It helped when that sickly sweet tone of his encouraged you to keep going. “You can gi’me one more, yeah? Just one more, baby.” Greedy, that’s what he was. “I know you can do it. Just give me one more. Just one more time, alright?” Greedy, but damn good at getting your body back to that peak.

He’d hold you down tighter if you squirmed too much, but, truthfully, he loved feeling your thighs tense around his head when you got sensitive. Plush skin would cover his ears and drown out the rest of the world—leaving only him and your sweet pussy.

You can barely recall a time when your legs didn’t tremble as he’d pull his mouth away. Of course, he never left his prize without a set of departing kisses that trailed back down to your knees. It was a wonder he didn’t always smell like you—his face was an absolute mess every time; slick and coated with his saliva and your cum. 

You bet he’d keep his mouth on you all day if you’d let him. 

[sluttywonwoo]

minghao would love drawing / painting pictures of you nude like he’d have this box of nude art of you in different styles that he keeps hidden in his closet

or hear me out… being in a throuple with him and another member like mingyu or something and he also draws and paints u guys like having sex and going down on eachother and stuff

“guys, how many times do i have to tell you to stay still?” minghao mutters, head peeking over the edge of his canvas.

you freeze, eyes wide as mingyu just laughs beneath you. you’d been caught. again. mingyu was just as guilty as you, encouraging you to rock back and forth on top of him to get a little friction, but you had been the one to give in and do it.

you knew mingyu was only teasing you like that because he was tired of being scolded by your boyfriend. too many times had he been the one on the receiving end of minghao’s sharp tongue, trying to fuck into you just enough to ease some of the ache between your legs.

“it’s hard, hao,” you whine, begging for a shred of mercy.

minghao tongues his cheek, shooting you both an unimpressed look. “don’t you think it’s hard for me too? watching you guys have fun without me?”

“it’s not very fun if you’re not letting us move,” mingyu interjects humorlessly. “she’s dripping all over my thighs, man, please.”

minghao doesn’t budge. “just a little longer. i’ve almost got your figures down. i can work on details and expressions later but i need you to stay exactly where you are to get these right.”

mingyu groans, fingertips pressing into your hips. you know he can feel you pulsing around him, drawing him closer to the edge without any intentional work on your part.

you’re close too. usually it would take a lot more for you to cum but something about the situation, about the rules you’re supposed to follow, makes you want to break.

“gyu,” you whisper desperately, “play with my clit please.”

he cocks his head slightly, not enough for minghao to notice, silently asking you why.

“i need to cum,” you admit under your breath, “i need to cum so bad, i’m close.”

your boyfriend’s eyebrows raise in understanding, lips parting slightly. he glances at minghao, who by all appearances seems absorbed in his artwork, and then back to you, nodding minutely.

“you have to stay still, okay?”

“i will, i promise.”

he slides the hand that isn’t in plain sight down in between your thighs.

“he’s going to be pissed,” mingyu warns.

you shrug, already forgetting minghao’s initial instructions again. “he’ll fuck me and get over it.”

[katsu28]

hiii request for jamie tartt here🫡 i loved ur recent fic sm!!! could you maybe do the acacia flower or sunflower prompt? in my head i see hiding their relationship bc reader is a teammates sibling, but oopsie someone got heart eyes and started rambling haha

or literally anything else is fine too if this doesn’t strike your fancy lol<3 tysm!!!

hello!! i loved this so much, u are a gem for requesting it <3

acacia: a hidden relationship + sunflower: drunken rambling about their adoration, jamie tartt x kent!reader (no physical descriptors so imagine whatever sibling type u want!), 2k

“Are you sure we can’t tell him about us?” Jamie’s voice from where he was fixing his hair in the mirror pulled you away from your book and you glanced over at him. 

This was a question he posed to you all the time, and every single time, your answer was the same—though getting more creative with the details with every occurance. 

“Do you want my brother to gouge your eyeballs out? Cut off your dick? Possibly murder you?” 

Jamie paled, freezing in place. “Not particularly.” 

“Then no, we can’t tell Roy we’re seeing each other.” You picked up your book again, ready to resume your reading, but Jamie let out a noise resembling that of a kicked puppy’s whine. His shoulders slumped and he trudged over to you, throwing himself down on the bed in front of your crossed legs. 

Setting your book aside for good this time, you watched him make himself comfortable with his head in your lap, cheek pressed against your thigh as he looked up at you with the puppy dog eyes to match his previous whine. 

“I hate all the secrets. I have to lie to him, straight to his scary face, every fuckin’ day. D’you know how stressful that is? How stressed I am?” He huffed. You bumped your knuckles against his chin affectionately.

It wasn’t fair, Jamie having to face Roy and lie everyday when you had to do it a tad less often, but it was a necessary evil. One day, you’d tell your brother, but first you had to figure out how. 

This, among other reasons, were the downsides to being in a secret relationship with Jamie. There were tons of upsides too, no doubt about it. 

You had the privilege of seeing a softer, sweeter side of him that was reserved only for you, but you couldn’t go out in public with him. Nights in were your favorite dates, but sometimes you wanted to go to a fancy restaurant and eat expensive food and share a dessert with your boyfriend without needing to worry about the tabloids having a field day of it all. 

You could already see the headlines if the press ever caught wind of your relationship—AFC Ricmond Star Jamie Tartt Bags Manager Roy Kent’s Sister. They’d stir shit up, claim that Jamie was only with you because your brother was in a position of power over him and who knows what else. 

Most of all, you certainly couldn’t let Roy find out you were seeing one of his players, especially not Jamie fucking Tartt. They were friends now, but he’d always been overly protective of his sisters ever since you were all kids. He’d throw a fit and probably kill Jamie, then you. Well, he probably wouldn’t go that far, but you’d definitely be on his bad side until he got over himself. And you loved your brother to death, but he was a dickhead sometimes. 

“I’m gonna get early wrinkles, love. You don’t want me to have those, do ya?” 

“I think you’d look adorable with wrinkles. Like a cute little old man.” You dotted a kiss to his forehead, attempting to smooth out the crinkle between his eyebrows with your thumb. 

“That’s not funny.” 

“It’s a bit funny.” 

“Right, since you obviously don’t appreciate my problems, I’m off.” Jamie heaved himself off the bed, forcing out a rather overexaggerated sigh. You smiled innocently at him and he rolled his eyes, his own soft smile still on his face. He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips before heading for the door. “Dunno when I’ll be back but don’t wait up for me, yeah?” 

“Have fun, my love. I’ll just be here, thinking about you with wrinkles.” 

“Still not funny!” 

The Greyhounds were out in full swing tonight. Colin had somehow managed to book an entire pub for a whole night so they could drink and have a good time without being swarmed by the press vying for any morsel of gossip about one of the best up and coming Premier League clubs. Good friends, good food, even better beer—what more could anyone ask for? 

Jamie had been taking full advantage of it. That, paired with the fact that he no longer had to follow that god awful diet that deprived him of his beloved ice cold beverage, had led him to where he was right now, leaning heavily against the bar, drunk off his ass due to some sort of drinking game Jan Maas had insisted on teaching him. 

See, tipsy Jamie was fun. Very generous, would offer to buy a round or two, good for a few funny stories the next day. Absolutely pissed Jamie was a textbook oversharer. He didn’t make much sense, so everyone just mumbled a ‘very cool, mate!’ or something of the sort, made sure he didn’t topple over—those kinds of things. 

Roy was nursing his own beer next to Jamie tonight, half-listening in contained amusement as the Mancunian babbled on and on about someone. Who the fuck it was, Roy had no idea, but it was good entertainment and had soon garnered the attention of the rest of the team. Maybe this could be another one of those funny stories they could joke about in the locker room tomorrow. 

“She don’t look anythin’ like you, thank god. Imagine—imagine that! A lady Roy. Shit’s mad!” Jamie mused, amber beer spilling over the lip of the pint. “Nah, she’s the prettiest and the funniest and the coolest person ever and I love her.” 

“Who the fuck are you talkin ‘bout, bruv?” Isaac asked incredulously, looking just as amused as everyone else.

“Mate, I’m talkin’ ‘bout me girlfriend,” Jamie said very as-a-matter-of-factly, like they should’ve known that. “Duh.” 

“You’ve got a girlfriend? Since fucking when?” 

Jamie counted off on his fingers, scrunching his nose in thought. “Erm…four, five months? Maybe six?” He shook his head quickly, correcting himself. “No, not six. Would’ve done something special for six, wouldn’t I?” 

“First I’m hearing of it. How ‘bout you boys, did you know Jamie had a girlfriend?” Isaac asked, looking around. A chorus of ‘no’s and similar answers sounded amongst the others. Jamie’s brow furrowed. “It’s settled then. Who’s got the heart of the great Jamie Tartt?” 

“Good rhyme, boyo!” Colin chimed in, clapping his best friend on the back. 

Isaac looked proud of himself. “Whoa. I’m a fucking poet and I didn’t even know it.” He accepted another few praises before turning his attention back to Jamie, who looked like he was thinking really long and hard about something. “Okay, back to you. Tell us about her.” 

“I don’t even know where t’start, man,” Jamie sighed happily, resting his chin in his palm. “She’s kind and warm and—and she knows me better than anyone. It’s like…it’s like she’s an angel.” 

It was kind of weird, hearing Jamie be so open about his feelings for another person. He’d always been one to play things close to the vest, so that’s how they knew things with this secret girlfriend had to be serious. 

Sam beamed, happy as ever that his friend had found someone special. “Surely the angel from above has a name? Maybe one of us knows her?”

“Y/N.” 

The room fell silent. Everyone turned to look at Roy, who looked like he was about to start punching dicks. 

“Y/N, like…Roy’s sister, that Y/N?” Sam replied hesitantly, drawing pointed looks from every single one of his teammates. “I’m just confirming! There are other people named Y/N in London, you know.” 

Jamie pointed in his teammate’s general direction, nodding aimlessly. “Yep, her. That’s my girl.” 

Roy stood from his seat without a word, grabbing Jamie under the arm and dragging him towards the door. 

“Hey man, what the fuck are you—” 

“Just fucking shut up, will you?” 

“Okay.” 

You were about to call it quits on finishing your book and turn in for the night when the doorbell rang. When you went to open it, you definitely weren’t expecting to see your brother standing on your doorstep, practically carrying your half asleep boyfriend and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. 

“Your prick boyfriend got proper pissed. Where do I put him?” 

So Roy knew. And judging by the way Jamie was swaying on his feet, you guessed that he’d been the one to let the cat out of the bag. 

“Erm, couch is fine. I’ll get him settled later.” You opened the door a little wider to let them in and Roy grunted his acknowledgement, hauling Jamie over to the couch and promptly dumping him onto the cushions.

Jamie didn’t even flinch when his face hit the pillows, instead just letting out a dreamy sort of sigh and smacking his lips together without even opening his eyes. You were the one to roll him over onto his side, nudging the dustbin right near his head before covering him with a blanket. 

“How much did he drink?” You asked, smoothing the walnut mist strands away from his eyes. 

“Too fucking much, that’s how much.” Roy grumbled. He wandered over towards a different area of your flat, not wanting to wake Jamie. “Jan Maas taught him a Dutch drinking game, except that fucker can actually hold his alcohol.” 

You cast a fond glance back at your boyfriend, smiling softly at his peaceful face. “Yeah, this one can’t really drink much anymore. Said it’s because of your training regimen, the no beer thing.” 

“Of fucking course you’d know.” 

“I assume Jamie told you about us.” You said quietly, picking at a loose thread on the sleeve of your jumper instead of looking at Roy. Another vague low noise of acknowledgement from him, though it sounded a bit more strained this time. “If it helps you come to terms, Jamie’s been wanting to tell you for ages. I was the one who wanted to keep it under wraps.” 

“Why?” 

You let out a humorless chuckle, shaking your head. “‘Cause I knew what you’d think. Knew what you’d have to say about it.” 

“Are you a mindreader?” 

“No.” 

“Then how would you know what I’d think?” 

“Oh come on, Roy, you don’t think I know how you are? You get…dickish. I still remember you scaring off poor Billy Montgomery in year nine!” 

“Billy Montgomery was a fucking wanker, that’s why.” 

“Yeah, I know that now,” You huffed, scowling. Roy raised an expectant brow at you. “You’ve always been outspoken about the people I date. I just—I didn’t want you to be that way with Jamie. I know you’ve had your differences, and I know you’ve made up, but…I dunno, I was just worried about what you’d think of us.” 

“Do you love him?” Roy asked stiffly. There was a tic going in the hard line of his jaw when he forced his gaze to yours, and it almost looked like he was in the middle of shitting a brick. If you hadn’t been so nervous about his reaction, you probably would’ve laughed. 

“I do. A lot, actually. He’s…everything I could’ve asked for. Everything I’ve ever wanted in a partner.” 

“Then it shouldn’t fucking matter what I think.” Roy said. “Jamie makes you happy, and that is the only thing that matters.” 

To say you were taken aback was an understatement. You’d been so worried about how you thought your brother was going to react to the news, you never stopped to consider that maybe Jamie wasn’t the only person who’d been working to change for the better. 

“Thank you, Roy.” 

Caught up in your heartfelt sibling talk, neither of you had noticed Jamie had woken up and stumbled over to the two of you until he gathered the two of you into a rather squished hug.

“My two favorite people, the Kent siblings! You guys are the best!” He slurred, nuzzling into the embrace. Roy let out a growl, but he patted Jamie’s back stiffly nonetheless. You had to stifle another laugh at how utterly uncomfortable he looked right now. “Oh fuck, I think I’m gonna throw up—” 

“That’s it, I’m fucking leaving.” Roy shoved Jamie away from him, wiping his hands off on the front of his jacket and heading for the front door. “Make sure he doesn’t choke on his own vomit and tell him he’s still got training tomorrow, I don’t care how shitty he feels!”

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post new fics :)

[ashleyloob]

Hi!

From someone who is disorganized and discouraged, I would love advice on weight-lifting/building muscle. Would you share your understanding of building muscle and the breakdown of diet?

If possible, could you share how you apply what you know to yourself? If you use any tools to help you?

Struggled with working out, gaining weight, and eating my whole life. Thanks!

prefacing this with some important info for fellow disorganized scatterbrains!!!!

the main reason why ppl have trouble sticking to a lifestyle change is because they try to make very drastic changes too quick, and you get overwhelmed and it becomes unsustainable. this is especially an issue for neurodivergent folks, and since it's Tumblr I assume a good chunk of y'all are (me too dw)

DON'T immediately overhaul ur diet and hit the gym 5x a week from day 1!!! hitting tiny goals consistently is also more rewarding than working towards one very large arbitrary goal that you might not reach, esp when it comes to working out. start veeery small if u need to, such as only 10 bodyweight squats per day like i did and go from there. you wanna program ur brain into feeling accomplished to keep you motivated. patience is key!!!!

ok!! now onto the more detailed info below

Disclaimer: I'm still a newbie myself!! only consistently lifting heavy for about 3 months as of this post. I did a good deal of excessive info diving on lifting using the power of Sheer Autism, and my main gym buddy is very experienced & taught me a good chunk of this shit so shout-out to my pal for making all this possible xoxo

so good news!! "building muscle" is very easy for beginners starting from zero. newbie gainz are absolutely real. at this stage you can do just about anything at the gym and get stronger bc u can only go up. BUT!! if you structure it, you can make the process enjoyable and much more efficient. if you're goal oriented (lookin at u ADHD menaces), you'll love the concept progressive overload.

