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merryfortune · 3 months

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i want to marry that girl (marry her anyway)

Written for Femslash February & the Sweetheart Bingo by @sweetspicybingo

Day 3. Marry Me

Title: i want to marry that girl (marry her anyway)

Ship: Postureshipping | Asuka/Emi

Word Count:

Universe: GX - Canon Compliant

Rating: 1,844

Tags: Age Difference, Student/Teacher Relationship, One-Sided Relationship, Unrequited Pining

Asuka understood that her teachers were humans like anyone else better than most of her peers did.

A strange statement yes but not intended as an indictment on her friends and acquaintances. Their senses of empathy were just not yet as evolved as hers and thus still revolved around egocentric adolescence. They were getting better, though, Asuka had merely arrived at the destination first.

Not intended as a brag. Merely a statement. An observation.

She saw how hard her teachers worked for them, even when they spat in their faces, slept during class, or otherwise rabble roused in or outside of the classroom. It was admirable.

Perhaps Chancellor Samejima detected that in Asuka - that admiration - and that was what had spurred him to reach out to her and advise her. He was a teacher with a scope so enormous, Asuka could hardly begin to describe his wisdom and so, she listened intently.

She had the whole world at her feet.

She would graduate soon and be welcome to step out into that big, wide world. Its size was terrifying. Asuka was but a speck in it and had no idea what to do with herself. She didn’t crave victory like Ryo nor did she have the stars aligned like Judai, she didn’t need to have the world chanting her name like Manjoume or Edo and so, she found herself at a loss.

Of course, Asuka had good grades across the board but aside from Duel Monsters, she didn’t have a specific passion for literature, mathematics, or science. However, it was that broadness which made her ideal for a teaching position.

Cynical as it may, those who can’t, did in fact teach.

Just look at Ayukawa Emi.

She was the quintessential definition of the adage. Ayukawa-sensei had mentioned here and there. She had turned down modelling positions and acting in advertisements to teach because she felt that her brains were more her calling than her beauty. Asuka didn’t disagree, Ayukawa-sensei was her favourite and she wouldn’t appreciate her for her if she only knew her as “that lady in that one yoghourt” advertisement.

Asuka had seen the extra mile Ayukawa-sensei went for the ladies dorm of Obelisk Blue firsthand.

When Asuka first arrived on Duel Academy Island, she felt clueless and naive but when she saw Ayukawa-sensei with her clipboard, that confusion turned to security. Her bright smile was so welcoming, she pointed Asuka in every direction she needed and more.

(A couple years later, Asuka would find herself echoing those exact words to her own underclassmen, thinking of her teacher with a flutter in her heart.)

And afterwards, whenever Asuka had a worry - no matter how small, if it was school related or in regards to her social life - she always had a trusted ally in Ayukawa-sensei. She had literally seen it all. Thanks to her own high school experiences but what she had learned in the life after high school because yes, friendly reminder, it did in fact exist.

She hosted ice-cream socials and slumber parties. She made sure everyone did exercises best suited to their body type or their goals. She was serious and no-nonsense when it came down to the hammer but outside of that, she was a joy to be around with a fun sense of humour.

Asuka had a whole scrapbook of memories to reminisce through when it came to Ayukawa Emi.

Most good but some bad, too. Like with the early part of the ordeal involving Yubel.

The silver lining in that particular situation was that Ayukawa-sensei’s heart of gold truly got to shine because of it. Her wide range of medical knowledge had been a huge difference maker when the school had gotten stranded in the Spirit World. She had done well to hold down the fort and patch up injuries until she literally couldn’t under Yubel’s influence.

But afterwards, even though it wasn’t her fault, she had literally been possessed, Ayukawa-sensei still apologised for her actions. She didn’t assume her heroics from before made up for the hurt she had caused as one of the mobbed, zombie-like members of the cohort in the fugue state under Yubel’s influence. She didn’t have to do that but it was important to her integrity that she did. Asuka respected that.

She always had, of course.

It was these moments that Asuka held onto as she decided to solidify her life’s path. She wanted to be a teacher like her beloved Ayukawa Emi. Nurse, physician, physical education instruction, dorm leader. She really, truly was everything and she did it all with that gorgeous smile, too.

No wonder Asuka had watched her from the students’ pews in the lecture hall long enough for purely mentoral admiration to turn into a crush.

It was hard saying goodbye… but Asuka didn’t want to. Or at least not like she was meant to.

For the past three years, Asuka had found herself contending with a rather inappropriate crush. She would be the first to admit it but only to herself. Because of all those things like the age gap and the power imbalance, Asuka was terrified to talk openly about it.

She mentioned it in passing to her brother, vying to be told to knock it off yet wanting to be validated by the same token. It was confusing and contradictory because that’s what matters of the heart tended to be like. And, annoyingly, Fubuki did consider himself to be a “love doctor”. Whatever that meant.

So, for better or for worse, he knew more about these sorts of things than her but he encouraged it. Likely only because he only knew about the lesbian aspect of it. He probably wouldn’t be so gungho about encouraging her if he knew that the girl that Asuka had her eyes on wasn’t a girl but rather a woman.

Either way, Fubuki did remind Asuka, she did have a box of costume jewellery in her room. Odds and ends, knicks and knacks that had been collected over the years from various female family members. Though, she wasn’t much of a jewellery person, maybe her mystery lover was.

Looking through that box, after Fubuki left, Asuka did find something. It wasn’t satisfactory but maybe it would be good enough. It was only costume jewellery to people whose families weren’t so endowed with wealth like theirs were.

Something to think about and Asuka did way too much of it. She wrote scripts and speeches in her head. She mulled over the pros and cons. All of it leading to the realistic outcome that confessing might rid Asuka of these feelings.

So now, at the culmination of these past three years with her crush, Asuka decided to act on it.

“Ayukawa-sensei, can I speak with you?” Asuka asked. “One last time before I graduate. I… I have something I need to get off my chest.”

Ayukawa-sensei flashed her one of her trademark, beauty queen smiles, “Of course, Asuka, anytime.”

“Thank you.” Asuka said.

“Oh and Asuka?”

“Yes.”

“Please, call me Emi. You aren’t going to be my student for much longer.”

She giggled impishly and reluctantly, Asuka adjusted. She had been reminded once or twice before, this was Ayukawa-sensei- no, Emi’s way of trying to instil that Asuka, and her third year peers, were going to be adults soon. And so, she wanted to elevate them.

Regardless, Ayukawa-sensei or Emi, Asuka felt her heart tremble in her chest. They excused themselves from the rest of the dorm, Emi took her somewhere private: the dorm office. It doubled as a guidance counsellor's because duh. That was a part of Emi’s duties as Ayukawa-sensei’s, too. Not just for the Obelisk Blue Dorm but for anyone who needed it.

“Do you want to sit down?” Emi asked, gesturing to the chair on the student’s side of the desk: a heavy, four-legged thing which made Asuka all too aware of the imbalance between them.

“No, I’m right, it should only be quick.” Asuka said.

“Oh, okay, then.” Emi said and she awkwardly hovered by the corner of her desk. She had clearly been expecting a sit-down conversation.

But with the nerves Asuka felt, her own legs felt wooden. Her heart raced in her chest and as Asuka gathered her thoughts, she must have taken too long. Her silence turned into a pregnant pause.

“Whenever you're ready, I’m listening.” Emi added softly.

Asuka placed her hand on it, her fingers curled in against the grain as she took a deep breath. She lifted her head and her hand in one swift motion. Her eyes gleamed with determination.

“I want you to wait for me.” Asuka announced and in a quick motion, she took Emi’s hands. They were baby soft and smelled vaguely of cucumber-melon lotion. Asuka gave them a firm squeeze as she looked Emi directly in the eyes. “I want to marry you.”

“P-Pardon?” Emi exclaimed.

Her eyes… How they looked, how they wavered, the way Emi was stricken with panic ever so quickly, it broke Asuka’s heart. She loosened up her grip on Emi but did not fully let go.

“I want to be a teacher like you. I want us to be teachers together, one day, but I want to wait for you as well. I - I have had feelings for you for so long so please. Will you give me a chance?” Asuka asked.

“I - I can’t, Tenjoin-kun-”

The switch from her name to her family name, it wounded Asuka. It was a salient reminder. She was not special. She had merely misunderstood. Those moments one-on-one they had shared prior, they had meant the world to Asuka but here merely one of many to Ayukawa-sensei.

“Please, Emi.” Asuka tried once more, her heart fit to her break as her eyes welled up with tears. “I even have a ring.”

Ayukawa-sensei pulled her hands away from within Asuka’s. She could feel Ayukawa-sensei’s skin crawl within the milliseconds long sensation of the rejection.

And the hesitation.

“I can’t stop you from waiting.” she said. “But I won’t wait for you.”

“I… I see, thank you, Ayukawa-sensei.” Asuka said and she stood back.

Emi collapsed into her chair. Seemingly thankful to be away from Asuka but she hid the majority of her face in the seat of her palm. She sighed hard. Thoughtful. Maybe even hateful. Either hateful or shameful.

Asuka produced that ring she had mentioned. It was silver with a bead of glass which so closely resembled a garnet it could have been mistaken as such.

“I’ll keep it.” Asuka said, alleviating some of the tension. She fiddled with it awkwardly, trying to shove it down the correct finger with haste.

“Become a good teacher, Tenjoin-kun.” Emi said, taking her hand off her mouth.

“I will try my best.” Asuka confirmed and she bowed. “Thank you for hearing me out, Ayukawa-sensei.” With her hands placed in front of her, her ring gleamed against the blue of her schoolgirl skirt, up until her hair flopped forward to hide both it and her face.

#i want to marry that girl (marry her anyway)#femslash #sweet and spicy bingo #writing tag #clover and violets #clover and violets 2024 #postureshipping #yugioh #gx #femslash february #femslash february 2024 #long post #age difference cw #i bet this was not the ship people were imagining when i made my post earlier

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thekillingmoonmoon · 2 years

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unholy: tokyo revengers

Akashi Takeomi

masterlist

Pairing: Bonten! Akashi Takeomi x Exotic Dancer! Fem! Reader Warnings: NSFW, smut, age difference, cheating, Length:

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Green green green, green as his eyes, it goes into his pocket and straight into your greedy little hands. It barely passes through the house he supposedly provides for, but how can he say no when you're riding his cock like an absolute whore in heat? All you have to do is bat those pretty lashes and pour those pretty lips and he's already falling over his feet to give you exactly what you want.

Sanzu has his drugs and his king, Takeomi has his queen - the owner of his heart despite the ring chained to his left ring finger. When you’re dancing across his lap, shimmying your ass in barely anything, glancing across your shoulder at the smouldering wilderness in his eyes, and he knows it's love, deeper than lust, despite the age difference.

He knows it when you're on your knees for him, all doe-eyed and distant, far gone as you choke around his length. you don't bat an eye when he tells you who he is, who he really is. You know his type. You know his wandering eyes and calloused hands. But somehow those rough fingers always return to you, gripping your flesh tight as he pulls you back on his cock, moaning into the back on your neck as his unspilled confession hang between the smell of sweat and sex. You don't stay for the drugs, booze, and Balenciaga, although Takeomi is eager to provide, anything to keep you curled up by his side, greeting you as he saunters into the club you work at. You, with your glittering eyes and vixen’s smile, snatching the cigarette from his mouth to leave lipstick stains on its length, blowing the smoke in his face as you straddle his lap. It always ends the same, him hiking up your dress to fuck you against the nearest surface, and leave you at the end of night, cum leaking down your thighs, watching him go home to his wife and son, his wedding ring glimmering in the neon light as he kisses your sweaty forehead in one final goodbye

You know he cares, how he wishes he could just have you, forever, for always. but he made his marital bed, and he must lie in it, even though it isn't just his son calling him Daddy in the late hours of the morning.

It isn't perfect, but what you have with him is electric, a live wire lust love, filled with sweat-soaked lies and false promises, and tender touches and lingering farewells. But you're satisfied with it, for now.

#takeomi akashi x reader #takeomi x reader #takeomi akashi #akashi takeomi #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #cafe employee #fem reader cw #age difference cw #killingmoon n/s/f/w #cheating tw #killingmoonmoon tr

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atomicsuperrobot · 1 year

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Being in a small fandom kind of sucks sometimes bc you’re a lot closer to a lot of the unsavory elements that all fandoms have than you would be in a much bigger space. I had this problem with Astro Boy, and I’m having this problem now with Kaitou Joker. To make matters even worse, these are series that have larger, more active fandoms in countries whose language I cannot read, and do not speak, and so I can’t always tell if something is unsavory or not just by looking at it, because if there’s dialogue, then I’m probably missing context. (Though a lot of the worst shit is fairly obvious from visuals alone, thankfully; tho that doesn’t make unwittingly bumping into it any better.) I can’t possibly vet every single person I come across who creates something I enjoy, bc it’s exhausting; but at the same time, I don’t want to unknowingly express support for someone who has principles that I disagree with- and underage smut and incest shipping and even shipping a teenager with a literal child are actually very frequent problems I’ve come across in this space, both in the English-speaking sphere and outside of it.