PROGRESSIVE OVERLOAD & SETS/REPS

wikipedia defines progressive overload as: a method of strength training and hypertrophy training that advocates for the gradual increase of the stress placed upon the musculoskeletal and nervous system. in layman's terms, it just means gradually adding more weight as you work out to increase the difficulty as you get stronger. progress is VERY easy to track because of this, and you'll be hitting PRs pretty much every week for the first couple of months and that shit feels fantastic because you physically feel yourself getting stronger so rapidly. I use the app Strong to track my workouts. so, how do we structure progressive overload? that's through sets/reps. A rep is a single execution of an exercise. 1 squat is one rep. 2 squat is 2 reps. and so on. A set is a collection of reps. The format is Sets x Reps, for example: 3x5 means 3 sets of 5 reps. You will rest between sets, and it's typically anywhere from 1 minute all the way up to 5 minutes depending on the level of exertion/type of training you are doing. Heavier weights mean longer rest periods and vice versa.

WHERE DO I EVEN START??

For those interested in barbell training: the r/fitness beginner routine is pretty good! I also recommend 5x5 stronglifts. both are very straightforward, but also note the typical olympic barbell is 45lbs. If this is a weight you struggle with, you can begin with bodyweight exercises, dumbbells, or machines at the gym which are all very BEGINNER beginner friendly. especially when it comes to legs you're probably much stronger than you think. Most people can squat 45lbs first try. don't be afraid -- you're standing on those things all day, they can support hella weight. Like I mentioned earlier, don't be afraid to start veeeery small and work your way up from there. I started at home with doing only bodyweight squats without the barbell, then added on benching with light 7lb dumbbells after a week, then impulse signed up for a gym membership a month later and began to go there to use equipment and now i'm deadlifting over 100lbs as a tiny girl that previously was too weak to even lift a 40lb dog. it snowballs quicker than you think once you gain confidence in your own body and its abilities!

WOAH I DON'T KNOW HOW TO SQUAT/DEADLIFT/BENCH/THIS IS SCARY AND IM FUCKING UP

If you can, i highly recommend getting a personal trainer to assist you, or tag along with a gymrat pal to show you the ropes. This page is also a good resource to learn specific lifts. otherwise, youtube is your best friend. you can record your sets and compare your form to form tutorials on youtube, and actively take notes on what to change the next time you work out. Be an active learner!!! be aware of what muscles are engaged when you lift and how your body feels. almost NOBODY gets it right the first time, esp with barbells. we've all made fools out of ourselves at the gym as beginners it's chill. i find people at the gym are very nice and willing to help you out if you're struggling, and people don't judge at all-- it's very easy to get in your own head in these spaces but most humans there are supportive and want you to succeed, especially since it's a hobby they are also passionate about. the more you do it, the less anxious you get. exposure therapy is very effective!! Also, almost all the barbell exercises can be replaced with smaller dumbbells, and you can do them at home if you get your own set + a workout bench (pretty cheap if u get secondhand, check facebook marketplace/craigslist). i got mad social anxiety myself so i understand sometimes you just can't, and this is an option for those that find public spaces overwhelming.

DIET

I personally don't think specialized diets/precise macro tracking is super duper important for newbies/casuals, only moderately important (spicy take for some but whatever). but you probably naturally will take an interest in diet once you realize it'll help you perform significantly better in the gym. the only macro i track is protein. You can use a TDEE (total daily energy expenditure) calculator to roughly estimate the amount of protein you need for maximum gainz. it's usually around .7-1g of protein for every pound of lean body mass (weight that isn't fat mass). Imma be real it's pretty hard for me to hit the recommended protein goal and most days I don't because my appetite just can't kick in for the amount it demands, and protein is super filling. I found that if i decreased the amount of carbs i eat, i am able to consume more protein bc i guess there's more room in my stomach lol. i eat a fuck ton of greek yogurt, chicken, fish, and tofu. when i started working out, i begin cooking a lot more and found i naturally craved less processed junk foods and snacks because the protein was keeping me full all day which is a plus! Even when im not regularly hitting my protein goal my gym progress is still going well and I think it's simply because my diet is A LOT better than what it used to be in my gremlin days. I also eat a lot more now that i've gained a bit of muscle, so do be prepared for food costs to go up as your metabolism increases and demands more energy to upkeep your gainz.

HOW LONG DOES IT TAKE FOR ME TO LOOK LIKE A MUSCLE MOMMY????

a whileeee. over a year, probably, unless if you're on anabolic steroids (dont ever do that u will quite literally die). and physique is mostly from diet since it's dependent on your body fat percentage, the saying "abs are made in the kitchen" is true. its why you see hyper skinny terminally indoors gamer dudes with abs, even if they'd snap in half if you farted in their general direction. those mfs barely eat they too busy being gamers i am no longer interested in lifting for aesthetics personally since i get more joy from hitting PRs and i'm pretty content with my body image, but ik physique is the reason why most people get into lifting so i'll touch on it. Weightlifting on its own will not make you lose weight or fat. Again, it needs to be supplemented with a healthy sustainable diet (DO NOT DO CRASH DIETS THAT SHIT IS GARBAGE) and a form of cardio. I actually gained 8lbs since I began lifting from water retention & new muscle mass (muscle is more dense than fat, your body retains water when repairing muscle after a gym sesh) but my measurements and pants size have remained the same. I'm short, so something as small as a 5lb increase usually bumped me up a pants size but it didn't this time bc im gettin swole :') if you want to track physique changes, measuring your waistline & progress pics is a better way to do so than the scale. If you want bigger muscles, look into hypertrophy training. it's a tad different from strength training, mainly because you do higher reps at a lower weight.

[sixosix]

IT WAS ALL BY DESIGN | KAVEH

tags second chance, angst and fluff, time-skips, DARK HUMOR, lovers to exes to lovers again, profanity

written for art @aanobrain, who i made a bloodpact with saying that if i were to write this they’d write me xiao, so here we are. hope u like it art

a/n wc 4K kaveh lore spoilers but i didn’t follow the canon timeline. kaveh meets al-haitham BEFORE the palace of alcazarzaray. also this has two parts

next part

kaveh first saw you when he was presenting his nth draft proposal to his fellow group members.

it’s stressful, it’s a mess, kaveh is lost, and so, so tired. this group is certainly the worst one he’s had yet, but he’s too far deep to back out now.

tamara sighs deeply, like a tired mother, and kaveh’s temper flares, “i understand your need to express your love for aesthetics, but don’t you think that it’s unwise to sacrifice practicality?”

kaveh’s jaw ticks. “sacrifice? i’ve already explained that i’ve thought of every detail to consider. give me something to work on, actual criticism, without just slandering my ideals.”

tamara enjoys insulting his beliefs because she is nothing like kaveh. or maybe it’s because he is nothing like her.

it always is like this. snobs treat his proposals—bursting at the seams with unique ideas yet never neglecting quality—like a joke, and they never get past getting called drafts. he never gets past calling any of his first proposals a success.

“the outside world wouldn’t be as lenient as we had been to your designs, you know,” another of them says. one of his mentors. “tamara is right. we don’t have to get too detailed. here, listen, what if you just change up the strange curve of this wall? and this pillar you…”

outside world, kaveh thinks bitterly. he had already dealt enough with the outside world, but keeping him cornered against a wall he had been building against them was far worse than that.

yet he can’t say this. he’s said enough already. if tamara’s face were to get any redder, he’d lose the opportunity for the materials collectively funded by these people.

kaveh sighs, defeated. “i know. i’m sorry i snapped. i’ll take in your suggestions. what did you say must be removed first?”

“hold on,” one of his group mates speaks up. anis leans her chair over to another table, tapping the shoulder of someone kaveh is sure he’s never damn seen before. “hey, what do you think?”

you squint at kaveh’s work, unfazed by anis interrupting your studies. kaveh doesn’t want to, but he can’t look away. “i don’t understand some of it, but it’s nice. this building would look beautiful in the jungle.”

anis returns the front of her char’s legs on the floor. “ahh, you think?” she muses, handing the paper over to you. “well, an outside perspective is just as important.”

with a pen in your grip, you point at somewhere kaveh can’t quite see, blocked off by the back of the paper. it’s blocked off your face, too. “could use a bit more ornamental flora. too little over here if you’re going to already add it. life doesn’t just come from bright colors, but other forms of life as well.”

“spoken like a true amurta darshan.”

you huff proudly, lowering the paper and revealing your smile. kaveh stares, and stares.

knowing how to appreciate beauty as he does is a trait he has always admired. he secretly takes your suggestions to heart, planning to pull another all-nighter for a few sketches. this is the beauty of the akademiya; why he never gave up as soon as he was first brought down—he learns so much every day.

his heart races just at the thought of it. it’s been days since he felt this.

kaveh wonders if he’ll see you again and doesn’t get much time to think about it again when he’s pulled back to reality, back to yet another proposal that’s been erased so many times, it looks more like a smudge of ink than something kaveh would proudly call his.

kaveh sees you again in the house of daena hunched over a book with your face pinched, sitting next to someone, and he thinks that might’ve been when he fell in love.

but no, that can’t be right. that’s not how love works. it takes time, courage, long nights, restless mornings—this is just him a few feet away from someone whose words he admired.

this must be more like passing by a picture that caught his interest. this must be more fleeting, more like what he deserves, like how the yolk is shaped perfectly on his breakfast for the first time in weeks, how the weather is perfect for smooth construction without disaster, or how his mother did not at least cry too much in a day.

he had only been trying to pass by and continue annotating the book he promised himself to get back to, which happened to be slotted on the shelf in front of your table. it’s sheer luck. and he might’ve taken advantage of it.

the student next to you is speaking. cyno, kaveh recognizes belatedly. “do you get it? because wave could refer to the motion of your hands, but it could also refer to an ocean’s wave, or what is the result of the wind blowing over the surface of—”

you clutch your head. with your eyes off the books scattered across the desk, kaveh sees this as a sign to turn away, a small smile on his face as he listens to your voice. it’s pleasant, much more than the ones he hears all the time around him. “please, cyno, have some respect for your senior and have mercy on the bags under my eyes.”

“i am,” cyno says sternly. “i am cheering you up. perhaps it’s because you aren’t under-sand-ing my jokes.”

when kaveh risks a glance, you throw a crumbled paper onto cyno, which he catches with unblinking ease.

“don’t make me call tighnari here,” you threaten, holding a pen to his face.

“is he going to give me pun-ishment?”

“cyno…”

kaveh gets his wits about him again and realizes that he had been picking more books than he needed, just in time to hear more of cyno, unfortunately.

“did you not understand? you see, the word punishment has pun in it, which is what i’m—”

“that’s it.” the sound of a chair sliding across the smooth floor echoes in the quiet halls. “you sit there alone. think about your actions; i’m going to get lunch without you.”

kaveh takes a step forward, you do so backward, and you catch each other’s eyes from the synchronized movement.

somehow, meeting your eyes makes his heart jump to his throat. he can’t tell if this is better or worse than when you were just at a different table and he didn’t have the chance to speak with you.

it becomes a moment too long: kaveh gets nervous, spinning around on his heels and pretending to look for more books. this is unlike him. his head aches trying to think about it.

once you leave, kaveh approaches cyno.

“cyno,” kaveh says with a smile.

“kaveh,” cyno acknowledges. “why were you just watching us? was there something wrong?”

kaveh’s blood drains from his face. “was it that obvious? was it?”

cyno nods. “you’re terrible at acting casual.”

kaveh sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ugh—whatever. cyno, hey, listen. that person you were with…”

“y/n?” he tilts his head. “did you need anything?”

“no, no.” kaveh repeats your name in his head, and files it away for later. “do you want to get lunch?” he asks, which he later realizes is an unspoken invitation for a new side of cyno he wishes he didn’t know. the puns hurt his head more than frustrating clients.

kaveh sits by himself in lambad’s tavern, lazily rocking his glass back and forth.

he’s made friends. plenty. but he’s not sure if he can confide in them if he were to go to them in this state.

he thought could consider al-haitham as one, but that blew over on his own face some time ago. it was a mess. kaveh’s not sure which hurt more: when he felt his own spite with how he trembled in spitting al-haitham’s name, or the fact that someone he almost considered a best friend seemed unfazed at all when they both knew that they wouldn’t talk to each other the next day.

al-haitham removed his name from the thesis, and kaveh tore up the copy he had of it. but unlike al-haitham, kaveh couldn’t bear the guilt and pieced them back together.

now they haven’t spoken for a while.

and he sits here, frustrated to the point of near tears.

he’s never felt as lonely as he feels right now, burdened by the stress accumulated from all those years with no one to tell him that he’s doing something right, that he’s going in the right direction. it feels childish, but when he closes his eyes, he can vividly imagine someone patting his shoulder, telling him he’s proud to call him his son, or someone pulling him close, kissing his forehead, telling him that she’d come back for him.

kaveh picks up the glass and takes a long sip.

“are you even allowed to drink?” someone says, too close to him.

kaveh inhales sharply, unfortunately breathing his drink along with it. he chokes on it, and some dribbled past his lips as he turns to the sound of the familiar voice.

you quirk an eyebrow. kaveh wants to gape.

“it’s coffee, and i’m allowed,” kaveh mutters hoarsely, flustered. how long have you been there? were you just watching him?

“but you’re pretending it is alcohol?”

kaveh looks away. he was hoping that no one would notice his dramatics.

“it’s funny,” you tell him. kaveh wasn’t really hoping to appear funny in his sorry state.

you call for lambad and tell him you want your usual. when lambad returns, he hands you a half-full glass of what kaveh could smell as alcohol. maybe he should’ve done the same, but his goal was to feel awake enough to finish his due project, not intoxicated and slurring his words together.

“well?” you turn to him, your cheek against your palm as your arm rests against the counter. “are you gonna act like it and bemoan your regrets?”

students of the akademiya have started to become familiar with the fact that kaveh is a one-of-a-kind genius. names like light of kshahrewar started to circle the halls loud enough for kaveh to hear it from rumors and to his face when they asked to collaborate with him or when they ask for too much of his time.

he was expecting you to do the same. he wouldn’t even blame you if you tried because he wouldn’t hesitate to say yes. yes, yes, i want to.

there is no liquid courage here, just the presence of you and his muddled mind finding it far too comfortable.

“my mother remarried,” he says.

you blink, pausing mid-way through drinking your fill. “oh…?”

“i’m happy for her,” kaveh says, confident, firm.

“here’s to that.” you clink your glass against his.

you weren’t taking it as a happy statement. he doesn’t want sympathy, but he knows that whatever you’re thinking is the irrefutable truth. perhaps you were mourning with him because he, too, knows that there’s nothing content about him when he has to reassure himself out loud.

kaveh wants to ask so many questions. he wants to pull out the stacks of papers shoved in his briefcase, ask you what you think of it, listen to you tell him that you understand its beauty, but it’d be more beautiful if he weren’t so afraid and confined in someone else’s ideals. he needs to hear you say it because he knows you’d say the exact same thing as he wants.

instead, he sits quietly, watching you from the corner of his eyes, entranced.

and kaveh—he’s longing. or maybe he’s just starting to feel loneliness. 

“so, what happened between you and al-haitham’s group project?” you ask, wearing a smile that spells out you know exactly what you’re getting into.

“oh, don’t even get me started,” kaveh groans.

the night ends with his heart a little lighter than it was before. (this is still fleeting, right?)

it seems like after that, you’re just everywhere and always by his side. kaveh loves it. especially when he’s too caught up with the world and needs someone to distract him enough to remember that the world is splendid.

despite his desperate attempt at drowning himself in coffee in hopes of being able to remodel at least three rejected drafts, he doesn’t get anything done at all.

he knows that giving in and offering to help out everyone who asks him for it isn’t healthy. he knows it, and he sees the effects on his face, the paleness of his skin, and the mess of his hair.

when kaveh stares his paper down, he can almost see himself on it. not a reflection, but a shadow. it looks like a bird’s nest. he might as well get feathers to go with his hair and complete the look.

someone taps his shoulder, and kaveh somehow doesn’t feel like reacting accordingly. “kaveh, is that you? are you kaveh?” the stranger asks, all in one breath.

it takes him a few seconds. breathing in and out deeply. he turns around, hopes the eyebags on his face aren’t as heavy as they feel, and smiles.

“yes?”

“ah!” he recognizes the student. a few years younger than him. he can’t quite come up with a name right now. “thank goodness. they told me that you could help me with this, i knew you wouldn’t disappoint.”

“oh,” kaveh says, quiet.

if any of his friends were here, they’d glare him down, tell him that he’s going to bleed himself dry if he even thinks about saying anything aside from no. but they aren’t, and kaveh’s heart is bleeding out instead.

“what is it?”

“kaveh!”

you come stumbling in between him and the younger student, whose eyes bulge out of his eyes. he seems to be shaking, if kaveh were to look any closer.

without warning, you throw an arm over kaveh’s shoulder, leaning down to press your chest against his shoulder blade. kaveh’s breath hitches.

you tilt your head to appraise the cowering junior. “oh,” you say, as if not realizing he had been there all along. “daneh. did you need anything?”

“no. no, no, i don’t,” daneh splutters. “i’ll take my leave, i think— i think i should— please excuse me.”

while daneh runs off, kaveh tries to recall his breakfast and the procedure he did in his head to calm down and give himself the boldness to meet your eyes. what is happening to him?

dried fish fillet pan-fried until crispy, served in creamy, white sauce, sprinkled with mint—

“kaveh,” you say. your voice is too close to his ears, which he is sure is turning red.

—kaveh, kaveh, kaveh.

“y/n,” kaveh says, defeated, the grip on his quill faltering. “what was that about?”

he thinks he can feel a grin, and he badly wants to see what it would look like on your face. “i don’t remember telling you my name.”

curiosity wins. kaveh can’t help but smile along with you when he sees it. “you did it on purpose?” then, “cyno told me.”

“you asked around about me?”

“yes, i did,” he says, almost petulantly.

the way your mouth tips to one side more makes your beam come off more smug. “is that so?” you say, and kaveh feels like he’s bared himself to the world. “what’s this?”

kaveh follows where you’re pointing. it’s a mindless sketch he was practicing with; he doesn’t remember drawing half of it. “i was… oh, i don’t know, i just needed a break.”

“this is what you do on your break?” your fingers hover over the page as you trace the curved columns and drooping roof. “green. they look like leaves,” you tell him quietly.

kaveh’s smile turns softer at your sincere awe. “i know.” he wonders what’s going on in your head, then wonders if he’s worth knowing. “what do you think’s missing?”

“i’m no architect, but it could use a bit more of a… splash, you know? color. maybe some—”

“ornamental flora?” kaveh finishes for you. “you’re right. there’s no need to worry about this, though. i must have been on autopilot creating this.”

“straight to the bin it goes? what a shame. it’s stunning.” there’s a seat right there, yet you insist on being pressed against him, bent over, still too close to his ear. you talk about beauty, and kaveh asks himself if you’ve looked at yourself. “i suppose i don’t understand how geniuses work. you are one of a kind, light of kshahrewar.”

then he is suddenly so aware of your hand having trailed upwards, resting on his nape. as you move, your skin rubs absentmindedly on where the hair fades. he shivers.

he hates that title. he feels like he doesn’t deserve any praise he receives at all. yet when you say it—

“you blush a lot,” you point out. kaveh wants to dig a hole and lay there forever. “it’s cute. your expressiveness is charming.”

“don’t—just say that.” his face is so, so red.

al-haitham finds him alone at the same table that night, unable to focus on anything but his racing thoughts. something is wrong with him, he’s sure. he’ll have to pay tighnari a visit and retrace if he’d picked the wrong mushroom.

al-haitham—and kaveh doesn’t know how he’s managed to figure it out so easily—makes a face that would be the closest thing to a smile. “i like y/n,” al-haitham says, out of the blue.

“what,” kaveh says flatly, coiled up like a cat prepared to pounce.

“smart enough to pull you back down and smart enough to make you listen.”

“it’s—” kaveh wants to say it’s not like that, but he goes silent thinking about it. “fuck off. you wouldn’t get it.”

al-haitham tilts his head to the side. “you’re the one not ‘getting it’.”

thankfully, al-haitham leaves him be. they are still on awkward terms, after all.

“oh,” kaveh says intelligently one morning. oh, no.

tighnari’s ear twitches. “the star of the show is here, finally.”

“everyone,” kaveh starts solemnly as the door slams shut behind him. the wind blows, and kaveh’s hair flutters, looking like he came straight out of those films.

“how has dealing with your recent client been looking?” tighnari asks with a smile. cyno and al-haitham nod because they probably didn’t think of even asking that. it’s why tighnari is kaveh’s favorite.

but he is not here to talk about that.

kaveh slams his briefcase on the table, rattling their glasses. “i’m going to confess.”

al-haitham makes a face. “who are we confessing to?”

“not we, al-haitham. stay out of this,” kaveh says. al-haitham’s expression doesn’t change. “i’m going to confess, and it’s going to be so romantic. no one can say no.”

“i would say no.”

kaveh glares, snatching his glass. “al-haitham, just be quiet. the adults are talking. this isn’t about you.”

“you invited us out here,” al-haitham points out.

cyno tilts his head. “to y/n, right?”

“about time,” tighnari sighs.

“yes, to y/n. and what do you mean about—” kaveh huffs, getting red in the face, flustered. “hey, aren’t you guys going to stop me? tell me this is a bad idea and that i’m going to ruin this meaningful friendship i have with y/n?”

“everyone wants you to confess already,” al-haitham says, as if kaveh is stupid for not realizing that. maybe he is.

cyno hums thoughtfully. “if i stop you, i think y/n will murder me with bare hands.”

“oh,” kaveh says, pleased. whatever that means. “alright, then, thank you.” he downs the glass of water—it was al-haitham’s, most likely, judging by the incensed expression on his face—and grabs his briefcase again.

“where are you going— kaveh, hey, where do you think you’re—” tighnari smacks his hand on the table, yelling after kaveh, who’s already by the door.

kaveh’s confession is messy, quick, and probably not as romantic as he had hoped, stumbling over his words and feeling as brave as an infatuated schoolgirl.

“pinning me against the shelf like this is quite the move, kaveh,” you say, and kaveh snaps back to reality. “why are we hiding?”

“sorry,” he splutters, backing off a bit but not enough to have you far from touching him. “i don’t want—someone could see us.”

“now, why are you afraid of that?” you grin, sly enough to make kaveh comprehend that you know exactly what he’s called you over here for. you do the—the thing again, where you trace shapes on his nape, and he shivers helplessly.

“i like you too much,” kaveh says, his face too red to be passed off as sunburnt.

suddenly, all the confidence he thought he had when he left the tavern dissipated. “you know what i mean. can you—no, will you… ugh, i’m not doing it right—”

you meet his gaze, and you don’t look away, the long silence starting to grow distressing for kaveh.

“kaveh,” you say softly, and that’s when kaveh’s expression crumbles. it could be because of how you said it, carving his name with your mouth so tenderly, but really, it’s because he feels like you wouldn’t look at him the same way ever again.

“yes.”

…wait.

you cup his cheek, pulling him closer to you by his hips. “yes, yes.”

“wait,” kaveh says, “really?”

you bristle, tilting your head down. are you embarrassed? kaveh feels a thrill run down his spine. “yes. about time—we finally did something about the unbearable tension between us. so, if you’re willing to have me…”

“yes, yes,” kaveh says, to all of that. “god, yes.”

embarrassed, you bury your face on his shoulder. kaveh can’t hide how fast his heart is beating when you’re directly on top of it. when you’re in it. “but listen, kaveh, i don’t know if i can stay here in sumeru forever. and i know it will be hard. so if you aren’t—”

kaveh is too happy to think too hard about that.

“no,” kaveh says, “no, i still want to try. please, let’s try.”

“okay,” you breathe, smiling brightly. “kiss me already, will you?”

kaveh prays and prays and thanks their archon that this isn’t fleeting. don’t let it be, not when he has you, and he has already found out your lips meld perfectly with his.

lord sangemah bay commissions him.

in the first few minutes after dori told him that she could care less about what he wanted to do with the place, kaveh didn’t know what to do with himself. he wanted to do everything, but when all of it comes rushing at once, he’s frozen in place instead.

he takes a step in the direction of the house of daena, then another, and another, until he’s sprinting and his heart is racing enough to have a smile crack across his face.

he spends the night in there. he feels crazy; other students can sense madness in his eyes. they all leave him be, as if they know that once they ask, kaveh will never stop talking.

kaveh feels his wrist sore, but he can’t stop. he wouldn’t be able to if he even tried, not when he thinks of a sinking leaf for a roof, windows shaped like petals, and your words—

kaveh pauses, glancing at the clock that has definitely been spinning faster than he remembered.

it’s sunrise. he gets back to work.

“you’re grinning ear-to-ear,” you say, poking kaveh’s cheek. “you’re not telling me something.”

kaveh isn’t. but only on purpose. he takes your hand and uses it to kiss the back of your palm as he blinks up at you, the embodiment of innocence. “what are you talking about? i told you about it. dori commissioned me, and she said that i’ll be in charge of the approval of the design and the construction process…”

while kaveh explains all this, gesturing wildly with his hands, he trails off when realizing you had just been staring at him fondly. his heart skips a beat or two.

“why—why are you just staring like that?”

“it’s hard not to.”

he kisses you square on the mouth, the blueprint of the palace of alcazarzaray hidden beneath his palms, and he thinks he’s never been happier.

(and under the same stars, the withering slithers in, and everything crashes down faster than kaveh could even say please, no.)

a/n art if you’re reading this i didn’t tell you but this is actually a second chance fic cus i remember you saying it’s one of your favorite tropes 🤧 but anyway ty for reading!

[vaguely-yandere]

can I please get some more “what i would love to see is the Big Bad Yandere who acts like they're going to chop off your fingers, your toes, beat you black and blue, anything to keep you with them, turns out to be the most pathetic, submissive little thing you've ever had the pleasure of meeting and boy, are you lucky!”

Like the idea of a Yandere who is self aware enough to be embarrassed and hates it but still goes weak in the knees and pathetic for their darling <33

Maybe darling for boys their jacket one day or something and Big Bad Yandere finds it and uh 👀

Or more details on them making a mess of themselves in private masturbating to the thought of you after you bump or brush into them </3 o and what would cause them to cum in their pants in public.. how long of a touch? Do they ever do overstim training like sensitive Yandere? Like the idea of them pushing themself to their limits out of frustration >:) like how DARE you make them feel this way <3 ok and this is kinkier so u can ignore this but maybe they go out with their holes plugged as “training” but then they bump into you and :)

Maybe for a later on scene they ride ur thigh frustrated and desperate but immediately cream their pants when you bounce your leg <3

Also could I be 🐓 anon?

yes yes!!! also.. big bad yandere is one of my favorites!!! so cute and embarrassed!

i just know big bad is a kinky fucker!!

i can already see you maybe snapping at them or acting so sweet to them, touching them, maybe its hot, god its so hot and they just got back from a workout in a barely concealing anything tank top and you notice them and your eyebrows shoot up.

"wow! i had no idea your arms were so big! can i touch em?" you're wearing fairly revealing clothing as well. shorts, a tank top, a crop top if you wanna kill em and your just a bit sweaty, not overly so, but they can see a few drops dripping down, a few wet marks on your clothes and all they can do is dumbly nod, holding their arm out to you and the heat from your finger tips squeezing their bicep goes straight to their junk and face but they just cant move.

"woah!! youre so strong!"

'youre so strong!'

those words replay in their head over and over as they desperately touch themselves, panting, whining, cursing under their breath as they buck into their hand, just an absolute mess. their bicep still tingles where you touched it and they end up avoiding you for a few days afterwards. i mean, how can they even look you in the eye after moaning out your name and begging you to touch them more or fantasizing about you fucking them!?

while sensitive yandere knows they wont be able to get intimate with you without cumming prematurely, big bad yandere refuses to accept their hyper sensitive fate. where sensitive yandere has overstim sessions, big bad has endurance sessions! sensitive tries to fight the overstimulation that comes with orgasming multiple times so they can continue to pleasure you while big bad refuses to be humiliated by cumming early so i can definitely see them trying to have an endurance session, getting called out to do something and, well... maybe walking around with a toy in them isnt such a bad idea! no one will question it and you arent even there! but you were called out too. and they need to work with you. something simple, maybe cleaning, but its pure hell for them.

their hyper awareness from being around you is only amplified and instead of it causing them to yell more often, to snap more often, it makes them surprisingly quiet and avoidant.

and you! youre smart. you notice how hot its getting in the small room. how they occasionally groan, how heavy their breathing is, how their eyes squeeze shut, how hot their skin is if you catch them off guard and touch them... they have to be sick! and very embarrassed about it. they have their entire image based on being unshakeable so you imagine getting sick is a hard hit to their ego.

"sit! something is obviously wrong with you!"

'oh god no. please no, please, i dont know whatll happen if i sit down please dont make me please darling'

"wh- fuck you! nothing is wrong with me!! im fine! lets just get this over wi-" their words get stuck in their throat when you grab their arm and move a chair over to them, completely unable to fight when you force them to sit down.

the toy is pressing right against the perfect spot, you're so close, you're getting closer, youre touching them, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!!

the second your hand touches their forehead, your legs grazing theirs, their legs snap shut along with their eyes, face burning with shame as they have the best orgasm of their life while you're almost completely unaware but as they come down from their high, panting heavily, eyes half lidded and foggy, legs slowly spreading back open, you finally see that they arent sick at all.

"oh... why didn't you just say so? i couldve helped you."

oh god yes

[kenny-the-ken]

Y O U + M E |Pt 3|

A LOT OF WARNINGS WITH THIS ONE!!!! ALL AGED UP CHARACTERS AND IN HIGH SCHOOL/COLLEGE!! Loosely based on the Netflix show YOU, if y'all have seen it,,, then you know what Kenny's gonna do. If you haven't seen it,,, strap yourselves in, it's a lot!! Yandre Kenny, strong language, sexual content, violence, mentions of blood, gore, stalking, obsession and narcissistic thinking, so please beware!! I warned y'all!!