#Mun Post #((idk man I'm Tired))#tw incest #incest tw #cw incest #incest cw #tw age gap #age gap tw #tw age difference #age difference tw #cw age gap #age gap cw #cw age difference #age difference cw

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sttoru · 5 months

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thinking of dating older bf!satoru. . .and i’m talking like you’re in your early 20’s and he’s in his early 30’s.

the way he texts at the start of your blooming relationship is super attractive somehow. like the most simplest of texts would get you weak in the knees. texts like ‘good morning, sweetheart.’ // ‘how’s my pretty girl doing?’ // ‘there’s my gorgeous girl.’ // ‘rise ‘n shine, sleepyhead.’ // ‘it’s okay, baby. i understand.’ // ‘you never fail to amaze me, huh.’

or when you’re being very risky via your messenger app, older bf!satoru is definitely the type to say ‘careful.’ // ‘you’re gonna get me in trouble.’ // ‘you’re being quite brave today, doll. // ‘aww, how adorable of you.’ // ‘mhm? that so?’

also . . . gives you money out of the blue. randomly. doesn’t question it at all. or sends expensive gifts your way too without you asking. older bf!satoru would text you stuff like; ‘here’s some money, gorgeous. want you to spoil yourself for me today, okay?’ // ‘just a little gift.’ // ‘you deserve a break, baby. here you go.’ // ‘got you something small.’

and then you check your bank account and it’s an easy $200 / $500 / $800 ++ added by him. or when he’s sending gifts to your apartment, it’s gonna be one of them reaaaaal expensive ones. probably ones you eyed before or had mention you liked very briefly, but didn’t get it because of the price.

definitely also the type to try and accommodate or match his texting style to yours as the months go by. kinda to match your energy. perhaps fails horribly at it, but it’s cute to see him try.

#sttoru chats.#just wrote my thoughts down rlly quick LOL #self indulgent af but if yall want any fics w older bf!satoru let me know in my inbox teeheee might even make a series of it #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #cw age gap #cw age difference

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puppetmaster13u · 4 months

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Prompt 179

“Pa, there’s a weird lookin’ cat outside!”

-Said by a sleep deprived Danny Phantom while in Clockwork’s Lair, about a hero displaced in time. Clockwork is in fact amused. Batman is simply confused about the entire situation.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #prompts #Danny uses the fact that other ghosts are afraid of CW to get some peace and quiet #Clockwork is happy to hold and snuggle his ghostling #He’d get out and visit his little baby ghost more but there’s these annoying speedsters in all these different timelines that keep making #knots that he has to detangle before his paid vacation time can start #Danny looks tiny compared to Giant Ancient Clockwork #Ghosts continue to grow with age and Never Stop as long as there’s space #Seeing as they control the amount of space in their lairs…#Batman is going to have the craziest time travelling incident ever #Clockwork decides that he’d make a GREAT babysitter #Here’s the list for the seven children and he’ll come pick them up once he fixes the speedsters mess thanks #(Said after Danny gets his nap and CW gets him to bring his sisters & friends)

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konigsblog · 2 months

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what if… ghost was our boyfriend’s older brother or dad🫦

LOVE this idea :3

cw: cheating, non-con, weed use, blackmail.🍃

your boyfriend's older brother is an asshole - you can sense that his intentions aren't pure whatsoever, his perverted gaze lingering on your body when you sleep over at your boyfriend's house. he tells you, you need someone older - someone that's experienced.

simon is currently visiting, and seeing your presence was causing his hung cock to throb and ache inside his tight boxers, gripping his bulge whilst staring at you, tutting quietly to get your attention.

you had only come downstairs to get a glass of water, exhausted and ready to go back to sleep in your boyfriend's arms. through your tiredness, you decided to comply not to upset or anger simon, and perhaps your perception of simon was wrong - perhaps you were judging too soon. his hands began wandering, watching you fight sleep, barely able to keep his filthy and grimey fingers from exploring as he growled at you for squirming away.

“c’mon, stay still-- jus’ tryna have a conversation...” his voice deepened, became husky and gravelly. he offered you a hit from his joint in an attempt to relax you, watching you take a few hits as the smell of marijuana assaulted your nostrils and your body quickly became relaxed, whimpering quietly. you felt relaxed, breathing out quietly, and through your drugged state, you couldn't keep simon off of you.

he slid your panties down, admiring the way your slicken cunt glistened as he ran a finger through your folds. you bit on the two calloused digits he'd forced into your mouth to muffle your moans, chuckling as he grinded his bulbous and weeping cock into your wet pussy. you didn't even notice the flash on his phone as you threw your head back and gasped at the sensation of his tip against your cervix, bruising you with each thrust.

you cried out through pleasure, too drugged and high to realise what you were doing and its impact. simon's sturdy hips and muscular thighs pressed against your ass as he threw your supple legs over his shoulder, fucking even deeper into your warm, drooling pussy. you gripped simon's hair firmly in attempt to stabilise yourself as you became light-headed, breathing in his spicy and musky cologne as he fucked you stupid on his fat dick, tight and heavy balls pressed against your ass, your moans coming out broken and stuttered as he brutalised your cunny.

the realisation set in the morning after, as you came downstairs, realising what you'd done. guilt and shame hung in the air and churned your stomach, and you prayed that he'd keep quiet about this, understand that it was an accident - that it wasn't supposed to happen !

...only to be pulled aside, his large hand over your mouth as he wrapped an burly and strong arm around your neck, forcing you to watch the video recording of him fucking you, his veiny dick thrusted into your slicken pussy repetitively, and your facial expressions shameful and perverted in hindsight. you didn't even realise, a drugged mess getting fucked relentlessly.

he'll keep it a secret, yeah? with the promise that you'll suck him off and let him corrupt your mind every time he sees you.

and what choice do you really have? you either break up with your boyfriend who you claim to love so dearly, or pleasure your boyfriend's older brother in the hopes he'll keep quiet about this mess.

#orla speaks #tw: non con #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #tw: dark content #tw: age gap #tw: age difference #cw: weed #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #cod ghost #ghost call of duty #ghost headcanon #mw2 ghost

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proxima-writes · 6 months

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pairing: cult leader!joel miller x virgin!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 8.6k

summary:

You think you’re as good as dead when a band of raiders find you. In what you think are your final moments, an angel appears.

His name is Joel Miller, and he is here to deliver you from evil.

author's note: a huge thank you to my fellow cultist @atinylittlepain for listening to me scream about this. without them, we'd probably be on version 5 of this story. and to everyone who has been excited about this, i hope you enjoy!

warnings: DARK CONTENT - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dub-con: power dynamics, dub-con: cult mentality, age difference - 60M and 27F, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, post-outbreak, canon divergence, canon typical violence (knife wounds, gun shot wounds, numerous mentions of blood), minor character death(s), blood cult ceremonies, religious themes, possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, loss of virginity, oral sex - f receiving, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, cum play, dirty talk, pet names, praise, joel really has a loose screw ok? if there are any tags missing, please let me know!

“I don’t think you should go out there by yourself,” you say, watching as your dad inspects his gun. He looks up at you with a pained expression.

“I gotta see where we should head next. I don’t want to lead you out in the wrong direction, accidentally get you in a bad spot,” he says. “I’ll be fine, buttercup.”

There’s a heaviness that settles in your stomach at his words. He sounds confident enough, but his eyes tell a different story, expose his fear. He stands with a sigh, a wince of pain washing over his face.

“Maybe I should—“

“No,” he interrupts. “I’m going. I won’t be gone long, okay? We can’t stay here forever. Who knows what’s out there in the forest.”

That’s exactly what you’re afraid of. At least inside the rotted cabin you stumbled across you could pretend you were safe. The forest is alive in a way you’ve never experienced growing up in a QZ surrounded with barbed wire and steel. You hear the snap of twigs and the howl of wolves, or the flutter of wings and the call of birds, and sometimes you think you feel the weight of eyes watching you if you venture out too far in your exploration.

“We’ve made it this far. We got out of Denver and that was half the battle,” your dad says. “You got your knife, right? And enough rations.”

You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat. He kisses your forehead, dry lips lingering on your skin. You have an aching feeling this is a goodbye, some sinking intuition that he’s making a mistake that you can’t correct.

“Be back soon. I love you.”

Joel’s been keeping an eye on the people in the woods for the last three days. There was chatter on one of the radio stations that the Denver QZ was facing an uprising and he knows that once those walls come down, the survivors that venture out are bound to stumble across his town.

The cabin door opens and the man steps out, venturing into the forest. Joel waits to see if his female companion follows, but the door remains shut. He longs to see you, the girl who’s image has been burned into his brain since his first glimpse, but he has a duty to fulfill first.

He walks quickly and quietly through the forest, sure feet catching up with the man less than a mile from where he’d started. Joel clears his throat.

The man turns, fumbling with a gun that he clearly has no experience using, pointing it at Joel with shaking hands and shouting, “Move and I’ll shoot!”

“You lost?” Joel asks, holding his hands up and keeping his face trained in a mask of concern. “Lookin’ for somethin’?”

After a pause, the man seeming to have concluded that Joel isn't a threat, he says, “My daughter and I…we escaped the Denver QZ."

"That must've been difficult."

"We....we're running out of food," he continues, dropping his arms, limbs hanging heavy at his sides. "I-I don't know what else to do, man."

Gun no longer pointed at his face, Joel approaches the man, stopping when he's within arms reach. Up close, he can see the dismal state the guy is in -- sunken cheeks and bloodshot eyes, tattered clothing hanging on a thin frame. Joel places a hand on his bony shoulder.

"I can help you," he says. The man looks up, a brief glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes. Joel watches the slow realization, the way his brain catches up to what's just happened, a choked noise spilling from his dry lips.

Joel tugs his knife from the man's gut and steps back, watching as he collapses to the ground. Desperate hands smear the blooming red stain across his abdomen. Joel circles the man, positioning himself at his back, and pulls him close with a hand slapped over his mouth.

"I'll take good care of her," he whispers before dragging his knife across his neck in one clean slice. The man twitches once before growing limp and Joel releases him, body hitting the forest floor with a dull thud. Not one to waste, Joel gathers anything of use from his person.

Something catches the light against his neck. Curious, Joel tugs the bloodstained neck of his t-shirt to the side, finding a silver chain. He pulls, revealing the length of it.

A cross.

The clasp snaps with a sharp tug and Joel stuffs it in his pocket. Standing and shouldering his bag once more, he begins his walk back towards the cabin.

You're running as fast as your legs will carry you, lungs and limbs burning with the effort. You made the mistake of not listening to your dad when he'd told you stay where you were, to stay hidden, that he'd come back. Your nerves had gotten the best of you and you decided that you would catch up with him, but you didn't know which direction he'd gone. You figured you would travel a little ways and see if you could find him and if you didn't do so quickly, you'd rush back to the cabin and wait, just as he told you.

That's when the men saw you, two large figures with rifles that reminded you of FEDRA soldiers slung across their backs.

You duck behind a thick tree to catch your breath. You can hear voices calling out through the forest above the rush of blood in your ears, taunting tones carrying through the air.

"C'mon out, pretty girl!"

You chance a peek out from your hiding spot, only catching a brief glimpse of one man through the trees.

"Where ya hidin', sweet thing?"

His voice sounds far away and that gives you the courage to move forward, a tentative dash for another tree.

“I might be nicer to ya if you just come on out, but if I have to hunt ya down…well…you know what a hunter does to its prey, don’tcha?”

You press your hand over your mouth, muffling the cry that claws its way up your throat. You start to run again, faster, not caring if he can hear you so long as you're able to maintain that distance, hoping that if you can outrun them for long enough, he'll just give up and then maybe you can find your--

You crash into something, the world sliding out from under you and the breath rushing from your lungs as you land on your back with a pained shout. A hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you across the rough ground before you have the chance to recover.

"Gotcha," a man says, the voice different from the one that had been taunting you before. A figure stands over you, a foot on either side of your hips, looking down at you with a sinister smile. "Pretty little prize, huh?"