ALSO!!! A lot of this fic is written as Kenny's internal monologue and from his perspective so bare that in mind!!

Spring break. The literal bane of my existence. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love parties, I've taken more drugs than most people I know, excluding my parents of course, but Spring Break in the US was known for crazy parties, girls half naked in bikinis, guys chugging 2% alcohol content beers thinking that they're the shit, and copious amounts of drugs.

I don't care about any of that though, no, not at all, which you may be extremely shocked to hear, the only thing I cared about was, what were you doing for spring break?

Were you going to any parties? Were you meeting any friends, old or new? Were you planning to show yourself off in a tiny bikini, not that I'm complaining, but I'd rather see you like that alone, without other men's wondering eyes glaring at you as if you're a piece of meat. I can promise you y/n, that would not end well for anyone involved.

I had texted you this morning, like we do every morning. We fucked but after that it felt like we drifted apart. Or rather, you drifted from me. So here I sit, in my bathroom, cock in hand with my face buried in your used panties that I'd stolen from a while back, I assumed you didn't miss them much, and anyway, they were currently in use.

I'd give anything for another taste, your lips were soft, plumped, and oh so red from how aggressive I can be, your h/c cascaded perfectly down your back, and your breasts.

"Fuck." I knew thinking about you like this would make me cum faster, and that's exactly what I wanted, for reasons you'll find out soon enough.

Your pierced nipples and how perfectly shaped they were, your ass was round and perfect for slapping when you needed taught a lesson. Your hips were perfect for gripping, and oh how I'd grip your hips and fuck myself deeper and deeper and shit.

And just like that, here I am, hand covered in my own jizz, cock twitching between my legs and your panties still in my hand.

I have a box, I keep it under lock and key behind my wardrobe, just some little souvenirs, your panties, some nude Polaroids I'd found of you in your bedroom. Oh yeah, and one of Clyde's teeth. Just to remember him by.

You see, although we weren't dating, that didn't mean that you weren't in need of protection, you see, I'd overheard Clyde chatting to Jimmy about how he was thinking of asking you on a date. Now, I've known Clyde for a long time, he uses women like they're nothing, fucks 'em, leaves 'em.

What did you expect me to do? I mean, I did this for you! He was going to take advantage of your kindness and use you for his own sexual gratification and desires and then throw you away like you're worthless, and you are far from worthless. I'd kiss your feet as you walked the earth if you'd let me, oh how I'd worship you, like you deserve to be.

It wasn't too hard to kill Clyde, you see, when you've been known as a fuck boy before, which I unfortunately have been, other fuck boys, they tend to trust you more. So Clyde was pretty easy to reel in. I told him the truth, how I was working on an English project with you and I fucked you in your bedroom, and Clyde was all over that shit like a dog on heat. He was so focussed on what he was planning to text to you, obviously with my keen eye proof reading it for him, he was too distracted to notice me coming behind him with a brick. He only realised just as it was too late, sorry dude, your skull's caved in.

We needn't worry about the details of where his body is, let's just say... I've taken care of it. And tonight was our date, and also the first night of spring break, I would ask you what you were up to, and of course I wouldn't demand to come, unless you chose to invite me, no, I would just hang out in background, you won't even notice that I'm there. And I dare anyone to try anything, they would be dead men walking.

It didn't take long for the time of our date to roll around, and I stood on your doorstep, politely knocking on your door a few times, before smiling as the door cracked open.

You were breathtaking. I'd worked my ass off at City Wok to be able to afford to take you out to dinner, and my god, no food could ever look as delicious as you looked right now. Your tits, your hips, your ass, your legs, your hair, your face, everything! We were destined to be together, and when you smiled back at me I swore my heart swole in my chest.

"Hey, Kenny. You ready to go?" You asked, pulling your leather jacket on over your short, black dress that was showing off way too much cleavage for me to control myself for the entire evening, god I'd take you right here right now if I could.

"I was born ready, baby. I got these for you." I replied, bowing to you and holding out a small bouquet of flowers, your hand clutching your chest, and a gasp leaving your red stained lips.

"They're beautiful, Ken! Oh you shouldn't have! I'll just go get these into a vase, please come in." You spoke like an angel, and who was I to say no to an invitation into your home?

"I wanted to. I really do mean what I said last time, I've had my eye on you from you moved here, y/n, and you're different than those other girls, you're special, I can tell." You cheeks were flushed which meant that my charm was working. You'd be mine soon, and as much as I wanted to show you off to the world, I also wanted to hide you from it, so no one would dare to try and steal what's rightfully mine, or they'd end up like Clyde. Buried in the middle of fuck knows where.

"Had your eye on me? Not a little stalker are you, McCormick?" You joked, and I hoped it was a joke, you were laughing and so was I, so that was a good sign.

"Not at all! I mean, how could my eyes not go to you when you walk past me? I mean, look at you!" And slinging my arms round your hips would surely make you see that I was nothing but a pure gentleman.

"You're such a flirt, Kenny." God the way you looked at me, it was no surprise that to me that you'd stolen my heart, god the things I would do to you, the things I would do for you, oh they were criminal, but in this moment as I stood staring into your perfect e/c eyes, I couldn't care if my crimes caught up with me, I mean, getting away with it would be easy, trust me, I'm not that stupid.

Around two hours had passed and so far, our date seemed to be going perfectly, you were laughing at my jokes, I flirted, and you flirted right back, you'd told me about a huge spring break party at Tolken's house, you'd asked me to be your plus one, of course I'd gratefully accept, I needed to keep you safe, you even took my hand within your own when we were leaving the restaurant, my plan was working a charm, and you'd invited me in to your house for a quick night cap, no doubt I'd be staying the night.

And when you led me to your bedroom wearing nothing but some skimpy lingerie, I knew that your panties that were in my safe would be getting a much needed night off from being pressed against my face.

You were on top of me, grinding on me, fuck you were so needy, and my cock was growing by the second, I couldn't help but groan and pull your hips down against my own.

I'd swapped the positions, and now you lay beneath me, I'd left dozens of hickeys all over your neck, your breasts, your stomach, thighs, and now I was going to taste your sweet cunt again, god I couldn't wait, it had been too long from I'd tasted you, had my tongue inside you, claiming your insides, god I was starved, and I couldn't wait any longer, and just as I pressed a closed mouth kiss against your parted lips, your fucking phone rang.

"Ignore it. Don't answer." I ordered, my tongue lapping up your wetness, a moan coming from your lips as your phone started ringing again, and of course, being the kind person that you are, you answered.

And this couldn't have been a worse time, your face was worried, and you moved my head from where I wanted desperately to be for the past week, it was your mother.

Drug overdose, she was in hospital and you had to be there to take care of her, not that she ever did the same for you. No, you'd told me previously that our lives were similar in a lot of ways, and that's where my need to protect you came from. You were like a delicate flower awaiting to bloom, but others put you in the dark, stopped you ever from doing so, from ever reaching your full potential, but I was here now. I was going to care for you, I'd put you in the sun and give you all the love and support I could, the perfect partner, a soul mate some may say.

And as you hurried to pull your sweatpants and T-shirt on to your small frame, tears welling in the corners of your eyes, you gave me a hug, whispering sweet apologies, and I offered to come with you, which you declined. And I understood why, I hated people meeting my parents, seeing my sorry excuse of a home, fitted with built in meth lab in the garden. You were embarrassed, ashamed of your drug addict mother, and I felt that pain, I knew it personally. I was strong enough to deal with it, but you darling, you're too fragile, far too good to be feeling that way, and by god would I protect you from anything.

I'm so sorry to say this baby, your mother will never get clean, she's never been clean your entire life, it truly is a miracle that she's lasted this long. I'd be doing you and everyone else a favour. You'd told me this wasn't the first overdose she'd had, and every one made you feel the same way, like you were the parent, like you were at fault, you didn't keep an attentive enough eye on her, the pain you were feeling was soul destroying, not just for you, but for me too! How dare that woman who brought you into this world make you feel so awful, how dare she cause you pain and misery, if she died it would mean she couldn't cause any more of that, sure you'd be sad, but you'd realise in time that life was better without having to worry every time you left the house if you would come back to your mother, her skin blue and covered in her own vomit, which she choked on in her drug idled state.

And I would care for you, I'd be your shoulder to cry on, your support network, your lover and your boyfriend all tied into one, the whole package, you'd fall straight into my lap and I swear, I'd never ever let you go.

I'm sorry hunny, but your mother needs to be dealt with, and it would be easier than you'd think, one bad batch could wipe out hundreds of drug addicts, and besides, it's not as if I'd never used this method before. My parents died of an 'overdose', well, at least that's what the coroner's report said on the matter, Karen was put into my care, and the home was given to us, and life had been so much happier from I did my whole family a favour and took them out of the equation, and I know you will feel the same, in time at least.

As I drove you to the hospital you told me about your childhood. How you'd been in foster care, then your mother cleaned her act up and for a long time she was stable and in recovery, till she met some douchebag when you were ten, and she was back to using again, and your life had never been the same since.

When we pulled up outside the hospital, you hugged me tightly and kissed me twice, telling me that you'd text me later, and thanking me for the lovely evening, I assured you that this was to be the first of many of these delightful evenings, and even in the deepest depths of your pain, you still smiled at me.

I watched you till your figure disappeared inside the hospital, and I knew there and then what had to be done. I'm sorry baby, but your mother isn't good for you, she's not good for you, not good for us!

She had to go, and I had to be the one to kill her.

[echantedtoon]

Until Death Do You Vow Ch11 Epilogue

(Hey everyone. I just wanted to thank everyone who read this far and liked my story enough to read it to it's end. I had a lot of fun writing it and it makes me happy knowing some people loved it enough to read it fully. If you liked this consider checking out my other works. Thanks to everyone for reading this, faving it, or leaving a nice comment. And thank you to Snaccpop Studios for creating such wonderful characters and giving me the opportunity to make this wonderful story.)

-TWO YEARS LATER-

The sights of the other cars and buildings going by met f/c eyes as you looked out the car window and stared at the beginning sunset. 

"So how was work today?", Taylor asked a moment after he started up driving again. 

You turned to your boyfriend and sighed tiredly. "It's fine. One of my coworkers got a broken leg from tripping over the stairs so I had to cover their shifts today. I swear all those little goblins just wanted to grab everything. I had to stop one from trying to climb on the horse statue from Greece."

Your job at the local museum was a good one but you hated school field trip days with a burning passion.  All the little imps running wild, barely listening, complaining about being bored, and trying to grab their little mits on everything they see was a lot for one person. No help from teachers who didn't seem to care as long as all of the kids stayed in one chaotic hoard. Thank God they didn't stay for more than three hours! You could've snapped and yelled at one of them-

Taylor groaned. "Ugh. Another reason why I am going to make sure that our kid doesn't end up like that."

Your brow rose. "Our kid huh?"

He shrugged without looking at you. "Still plenty of time for one. *ahem* "

You slowly shook your head yes with a sly smile. "Uh huh...Well we'll have to discuss that with Elias first and see what he thinks about becoming a second father."

"U-Um. Yeah. *Ahem* ..A-Anyways! I'm almost ready to publish my book." Taylor steered the conversation to something else really quick before turning on his blinker and turning to right onto another road. "My publisher said it looks good, but I need to get an idea for the cover. I know a really good artist and they can do it for a good price and I know what I want it to look like."

"Sounds like a plan. ...Hey. You didn't forget to close up the shop again did you?"

Taylor briefly shot you a cross between a pout and scowl. "Of course I didn't! Geez! I forget to lock the backdoor one time!"

It had been one year since you both graduated from Zephyr University. You'd taken to getting that job at the museum you've wanted. It was a good job, usually quiet but sometimes it can be stressful especially with tours of little kids of field trips. Taylor...well he didn't change much if at all. He was still the same. Still went at the most random times to do investigations. Still obsessed with documenting the paranormal but instead of running a club, he preferred to do so via updating a website by the same name as the old club. But his real day job was something that neither of you seemed to expect.

He ran a flower shop.

Gallagher And Potts's Bouquets and Flora. The name had taken forever to decide between the two men and usually consisted of Elias growing said flowers or however many flowers a specific person ordered, and Taylor just loading them up into his car and taking them over to the shop which was pretty close to the mansion just inside town. Taylor became fascinated by ecto-bontany and Elias was really happy one of his hobbies could be appreciated and flourish. The hardest part was renovating the old building you all bought for the shop. 

But he's been working on a larger side project that was paranormal investigating. Taylor had come up with the idea of writing the history behind the Gallagher curse in detail to clear up the legend once and for all..minus a couple details of course such as Elias actually being a real ghost. You both rather not have a floodgate of people coming to gawk at Elias like some carnival attraction. The collaboration AND Taylor's interest in Elias's flowers meant Elias and Taylor talking a whole lot more and well..Elias shared many intimate and personal life experiences in great detail about his life and family agreeing to want to clear up the entire legend. You guessed in turn that brought Taylor to open up about his own past. One thing lead to another, and you suddenly found the both of them falling for each other.

As for yourself it was also a new experience. Carefully but awkwardly going around a best friend who had feelings for you but eventually you both decided to try dating after a month of awkwardly dancing around the topic. And you both kept in touch with Elias so one thing also lead to another-

So here you three were. All in one big relationship with each other. It had its ups and downs but you can say you enjoyed this much more than the 'relationship' you had with Ian. Now all that heartache just seemed like a bad dream you barely thought of anymore.

Sunset came to the sky painting it pretty oranges, pinks, and yellows as the car kept driving along until you got to the edge of town and Taylor was turning into a nicely paved driveway added to the front of the mansion. Slowly coming to a stop, Taylor cut the engine and you both got out to go inside the now renovated mansion. Turns out there was a lot more than just the family jewels hidden away in the mansion. When you suggested getting the mirror fixed (thus it wouldn't be broken anymore and that would mean no more curse because of there being no more broken mirror), both men seemed all for it ..But you and Taylor could barely afford anything, Elias couldn't part with his family's jewels, and you wouldn't ask him to do Elias had agreed to spare with enough of the rest of the hidden fortune just to fix the mirror which now sat perfectly fixed and safely tucked away in Elias's room. In a hidden place only Elias knew. All fixed which meant it was harmless which meant no more bad luck which meant no more curse! When Elias brought up the idea of you both possibly living there too...Well as Taylor put it-

"I'm not living somewhere that'll give me an asthma attack!"

After you elbowed him for the rude comment, you three came to another compromise. Which was Elias allowing just enough more of the surprisingly gigantic fortune to renovate the mansion back to its full glory.

"The light's still on. Elias must be doing something."

"Probably haunting out new recipes to try and make us eat it." He rolled his eyes when you shot him a look. "You know I'm right. I'm not trusting him with anymore meatloaf." His hands grabbed the doors. 

"You're the one who asked him to try and make it because you wanted to try ghost food!"

"And I learnt my lesson." The doors were loudly pushed in to reveal a pretty clean and safe mansion. "Hey! We're back!"

You walked right in behind Taylor and found a regular sigh for you but scary for anyone else. Brooms, mops, rags, and all kinds of cleaning products were flying around and cleaning the various places of the mansion by himself. Puppeteered by the blue floating Spector in the middle of the foyor. Elias turned and his floating face lit up in a wide smile seeing you both eyes sparkling.