You twist your body, scrambling away from him. He laughs, following after you with unhurried strides.

“Now, don’t play hard to get,” he admonishes. A hand wraps around your ankle and he drags you toward him, kicking and screaming. Your foot connects with some fleshy part of him and he curses.

“You little fuckin’ cunt,” he hisses, dropping your foot. He kicks you, heavy boot colliding with soft flesh and bone, a sharp pain blossoming in your side, shooting down to your very marrow. You curl in on yourself, wounded prey trying to protect its most vulnerable parts.

A shot rings out, the sound startling in the relative quiet of the forest. You sit up, sudden movement making you light headed, and it takes you a long moment to register the scene before you.

The man that had been chasing you, the one that had caught you, the one that had hurt you on the surface but planned to do far worse, lies on the ground, eyes wide open but unseeing. Above him stands your savior, an older man with gray streaked dark curls and tan skin, broad shoulders and hard brown eyes. He reminds you of a painting you saw once in a book your dad owned, long before the outbreak.

“Death On A Pale Horse,” he explained when you showed him the painting that caught your eye. “Based on the Book of Revelations. You remember that one, right?”

“Yeah.”

“This one,” — he pointed to the central figure, a dark creature on a white horse — “is Death. And this one” — he pointed to a figure on the right that rides a dark brown horse, the dark colors making him blend among the horrors breaking from the sky behind him — “would be famine. You can see the emaciated man below him.”

“What about the other two?” You asked.

“The one of the red horse would be war.”

You pointed to the remaining figure, a man with dark curls and a determined expression. “And the white horse?”

Your dad paused. “Conquest. Pestilence. The Antichrist. The first horseman of the apocalypse.”

The man before you today looks like that figure on the white horse and despite his choice to rescue you from one horror, you fear he may be something far worse.

The man kneels and you flinch away from him. He sighs and says, “I ain’t goin’ to hurt you.”

“Who are you?” You ask, voice weak, throat on fire.

“My name is Joel,” he says. “I want to help you.”

“How do I know you weren’t with those other guys?” Your eyes grow wide and you rush to stand on shaky legs. “Wait, there’s another—“

“He won’t be an issue,” Joel assures you, wrapping a steadying arm around your waist. “C’mon.”

“I can’t—“

“Men like those two ain’t the only things in the forest to worry about, and I’m afraid we can’t sit around and find out. That gun shot could send a horde runnin’.”

“Wait!” You snap, pulling out of his grasp. He holds his hands up, as if in surrender, or maybe like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not sure which. “My dad is out there. H-he went to figure out where to go from here. We were in a cabin…” Your voice trails off. “I told him I would wait for him.”

Joel’s eyes are soft as he says, “We need to get ourselves to safety. I can send someone out to look for your dad first thing in the mornin’.”

“Send someone?”

“There’s a group of us, down in the valley. Survivors, like you.”

“Really?” Relief washes over you, eclipsing even the ache in your belly and the burn in your throat and the pain in your muscles. “How far?”

“With the state you’re in, probably about a two hour hike.”

You don’t have much choice but to go with him, do you?

“Okay.”

“Where’re you comin’ from?” Joel asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. You’ve been following quietly behind him, head down and eyes fixed on the ground.

“Denver,” is all you offer in response. He knew that much already. He wants to know more.

Maybe he has to give more first.

“‘M from Texas, originally. Was in a QZ in Boston for a while before makin’ my way out here.”

“Why’d you come out here?” You ask.

“Had a friend once tell me, ‘Save who you can save’,” he says.

“What does that mean?” You ask.

“You’ll see.”

Joel had mentioned survivors, but you're shocked to discover that just past a wooden sign proclaiming WELCOME TO CRESTONE in chipped yellow paint, a whole town is tucked away, surrounded by a wooden gate that opens for you as you approach. You feel the weight of curious eyes as you walk through a town square, Joel's palm between your shoulder blades steering you towards a more residential area until you reach a two story adobe home.

Once inside, you’re led upstairs to a sparsely decorated bedroom, a large bed in the center with a faded quilt tucked around the mattress with precision and a dresser against one wall covered in yellowed wallpaper. Joel gestures for you to sit, kneeling on the wood floor in front of you to work on the laces of your sneakers.

“What—“

“You need rest,” he says, removing your shoes. He looks up at you, brown eyes full of concern. Your stomach flips.

“But—“

“No,” he says sternly. He stands and walks to the side of the bed, tugging the quilt free and folding it down. “I have duties to return to, but you’ll be safe here.”

You don’t have it in you to continue arguing. You haven’t seen a comfortable bed in more than two days and the exhaustion catches up to you in one fell swoop, eyes halfway to shut as you crawl into the space Joel’s made for you between the sheets. He pulls the covers over you, the warmth of a hand smoothing across your cheek the last thing you feel before falling asleep.

You wake to the sun high in the sky, streaming through the open window of a room that you don't recognize. You push yourself to sitting, your ribs protesting the movement and your head pulsing just behind your eyes. Your mouth is unbearably dry, so much so that you start coughing, further aggravating your bruised ribs.

"There's water on the nightstand," a voice says, startling you.

You look to your left, finding a young girl sitting in a wooden chair by your bed. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face, wayward pieces falling across pale skin. Her sharp brown eyes watch you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl.

“I’m Ellie,” she says. You mumble your own name.

“Did Joel save you?” Ellie asks.

“Uh—“

“He must have. That’s what he does,” she continues, cutting you off.

“Ellie!” A familiar deep voice calls out. Her eyes go wide and she scrambles from her seat, rushing for the door. Heavy footsteps climb the stairs, Joel appearing in the open doorway. He looks at her with a stern expression, mouth pressed in a thin line. “Thought I told you not to come up here.”

The look on her face isn’t fear, like her reaction would have led you to believe. No, she looks up at Joel with reverence as she says, “Sorry. Wanted to see her.”

Joel nods. “Head to the mess hall. I’ll bring her down shortly.”

Ellie casts a lingering look in your direction before disappearing through the doorway.

“Sorry about her,” Joel says. He takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Could be better,” you say honestly. “How long was I asleep for?”

“A little more than a day.”

Your eyes go wide. “My dad—“

“We’ve sent out a search party. No luck yet, I’m afraid,” he says. You curl into yourself a bit at the news, shoulders tight with worry. He reaches forward and places a hand on top of your own where it rests on the sheets. “You should get some food. I brought you some new clothes, too. I’ll let you get dressed and we can go down to the mess hall.“

He leaves the room before you respond and you drag the pile of clothes closer to you, finding a neatly folded t-shirt, jeans, underwear, and socks. It takes you a long moment to work your way out of your dirty clothes, your movements slow to not aggravate your injuries. You keep your bra on, pulling the clean shirt over your head, followed by the jeans. You're thrilled to be wearing something that's not caked with dirt and sweat.

You're working on putting your socks on when there's a knock at the door, Joel entering when you call out for him to come in. He smiles at you.

"There, that's better," he says. "C'mon. Let's get down to dinner."

You follow him out of the room and down the stairs. The first floor of the home has a kitchen that opens up to a living and dining area, the space filled with worn mismatched furniture. The walls are wood paneled and there's a massive stone fireplace with elk antlers mounted above it.

The sun is setting as you step outside and get your first real look at the town as its bathed in gold. Narrow residential streets give way to wider roads once you reach the town center, where commercial buildings are pressed together advertising long forgotten businesses, their windows dark.

"That's the butcher up there," Joel says, pointing to one of the wooden buildings. "He gets the meat from the traps prepped for us." He points to another building with a sign that says RESTAURANT. "That's the bakery."

"A butcher and a bakery?" You ask. "Do you have electricity here?"

"Sure do. Solar panels, just outside the gate."

You continue walking through the town until you come up on a large white building, people entering and exiting through a set of thick double doors. The shadow of a cross remains above the door, perhaps scorched by the sun where a crucifix once sat. People welcome Joel as he enters, heads turning in their curiosity. You press a little closer to Joel's side.

The large room is bursting with noise and activity -- a flurry of conversations, the clink of cutlery, and laughter. You've not seen anything like it before, the mentality in the QZ not conducive to camaraderie. You can count on one hand the number of people you would have considered friends within those walls, and even that was a stretch. You and Joel join a line of people retrieving plates of food from a single window.

"How long has all of this been here?" You ask, gesturing to the room. He looks around proudly.

"Ellie and I came across this town on accident after we went through hell leavin' Boston. The folks here set up their own quarantine zone and with bigger fish to fry, FEDRA sort of left ‘em alone. They were kind enough to take us in," he says. "After that, more people started showin' up lookin' for safety. Lots of people who escaped the QZs or had been on their own for a while and were tired of runnin'."

"Ellie says you save people," you comment, taking a step forward as the line moves. "What's that mean?"

"Every flock needs a shepherd."

You’re at the front of the line now, standing in front of the window. A woman appears, her face lighting up when she sees Joel.

“Joel! How are you?” She asks, leaning onto the ledge. Behind her you can see people moving quickly and efficiently around a stainless steel kitchen, large pots of food simmering on the stovetop.

“Well enough,” he says. He places a hand on your shoulder. “We have a new guest. Make her plate nice and full for me?”

“Of course.”

She gathers a plate from a precarious stack, loading it with a heaping pile of food ranging from mashed potatoes and stew to colorful vegetables that you haven’t seen in ages, not since before the outbreak when you were seven and your dad would make dinner rather than pass you a ration package. You’re speechless as she hands you the plate with a kind smile, a mumbled thank you the best you can manage to show your gratitude.

Joel is handed a plate as well and you follow him to a table where Ellie sits next to a man with white hair, her plate already empty in front of her. The man looks up at Joel as you approach, his expression closed off and wary.

“Michael,” Joel says in greeting, jaw ticking. You take a seat beside Ellie, who to your surprise moves closer to you, arm brushing yours. “You botherin’ Ellie?”

The man, Michael, shakes his head. “No, sir. We were just having a little talk.”

“What about?” Joel sits on the opposite side of the table. He rips his bread roll in half.

“Just some concerns I was having.”

“You bring your concerns to me. Not to her.”

The two men stare at each other, the tension thick and impossible to ignore. Finally, Michael gets up, leaving the table without another word. Ellie’s shoulder’s lose their tension and Joel catches her eye, the two of them seeming to have an entire conversation in just a look.

The moment passes and Joel’s features relax, a smile tilting the corners of his lips as he returns his attention to you and gestures to your plate.

“Dig in,” he says.

Joel walks you back to his home after dinner, the sky now dark. Ellie’s already closed herself in her room by the time the two of you return, having left the mess hall before you had finished eating.

“Tired again?” Joel asks when you yawn, mouth open wide as you stretch your arms above your head.

Your expression is sheepish as you say, “A little bit.”

“That’s to be expected,” he assures you. “You fought a hard fight. It’s okay to relax now. I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.” Your fingers tangle in the hem of the t-shirt he’d given you earlier. “I don’t know if I’ve said that already.”

“You’re welcome. Come on, let’s get you back upstairs. You can use the shower and get to bed.”

“Oh my god, a shower sounds amazing.”

He shows you the bathroom and helps you get the water running. Once he shows you where to find a towel, you smile gratefully before shutting the door on him.

Dismissed, Joel makes his way to Ellie’s room, knocking on the door. She answers quickly, opening up only enough for him to see her face.

“Yeah?” She asks.

“Can I come in?”

She rolls her eyes but opens the door further, allowing him inside. Her room is smaller than his but far more decorated, pages ripped out of old magazines and comic books tacked to the wall. She takes a seat on her single bed, folding her legs beneath her.

“What did Michael talk to you about?” He asks. She shrugs her shoulders. Joel bites back a sigh. Sometimes he forgets what it was like to reason with a teenage girl. “Ellie.”

“He said” — she pauses, scratching at her wrist in the way that she will when she’s anxious — “he said that you were full of shit. That your fucked up ceremony isn’t helping any of them.”

Joel’s teeth grind together. “That all?”

“Called me a stupid kid for following what you say,” she mumbles. “Said everyone in town was stupid for believing you.”

“Thank you for tellin’ me,” he says. Rage burns in his veins as he turns to leave.

“What are you gonna do?” Ellie asks as he reaches the door.

“I’m goin’ to teach him a lesson.”

He pulls the door shut behind him, tilting his head against the wood with a sigh. The click of a latch down the hall precedes your quiet, “Joel?”

Joel turns to face you, surprised to find you standing just outside the bathroom door with a towel tucked around your body. Water glistens on your skin in the low light, drawing his eyes down your neck and across your chest. He clears his throat.