"My darlings!" He greeted quickly turning and floating towards you both with open arms. "How was your day?"

"Ugh. Boring. There was this guy who wouldn't make up his mind trying to decide on roses or sunflowers for like two hours and then he knocked over a stack of pots and ran off before I can make him pay for anything! I had to clean it up myself!" Taylor made no moves to stop Elias who reached him first and proceeded to plant a kiss of greeting to your shared grumpy boyfriend's face.

"I'm sure he didn't mean it. Next time just ask him politely to fix his mistakes," Elias assured him giving a comforting squeeze to Taylor's arms.

"Looks like you've been busy too," you commented looking at the nearest broom sweeping a pile of dirt into a dustpan.

Elias was quick to greet you next giving you the same kiss and hold as Taylor. The coldness of his lips making your body involuntary shiver. "Spring cleaning! I already have the upstairs finished and wanted to surprise you both with a clean house. Are you hungry? I made dinner."

"After the day we had, definitely. What did you make?"

"Meatloaf!" Taylor froze as Elias smiled wider. "I found a recipe for it in one of my grandmother's other cook books. You'll both love it!"

Taylor turned paler than Elias and you couldn't help but laugh.

[millersdjarin]

Some Invisible String

Chapter V: One Single Thread of Gold

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader (afab)

Rating: E (18+ only!)

Summary: Ten years after Reader left Joel for reasons he still doesn’t know, they find themselves together again in a town called Jackson. Joel has questions he’s too afraid to ask; and Reader dreads having to give the answers.

Chapter length: 4.2k

Warnings/Tags: injury recovery, light angst, SMUT, crying during sex (but in a happy way), happy ending, unprotected p in v

Chapter Four (Previous) | Series Masterlist | Fic Masterlist

notes: final chapter! thank u for reading, i hope you enjoy ❤️

ps since tlou has new fans from the show (YAY!), just a heads up that this is post TLOU part 1 and following the details of game canon vs tv show canon, so spores for example. so, spoilers ahead for the story ❤️

“See? Told you she wouldn’t believe us.” 

“I do,” I find myself saying, blinking at Ellie and Joel in their kitchen like each of them has just grown a second head. “I do believe you. I just…holy shit. You can breathe in spores, and everything?” 

“Yup.” 

I stare at Ellie with wide-eyes. Her sleeve is rolled up, revealing her bite. I never thought I’d see a healed bite from an infected. “Jesus,” I breathe out. I reach down for her arm, then ask, “Can I?” 

Ellie nods and lifts it up to meet me, letting her forearm sit in my hand. I run my finger over the scar, feeling its raised bumps and wrinkles, completely dumfounded by the fact that this is an actual infected bite but it’s not red and angry, threatening to turn its victim at any minute; it’s been there for a year and a half. It’s healed, just as if it was from a dog, or something. Except it is absolutely, without question, the kind of bite that should’ve rendered her a clicker by now. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I let her arm go. “I assume you don’t tell anyone about this?” 

Rolling her sleeve back down, Ellie shakes her head. “No. We agreed it’s safer that way. Only a few people know.” 

Something warm spreads in my chest. “I’m honoured to be one of them,” I give her a smile, hoping it comes across as genuine as I mean it to. “My lips are sealed. It’s pretty amazing, though, right? Did you get bitten when you were with Joel?” 

“I…no. No, it was before that. We actually met because we…” 

Gently, Joel continues for her, “We were going to the Fireflies. They thought she was the key to finding a cure, but…it didn’t work out.” 

The vaguest hint of a frown works its way onto my face. I study Joel where he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, delicious arms folded over his chest, his jaw working away. I’ve never been able to describe what it is about him that I pick up on when he’s lying. All I know is that I know a lie from Joel when I hear one. 

He looks at me like he knows that. Like he’s saying Not now. 

“Damn,” I say to Ellie, then offer her a smile again, “you got a badass scar, though. Not that you can show anyone it, but still.” 

She laughs a little. “I guess so.” 

“So you came all the way from Boston to Wyoming together? How the hell did you manage that?” 

“A whole lotta luck,” Joel says with a wry smile. 

“And teamwork,” Ellie adds. 

I laugh. “I’m impressed.” 

“You survived on your own, too,” Ellie says. “That’s also pretty badass.” 

“It’s very badass,” I agree, but resist a shudder at the bad memories from the last decade that instantly pour into my mind. 

“We should get you sitting down,” Joel says, gesturing to my leg. It is starting to throb; we’ve been standing here talking about all this for a while. 

I nod and start hobbling to the living room. Joel puts his arm around me to help, and to be honest I probably don’t need it, but I will take any opportunity I can get to be close to him. Our kiss from this morning is still fresh on my skin like it only just ended. I can feel his lips, his breath, his hands; a perfect ghost of him all over me. 

“Ellie, why don’t you go get the horses ready, then we’ll head out for a ride? I just gotta talk to Tyler over here before we go.”

My heart leaps in my chest. 

Ellie raises an eyebrow. “Who the fuck is Tyler?” 

Joel gives me a smirk. 

“That’s what he used to call me,” I explain with a nostalgic smile, remembering the first time he called me it. “I’m from Tyler in Texas. When we first met, all we knew about each other was we were both from Texas.” 

“Aw, that’s cute,” Ellie laughs. She points her thumb towards the back door and says, “I’ll go get ready to ride. Do you wanna come with us?” 

“I should probably get some rest,” I reply. “But thanks.” 

Then, when Ellie is gone and out of earshot, I turn to Joel where he stands by the living room window. He’s got one thumb hooked over his belt, the light from the window shining around him, making him into a lovely silhouette. I’d ask him to come closer, to kiss me, to even just hold my hand, but I have a question first. 

“So,” I say, leaning back against the sofa, “why’d you lie back there? About the cure?” 

Heavily, he sighs. Steps over to me, sits down, rubs his hands over his face. 

Then, he tells me. 

“And…she doesn’t know,” I clarify after the whole story is out there in the open. Like a mist in the room, lingering, waiting for my reaction. 

“She doesn’t know.” 

I exhale. His hand is sitting on his knee now, his other running over his beard with his elbow propped on the arm of the couch. 

I’m not surprised he did that for Ellie. Rushing through an entire army of Fireflies to save her life. I’m not surprised in the slightest, and I also know why he kept it a secret. 

What I am, though, is so fucking in love with him that it hurts my chest; and this only makes it stronger. I reach out and take the hand on his leg, threading our fingers together. 

“Do you feel that you did the right thing?” I ask, looking at his side profile.

“There ain’t a doubt in my mind,” he answers without hesitation, then turns to look at me. “I’d do it a thousand times for her.” 

A smile tugs at my lips as my chest blooms with affection. I squeeze his hand, trying to come up with words that don’t just sound cheesy, that don’t sound like I’m making fun of him. “Who knew you were so soft?” I ask. Which, okay, is partially teasing. But not entirely.

He chuckles. The smile on his face is so precious to me, and I think I’ve seen it more in the past week I’ve been here than I ever did in our five years together back then. He just looks so light. Still weighed down by the weight of this world, of course, and not without his own grief or fears; but, God, he smiles like he means it. Like he’s not afraid to anymore. Like the fear of the smile ruining everything has lifted from him. 

Naturally, I can’t get enough of it. 

“I think you did,” he answers my question, sincere. 

“Hm, I think the Joel I fell for was a little rougher around the edges,” I smirk, fully teasing now as he turns his body towards me and leans over me, brushing his hand over my cheek. 

His eyes locked onto mine, he rasps, “I can still be rough around the edges. If you want me to be.” 

With my hand on the back of his neck, I lean in and kiss him. Because he’s so fucking handsome, he’s here, he’s Joel. 

There are still thoughts in my head that keep trying to push through; thoughts of doubt, of worry, of fear. I don’t know where this is going, where I’m going, or what I should assume about either of those things. 

But with his lips moving against mine, I force the thoughts away, because I’ve waited so long for this feeling and I’m not about to ruin it as soon as it’s started. 

“I gotta go,” he says against my lips, rueful. He lifts up his thumb and smoothes it over my bottom lip. “We’ll pick this up later?” He asks, hopefully flicking his eyes between both of mine. 

I nod, biting my lip. “Please.” 

-

When Joel gets back, he makes us dinner. 

The three of us sit around the dining table in the living room, a candle in the middle of the table, flickering along with the fireplace across the room. It’s been two decades since I had a home-cooked meal like this; sitting at a table, inside a house, safe and warm. With people I know and trust. 

Ellie and I talk about movies and music, teasing Joel for his taste in both. We talk until it’s late and Ellie is yawning while Joel tells her that maybe she should get some sleep. She protests, claiming she’s ‘not even tired’, to which Joel responds, “I’ve heard that before.”

But after a while, she gives in to the tiredness so obviously weighing at her, and stands up from the table. “Alright. I’ll see you guys in the morning. Thanks for dinner, Joel.” 

“Night, Ellie,” Joel says, watching her as she walks towards the living room. “Sleep well.”

“Night,” I say with a smile. Ellie gives us both a wave, lifting her arm up high without turning back, and then she’s up the stairs and gone. 

I look at Joel, and warmth settles in my chest. The light in here is warm, mostly coming from the dim lights in the living room now, along with the candlelight flickering over Joel’s face. It casts highlights and shadows and I want to reach out and touch them with my fingers, with my mouth. 

Reaching across to him, I run my fingertips over his knuckles, and he smiles, twisting his hand so he can take hold of mine and squeeze.

“You want some wine?” He asks into the comfortable quiet.

“Love some,” I reply. “Can’t remember the last time I had any. Decent stuff, at least.” 

He pours a deep, red wine into two glasses, and when he comes back to the table, he doesn’t sit back on his seat. Instead, he pulls away a chair and turns to me, perching on the edge of the table, his legs at the same level as my shoulders. Then he holds up his glass for me to tap mine against. 

I do. “What are we toasting to?” I ask, looking up at him from under my eyelashes, drinking in more than just the wine; his heat, his hard thighs so close to my face, the way he’s looking down at me like he’s seeing me for the first time. Like we’re not living in the end of the world. Like we’re just on a regular date at his house, drinking wine after sunset. 

“Think we got a lot to toast to,” he says after taking a sip. With his spare hand, he reaches out, and brushes some pieces of hair back from my face. “This, right here, for one.” 

Smiling, I lean into his touch, closing my eyes. My lips press into his palm before he lays it on my cheek. “Agreed.” 

His lips spread into a small, contented smile. I put my spare hand on his waist, then slide it around so it’s pressed against his back. We just drink our wine like that, sitting with a hand on each other, existing in one of the only quiet moments we’ve ever had together. It’s just us, right now. It could be that nothing else exists. Just us. Just him, leaning against the table, gazing down at me like I’m something precious he can’t take his eyes off of.

When I’ve finished the last of my wine, I put my glass down on the table, and make use of my newly freed hand to rub it up his thigh. He sighs, swallowing the last of his. 

“You wanna go to bed?” I ask, letting my voice run soft and sultry. 

“I’d love to,” he says, “just one thing first.” 

“Hm?” I hum, pressing my forehead into his thigh, right against the denim of his jeans. His hand slides back into my hair, gently playing with it. I can feel heat rising in my belly, a need to be closer to him just thrumming through my veins. 

“Don’t tell Ellie, but I’ve been working on a little somethin’ for her. The shed out back, Tommy and I have made it into her own space just for her. I thought she’d appreciate having a place to call her own.” 

I look up at him and smile. “She’ll love that.” 

Joel nods. He stares at me for a minute, pondering. “And…since we’re talkin’ about living arrangements…” 

Dread shoots through my stomach, piercing through any of that rising arousal that his touch had ignited. 

He doesn’t want me to stay. 

That has to be it, right? He’s been thinking about it, too, ever since I got here. I don’t blame him; how can he ever trust me again? How can we ever—

“I was wonderin’ if you wanted to move in.” 

Oh.

Well, that brought my racing thoughts to a shuddering halt. 

He seems to take my silence as apprehension, because suddenly he’s nervous, trying to explain himself, “Only if you want. I know it’s…I know a lot has changed, especially today, and I really was going to offer for you to live here before we…you know.” 

I swallow down the lump of emotion that has made itself at home in my throat. I’m just staring up at him, wide-eyed, probably looking like I’m on the edge of tears. 

He wants me to stay. 

Fucking fuck, he doesn’t just want me to stay in town; he wants me to stay with him. 

“You…” I stammer. “You want me to…” 

He holds up a hand like he’s trying to calm a situation, one that actually doesn’t need calming, but the look on my face probably suggests otherwise— “Now I know it’s sudden, and if you want to ask Maria for your own place, she’s already suggested some…or…unless you don’t want to stay here at all?” Doubt creeps into his features, a jolt of anxiety I so rarely see.

“No!” I manage to squeak out, tightening my grip on his jeans. It doesn’t seem to clear anything up for him; he just frowns. “I mean, no, I…I don’t want to leave,” I say, finding that I mean it. Why wouldn’t I mean it? Why the fuck would I ever want to leave this place? And now that I have Joel…

Fuck, I have Joel. 

There are no words. None that are good enough, big enough, to express the overwhelming feelings that are bubbling up inside me. 

Instead of talking, I stand up, lean into him, and kiss him. 

He makes a pleasantly surprised noise, his hand staying on the back of my head as he lets my lips press to his, my hand going to mirror his. I open my mouth, feel him sigh when he opens his too, moving our lips together slowly but passionately. Desperately. Because it’s the only way I can think to tell him how I really feel. 

Maybe in another life, I’d have said it’s too soon. That we’re rushing into things. 

But we live in a world where one of us could die any day. And after everything, after all this time, I don’t want to waste any more time. 

If he’ll have me—I’ll have him. 

“So is that a yes?” He pulls away for a second and gives a nervous little chuckle. His thumb strokes at my cheekbone, his eyes looking down into mine, glowing in the candlelight. 

I nod. “Yes, it’s a yes,” I say. The heat is back in my belly again, feeling his knee pressed up between my legs, his face so close to mine and breath blowing against my mouth. “Yes, it’s a fucking yes, Joel. God, I—” I kiss him again, because I can’t not. “I can’t believe this.” 

He laughs into my mouth and kisses me quiet, bringing up his other hand to cradle the other side of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair again like they did this morning. I sigh, unable to resist, and melt at his touch. At his mouth. At him. 

“Joel,” I say, breathless, “Joel, will you please take me to bed?” 

He laughs again, a breathy chuckle that brushes into my mouth before trailing down my neck along with his lips, pressing closed-mouthed kisses all along my jaw. “Can you make it up the stairs?” 

“For this, yes.” 

When he pulls back, he’s grinning, showing his teeth and the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes. I dive in and kiss at each line, each mark of his life, everything he’s been through, all his laughs and tears and shouts and smiles—

“Joel,” I find myself whimpering against the corner of his mouth. 

His hands, steady on my waist, squeeze me. “You alright?” 

Tears are stinging in my eyes and nose. I try to swallow them back, press my nose into his neck. “Take me to bed,” I beg again, this time in just a breathy whisper, “Please.” 