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” you murmur. “I…could I get some new clothes?”

“Of course, should’a given you some before you showered. Sorry about that.”

Joel walks past you, entering his bedroom and approaching the dresser. He tugs the top drawer open, full of clothing he’d gathered while you’d been asleep for more than a day. He piles together another t-shirt, sleep pants, and underwear, setting them on the bed for you.

You’re standing in the doorway when he finishes and he fights the urge to go to you, to pull you close, to run his wretched hands over your body like he’s wanted to since he first saw you in the forest.

He doesn’t, though. Not yet. You still have much to learn.

“Here you go,” he says. “Some more stuff in the drawers for you if you need it.”

Joel leaves you to get ready for bed, shutting the door behind him. He heads downstairs to grab what he’ll need, essentials shoved in a bag thrown over his shoulder before venturing off into the night.

Only a few lights continue to illuminate windows as Joel walks through the residential area. The house he approaches at the end of a street is already dark, quiet beyond the wood door that he knocks on three times. The door opens slowly, Michael appearing in the small space.

“What?” He grunts.

“Come take a walk,” Joel says. Michael rolls his eyes, moving to shut the door but Joel’s boot blocks his effort. “I ain’t askin’, Michael.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do?” He challenges. Joel throws his weight against the door, catching Michael by surprise enough for him to step into the house.

Joel throws an elbow into the man’s gut, making him double over with a groan. He circles behind him, kicking the back of his knee to send him to the ground. He pulls a length of chain from his pocket, looping it around Michael’s neck and pulling the ends.

Michael struggles, clawing at the garotte and thrashing wildly, but Joel holds strong. He tightens his grip further until Michael’s fight becomes sluggish, lack of oxygen finally causing him to go limp.

Joel releases the chain and Michael’s body slumps to the ground. He removes his backpack, digging through the contents until he finds a rusted pair of handcuffs that he uses to bind Michael’s arms behind his back. Next, he places a strip of duct tape over his mouth.

When he wakes, Joel will lead him out past the gate. He will find an unassuming home that rests outside the boundary of Crestone. He will open the hidden doors of the cellar, the ones covered in a layer of leaves and grass. From the darkness he will hear the echo of desperate groans and the rattle of chains and the angry attempts to break free from bindings. He will lead Michael down the dirt steps, the smell of rot and fear and death clawing at his olfactory nerves.

He will place a burlap bag over a struggling Michael’s head and the man will beg and plead in words muffled by tape. Then, Joel will offer him for judgment.

A hand on you shoulder shakes you awake, the room still mostly dark when you manage to open your eyes. You groan, pulling the quilt up over your head.

“C’mon, we gotta get to breakfast,” Ellie says. The cover gets yanked down and she gives you a mischievous grin.

“Where’s Joel?” You ask, sitting up slowly. She shrugs.

“Probably there already.”

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand, stretching your arms up. You grab the same jeans and socks from the day before, changing into them quickly and sitting down on the floor to pull your sneakers on. Ellie watches you, her foot tapping impatiently.

“You can go without me if you’re in a rush,” you offer. She shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “You ready?”

“Sure.”

You follow her out of the house, her clipped pace difficult to keep up with due to your lingering pain. As the sun starts to rise and you pass by more of the houses, you notice something peculiar about some of them.

“What’s that?” You ask, pausing in front of one the houses. There’s a streak of what looks like dark red paint across the top of the door. Ellie doubles back and stands beside you.

“Protection,” she says.

“From what?”

She shifts her weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable with your line of questioning. Rather than answer, she walks away, leaving you to catch up to her or be left behind.

As the two of you start to walk through the square, there’s a rush of people around you. Shouting can be heard up ahead as a crowd comes into view, gathered around the front of the mess hall building. People press in close together, craning their necks to see over each other and catch a glimpse of whatever spectacle has their attention.

Ellie pushes through the crowd and you follow close on her heels until she manages to break through the other side of the wall of people. You catch glimpses of something writhing on the ground, something animal but not quite, something failed and fetid and foul. Another peek affords you a view of an arm littered with bite marks shaped by blunt teeth, deep gouges into their skin that shine red with blood and fester with disease.

Joel appears, stepping around the side of the building. The whispers cease, the crunch of Joel’s boots and pained groans the only noise to be heard in the stale air.

His dark eyes scan the crowd. People shrink back from his gaze, pressing closer to each other for relief. He reaches down, curling his fingers into the burlap material and yanking it off to reveal a man, familiar and yet not recognizable. Unseeing eyes, ashen skin, and dark red veins now the hallmark characteristics of the man you now remember as the one who had been talking to Ellie in the dining hall.

Joel draws a gun from his back, aiming it at Michael’s head. “Let this be a lesson,” he says, pulling the trigger.

The shot rings out, making you jump. The agonized sounds come to abrupt halt and his body goes limp, eyes still open as blood blooms on the ground around him.

“No blood spilled. No blood saved,” Joel says. You look up from the horrible scene and meet his hard gaze. You step back, turning and shoving your way through the crowd.

Then, you run.

You’re frantically shoving clothing into your bag when a door slams downstairs and heavy footsteps climb the stairs at a quick pace. You can feel the burn of Joel's eyes on your back, his presence in the room thick and cloying as you refuse to turn around, even when he murmurs your name.

He moves closer, a hand on your shoulder prompting you to turn to break the connection. He holds his hands up in surrender, taking a step back as he says, "Let me explain."

"Explain? Explain?! How the fuck do you explain that?!" You snap.

"If you'll just listen--"

"There's nothing you could possibly say that will--"

"Ellie is immune!" He shouts. Your words die on the tip of your tongue, lost to ether as you stare at Joel.

"W-what do you mean? Immune?" You ask.

He takes a deep breath. "I told you what my friend said. 'Save who you can save'. The first person I saved was Ellie."

"I helped her out of Boston, kept her safe, nearly lost my life if it meant keepin' her alive," He continues. "That's what I offer here."

"So you think you're....what? Some kind of god? That you can grant immunity?"

He huffs a laugh, the noise devoid of any humor. "God abandoned his worst experiment in their time of need. There is no god anymore, just the poor creatures he left behind. Someone had to take up the mantle."

"But how?"

"The ceremony," he says.

"That’s not a fucking answer, Joel!” You shout. “What fucking ceremony?!”

“Blood spilled for blood saved. You can’t make it in this world without givin’ your everythin’ first.” He lifts the bottom of his shirt, just enough to reveal a jagged scar to the right of his belly button, shiny scar tissue disrupting smooth tan skin. “I did this for Ellie. Now everyone else has to do it for themselves.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” You take a small step closer to inspect the wound, raising your hand and reaching out with a tentative touch. Joel inhales sharply as you run your fingers across the puckered flesh.

His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling your hand up and holding it against his chest. “It’ll be easier to show you, okay? There’s a ceremony in a couple days.”

“I don’t—“

“You’re just afraid because this is somethin’ new, but I promise you that you got nothin’ to be scared of. I’ll take care of you.” He lifts a hand to your face, tilting your chin with his thumb. “I just need you to trust me.”

His eyes are honest, earnest, pleading with you to believe him and the longer you search them, the more truth you seem to find. He will take care of you. You just know it.

“Okay.”

Dinner is served early on the day of the ceremony, the room buzzing with excited conversation. You haven’t seen Joel much the last few days, just passing glimpses, and Ellie says it’s because he has a lot to prepare for. Tonight there’s a woman at his side wearing a white dress that flows to the floor, black hair braided down her back. She smiles at Joel, hanging on every word you can’t hear. It makes your stomach clench in a weird way when her hand curls around his bicep and her head leans against his shoulder.

“That’s Marcy. She’s volunteered for the ceremony,” Ellie says. She’s sitting across from you, a smirk on her lips. “S’why she’s been hanging around Joel the last few days. Joel’s gotta prepare her.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to reply, picking at the vegetables on your plate. “What does…what does he do? To prepare her.”

She shrugs. “Dunno.”

You glance at the pair. Joel leans in close to the woman, whispering into her ear. Your fingernails dig into the meat of your palm, your hands curled into tight fists beneath the table. He stands, a hand on the woman’s shoulder as he calls the people to attention, voices fading until silence envelops the room.

“Tonight,” Joel says, “another is to be saved. And we will all bear witness to the gift of deliverance that only self-sacrifice can grant.”

It’s only a few words, but the power in them is palpable as you glance around the room at the entire town watching him with rapt attention. His eyes meet yours.

“Save who you can save,” he intones. A chill runs down your spine.

“Save who you can save,” the town echoes back.

The sun is already low on the horizon, twilight casting a soft glow on the scene. You stand at the back of the crowd, watching as Joel leads Marcy onto a raised wooden platform. Another man joins them, passing something wrapped in cloth into Joel’s outstretched hands.

“The thing about the world today,” Joel says, unwrapping the cloth to reveal a large knife, “is that there ain’t a single guarantee.” He looks out over the crowd. “Except here, within these walls. Why? Because here you’ll make the greatest sacrifice and earn the greatest reward.”

He begins to pace the length of the platform, knife in hand. “Givin’ your blood in exchange for your safety? That doesn’t sound so bad, right?” The people around you nod their heads in agreement. “You’ve seen what that sacrifice can do. I did it for Ellie. I did it for myself. And tonight—“ he places a hand on Marcy’s shoulder “—another has made the choice to earn that gift of protection.”

A cheer erupts, spreading through the crowd through shouts and applause. You find yourself joining them, clapping your hands together as you continue to watch Joel.

“Marcy,” Joel says. “What brings you here today?”

“No blood spilled, no blood saved,” she recites dutifully.

“Are you afraid?” He asks.

“No,” she says.

“Why?”

“Because I trust in your protection.”

Joel smiles at her, beaming with pride, and that knot in your stomach from earlier returns with a vengeance. You want him to look at you like that.

He stands in front of her, blocking her from view with his body. A hush falls over the crowd and from the silence erupts an anguished scream. You flinch, the sound piercing and painful and petrifying, though it seems to have taken nobody else by surprise.

Another scream as he jerks his arm back, the knife in his hand now stained with red that slides down the blade, dripping to the wood beneath his feet. He steps to the side and you can see the woman now, her hands pressed to her belly. Crimson blooms beneath her hands, marring her pretty white dress and leaching the color and vitality from her face. She drops to her knees and so does Joel, who wraps an arm around her shoulders and gently guides her until she’s lying on her back. He holds her hand and smooths her hair from her face as she just repeats, “Thank you.”

Slowly, the strength in her voice fades. Her arm goes limp in his grasp, dropping to the floor with a dull thud as her eyes flutter shut. Joel whistles sharply, three men rushing up the platform and lifting the girl into their arms, careful not to jostle her too much. Joel remains kneeling, his head turning to scan the crowd.

“We are born covered in blood,” he says. “It gives you protection from the outside world when you’re wrenched from the womb. And it will protect you now as it is wrenched from you.”

He steps off the platform and walks past the crowd, heading for the residential street. Everyone shuffles forward, moving en masse like sheep following their shepherd or cattle to the slaughter. You’re led to one of the smaller homes and you watch as Joel smooths the flat of the blade across his hand, gathering blood in his palm.

He places his palm on the door, smearing the blood across the faded blue paint. When he’s done, he turns to face the crowd.

“Marcy has earned her protection. Those of you among us that have not yet made your sacrifice, may you return home this evenin’ and realize that each passin’ day is a wasted opportunity for your salvation.” His serious expression softens as he smiles. “No blood spilled.”

“No blood saved,” the crowd says.

To your surprise, the words fall easily from your lips.

Joel shuts the door quietly behind him. He’s just finished checking on Marcy and was pleased to find that her wound has been dressed and she’s recovering well. At the kitchen sink he runs the water as hot as he can tolerate and scrubs his hands clean.

He can hear faint footsteps upstairs, the sound of your pacing back and forth in his bedroom. He’s pleased that you stayed through the entire ceremony, didn’t run away filled with fear or disgust like you had watching him make an example out of Michael.

There’s hope for you yet.

Joel dries his hands on a towel and heads upstairs. He glances at Ellie’s room out of habit, though he knows it’s empty. She likes to help out after the ceremony, usually sticking beside the town nurse, Shelly, as she monitors the person who participated in the ceremony over night.

The door to his bedroom is shut but he can see that the light is on, the glow of it seeping out from the gap beneath the door. He knocks, three sharp raps of his knuckles, and waits.

You pull the door open, and Joel is once again struck by how much he wants you, how much he’s craved you since the first time he saw you. You look up at him with wide eyes but he doesn’t sense any fear as you pull the door open further and step back to let him enter.