His hands are precious and gentle on the back of my head again, cradling me in his warm palms, his fingertips threaded into my hair. I’m sitting on the end of his bed and he’s bending down to kiss me, my head craning up to meet him as best I can. I’d strain to reach him forever if that’s what it took. If the only reprieve from the stretch was his hand on the back of my neck. It would be enough. 

He pulls away from my lips for a second and breathes against me. “Goddamn,” he curses. 

I stroke his forearms, running my fingers through the hairs there. “Yeah,” I breathe, “yeah.” 

“You know how long I’ve wanted this?” He asks. 

I didn’t used to. I thought he’d never want this. Want me. 

But now…

I nod, and pull him down further, wanting to be closer, closer, closer. “I think I do.” 

Carefully he backs me up along the bed, crawling on top of me as I shuffle up towards the pillows. I try to kiss him as we move but it ends up too clumsy and my leg kind of hurts as I’m crawling backwards, and he chuckles at my efforts, settling above me once I’m lying down. 

The backs of his fingers trace down my face. He gazes down at me, his eyes glittering in the warm, dim light of his bedroom. I want to dive in, devour him, let him devour me, feel him as close as possible because I’ve wanted it for so fucking long—

But he’s so soft above me, so comforting and familiar and new all at once, and I could just as easily just stare at him like this forever, the look in his eyes, gazing like I’m something he wants. Something he needs. 

“Do I have something on my face?” I tease, just a little shakily, not sure what else to say. “You’re staring.” 

He shakes his head once. “Sorry. Can’t help it.” 

I smile up at him, press my hand to his cheek. “Me, neither.” My other hand moves around to the back of his neck, and I dip it down below the collar of his shirt, feeling at the heat of his back, pushing it down as far as it’ll go. He stifles a moan, letting his eyes flutter closed. “Joel,” I whisper against him, pressing our foreheads together, “how many times do I have to ask you to fuck me?” 

His breath hitches, catching in his throat. “You technically haven’t asked me that at all yet, darlin’,” he replies after a beat. 

“Well, then, I’m asking you now,” I pull away to meet his eyes again. Lightly, I curl the hand that’s under his shirt, running my fingertips over the small of his back, digging them in just a little. “Please, Joel. Take me. I’m yours. I’m—”

He dives in before I can say anything else, opening his mouth against mine and kissing me with a new, fevered urgency. He holds himself up above me with his palms on either side of my head, and at the feeling of his tongue brushing against mine, my hips instinctively buck up to try and find some friction. 

Without moving his mouth from mine, he shifts his legs, gently using his knee to push mine apart and then settling it there between them. Slowly, as he kisses me so quickly and passionately that I only just register what he’s doing, he slides his knee up and presses it against my centre. 

It feels fucking incredible. I’m throbbing already, pulsing for him, desperate for more friction. Another instinct, to grind down against his thigh, pushing myself further against him as he kisses me like his life depends on it. 

One of his hands moves a little so his fingertips are brushing over my temple, pushing bits of hair away from my face. I let the hand on his cheek slide back into his hair, taking a handful of it and pulling, revelling in the choked moan he lets out against my mouth. The vibration of his voice is intoxicating, and I wonder, not for the first time, how it’d feel against the place that his knee is currently pushed against. 

My hand on his back scrapes again, digging my nails in probably a little too hard, but he doesn’t complain; his lips break away from mine with a loud smack, and I’m about to protest, about to pull him back in when they start to messily trail down my jaw in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. I gasp, my mouth falling open. His mouth is so warm, so wet, I can hear him breathing through it with his nose right up at my ear, can feel the heat of his thigh where it’s pressed against me—

“Joel,” I gasp out as his mouth settles at the pulse point on my neck. He starts to suck, and I can feel just enough of his teeth that I know it’s going to make a mark, the suction pulling sparks of pleasure from my neck all down my body. 

He hums in approval as I put my other hand on his waist, above his shirt this time, but starting to ruck it up, pulling it from the waistband of his jeans. 

“Joel, please…” 

“Mm?” He trails his lips, open and hot, back up to the underside of my jaw, and waits there. “What do you need, darlin’?” 

“I need…” 

Pulling himself away from me, he takes a careful hold of my hands, withdrawing them from both under and over his shirt. He takes them, entwines our fingers, then presses them down against the pillow on either side of my head. “I’ll give you whatever you want,” he promises in a low, husky voice that I have literally dreamed of hearing say that for God knows how long—“just tell me what you need, darlin’, and I’ll do it.” 

My mouth suddenly dry, I swallow, gasping for air even without his lips on me. He licks his own, glancing down at my mouth, hungry. “I already told you,” I say, breathless and squeezing his hands, “I need you to fuck me.” 

One side of his lovely lips quirk up into a smile. He leans down, kisses me, this time soft and close-mouthed. Then he presses our foreheads together again, and his breath is hot and fast against my face. I want to lean up into him, kiss him again, feel the burn of his beard against my skin, let it mark me up. But before I can, he whispers, “I’ve wanted to hear you say that for too damn long.” 

Then his hands are leaving mine, and he leans back, pulling far enough away that I can feel the loss of his body heat. He sits against my thigh, one of his still pressed just not quite hard enough to my middle, and I’m just about to pull him back down again when he takes his hands and starts to unbutton my shirt. 

Oh, fuck. 

The way he does it so carefully, calloused fingers working expertly on each one, just slow enough that it drives me insane. He watches his fingers, hunger growing in his eyes, licking his lips with every inch of my skin that he exposes. 

Then, when all of the buttons are undone, he first meets my eyes for a quick moment with a grin, then takes hold of each side of my open shirt and flings them aside, revealing my bare stomach and bra. 

“Oh, darlin’,” he exhales, gazing at that part of me like it’s the most incredible thing he’s ever seen. All I can do is lie there, watching him watch me, feeling as his hands press against my navel, slowly sliding up my ribs, to the curve of my breasts, back down again. “You’re so beautiful.” 

Sudden, unexpected emotion bubbles up in my throat. 

I never thought any of this would happen. Hell, I thought I was going to die not two weeks ago. 

When I left Joel, I thought I’d never see him again. And I thought that, even if I did, he’d not want anything to do with me.

And yet here we are, and he’s not just here, he’s mine, touching me with such care and desire and lust and I, God, I can’t put into words how it feels to have him like this—

“Hey,” his soft voice breaks me from my tumbling thoughts. His eyes leave my torso, and I swear to God I feel the lack of their heat. He meets my gaze instead, a soft frown of concern creasing his forehead. “You alright?” 

Frantic, I nod. I need him to know that I’ve never been better. I have literally never, in my life, felt like this. I reach up for him, taking hold of his face and bringing it down to mine, not quite pressing our foreheads together. “Joel,” I whisper. He lifts one of his hands from my stomach, brushes the backs of his fingers down my face. “I’ve literally never been happier.” 

He smiles. A beautiful little tilt of his lips that has me feeling just as much heat between my thighs as I do with his touch—

Speaking of, I grind down on him again, and my eyes flutter closed at the sensation. I need more. I need more, but he’s still hovering over me, concerned, and I realise that he’s not just brushing his fingers over my cheeks to touch me, he’s brushing away tears. 

Tears. 

I’m fucking crying. We’re supposed to be having sex, and I’m fucking crying. 

Humiliated, I feel my cheeks flush bright red and immediately rush to wipe away the tears. “Sorry,” I croak out, finding more tears in my throat ready to fall, “God, I’m—I’m sorry, I’m fine, I promise…”

He keeps stroking my face. For a moment he watches me, and I can see in his eyes that he’s not judging me. He still looks a little bit worried, but as he looks between each of my eyes, he asks, soft, “Are you sure?”

And I nod in an instant. “I really am,” God, I can’t believe I’m crying. I’m still crying. “It’s just…” The weight of the last decade—fuck, the last two decades, who are we kidding—feels like it’s weighing me down and lifting all at once, suddenly washing over me in a wave that I can’t find my way up from and I don’t know if I want to.

Joel nods like he understands. Leaning down, he kisses away the newest tears on my cheeks. “It’s a lot,” he says, gentle. “I know. After everything.” The hand that isn’t on my cheek moves from my ribcage, instead taking a hold of my hand again, and putting it on the pillow by my head like before. “I’m here, darlin’. Alright? I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

Feeling just a little pathetic, I sniff. “I’m alright,” I promise him. My hand finds purchase on the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. 

He gazes down at me for another long moment, his free hand stroking at my hair. I close my eyes into the touch, focus on him, his breathing, his body over mine, protecting me. Keeping me there, because it’s the only place I want to be. 

“I just love you,” I find myself whispering with my eyes still closed. At the confession, a small shot of dread shoots through my stomach in an instant, and at first, I can’t quite bring myself to look at him. But as the silence stretches on, I have to. 

I open one eye first. A part of me expected him to get up and leave. 

But I don’t know why. Because instead, he’s just staring down at me, a new softness on his features that I don’t think I’ve ever seen before. His lips quirk into a small smile. His eyes are glistening, disbelieving. “I love you,” he breathes out. I feel the words on my skin, sinking into my bones. 

Relieved, I close my eyes again. Then I feel him kiss me, soft. 

“I love you,” he says again. “I always have. I always will.” 

Feeling a fresh wave of tears threaten to fall, I nod and press my nose into his cheek, grasping on to the back of his head like it’s a lifeline. It kind of is. “Can you please be inside me before I embarrass myself by crying again?” I whisper into his ear, not totally unaware of the fact that I sound even more like I’m crying now. Which, I’m not. I don’t want to cry anymore. I’ve cried enough. 

His chuckle is breathy and warm against the shell of my ear. “‘Course I can,” he gently nips at my earlobe, then in one smooth movement, he pushes his knee right up against my still very clothed pussy and I let out a cry. Pleasure shoots through me, and the tears subside to make way for a gasp that pulls out of my lips.

It all happens very quickly, and yet very slowly, after that.

One minute, we’re both still clothed and kissing slowly and softly. The next, I’m tugging off his shirt, he’s unhooking my bra, putting his head between my breasts and kissing the centre of my ribcage with an open mouth. I undo his belt clumsily, push his jeans down to his ankles. He kicks them off and climbs back on top of me as soon as he can, helping me out of my own jeans. It takes a bit of working around my bandage, a distant pain still throbbing away over it. 

He looks up at me and raises his eyebrows. “You tell me if this starts hurting,” he says, not a suggestion. 

I nod. “I will.” 

He wastes no time getting back to my lips, one of his hands travelling all-too slowly down my body towards my centre. I ruck my hips up into his touch, and soon his fingers are pressing against my bare skin, right above my clit where I need him. 

“Joel,” I say, “touch me. Please.” 

He obliges without a word, sliding the tips of his two fingers down through my folds and towards my entrance, gathering wetness. I hear the slick of it, feel it, and he takes it up to my clit before pressing there in earnest. 

“You tell me if it don’t feel good,” he murmurs against my lips. “Need this to be good for you.” 

Desperate, I nod, clutching his head with both of my hands as I press my hips up into his delicious touch, the circles he’s making around my clit.

His fingers are inside me, then, thumb pressing against the precious bundle of nerves that he seems intent on pushing on. 

“God, Joel, that’s just—that’s just right,” I gasp. 

He smiles against my mouth and keeps going, slowly pumping two fingers in and out of me, stretching them apart a few times to get me ready. The sheer anticipation of having his cock inside me is enough to have me pulsing, getting wetter and wetter by the minute.

He readies his cock, holding it against my entrance. Looking into my eyes, he smiles, and presses the tenderest of kisses to my lips. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you…” the words fade off into a breathless whisper as he slides inside me, past my folds and right to my core, so hot and warm and wide and, God, fuck, it was so worth the wait—

I cling to him, scratch my nails down his bare back. As he starts to thrust, slow but not hesitant, he attaches his mouth to my shoulder and sucks. With one hand stroking my hair, he brings the other back to my clit, working it in time with his thrusts. 

“Jesus…God, you feel so good…” he grunts against my neck. 

“Joel,” I plead, “please…harder, faster…I need you…” 

My words pull the loveliest of moans from his throat and it’s like he melts beneath them, beneath my breath and my hands, pushing himself further inside me so the head of his cock is reaching as high as it can go, gently pushing against my cervix. Before he starts going any faster, he pauses, panting in my ear, “Are you sure?” 

“Yes, Joel, I can take it…” 

“Your leg…” 

“I’ll tell you if it hurts. Joel, please…”

He lets out a shuddering breath. 

Then, he does just what I ask him to do.

It’s not painful. But it is a lot. 

His dick hits the highest point inside me he can get to, and it’s so sensitive, it feels like he’s fucking up into my belly button, thrusting so hard that it meets resistance at the top of each curve of him inside me—

His finger gets harder against my clit, too. And, fucking hell, if it wasn’t intense before, it’s fucking overwhelming now. 

Not-quite-painful pleasure sparks through from deep inside me to every inch of my body. 

“Darlin’,” he gasps, opening his mouth against my neck in pleasure, as his pants get more frantic and his thrusts more erratic. It feels so good, and I’m just pinned underneath him, my left knee pressed into his hip, the other leg still flat on the bed.

His thrusts are jolting me,  and there’s definitely pain coming from my wound, but it’s absolutely nothing compared to the feeling of him inside me, fucking me into the mattress as I feel the sweat on his skin—“Darlin’, you feel so good, wrapped around me like this…wanted you for so long, so fuckin’ long, thought about this so many times with my hand on me—” he keeps spilling words, filthy words, into the place where my neck meets my shoulder, and I lap it all up. His voice is like sweet, husky syrup to my ears and I hold him there with his words buzzing into my skin, letting them carry me away to a place where it’s just the two of us, just his cock sliding in and out, fucking me just like I always dreamed of it, his finger still rubbing earnest circles over my clit—

It comes over me suddenly, builds up unexpectedly. “Joel! Joel, I’m gonna…” 

He kisses the shell of my ear, all hot breath and wet spit, “Do it, baby, come on my cock…come for me, darlin’, I gotcha…” 

And I do. Pleasure rises and rises and rises and then drops, a strangled cry finding its way out of my throat before Joel presses his hand over my mouth to swallow the sound. He moans along with me, and when he lifts his head from my neck, the look on his face keeps me riding my orgasm for just that little bit longer. Totally relaxed in pleasure, his eyes fluttering as they struggle to stay open, his mouth hanging open with spit glistening on his lips. He comes, then, inside of me, and it spills down my thighs with each push back in and out. 

I stroke the back of his head as the aftershocks from my high milk his pleasure out for as long as they can. I can feel the release of his muscles, the last of his orgasm fading and leaving him flushed and hot and lovely inside me. 

I pant against his cheek. He breathes against mine, fast, taking deep breaths. He’s still inside me. I don’t want him to ever not be. 

So when he goes to pull out, I twist my leg at his hip so my foot presses into the base of his back, anchoring him there. “Stay,” I say, pleading, “please. Just for a minute.” 

Wordless, he nods, and leaves precious little kisses all across my face and neck. Peppers them down my chest as far as he can go with the way I’ve got him pinned in place. I could keep him here forever. Inside me, on top of me, all around me. His hair is wet with sweat, beads of it dripping down from the back of his neck and onto my breasts.

Jesus. 