“You doin’ okay?” He asks, shutting the door quietly behind him. You’re standing with your arms wrapped around yourself, nodding quietly. Joel moves closer, tentatively reaching out to tilt your chin up so that he’s looking into your eyes. “Talk to me.”

“I….,” your voice trails off. You take a breath. “I want that protection.”

He was hoping you would say that. Relief floods through him.

“I can’t do that,” he says. Your brows pinch together, hurt flashing across your features. “I won’t have your blood on my hands.”

“But—“

“Listen to me—“ his hands frame your face, thumbs smoothing over the high points of your cheeks “—you’re meant for somethin’ different here.”

“Something different?” You repeat. You shake your head slightly. “I don’t understand.”

“From the moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you lose a drop,” he whispers. “You don’t need to bleed, sweetheart. Not like them. I’ll protect you myself.”

Your mouth drops open the slightest bit, drawing Joel’s gaze. He slides his thumb across your bottom lip, mesmerized by the softness of it. There’s not much about his life the last twenty or so years that he would call soft.

There was his brother, Tommy, even though they couldn’t see eye to eye and had to part ways. His daughter, Sarah, before the outbreak. She took care of him, made sure he took his vitamins and packed his lunch and didn’t miss a parent-teacher conference. She was light and joy, his heart outside of his body, and she was ripped from his grasp.

There was Tess, who was not a soft person but was a soft place to land among the carnage. Bill, ornery though he was, and Frank, arguably his better half. They were a breath of normalcy, even when Bill had a gun trained on him. Ellie, once she quit being a pain in the ass and wormed her way into his heart with her promise to follow him wherever he went.

And now there was you.

“Will you let me do that?” Joel asks. “Protect you?”

You lift your hands, delicate fingers wrapping around his wrists. He wonders if you can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse pounding beneath your grip. Finally, after a long moment, you whisper, “Yes.”

Joel captures your lips with his, swallowing your gasp of surprise. You’re tentative, a bit clumsy with your movements as you kiss back and he pulls away, leaning his forehead to yours.

“I-I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I’ve never—“

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

While his words don’t stop your pulse from racing, they do calm your nerves the slightest bit. It’s not that you’ve never been interested in sex, there was just never a good opportunity. Going through puberty in an apocalypse where a militant government faction monitors your every move in exchange for basic necessities wasn’t exactly conducive to forming intimate relationships.

While you’re lost in your thoughts, Joel moves you backwards until your legs hit the mattress and he urges you to sit down. He kneels in front of you, working on the laces of your sneakers, removing them and setting them to the side. He looks up at you as he removes your socks and you’re not sure if you're supposed to find the sight of him kneeling at your feet as sexy as you do, but a rush of warmth rolls through you all the same.

He runs his palms up your legs, across your thighs, until his fingertips find the waist of your jeans, popping the button of the fly and pulling the zipper down.

“Lift your hips a bit, sweetheart,” he says, working the denim down and off your legs, tossing them aside. His hands return to your thighs, goosebumps erupting along their path to your hips.

“No one’s touched you here?” He asks, here being the soft skin of your inner thigh that his thumbs sweep across. You shake your head. He moves higher, a featherlight touch over the elastic of your underwear that makes you gasp. “What about here?”

“N-no,” you manage to whisper. He smiles at you, the same proud smile he’d given Marcy that you were so desperate to have for yourself.

“Good girl,” he murmurs. He kisses the inside of your knee quickly before sitting up higher, reaching up to lift your shirt up, tugging it over your head and dropping it onto the growing pile of your clothing.

“Lie back for me,” Joel commands. You shift up the mattress and follow his instruction, bringing your arms up to cover your exposed breasts. He makes a dissatisfied click with his tongue, pulling your arms away as he crawls up the mattress to settle between your legs.

“None of that,” he admonishes, planting your hands by your head. He kisses your lips again, butterflies erupting in your stomach when his tongue tangles with yours, hot and demanding. He palms one of your breasts, hands rough on the delicate skin. “This is mine, do you understand?”

Joel brings his mouth to your breast, tongue swirling over your stiff nipple. You cry out, the foreign sensation making more heat rush through you, leaving you throbbing between your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes as he sucks your nipple between his lips, releasing it with a lewd pop.

“Mine to touch,” he says, leaning on one arm to trail his fingers down your stomach. “Mine to kiss.” His lips trace the same heated path. “Mine to protect.”

When he reaches your underwear, he pulls back. “Look at that,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing across the gusset, making you whimper and squirm. “You’ve soaked your panties, sweetheart.”

Your face feels hot with embarrassment. “‘M sorry,” you mumble.

“Sorry? Ain’t nothin’ you need to be sorry about,” he says with a chuckle. He sits up, working your only remaining barrier between you down your legs. He spreads your legs with his hands on your thighs. “Goddamn, you look so pretty, baby.”

“Really?” You ask. His answering grin is wolfish.

“So pretty,” he repeats. He settles on his belly, face so close to your pussy you can feel the warmth of his breath against your heated flesh. “Gotta get you ready.”

Your response to the question is cut off with a high pitched moan as Joel runs his tongue through your folds, circling your clit with broad strokes. You try to close your legs against the sensation but his strong hands keep your thighs pinned down near the mattress.

He groans as he sets a slow and measured pace, alternating attention to your clit with dipping his tongue inside of you, dragging your essence from the source. Your hands clench in the sheets, chasing and retreating from the overwhelming sensation in equal measure.

There’s a blunt pressure that turns into a slight pinch as Joel slips a finger into your tight heat. Your head tilts back with a high keening noise and you’re panting, desperate for breath as he moves his hand in tandem with his tongue.

One finger becomes two that thrust and curl and part inside of you, stretching you in unfamiliar ways. It feels good, and all you want is more, more, more.

Joel’s hand moves quickly and he sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves until that flood of relief that you’ve only accomplished a handful of times on your own washes over you, your back arching sharply off the mattress as you shout his name like a prayer to the heavens.

His motions slow to a stop and he leaves the bed. You hear the clink of a belt and the rustle of clothing being removed before his weight returns between your legs, a new heat to be felt against your flushed skin with his clothes no longer in the way. With shaky hands you reach up to touch him, starting at his shoulders.

You trail your hands across his warm tan skin, down his hard chest and softer belly. That scar, the one that frightened you before, leaves you breathless as you run your fingers over it now. He’s so strong, so powerful, and he wants you. Wants to protect you so that you don’t know that same pain.

“Joel,” you whisper. He leans forward, hands on the mattress beside your head. He kisses you, slow and all encompassing. You can feel the hard length of his sliding through the mess he’s made of you and you gasp.

“Let me make one thing clear,” he says, face serious, “there ain’t any goin’ back from this. You’re mine. You got that?”

“I trust you,” you reply. Your response earns you a deep groan from the man, a kiss to your forehead that precedes the blunt head of his cock pressing to your soaked entrance.

His cock is thicker, much thicker, than his fingers were and you whine at the intrusion. His shushes you, peppering your face with soothing kisses.

“I don’t think—“

“You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart, I know you can handle it,” Joel says. “Take a deep breath, just a little more.”

Tension gives way, a sharp pinch that turns into an ache as Joel presses his hips firmly against yours. He kisses your neck and trails his nose across your sweat damp skin, holding still as you adjust to his girth.

You shift your hips the slightest bit and Joel’s moan echoes your gasp. “Tell me I can move,” he begs, another desperate kiss pressed to your lips. “Please, baby.”

There’s something heady about the power you have in this brief moment, a man like Joel begging you for something when he’s used to having everything. You nod and that’s all the encouragement he needs to draw back slowly, that fullness leaving you inch by inch, before thrusting sharply.

It’s unlike any experience you’ve had before — the way his body moves with yours, the flex of his muscles above you, the intense look in his eyes each time he presses inside of you.

“Made for me,” he murmurs. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you agree, moaning as each drag of his cock presses against a tender spot inside of you that has your stomach tightening rapidly.

His effort doubles, hips slamming hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall. You dig your nails into his back, watch the clench of his jaw against the sting, and moan his name as you succumb to the feeling of free falling into bliss, clenching around his cock.

“That’s it, sweetheart, fuck,” he growls, hips stilling against yours as warmth pulses inside of you, his mouth dropped open on a groan of your name.

Joel takes a moment to catch his breath before withdrawing from you. He reaches his hand between your legs, pressing his fingers into your swollen pussy as you gasp.

He holds those fingers up, the light catching on the red staining them.

Perhaps you’d spilled blood for your safety after all.

You wake to the early morning light filtering through the window, a noticeable ache between your legs as you begin to stir. You’re naked, having fallen asleep in Joel’s arms last night, his lips caressing your neck until you’d drifted off and dreamt of blood and wolves. You stretch your limbs, encountering only cold sheets as you do.

As you sit up, you realize the sound of rushing water is the shower and surmise that Joel must be in there. With stiff movements you leave the warmth of the bed and approach the dresser, tugging open the top drawer to find clothing for the day.

You’re reaching for underwear when your fingers catch on something cold, metal in a sea of fabric. You pull on the object, unearthing it from its hiding spot and holding it up for inspection.

A cross, hanging from a silver chain. A chain you would tangle your fingers in as a child, a cross that a thumb would rub across as a deep, familiar voice muttered prayers.

The shower turns off and you take one last look at the crucifix before setting it back into the dark corner you’d unearthed it from.

Then, you shut the drawer.

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel tlou #no use of y/n #joel x reader #dark content #cult leader!joel miller #cw age gap #cw dubcon #cw age difference #dark!joel miller #dark!joel x reader #dark joel miller

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lovelaetter · 8 months

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I'LL MAKE YOU CRY — a 2k celebration work.

here are two things about you: one, you always had a weakness for pretty girls, and two, you've never been good at dealing with not getting the things you want.

word count: 3.7k

pairing: sub!idol!ningning x dom!idol!reader.

warnings: abuse of power, age difference (reader is a 2nd gen idol, in her 30s), noncon turned dubcon, semi-public sex, reader is a manipulative mean bitch with mommy dom vibes and is proud of it, ningning is just a confused, stupid baby and her brain goes fuzzy around older women, excess of en-dashes and italics because that’s how your fav author here is.

a/n: i need to stop mentioning a fic and then writing something completely different... anyways, this idea came to me after @wintersera sent me an ask (which i hope you don’t mind me writing this instead of answering, love), let’s say something clicked inside my head instantly. also, this was supposed to be way more noncon-ish but i wasn’t satisfied to how it was going. go to end of the work for more notes!

Bo-Ah caught you looking at Seulgi for too long one day and made sure to pinpoint how your weakness for pretty girls would get you in trouble, not exactly in those words but it was what she meant and neither as a scold but in a friend-ly, you will get in trouble and i won’t help you with it because i warned you enough way. It didn’t mean anything to you at the time as you met someone else and Seulgi no longer occupied space in your mind but now you see how that didn’t make her less right.

As hard as it is to believe, you didn’t drag Ningning to your dressing room with sex in mind. Sure, as the new object of your affection you had thought of it with her before, but your intentions today were genuine and nice, truly.

A break during the end of the year performance rehearsals and recordings, leading her through the SM’s building corridors, sitting down together in your room. An offer— you see, I’m working on my next album and there’s this song that I really want to include but it feels like it’s missing something, realization dawning in her face, and I’ve been thinking about this for a few weeks now, i’ve talked to the producers, they think it’s a good idea, that our voices fit… I could’ve asked someone else to talk to you obviously but I thought a more personal approach would be nicer. So, what do you think? Would you like to collaborate with— and a lovely reception, an eagerness to accept like you’ve never seen before, cutting you off— yes!, looking down in embarrassment right away but not holding back the biggest smile, I mean, of course, it would be an honor.

So no, you didn’t had sex in mind and yet, being alone with her, you allowed your mind to wander.

“You are a really pretty girl,” you say after a few minutes in silence just staring at her.

“Thank you,” she says, so low you barely hear it and flinches when you suddenly slide closer to her from your spot, elbow on the back of the couch, trapping her in place.

It happens too fast and in the end, Bo-Ah surely wasn’t wrong. Your hand rests on her knee for a moment, sliding up, up slowly, taking hold of her thigh — you’re looking for putting yourself in trouble at this point. Ningning follows your touch up her leg with her gaze, watches your hand for a moment before looking back at you, promptly parting her lips to speak.

Maybe it was the wide eyes, shining for you with a glimpse of fear and confusion or the so pretty, plump lips that she insisted on running her pink tongue over or the blush painting her cheeks or— maybe it was everything and the months of watching her from afar, fantasizing about her, it’s not the point, all it matters is that before she can say anything you lurch forward, lips crashing onto hers. Takes a moment for her to react, frozen, and when she does it’s what the part of you with a good sense of morality expects, using all in her to push you away.

Closes her legs so hard your wrist hurts, fists against your chest while squirming and whines and stops and what are you doings are falling from her mouth. Impatience creeps up your spine and you snap yanking your hand from between her thighs, taking one of her wrists in hand roughly, snorting, so close to her face your breaths mix. She tries to break free for a moment more, chest up and down fast while staring at your not-so-happy face.

Tilting your head to the side and arching an eyebrow like who asks you’re done?, says, “I’ve never been good at dealing with not getting what I want,” you lean over to whisper in her ear, “Also, I heard Minjeong would love to collaborate with me. Once in a lifetime opportunity, you know?

It’s cruel the way you say it and she’s not stupid, knows how to put two and two together, the tears sliding free down her cheeks. Whimpers as your lips move from her earlobe to her jaw and down her neck, easing your grip on her wrist and the hand on your chest pushing you away drops to her lap. You grin against her skin and mutter a good girl, hand crawling under her shirt to grab her waist, pulling her more into your body. Part of your brain tells you to snap, to tear her clothes from her, take her like you always imagined, but the other part knows better than scaring her more and that time isn’t in your favor; you’ve been away with her for a few minutes, you still have a performance to record and soon the break will be over and someone will come looking for both of you.

Looking at her you can’t help but coo when she gasps as your fingers slide under the hem of her bra and grope one of her tits, a smirk taking place in your lips. “No, honey, not like that, come on, let me see you,” as she tries to turn her head, your other hand taking hold of her jaw and forcing her to keep looking at you.

You’ve fucked many girls in your life and yet, the euphoria that fills you upon hearing her moan and seeing her expression as you touch her is something completely new.

Her skin is feverish and your hands too cold making her shiver, not so gently taking one of her nipples between thumb and point finger, rolling and pulling it, eyebrows twitching and a whimper escaping past her lips. It’s accidental, her hands flying instantly to cover her mouth, and barely audible but enough to go straight to your core, to have you squeezing your legs looking for relief.

“You are a sensitive little thing, aren’t you?” You say in a low tone, never breaking eye contact with her, “What about this?”

Your free hand follows the same path as the other underneath her shirt and her back arches in a wordless answer. There’s a sick satisfaction in making her fall apart while she insists it doesn’t feel good, in seeing her body betray her pleas for you to stop.

“Take this off,” you rush, pulling her shirt up. Ningning refuses to put her arms up and tries to pry your hands away from her body, claw-like nails digging into your arms as she keeps begging for you to stop but you don’t hesitate on slapping her hands away, forcing her arms up as well as her shirt in a swift movement. She stills, stares at you dumbfounded and you scoff, “What? It’s okay to play with your little tits but you draw the line at me seeing them?”

It’s not okay and you know it. She tries again to push you away when you lean closer to reach behind her back and open her bra, failing to realize her position between the couch and yourself and that all her squirming only gets her body more and more into yours. She stops then as the straps slide down her arms and the piece falls to her lap, chest to chest with you, her face twisting and there’s that noise again, the whimper that makes your insides burn. She looks too pretty, teary wide eyes and blushed cheeks, lips parted and tempting you for a kiss. The idea of sitting on her face crosses your mind and the mere thought of her looking up at you from between your legs with the same wide eyes makes your hole clench around nothing, you can feel yourself growing slick.

But now your tongue craves to taste her much more than your own cunt craves her mouth.

Even her skin tastes nice on your tongue, going gooseflesh as you suck on a certain point of her neck and the effect it has on her is some kind of sorcery. She seems to forget everything; the struggling, the begging, where you two are. Fails to keep quiet when your mouth reaches her breasts, taking one nipple gently between teeth and sucking it greedily. You feel her bucking her hips, searching for friction, and glance up at her, seeing the way she covers her mouth with a hand trying to muffle her noises, tears rolling down her cheeks while she stares into your eyes with a certain look that makes you grin against her chest — no more fear or disgust but shame for liking it something so vile being done against her.

After a few minutes you pull back to admire your work, her chest heaving, puffy nipples shining with spit and even though you know better than to leave marks, the bruise looks cute on the soft underside of her breast. Your hand slides down her belly in no time, toying with the hem of her sweatpants for a moment before sliding further down between her legs and she begins squirming again, gripping on your shoulder and trying to push you away in vain, making you chuckle, watching her face carefully.

It’s a sight to see, the way her fighting merges with acceptance, clenched fists against your chest at the same time she lifts one leg so her foot can rest on the couch, unconsciously — or not — spreading herself and making it much easier for you to feel her soaked entrance through her underwear. Suddenly so quiet as you pull it to the side, no stops or crying or begging, only a shaky you’re sick cut off by a moan as a finger slides inside her.

It takes one, two, three slow ins and outs and the press of your thumb on her clit to have her melting, hands that once pushed you away now grabbing onto your shirt just for the sake of it, pliant under you like you wanted her to be from the beginning. Still, it’s not enough.

Your movements slow down almost to the point of stopping, no other choice for her but move on her own trying to feel something and you let her.

“Ningning?” She hums absently in answer, more cunt-thinking than anything else. You kiss her cheek lovingly and drag your lips to her ear to whisper, “Why aren’t you screaming?”

Ningning stills and frowns, blinking at you. “What?”

“Why aren’t you screaming? I never tried to stop you from doing so.”

She just stares at you in confusion, mouth open-close-open-close like a fish out of water, “I don’t—”

“None of that! Just admit it, silly girl, it’s nice, isn’t it?” She moans loudly as your thumb is suddenly too fast and slippery over her clit and your hand is fast over her mouth, hissing quiet! through teeth. “I’ll ask you again, why aren’t you screaming?”

You uncover her mouth and she takes a few deep breaths. She looks down between your bodies, at where your hand disappears and moves inside her pants and the squelching noises get louder as her hole gets wetter around your finger. When she looks back at you, her lips tremble and the tears are back in her eyes, ready to spill. It’s really quiet, between sniffs and if you weren’t so close to her you certainly wouldn’t have heard it, “Because… Because I like it?”

There she is.

“You do?” Your smile is so big your cheeks hurt, voice sugar coated and you know you look crazy or sick like she called you. “That’s my girl!”

You take her lips and there’s a brief moment of resisting before she’s yours completely, the tension leaving her body; parting her lips to let your tongue in. You pull away and she moves forward, following you with a pout, needing more, whining as you push her to lay back again. As you slide down to your knees, Ningning lifts her hips without you saying a thing, squirming impatiently when you take time to unlace and take off her sneakers, like the minutes aren’t passing — like you aren’t salivating.

Ningning is not the biggest example of patience, shoves her own pants and underwear down and spreads her legs wide, sitting more at the edge of the couch, closer to your face. Pretty just like you thought she would be, soaked and glistening under the lights, wetness sliding out of her cunt and down to her ass.

“Look at you,” you say, kissing a path on the inside of her thighs but never looking away and she squirms a bit uncomfortably under the weight of your stare.

Hands in your hair urge your mouth closer and you’re too desperate to tell her to not touch, so instead, you give in.

She’s salty and sweet and so much better than you could’ve imagined, mouth wide open and not holding back, doing your best to savor every single drop she gives you and more. Too wet, too much, tries to close her legs when your nose bumps repeatedly against her clit, which has you using both hands to force her legs spread and barking for her to stop moving. She struggles to keep quiet and it’s totally your fault, you should be careful, but there has never been anything careful about the way you eat pussy and it shouldn’t be different with her, especially with her. Head side to side, tongue flat and up, up, down, down, deeper into her hole—

You sit back on your heels, panting, fingers replacing your mouth on her slit and smearing arousal all over her puffy lips, her breath hitching when your middle and index finger slide inside her with ease while you watch slightly in awe, straight and deep, scissoring movements to stretch her open, her eyes rolling back when you crook them up.

Ningning curses under her breath, toys with her own tits in a failed way to try and mimic how you played with them earlier, the constant rubbing of your fingers against the spongy spot inside her being too much for her to think straight and not enough for her to cum and you know that, it’s on purpose and all on your face, a shark-like grin, your eyes flickering between her pretty face, eyes closed shut and biting her lip so hard you worry she might hurt herself, and her pussy, how your fingers come out more wet at each pump and her clit is begging for your attention.

She can barely open her eyes, a small line that is more tears than anything else looking down at you. Reaches for your wrist and pulls it more into her, fingers deeper, holding it so tightly it hurts, gasps, “Just a little—”

Kissing her mound, you nod, “Shh, I know, honey, I know.”

And you do know, not thinking much before using your free hand to expose her clit and spitting on it, action that has her almost sliding from the couch with how hard her hips buck. Slippery and red and aching, you wrap your lips around it and moan against her, sucking mercilessly.

If you were in the mood to be meaner, you would hold her down; if you had more time, you would be meaner; if you weren’t in a dressing room fucking her during a break and risking being caught, you would have more time, so you let her have her fun rocking against your face in a desperate search for relieve, almost like fucking your mouth.

Ningning tosses her head back and you can’t see more than her mouth falling in a soundless scream, your hand crawling up her torso to touch the breasts she had now let go and it’s impossible to drag you deeper and yet it’s what it feels like with her walls clenching around your fingers.

There’s a soft touch on your forehead, a push, harder and harder when your mouth doesn’t back away from her core, a cry from above you, “S-top, I can’t—”

You barely move to speak, annoyed, “Don’t you dare push me away again.”

She doesn’t.

It’s not for her pleasure anymore but yours and you couldn’t care less, slurping noises filling the room, the thought of if someone outside can hear it crossing your mind. The way her body curls up, small hands grabbing at your hair to the point it hurts, her pretty face twisted in such a scowl that if you didn’t know you would think she is in pain with the moments that pass and your tongue doesn’t stop swirling around the sensitive bud between her legs driving her into overstimulation, all of it makes your desire to keep going until she’s wasted increase and it’s a shame that you can’t. To her relief you let go of her clit with a wet, loud sound, tongue flat in a last taste, and her body falls slack back on the couch, breathless, subtle twitches of her legs as you kiss the inside of her thighs, pumping your fingers a few more times before pulling out just to hear her whine again.

You stare at your glistening fingers, ready to lick them clean before an idea pops into your mind, rising from the floor to sit by her side. Ningning opens her eyes as you get closer to her, teary orbs widening as you grab her by the neck, not saying a thing before shoving your fingers past her already parted lips and filling her mouth with her own taste. You don’t apologize when you reach too deep and she gags, instead presses down on her tongue and smiles proudly when she starts to suck.

“Good girl,” you mutter, transfixed by the way her lips wrap around your fingers and her head bobs slightly, one hand holding your hand in place, eyes looking into yours, “I told you it was going to be nice, didn’t I?”

“It was,” she says, letting go of your wrist and your digits fall from her lips, your hand sliding to her waist, leaving a trail of spit behind. She smiles, “I had fun.”

Ningning looks cute, at ease, like a switch had been flipped inside her head considering how she was struggling against you minutes before, now not caring that she’s still completely naked in front of you nor about the way you hungrily stare down at her.

“You should get dressed, soon someone will come looking for you.”

Her face falls, something close to disappointment washing over it and not going unnoticed by you, caressing her cheek and making her look at you while arching an eyebrow as if who says what?

Ningning huffs and blows a strand of hair a bit childishly, then gestures to your body, “You don’t want me to… repay the favor?”

“Are you that desperate to touch me?” You say nonchalantly, smirking at the way her face reddens twice more and she stutters to explain herself. “I’m messing with you. Next time, yeah? Now get dressed.”

It’s adorable the way her eyes shine at the mention of next time, nodding happily. You get up and walk to your vanity desk, looking through your makeup artist’s things in search of something to clean her face. Shooting a glance to the mirror, you watch her.

It feeds your ego to see a girl shaking and looking a bit lost because of what you did to her and it’s no different with Ningning, flushed face and pouting, too numb to properly stand and almost tripping on her pants. She struggles with her bra and you step closer, motioning for her to turn around and she promptly obeys, murmuring a quiet thank you when you clasp the piece.

She doesn’t object when you hold her chin, wiping her tears and mascara stained cheeks with cleansing tissues. “Unnie?”

“Hm?”

She chews on her lip nervously. “Are we… Can I… I mean, were you serious about the song?”

You tilt your head, frowning at her. She has her reasons to doubt you, you know that, but you can’t help but get offended.

“What, you think I lied to you? That I said that just to fuck you? You really think so low of me?”