“Joel,” I whisper. It feels like I’m only ever going to be able to say his name again. “That was…Jesus, Joel, that was good.” 

Breathy, he chuckles. “Better than good,” he says. Then he pulls away, and I feel the cold nip of the air start to tickle against my skin, the wetness between my thighs getting cooler. Goosebumps raise on my skin, and Joel notices. “Sorry, darlin’, I’m gonna have to pull out now. Get us cleaned up a bit and warm.” He sounds genuinely sorry, stroking my face as if in consolation. 

I sigh, but I know he’s right. Nodding, I give him one last, long kiss on his mouth. “Hurry back,” I say when he climbs off of me and heads into the bathroom. 

Hearing the gentle slosh of water, I close my eyes, and feel the cool sheets beneath my skin. There’s a mess between my thighs, dripping down onto the sheet. We should probably have put a towel down. But. 

I am about to tell Joel as much when he comes back in with a warm, wet washcloth, but then realise he’s brought a towel with him, too. Too little, too late.

“We made a bit of a mess,” I say, letting my head loll towards him on the pillow. He chuckles in the quiet dimness of the room, the low light flickering over his bare skin. 

“Nothin’ we can’t clear up,” he replies, settling between my legs again. Carefully, he wipes at my skin with the washcloth, clearing away my own wetness and his release. I sigh, enjoying the warmth, the way he rubs absently at my knee with his spare hand. He cleans himself up next, then tosses the washcloth across the room. 

“Scooch,” he says gently, pushing at my hip. “I’ll put a towel down.” 

“Joel, I think you’re about a half hour too late with that,” I smirk, but do as he asks so he can lay the towel over the mattress, spreading it as far as he can.

“We can clean the sheets properly in the morning,” he announces, the grabs the comforter from the floor—I don’t even remember when it got there—and carefully brings it up over my body. 

I sigh into the cool fabric and feel the mattress dip beneath Joel’s weight. He crawls into bed beside me, and soon his arms are pulling me against his chest. 

I settle with my head over his ribcage, my leg hooked over his as he lies on his back. The covers are pulled right up to my neck, and I take a moment to pull the corner over the top of Joel’s chest, only just avoiding my face. 

“Joel,” I say, quiet. 

“Hm?” He murmurs as his hand absently rubs circles into my shoulder. His eyes are closed, his other hand propped under his head. When I look up at him, he looks more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him, blissed-out and content. It’s such a beautiful sight that I debate resisting the tiredness in my body and just staying up to watch him like this. 

I lift my hand, take hold of his cheek. Turn him to face me, then lean in and kiss him. “I’ve always loved you,” I whisper against his mouth. “I need you to know that.” 

His eyes crack open to look into mine. “I always loved you, too,” he strokes at my bottom lip with his thumb. “Now, come on. Let’s get some sleep, alright? Been wantin’ to hold you to sleep for a long time.” 

Warmth blooms in my chest. I kiss him again, just once, and snuggle in closer before putting my head back where it was. 

And, just like the invisible string that seemed to tie us together all this time, I sit comfortably in this space, letting all the tangles and the knots in my mind unravel. What’s past is past, and we’re here now. 

After everything, after the good, the bad, letting this thing between us come back from the dead—

We’re here.

{❤️end❤️}

notes: ah i can't believe it's finished ❤️ thank you SO much for reading and enjoying this fic with me, all your responses have made me so happy and i'm just so glad it's brought some of you joy. i hope you enjoyed the final chapter! i'm considering maybe writing some one-shots set in this universe at some point, or some little drabbles, so keep an eye out for those :)

love u, take care of yourself! ❤️

ps: as always this is post-apocalyptic and a fanfiction but in real life don't forget to always practice safe sex babes!

taglist below

@rosymythologies @lover1307 @rh1nestonecowg1rl @pinkrose1422 @lavenderhhze @abbyhaslongshorts @trippoverrt @emilianamason

[possibilistfanfiction]

post top surgery bea was so !!!. so many feelings, just like when you first wrote about it a few months back. would love to read more if you’re ever feeling inspired. maybe ava observing her feel even more at home in her body?

[idk how many ppl love this headcanon but it's rly lovely? to me at least lol. so a little gentle mama s & bea pov for u]

//

you've gotten better at caring for your children in different ways as the years have gone on — fostering passions, listening carefully, allowing them to expand into who they were meant to be, within and beyond the order. you've fought a holy war with so many of them — some you have lost forever; some have come back, in one way or another. love, god's love, the highest form of grace, is full of grief and sorrow, and you know that better than most.

but — 'you're sure you've got it?'

you fight back the urge to sigh because ava's eyes are big and earnest and you're reminded of when they were nineteen, and terrified, and so so brave. 'yes, ava. we'll be fine in the brief amount of time you're gone.'

ava nods, more to reassure herself than you;.she's just going to get groceries — a task you had bullied her into, mostly to get her out of the house for a brief moment — and beatrice has mostly slept on and off this past week. it's a joyful time, so deeply, but you know also that seeing beatrice in pain, even for the best reason, is hard for ava. perhaps, you admit, hard for all of you.

but beatrice smiles when ava kisses her forehead, pausing the season of some reality tv show she and lilith appear to be quite invested in that, reluctantly, you have watched enough of at this point to follow along with something slightly more than disinterest. she smiles still when you sit down next to her on their big couch in their sundrenched living room, and you feel peace settle in your soul the way you really only do when you see your children happy.

'okay,' ava says from the door leading to the garage, 'text me if anything happens.'

beatrice rolls her eyes, the soft smile still on her face. 'just make sure to get the proper chocolate.'

'that was one time.'

beatrice laughs. 'bye, ava.'

'love you.'

'i love you too,' beatrice says, then turns to you when ava closes the door softly.

'you are feeling okay, right? i've known you for too long for you to lie to me.'

beatrice touches your wrist gently, in some kind of thanks. 'i'm feeling good. sore, but they took my drains out yesterday so i finally got to shower.'

'well i came at the perfect time, then.'

beatrice huffs a laugh. she shifts a little, sitting up more, and there are freckles all along her shoulders, muscles toned and visible without a shirt on, a blanket over her legs. 'i — uh, i have to let my skin breathe for a few minutes, is it —' her brow furrows — 'is it okay?'

you have known her for so long, seen and still do see so much of yourself in her, and so you understand. 'of course it's okay, beatrice.'

she nods, just once, and then reaches to undo the tight surgical binder. you had read all about top surgery diligently after she had told you — with a nervousness in her voice that had made you ache — that she had a date scheduled for her procedure, even asked one of jillian's surgeon friends to explain the details. you know the expect the bandages over her regrafted nipples, the stretch of the new scars across her chest. there's old scars along her abdomen, but these are different: these are imbued with joy, and care, and a becoming that is so quietly holy you feel blessed to witness it. the deep breath she takes in, the way her shoulders relax and she smiles when she looks down at her chest — it is all you have ever wanted for any of your children.

she looks over at you, a little shaky, a little unsure, and so you offer her what you know she needs, after so many years. 'these were the results you were hoping for, yes?'

she swallows, but it's still impossible for her smile to fully slip. 'beyond what i had hoped for, honestly. it's hard — it was hard to imagine, just how much better i would feel.'

'i'm quite happy for you.'

her smile grows — less shy, more certain — but then her brow furrows in a way you recognize by now that means she's been sitting on something for a while. 'are you — are you ever disappointed?' she pauses, then clarifies quietly, 'in me?'

when beatrice was recruited to the order years and years ago, you recognized quickly that she would be more than fit to run it in your stead. she always had been: brilliant, organized, kinder than you could ever hope for. generous. forgiving. devout. she hasn't changed at all, only grown brighter in her faithfulness.

'i am so proud of you, beatrice. profoundly.'

beatrice sniffles, and you turn toward her fully.

'you have been a beacon for god's love the entire time you have known you, through a great deal of pain. i'm proud of you for finally starting to give that love to yourself.'

as you expected, she does start to cry; it's not uncommon even though she still tries to pretend it's a rare occurrence.

'i'm deeply sorry if i have ever made you to feel that way, especially after you renounced your vows.' you worked with her to bring ava back; you won a war; you walked her down the aisle. 'i am in awe of who you have become, beyond what i ever could have hoped for you.' you look pointedly to her chest, flat and tender and, in the ways you have learned matter most, beautiful.

she wipes tears and then huffs a laugh. 'you haven't,' she says, 'made me feel like that. not since i was brand new at the order and couldn't properly shoot a pistol, at least.'

you laugh fondly, remembering how horrible a shot she had first been, too tightly wound to breathe through the kick properly.

'i've just been in my head, a little. it happens when i'm high.'

you raise a brow, just for fun, and she seems to realize what she's said, blanching.

'not that i've ever been high, ever, other than, you know, pain medicine after surgery or injuries. not once, not one single time.'

'it's still a sin to lie. you know that, right?'

beatrice eventually laughs, happily. 'ava's not particularly subtle, is he?'

'neither is the smell of weed.'

she laughs even harder.

'i wasn't always a nun.'

she calms, quiets. 'thank you, for being a really wonderful mother.'

it fills your chest unlike anything else — ava and their halo; mary and lilith finding their way back home; your new girls getting to train in peace — and you squeeze her hand. 'thank you for being a really wonderful daughter.'

she nods, another layer of peace settling against her skin. when it comes time, a few minutes later, for her to have to put her surgical binder back on, you help with gentle hands.

[madderruz]

thank u for postin wips of ya falin cosplay i been wanting to do her for so long but had no idea where to even start, actively taking notes as you make it!

amazing work cant wait to see how it all turns out

Absolutely I'm glad to help!! Here's some detail stuff that isn't really clear from the photos:

-the shirt that I'm wearing is actually a shirt and a shrug. The shrug is a stretchy knit fabric that I glued probably close to 800 real feathers on. Initially I used that quick dry fabric glue and it worked for some of them, but going forward I think I'm gonna switch to hot glue, just because it does have to move a lot in the process of putting it on.

The other shirt is a layer of power mesh sewed to a lace back (I decided to do lace for the back because in a lot of references theres feathers but you can also see her musculature like shoulder blades etc. So I figured something lacy and see thru would work best there.) And then theres a feather ish fabric sewn to the power mesh on the front. Keeping the brood patch visible was very important to me, but I don't want my stomach hanging out, hence the mesh.

The reason I did a shirt and a shrug instead of just a long sleeve shirt is because, if necessary, the shrug is there to hide any sort of harnessing that may be needed to keep the body (the centaur ass as I call it) level. It's not clear if I'll actually Need the harness because the body and the back legs are being made in a way that they'll just kinda roll across the ground as they move. The original plan was to have them completely articulated, but with the weight of it all its just not possible.

- if you do make this and need to make the digitigrade pants, MAKE A DUCT TAPE DUMMY to get your pattern!! If every fursuit maker on earth does it YOU DO IT TOO. I didn't do it and trying to get the pattern off of that myself was a maaajor pain.

- the stilts are flashy, they're the major thing people notice, but they are NOT without risk and need for training. The ones I have I made myself with dad's help following a build log from Willow Creative and a buunch of other videos, instructables, etc. There's a lot of ways to do them. I used aluminum slats, but wood is a cheaper, easier to work with choice, and there are many videos and tutorials for how to do it with wood.

The way that mine are built, with the toe stop, there is quite a bit of pressure on the front of your foot. If you have experience with high heels you'll probably have a better time than me. I've walked on the fronts of my feet forever, and I regularly roller blade, and even then after about 20 minutes my feet will start to ache. I'm hoping if I work with them like any other exercise they'll get easier, but who knows. I'd definitely say if you Want the look but without the hassle, look into pure digitigrade padding and fursuiting. It's still a hassle just in a different way lol.

Thank you once again!! There's a lot of ways to do these, and you could even make one in a way where all of its on your body (like wings with a shoulder harness, tail with a belt), or I've seen some where it was more translated to a dress....it's all cosplay! It's for fun! I'm a crazy person and making this for a contest so keep that in mind lol!! If you do ever make yours, send it to me!!!!

One last thing, if you have a cosgear account, I'm on there at Maltrock !!

[buckyswifesblog]

can you do a smut about andy barber cheating on his wife lauri with his sister in law, cam girl reader!

Lust on web

Pairing: Andy barber x cam reader

Summary: andy fucks his sister in law

Warning: 18+ 😏🌶️

Note: this is my first time writing a smut so plz be patient

_____________________________________

Yn set up her computer in her bedroom ready to live stream again no one knew it was her do to yn covering her face and only showing her body. yn begin her live stream and saw someone new named hotdaddy345

“ oh hello there have seen that u are new here right “

Hotdaddy345 replied yes sweetheart.

Andy was bored not getting attention by his wife that he went online to see what he saw, he saw girl name ynm ( ur name in the website) and click it he saw how beautiful her body all in a red lingerie the only problem is that he couldn’t see her face but he memorized her body, her tattoo, her belly piercing and every detail of her.

Andy text it on the chat if he can be in a private with her, yn said ofc and send him a message of the link he pay to see.

Yn was so excited to see that he pay, in the private server yn took her linger how to show him her body. Andy ask her to spread her legs for him and to touch herself.

Yn did what he said. She run her finger in her wet slit, andy told her to use to fingers and she did what he said yn place two fingers in her slowly moving it in and out . Andy saw that and he was already hard he used his hand to bump his dick imagine that it was her doing it. andy saw how good she is in doing what andy told her to do, in the other side yn was moaning about to cum for him.

Andy wishes that was him making her happy, after it was done “ it was nice meeting u daddy hopefully u had fun tonight” “ ofc I did baby “ yn ended the live stream and receive a text from him saying hopefully we meet soon to make u cum like u just did.

Days after

Yn was staying over in her sister and husband house since she hasn’t seen them in while, yn and Laurie were close but when Laurie got married they stop hanging out, “ yn good to see u again” “ u too Laurie it’s nice seeing u again “ Laurie and yn were talking about how she doing in life and everything. Whilst they were talking Andy enter the room “ oh hi yn nice seeing u again it’s been so long “ “ ik Andy it’s been so long since we hang out” Andy notice that yn had a tattoo the same one has the cam girl Andy thought to himself if he was seeing her get a wild or someone else. Andy didn’t knew what to think or do so he leave it like that.

Next day

Yn went to the pool with them and but her bikini on, while andy was sitting down he saw yn had the same features like the cam girl that he decided to do something to see if it was her or not, Andy texted the cam girl and yn phone light it with the message, Andy was in shocked seeing that he wanted to fuck his sister in law.

When they got back home Laurie had a called in the company that she left “ yn Andy I’m coming back they called me about something” “ no problem Laurie “. Yn went to her room and Andy follow behind and knocked “ hi Andy do u need something “ “ yes now tell me yn are u ynm “ yn was shocked in seeing that his brother in law knew about her secret “ how u know Andy “ Andy didn’t say anything he just smirked.

“ I made u deal yn I won’t tell Laurie what u doing if u let me fucked u “ yn didn’t knew what to say that she accepted it. Yn went and but on a rope without her clothes on to go in Andy’s room.