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head frantically, has a hard time speaking because of how harshly you’re grabbing her face, “No, no, but you said Minjeong—”

“And? I say a lot of things when I’m mad. I do want you on the song, Ningning,” you say, more bitterly than you really meant, “but she’s a good second choice if you keep acting up.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

“Yeah, you better not.” You let go of her and walk to the other side of the room, throwing the wipes on the small trash can. There’s silence, only the annoying repetitive noise of the ceiling fan as you scribble your number down on a piece of paper, even adding a small heart and handing it to her. She takes it, unfolds to take a look and gasps, corner of her lips curving upward. “Don’t lose it, call me or text me tonight. I will also ask my manager to contact your team.”

“Oka—”

You cut her off with a kiss, hands flying to her waist and pulling her closer. Ningning moans against your lips and you wish you could torture her for a little more, savor her for just a few more minutes, but there’s a knock on the door, the familiar voice of her manager making her head snap around. She pouts, not wanting to let go either, turning back to you with a questioning look.

“What happened here, it stays between us,” she nods, giggling girlishly as you boop her nose and give her a last peck on the lips. “Now go.”

She leaves with a look over her shoulder and a small wave, to which you wink in return and mouth a call me, blush creeping up her face instantly. Afterwards, sitting down with your makeup artist doing her work on your face, you think about how much easier it is to play with her than you thought it would be — and how it might last.

a/n: so...that was it. i'm sorry if it feels rushed in certain parts and if it lacks on others, it’s not my best work and i wish i could’ve done something better but at certain point this was really stressing me out 😭 we hit 2k followers a few days ago and i'm really thankful for all of you guys and the support, it feels good knowing that there people out there that think like me! i'm sorry for not being as active as in the beginning, i'll try my best to fix that!

i think a few changes are going to happen, i don't know, i still have a lot of asks to answer and i don't know when i'll finish that, in a few days my anon inbox will be closed again 😭 i hope you guys understand that, i'm not ignoring anyone, it just overwhelms me! maybe i'll post more long fics, i have some ideas, or maybe just make more of my own posts like i said once... let's see!

i love all of you, thanks for being here with me for this whole year — yep, we also hit one year!

with love, simi 🤍

#writing.txt #aespa smut #ningning smut #ningning x reader #ning yizhuo x reader #girlgroup smut #gxg smut #aespa imagines #ningning imagines #cw: dubcon #cw: age difference #cw: power imbalance

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spiderlily-w1tch-blog · 4 months

Text

𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝙸 𝚂𝚊𝚢 𝙿𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚂𝚎𝚡 𝙸 𝙼𝚎𝚊𝚗 𝙿𝚞𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚂𝚎𝚡

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Genuinely, every time I look for exhibitionism/public sex fics I can’t find ones that are actually Public Sex the best I get is Semi Public Sex (not properly tagged as such 😒) So I’m fixing that.

Most of these Prompts + Characters have been paired up with a Picker Wheel with Characters and Prompts/Scenarios I predetermined(Most, because there’s a Free Space that shows up a couple times, fair warning the Picker Wheel REALLY seemed to like ABO)

There will be a couple repeat prompts but they will all be original stories :)

Links will be added as the fics are posted!! First one coming on January 1st, 2024!!

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Characters and their Prompts(picked by Picker Wheel):

𝕋𝕠𝕟𝕪 𝕊𝕥𝕒𝕣𝕜 - Public Handjob|Fingering|Oral(ft restaurant)

𝔸𝕚𝕫𝕒𝕨𝕒 𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕒 - ABO Untimely Heat(ft Unknown Omega/First Heat, stepcest, claiming|mating)(cw: includes stepparent-stepchild stepcest and large age gap(R: early 20s, A: late 40s-early 50s))

𝔸𝕞𝕒𝕛𝕚𝕜𝕚 𝕋𝕒𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕚 - ABO Pack Omega(ft A!Kiri, A!Fatgum, A!Mirio, B!Midoriya, B!Nejire, B!Tsu)(ft Pack Alpha!Tamaki)

𝕋𝕖𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕥𝕖𝕥𝕤𝕦 𝕋𝕖𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕥𝕖𝕥𝕤𝕦 - Showcase(Public Worship)(ft incest)(cw: includes sibling incest)

𝕂𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕒 𝔼𝕚𝕛𝕚𝕣𝕠𝕦 - Birthday (ft Bakusquad, honorary Shinsou + Tetsutetsu)(ft sharing w Tetsutetsu+Spit Roasting)(ft ABO)(ft O!Kat, A!Hanta, B!Denki, O!Mina, A!Toshi, A!Tetsu + Pack Alpha!Kiri)(cw: includes polyamory and underage(17))

𝕃𝕠𝕘𝕒𝕟 (ℍ𝕠𝕨𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕥) - Party(ft sitting in his lap, teeth, show off, human present)(GN!Reader, no pronouns or genitalia descriptions)

𝕃𝕦𝕔𝕚𝕗𝕖𝕣(𝕆𝕓𝕖𝕪 𝕄𝕖!) - Movie Night(Sitting in his lap)(ft Oviposition)(cw: includes Oviposition and background incest between the Demon Bros)

𝕂𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕣𝕚 𝔻𝕖𝕟𝕜𝕚 - Outside Filming (ft Kirishima Eijirou)(ft Festival/Fireworks, on a blanket, Spit Roasting)

𝕊𝕖𝕣𝕠 ℍ𝕒𝕟𝕥𝕒 - Naïveté|Under the Influence(cw: includes drug use(marijuana))

𝕀𝕚𝕕𝕒 𝕋𝕖𝕟𝕪𝕒 - Public Masturbation(ft on a park bench)

𝕊𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕛𝕚 𝕄𝕖𝕫𝕠𝕦 - Claiming|Jealousy(ft oblivious to flirting)(mini cw: includes kinda creepy guys pretending to be your friends)

𝕁𝕦𝕝𝕚𝕒𝕟 𝔻𝕖𝕧𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕜 - False Privacy (AMAB!GN!Reader; no pronouns but male genitalia)

𝕌𝕫𝕦𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕚 𝕄𝕖𝕟𝕞𝕒 - Public Breastfeeding (turned?) Lewd(Casual Breastfeeding)(ft stepcest, Mommy Kink(No Femdom))(cw: includes stepparent-stepchild stepcest and underage and Age Gap(R: early to mid 30s, M: 17))

ℕ𝕒𝕣𝕒 𝕊𝕙𝕚𝕜𝕒𝕜𝕦 - Sharing (ft Nara Shikamaru+Double Pen)(ft ABO, Incest)(cw: includes parent-child incest and underage(R: 15, Sm: 17))

𝕋𝕠𝕕𝕠𝕣𝕠𝕜𝕚 𝔼𝕟𝕛𝕚/𝔼𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕧𝕠𝕣 - Forced to Watch(Infidelity)(ft Todoroki Shouto)(ft Stolen|Payback)(cw: contains Infidelity with Cheater!Shouto and Age Gap(R: mid to late 20s, E: late 40s - mid 50s))

𝕋𝕤𝕦𝕜𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕒 𝕂𝕖𝕚 - Ritual|Initiation(ft Kuroo Tetsurou + Bokuto Koutarou)(ft voyeurism)

𝕌𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕙𝕒 𝕀𝕥𝕒𝕔𝕙𝕚 - Sex Ed(Demonstration)(ft Uchiha Sasuke)(ft Stepcest)(cw: includes stepsibling stepcest and underage(R: 15, S: 17))

ℍ𝕒𝕥𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕂𝕒𝕜𝕒𝕤𝕙𝕚 - School(Sex Ed; Demonstration)(ft Konoha 13 boys)(ft teacher/student|age gap, incest)(cw: includes parent-child incest and underage(R: 16))

ℕ𝕒𝕣𝕒 𝕊𝕙𝕚𝕜𝕒𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕦 - ABO Public Breeding(ft Claiming|Mating, sex ed, teacher/student|age gap)(cw: includes age gap(R: 16/17, S: mid to late 20s to early 30s) and underage)

𝕊𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕤𝕠𝕦 ℍ𝕚𝕥𝕠𝕤𝕙𝕚 - Power Establishment(Gang|Mafia)(ft Stolen|Payback, cock warming)(ft Bakugou)

𝕌𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕛𝕚𝕞𝕒 𝕎𝕒𝕜𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕤𝕙𝕚 - Group Get Together(ft Haikyuu Captains + partners)(ft oral cock warming, no touching(self))(GN!Reader; no pronouns or genitalia descriptions)

𝕌𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕙𝕒 𝕊𝕒𝕤𝕦𝕜𝕖 - Merfolk(Aquarium|Enclosure || Tail, teeth + claws)(ft claiming|mating, knotting)

𝕄𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕖𝕝(𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝔸𝕣𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕒) - Royalty/Making an Heir (ft Royal Doctor!Julian + Spectator!Asra)(ft having an audience)

𝔸𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕟𝕖 𝔻𝕒𝕚𝕜𝕚 - Free Space!(ft Cock warming before a game, nipple play)

𝕂𝕦𝕣𝕠𝕠 𝕋𝕖𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕣𝕠𝕦 - Monster/Human(Teeth + Claws, Tentacles)(ft knotting, Aquarium|Enclosure)

𝕄𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕤𝕒𝕜𝕚𝕓𝕒𝕣𝕒 𝔸𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕤𝕙𝕚 - Bar|Club (ft size kink)(cw: includes underage(16))

𝕀𝕟𝕦𝕫𝕦𝕜𝕒 𝕂𝕚𝕓𝕒 - Free Space!(ft Royalty|Making an Heir, ABO, Breeding)

𝔸𝕓𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕊𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕠 - ABO Public Breeding(ft Shino’s insects)(ft claiming|mating, oviposition)(cw: includes Oviposition and insects used in sexual scenario)

𝔸𝕓𝕦𝕣𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕊𝕙𝕚𝕓𝕚 - ABO Untimely Heat(unknown omega/first heat)(ft Shibi’s insects!)(cw: includes Oviposition and parent-child incest)

𝔹𝕒𝕜𝕦𝕘𝕠𝕦 𝕂𝕒𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕜𝕚 - Power Establishment(ABO Public Breastfeeding)(ft knotting)

𝕋𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕠𝕦 𝕊𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣𝕚 - Monster/Human(ft Tail, Teeth + Claws, Oviposition, Shore/Beach)(cw: includes Oviposition)

𝕆𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕦 - Free Space!(Monster/Human; Tail, Oviposition, hint of teeth)(ft Free Roam, claiming|mating, implied future claiming)(cw: includes Oviposition and being offered as a sacrifice(with the assumption Oro unalives the sacrifices))

𝕄𝕒𝕞𝕞𝕠𝕟(𝕆𝕓𝕖𝕪 𝕄𝕖!) - Claiming|Jealousy(space invasion)(ft Sharing w Beel, Double Pen)(cw: includes background incest between Mams and Beel and Polyamory)

ℕ𝕒𝕞𝕚𝕜𝕒𝕫𝕖 𝕄𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕠 - Sex Ed(Hands on Learning)(ft Konoha 13 boys)(ft Teacher/Student|Age Gap, sharing w Naruto+Spit Roasting, ABO, stepcest, claiming|mating)(cw: includes stepparent-stepchild and stepsiblings stepcest)

𝕌𝕫𝕦𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕚 ℕ𝕒𝕣𝕦𝕥𝕠 - Birthday(ft Konoha 13 boys + Kakashi + Itachi)(ft Fuck Party, Sharing w Kakashi, Double Pen, incest)(cw: includes parent-child incest and Age Gap(R+N: 18/19, K: 36) and underage drinking)

𝕐𝕒𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕠 || 𝕋𝕖𝕟𝕫𝕠𝕦 - Movie Night(sitting in his lap)(ft Kakashi + Naruto + Sai + Sasuke + Sakura)(cw: includes Polyamory and hints of Trans!Sai)

𝔻𝕖𝕒𝕟 𝕎𝕚𝕟𝕔𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 - ABO Public Breeding (ft on car sex)

𝕋𝕠𝕜𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕞𝕚 𝔽𝕦𝕞𝕚𝕜𝕒𝕘𝕖 - Monster/Human (ft Kuroiro)(wings, hint of claws)(ft claiming|mating, oviposition, sharing w Kuroiro, double pen)(ft claiming|mating, teeth + claws, tentacles, knotting)(cw: includes Oviposition and Polyamory)

𝔹𝕠𝕟𝕦𝕤 𝕊𝕦𝕣𝕡𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕖 - Merfolk(Aquarium|Enclosure || Tail, slight claws)(ft claiming|mating, breeding)

— —

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: All ABO one shots (if it includes vaginal penetration) will have knotting unless specified otherwise!