Andy: u know yn, u are really pretty and hot when u doing that

Yn: just let’s get it over with Andy

Andy started kissing yn body slowly, taking her rope little by little, yn couldn’t wait any longer that she grab him from his tie and flip him over kissing him passionate yn took her rope and Andy was staring up and down her body, yn went down in his pants and unzipped them and stared to suck his cock “ that’s it be a good girl “ . Three months later yn and Andy decided to have an affair with each other yn knew that it was wrong since it was her sister husband. Yn and Andy were doing it when they can in the bedroom, bathroom little quick on the sofa when Laurie was sleeping, Andy was having a good time with his sister in law seeing her bounce up and down his dick, sucking it and yn love it how his Beard touch her sensitive spot neck, while he was eating her out.

[nametakensff]

you just casually posting about how long it's been since you've nutted and how its affectin u is insanely hot to this snzfucker combination orgasm denial kink-haver.

So glad to hear that, anon! 🥰 I'm always happy when my oversharing on here turns other people on. It feels like as suitable a place as any for me to be unabashedly explicit

That being said, much more graphic details of my frustration under the readmore for anyone who is interested! 😤

I think by the time Monday rolls around this may well be the longest I've gone without actively masturbating or having an orgasm since I started to actively do so aged 14 lol

I foolishly thought I would be okay to listen to wavs yesterday but of course that was the stupidest idea - had to turn one off after a minute because I was going mad and was moments away from masturbating. I did touch myself a little, just to feel how wet I was and how sensitive, but forced myself to stop before it really started to feel great...

All day today my hand has been finding its way between my legs. I touch myself a lot out of habit, and normally this wouldn't be an issue - I'm home alone on weekdays, I can back away from work for a moment (or longer) to get myself off - but right now the temptation just feels like torture 😫

I was on my daily walk earlier and as my mind is prone to doing, my thoughts wandered into sneezing and fucking territory - my favs sneezing on and fucking each other, me eating out a woman as she sneezes all over me, me pegging a fav whilst they bury their face in a feather pillow and sneeze over and over...

I had to physically stop walking for a moment because my cunt felt heavy and engorged, I was so suddenly turned on. It almost ached with the sudden rush of blood, and I was unmistakably wet. I switched from listening to music to a serious podcast for a while and used to that to distract me, and I was successfully able to get home with no further issues

I feel like I may even have to extend my masturbation ban until Tuesday when I'm alone all day, since this Monday is a bank holiday and my sister and flatmate will both be home...I don't want to start touching myself or I just won't be able to stop, and I want to be able to enjoy orgasms with all my toys for as long as I want and as loudly as I want. Work will just have to wait, I'm afraid 😌

But yeah. I think if I attempted to do this whilst I was going through one of my intense horny spells, I genuinely would not have lasted this long. If it feels like this much of a tease now, I feel like I would actually lose my mind under those conditions!!

Cannot wait to reward myself for my hard work. I feel like I won't be making a habit of this because I'm far too hedonistic and orgasm driven - buuut if I feel again in the future that I need to take a break, I now know I can at least pull off 5 days! Honestly, I would much rather tease somebody else like this for a week then reward them myself if they manage to last 😇

I hope you get something out of this, anon! I'm trying my best to be good but I'm sporadically typing this one-handed. Still not giving in, though!! 🥲

[toomuchracket]

The detail of Ross holding his hand open for reader to squeeze as she walked past… I’m obsessed. I have 2 things to say.

Ross’s girlfriend in a girl group. They release a song and the lyrics are very much about Ross (talks about his height. How big he is. How GOOD he is in bed). And Matty delights in quoting the lyrics to Ross on stage. I like the idea of Ross posting a pic of him and his gf to ig w a caption related to the song.

My other thing to say is pls can you write a whole blurb ab subtle PDA between u and Ross, similar to the hand open thing bc oh my god that ruined me.

this has so much potential to be another ross universe... much to think about and Ponder hmmmmmm. also initial thingy can be found here! and yes i'll answer both things here

first part: obsessed with this, and obsessed with the thought that you rocked up to a writing session the day after the best sex of your life and went "i have an idea". also obsessed with you having to tell ross about the fact that you've written a song about him (not for the first time, to be fair) and how sexy he is, because if he's not cool with it then it'll go unreleased - he blushes like crazy when he reads the lyrics, but he secretly loves it, and even from a rough demo he's like "no this is a hit you have to release this song babe". i'm not going to attempt to write it, but i'm imagining the lyrics being chock-full of sex references (charli's like "this makes my banana split lyric look TAME" when she hears them), with a lot of them being really quite intricate metaphors and some others just like on the vibe of "yeah i'm getting bent over daily" - george and matty are simultaneously scandalised, jealous of how good these lyrics are ("we've been writing sex shit like this for twenty years and you outdo us with it on your first attempt smh"), and deeply deeply in love with the song and the way it's constructed/performed. as you said, matty (who is a known stan of your band btw) relishes the opportunity to pester ross with the lyrics onstage; when he introduces/credits the band, he starts singing one of the lyrics from it before he says ross's name, and ross just smirks and raises his eyebrows while the crowd go nuts (like i said, ross secretly loves it). and the fans (and your friends) go even more nuts when ross posts a pic of you and him all sexy and ready for date night on insta with the lyrics referenced or paraphrased in the caption - the best thing about it, though, is that he posts it the morning after date night, from bed, where the two of you are curled up sweaty and exhausted after a looooooong moment of ross proving your lyrics right lmao

second part: i think the subtle pda thing started because you and ross didn't make your relationship public until you had been together for a while, for whatever reason, but the nature of your job meant you guys would run into each other at events and you needed a little way to show affection while still maintaining your privacy. little squeezes of thighs under tables, three little tiny taps on the other's hand to say "i love you" when passing drinks to each other, trapping the other's leg between yours under the table to keep them close... a lot of stuff like that. and there were less subtle moments as you got drunker - ross resting his head on your shoulder to snuggle you under the guise of being tipsy and tired, asking about new developments in each other's careers (that you already know about lol) in order to give yourselves excuses to give long "congratulatory" hugs, cheek kisses hello and goodbye that accidentally seem to land on the corners of lips. obviously now you're openly a thing, you don't need to do all that, but the quick little touches are great for red carpets and moments where you have to be a bit more professional as members of your respective groups. but you can't go without touching ross, and he's the same with you - you just love each other too much to let it go unaddressed at any point lol <3

[noellawrites]

His Future Wife (Part 2) - Yandere!Sonny Carisi x reader

Series Masterlist

summary: after months of trying to reject Carisi, he finally takes what he thinks belongs to him without regard for how you feel.

warnings: rape, noncon, unprotected sex, breeding kink, manipulation, harassment, abuse

It was early the next morning, and you and Carisi were sitting in the chairs in front of Liv’s desk. After your evening scare, Carisi had sat with you for a few hours until the men disappeared, and then had slept on your small couch with his legs dangling over the side.

You didn’t let him call for backup because you were too scared you wouldn’t be believed. Sonny understood, but made you promise to text Liv early and meet with her in the morning.

“I wish you’d come to me about this sooner, or called me last night. I could’ve had NYPD send a security detail,” Olivia said, pulling off her glasses and setting down your case file.

“With all due respect, I didn’t want to get picked for SVU out of sympathy. I didn’t want my previous abuse to be a factor in me getting this job. And I didn’t want to call you last night since you were already home with Noah,” you explained, sitting a bit straighter in the chair.

“(Y/n), I picked you because you were the best recommendation I received by a long shot. You’re my detective, and I want you to be safe. I called the Deputy Chief down at Queens Narcotics on my way here. He apologized and said he remembered your complaint from a couple months back. We are going to catch these guys, (y/l/n). No need to worry,” Liv assured, giving you a smile.

You nodded as Carisi gently rubbed your arm comfortingly. You both headed out and into the bullpen.

“Narcotics still causing you trouble?” Fin asked as you walked towards where your desk was.

You nodded, biting the inside of your lip.

“I got a couple contacts still workin’ there, I’ll get ahold of ‘em and let ‘em know to watch for these douches,” he offered, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Thanks, Fin,” you smiled, giving him an appreciative nod. You crossed the room and sat down in your chair, opening up another report you had to finish.

—

Carisi kept his distance for a few days after he’d spent the night on your couch. Though you lived in a tiny studio that was all one room, you’d been fast asleep and he took the opportunity to look at everything. Some trinkets on your desk, your bookshelf, pictures with your friends and you at your graduations from John Jay and the police academy. He made mental notes of each item, the years you graduated. He felt old, realizing you were only in your mid-twenties. He was approaching forty, and though he didn’t feel it, he was worried he was too old for you.

A few days later, Carisi surprised you by pulling up to your favorite Greek restaurant in Brooklyn.

“Hey, I thought we were going to interview that perp’s mom?” you asked, knitting your brows.

“Benson and Rollins are talkin' to her, I got permission to surprise ‘ya and bring ‘ya here. I know it’s been a rough couple of days so I wanted to do somethin' for 'ya,” Carisi explained.

He was right: yesterday, O’Shea and Donnelly had been arrested on stalking charges. You didn’t know what would happen to them, but you could guess that your old department would soon be understaffed.

You put up a fight but in the end, Carisi paid for your food and you spent two hours chatting about life, the job, Sonny’s desire to become a lawyer, and both of your childhoods. Conversation seemed to flow organically between you two, even more than when you had to interrogate a perp together or agree on wording in a report.

As you both exited the restaurant with to-go containers of baklava, you were happy that you and your partner had gotten to know each other better.

Carisi on the other hand felt he had even more proof you loved him. You had been smiling, blushing and laughing all cute the entire time. You both climbed in the car and he put his hand on your thigh. You froze.

“After work, how ‘bout my place?” he asked, looking at you with an expectant smile.

“Uh, Sonny I-I don’t think we should do this,” you stuttered, removing his hand from your skirt-clad thigh.

“I thought we were hittin’ it off?”

“We were, as friends. Sonny, let’s just go back to the station,” you huffed.

Anger boiled inside of Carisi as he gripped the steering wheel and drove through Brooklyn.

“I’m sorry—” you began, your voice coming out smaller than intended.

“‘Ya know what, 'ya not sorry! You like teasing’ me, giving me little bread crumbs an' then pullin' out the rug. I’m tired of it!” he yelled, then clenched his jaw.

“Sonny, I never meant to tease you! Look, I’ll go on a date with you tonight if you just stop yelling at me, okay?” you asked, cautiously looking over at your partner.

“Yeah, okay. Alright, Sidewinders tonight at 6 after work, I’ll drive us in the squad car,” Carisi said evenly, and you had no choice but to nod.

—

You had been going on “dates” with Carisi for a steady few weeks. You didn't love it, but the two of you did get along well. You just didn't want to cause any trouble. You were already months into your time at SVU, and you loved your job a lot. Sure, the cases could be difficult, but you just needed to keep enough distance between your personal and work lives.

This week, you had taken on your first case as head detective. It was the rape of the defense attorney Nikki Staines, which had happened soon after the police charity ball you’d attended with Carisi.

Nikki had gone back and forth with testifying, and it turned out that a powerful lawyer named Rob Miller had actually committed the rape. You confronted him while wearing a wire in order to catch him in the act, but not after he tried to kill you for “trying to smear his image.”

In the end, he went to prison. But it had been your most exhausting case yet, maybe ever, even considering your cases in Narcotics. Most of those had been cut-and-dry, not at all like the rigorous processes of SVU cases.

You were working late on the couch in one of the furnished interview rooms alone, attempting to finish some final notes about your encounter with Rob Miller when the door swung open.

“Jesus Sonny, you scared me!” you gasped.

“Doll, how ‘bout I take ‘ya home? It’s past midnight,” Carisi sighed.

You turned to look out of the window and into the bullpen. Everyone else was gone.

“Carisi, I really gotta finish this. Plus, Liv gave me the day off tomorrow,” you explained, scrawling some notes in the margins of Rob’s personality assessment section.

“That doesn’t mean you gotta sleep here though, right?” he laughed, stopping once he realized that you hadn’t joined in.

“I have to make sure Rob Miller is put away for good, alright? You know that work is my number one priority,” you explained, flipping to another page and continuing.

Sonny gritted his teeth. You just needed something to distract you from your work. You needed a time out and to realize that your natural place is as the mother of his children, not being a workaholic.

“Can I at least give ‘ya a massage?” Sonny asked, stretching his arms and cracking the bones in his hands.

“Sure, if you want to,” you laughed and followed his direction to lay on the couch with your head down on a pillow.

As Carisi stretched the tired muscles in your back, you fought to hold back a moan but lost and let it out.

“That feel good, huh?”

“Yes, Sonny,” you sighed.

“Alright, just relax, here,” he said, beginning to lift your shirt over your head and pull it off of you.

“Sonny, what are you—?”

“Doll, just flip over for me, you’re gonna feel so relaxed.”

With his assistance, you flipped over so you now laid on your back instead of stomach. You looked confused and scared as Sonny unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants.

“Sonny, I don’t want to have sex,” you explained, searching for your shirt which was nowhere to be found.

“Baby, ‘ya don’t know what ‘ya want. But I can help with that,” Sonny explained.

“N-no, you don’t understand, I’m a virgin and I want to stay a virgin,” you said, looking away. Your cheeks burned bright red.

Wow, Sonny couldn’t help blushing either. He was going to be your first and only, forever.

“That’s alright, I’ll help 'ya through it. Here,” he snaked his hand up your thighs and between your skirt, pulling down your tights and pushing your skirt up for quicker access.

“I’ll teach you everything you need to know. I promise doll, I’ll make ‘ya feel betta,” Sonny explained, groaning as he moved to sit on top of you.

“Sonny, stop!” you cried, wiggling beneath him. Your efforts were futile as he slipped his penis inside of you.

You felt an intense, white-hot pain as you stretched around him, which eventually turned into a mix of pleasure and pain. You could feel your blood slicking your entrance as he pushed into you, deeper and deeper.

“Ooooh yeah, oh you’re so tight,” Sonny moaned, his voice mixing with your cries.

“Ah! Ah shit, I think I’m going to cum,” you breathed as Sonny rode you to completion, causing you to screw your eyes shut and moan loudly.

He came as you did, warm ejaculate filling up the inside of your vagina. Your eyes widened. He hadn’t even used a condom?

“That make ‘ya feel betta?” Sonny asked, climbing off of you to put his pants back on. He noticed you were crying, so he leaned over to wipe some of your tears away.

“Next time, just send me a casserole,” you sniffled, attempting to stand up. You couldn’t, so Sonny grabbed your turtleneck and handed it over to you.

“I’m always here if you need anotha go,” he said, bringing you into a hug. You were frozen still.

“Oh shit I gotta go, I promised my sister Bella that I’d babysit for her. See 'ya later doll,” Sonny explained, heading out of the interview room. You watched him gather up items at his desk and put on his coat, exiting the bullpen.

You allowed yourself to cry for as long as you needed, then you went pee in the squad bathroom. In the mirror, you noticed your disheveled hair, smeared makeup and slightly-stained wool skirt.

You headed to the subway station and rode it home in a paralyzed state. You couldn’t talk, barely blinked, didn’t open your phone and ignored the pain blooming from your pelvic area. Sonny had been long, way longer than you thought was the average length for a man. You were sure you’d felt his penis nudging at your cervix.

When you reached your stop, you exited and said a silent thank you. Even if you had to deal with unwanted sex, at least your stalkers weren’t waiting across from your building.

chapter 3 linked here