All Double Penetration fics will be Double Pen in One Hole!

MOST of these will be Female Reader as that’s what I’m most comfortable writing

Some of these will contain potentially triggering content, PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS AND BE AWARE!! Warnings will be restated on each individual one-shot as well. DON’T LIKE DON’T READ.

— —

【𝙼𝙰𝙸𝙽 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃】

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shouta-edits · 5 months

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"Hihi!! This is sorta an odd request but may I request a flowerfang ( Miguel O'Hara x Miles Morales) [spiderverse] stimboard? Preferably with cuddling cat stims nd baking stims? tysm in advance ^_^" -anon requested

SOURCES:

X X X

#age gap tw #age difference cw #miguel o'hara #miles morales #flowerfang #spiderman into the spiderverse #food cw #baking stim #cuddling cats stim #anti harassment #proship #proship safe #request fill #proship edit blog #[assignment passed back... /requested finished]#proshippers please interact #antis dni #hate will be blocked #stimboard

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merryfortune · 3 months

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Goodbye, sweetpea

Written for Femslash February and the Sweetheart Bingo from @sweetspicybingo

Day 9. Sweet Pea

Title: Goodbye, sweetpea

Ship: Refractionshipping | Masumi/Ray

Word Count: 1,580

Universe: Arc V - Canon Divergent

Rating: T

Tags: Character Death, Angst, It Got Worse, Grief/Mourning, Crying, Unrequited Crushes, Unrequited Feelings, Age Difference, Past/Referenced Masumi/Yuzu

The confusion was mutual as their eyes met and their lips opened with a singular, united question: “Who are you?”

In each other, they both saw a patchwork of people similar enough but not good enough to satisfy this question. Ray saw bits and pieces of her childhood friends, peers, and rivals. Her head ached as her heart tore apart. She knew who this girl in front of her saw but listen. She was not her and her was not she, either.

Eyes wide open, heart devoured by rancour and upset, Masumi saw Yuzu but… Yuzu’s hair was pink. Not red. She had only wanted to see Yuzu as this girl - no, woman, she looked older than eighteen at the very least - came into focus against the memories Masumi had of Yuzu.

“Do I know you?” Ray asked.

Masumi shook her head, “I don’t think so but…”

“You knew one of them?” Ray asked.

“Yes.” Masumi replied. “I knew Yuzu.”

“Ah, the Standard girl, the En Flowers card holder…” Ray murmured and she pulled her hand to her chest, her fingers curled into a fist. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Masumi bit her tongue.

Was it a loss if she had never existed at all?

Except it was. The ache in her chest, the way she bristled over how unfair it was, that was very, very real. No one could deny that.

Ray’s maroon eyes saddened, turned a jewel tone, “You weren’t one of the Lancers, one of my brother’s recruits, were you?” Ray asked.

The word ‘brother’ felt clunky in her mouth. For her life up until now, she had been an only child. Now she was the eldest of three.

“No, I was carded.” Masumi shrugged.

Ray nodded her head and mumbled sympathetically, “I’m sorry.” She apologised on her father’s behest. It was all her fault, in a way, but not at all in many others.

“Don’t be.” Masumi spat and she was fast losing interest in this.

“Well, um, I better be going. I still have more to do so I can get a foothold in, um, what’s going on.” Ray said.

“Yeah, seems like a lot of people want a piece of you.” Masumi said.

“Yeah…” Ray agreed.

“I’ll see you around.” Masumi said and she walked off, a thorn in her side.

Ray sighed.

She knew she was going to have a lot of interactions like that. Especially as people drew in from beyond the immediate sphere of action, taken by her Father, Academia, her brother, the Lancers, and more.

Masumi was just the first.

She was going to be last.

That’s what Ray decided because Masumi kept coming back.

She had to. She wanted her friend back. She wanted her rival back. She wanted her first love back.

Masumi held onto things tightly, strongly, firmly. Especially if they were grudges. She had an analytic mind and an insatiable need to be right. She also had an insatiable need to be challenged, also. It was unjust and plainly, not fun either, to be elite by virtue of domineering over everyone. It had to be an even playing field.

That’s why she latched onto Yuzu. She had seen that shine of potential and it just needed some polishing then it would turn into a full of lustre that Masumi would be dazzled by, she was sure but Yuzu didn’t exist anymore. She never had.

Yuzu had been a trick of the light. A blessed seal on a dragon. She had just been a portion - a quarter - of a different person.

Masumi didn’t really get it and despite how she hounded Akaba Reiji, his lips were sealed.

The rest of the Lancers were in shambles, too, so she wasn’t going to get anything out of them either. Yuya no longer existed either and because of that, Gongenzaka was in a deep, manly mourning. Sora and Dennis were horror stricken by how the Professor had gotten what he wanted so their work as child soldiers were validated. Kurosaki was robbed of his younger sister, the one he had been fighting for and his comrade, too, his best friend was gone. They were a part of Zarc much the same way Yuzu and Ruri were a part of Ray.

So it was clear to Masumi that the only way she would get an answer was by going straight to the top. To the girl that Yuzu had been a part of. But that girl - that woman - didn’t want to be a part of Yuzu like everyone around her wanted her to be.

She was her own, real person, after all.

“Did you treat Yuzu this way, too?” Ray asked, sick of being pursued by Masumi.

For answers, for duels, for affection, for anything.

Masumi harrumphed and folded her arms, “Maybe.”

“You’re a cute girl, Masumi,” Ray chuckled and Masumi felt her heart flutter, “and I have something for you.”

Masumi postured. Her schoolgirl crush was as plain on her face as her nose, her eyes widened and she pushed her shoulders back. There was even a scant trace of a burgundy blush in her cheeks as she had hassled Ray out of her seat just by appearing before her.

Being an Akaba meant she had to do Akaba things like enjoy the facilities of LDS. That’s where Masumi was often able to make her path cross with Ray given that she was still an LDS student.

“I had actually been hoping to run into you here,” Ray said, “I had been waiting for the right time to give this to you and I think it should be now.”

The sensation of her blush and her crush now even burned in the tips of Masumi’s ears as she watched Ray. Everything she did had a mature grace to it. She knew who she was. Even if no one else did. Her titles and accolades had been destroyed in the merging and splitting of worlds but Ray still embodied them.

She stood up and bent around to her far side to where Masumi couldn’t see. Try as she might, though. She tried to follow, bending at the hip so she could see what Ray’s body obscured, what she had been sitting with in this nook which belonged to the in-between of this floor’s library and kiosk which provided refreshments.

“Here you go.” Ray said.

She presented Masumi with a bouquet. The verdant green stems were wrapped in shiny, pink plastic. The ends of them still dripped with water whilst turning a faded green. Then, from the carefully wrapped folds, emerged the flowers. They were beautiful and abundant. The petals were large and came in pairs of two at the bulb; a brilliant and warm pink on the outside but a soft white on the inside.

Masumi’s interests lay in crystals, gemstones, and minerals. Not flowers so she didn’t immediately recognise them - but she could say the same thing about the ethereal gems once inlaid in Yuzu’s bracelet. It, too, gone and vanished with her…

Recognising that Masumi didn’t know what to say nor how to identify them, Ray spoke up.

“They’re sweetpeas,” she said, “and they symbolise farewells.”

“Pardon?” Masumi’s voice sounded hostile, her eyebrows furrowed and her shoulders rose, ready to become hackles. She didn’t want to jump to a conclusion but she already had.

“I’m saying goodbye, Masumi.” Ray said. “We don’t know each other and I see no reason for us to know each other. Just because I remind you of a girl that I…”

“That you killed.” Masumi said.

“I didn’t kill her,” Ray murmured, “I am her restored.”

“But that doesn’t make you her.” Masumi said.

“Exactly.” Ray agreed with a smile. “Now, let’s depart on good terms. Besides, I’m way too old for you.”

Masumi pouted. Not exactly beating that allegation there. She, for one, thought she was plenty mature.

“Our paths were never meant to cross, either. We are from different worlds, literally, timelines, even.” Ray continued to lecture her but her voice was steeped in a tone of apology. “So, let this be goodbye. I have plenty of tethers as is but I need to go my own way…”

“This is so unfair.” Masumi said, her voice cracked as her eyes began to turn wet with tears. She blinked them back hard, however. “You don’t get to say goodbye to me.”

Masumi began to crinkle with the sob that she was holding back - and the furor that was keeping her dry within the typhoon of her feelings as her heartbroke. Her shoulders quivered, her arms tensed.

“I didn’t get to say goodbye to Yuzu.” Masumi snivelled. “So you don’t get to say it for her.”

“Please, Masumi, don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.” Ray begged as she offered the bouquet to Masumi. “You’ll understand one day. Just trust me, okay?”

Reluctantly Masumi accepted the bouquet but because of the plastic shielding them, they didn’t feel real to her. Nor did they feel like love or apology. Just a token to placate her. Even so, she squeezed her arms around them in a hug, thinking about Yuzu’s bony shoulders and her thin frame and the fizzy perfume of the sweetpeas, too. A scent which mimicked Yuzu, who was citric-smelling, just enough to make Masumi cry, releasing a tear from her eye that dribbled down the side of her cheek.

“Thank you, Masumi,” Ray said, “and goodbye, sweetpea.”

“Goodbye.” Masumi cried.

#femslash #femslash february #femslash february 2024 #yugioh arc v #arc v #arc v fanfic #yugioh #refractionshipping #akaba ray #kotsu masumi #writing tag #goodbye sweetpea #clover and violets #clover and violets 2024 #age difference cw #also yippee i got bingo i didn't even realise

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chrollohearttags · 6 months

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y’all gone jump me if I post this?

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willowser · 4 months

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regarding ex husband bag, i have an hc that might not be popular but: i think bakugo retires from prohero work kind of early, like late thirties/early forties. Hes done more in two years than most heroes do in their whole lives, he's gone all out, almost lost an eye or a limb more times than he can count. He's gone through that whole league if villains ordeal, it changes his perspective on his juvenile ambition. He has a son, and while that used to spur him to work more and protect him, now he realizes that's the very thing that split his world in two. So, he cuts down on the patrol hours, maybe starts teaching the next gen of heroes to feel less guilty, he finds purchase in combing down rowdy boys' hair as best jeanist did before him. But that doesn't quell his guilt, his sense of impotence and ptsd and maybe that's when you start slipping together again. He works more but still looks tired, cause he stays up all night, awake. He has more time to think, about you and your son and his perceived failure as an husband and a hero. And you, well you love him still, so you help him. He falls asleep easier in your arms, thinks less when he's with you, feels less guilty when he sees why he left in the first place, his wife and his son. And I think that's how you get back together, you slowly fall in love all over again (the love was always there) and give him solace and meaning, and he can finally protect his wittle family the way it deserves. 🥺🥺

this is so heartbreaking and mending all in one omg !! but no, no, i absolutely agree with you !! i really think about this a lot, like. how long do we think bakugou really does this hero business ??

i tend to have this personal hc that he does retire a little early, like maybe late 30's. idk, i think after everything that's happening now in the manga, i think his perception of 'victory' and 'success' will change a bit. i also think with all this coming out about endeavor, and then literally being at the forefront of it all in the worst way, i almost think he would be a little disillusioned ?? obviously he still loves his heroes, 100%, but i think he finally is able to see through the smoke and mirrors and realize this life isn't as grand as he thought it was. that it's a lie. so i definitely see him retiring early.

but oh boy !! that totally does take its toll on him mentally !! you are so right !!! because he may know what he was striving for doesn't really exist, but that doesn't change that it was his lifelong goal, and that has to be so hard !! he probably goes back and forth for a while and maybe even loses his sense of identity and aklhfakhfgka it's probably so conflicting for him 🥺

and then fitting that into the plot about his lil son 🥺 you put it together with such heartache !! such comfort !! you are so so right. i don't even want to add more because it's perfect !!

#changes his perspective on juvenile ambition — YES #he sees his lil son and remembers all that he wanted to be at that age and his heart STOPS #can't even THINK about his baby boy in ANY situation he was ever thrown into #oh man. maybe he's even like lowkey terrified of what his quirk will be if it manifests #i really think after everything in his life he would look at hero-ing differently #and i dont think he'd want his boy to get caught up in it 🥺#✿ ask willow #✿ thoughts: bakugou #✿ theme: ex husband bakugou #cw children

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konigsblog · 3 months

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obsessed with step-dad!simon and your blog omg. but step-dad!simon and introducing reader to toys- vibrators, dildos, clamps- just all the good stuff he wants to use to corrupt her 😭

such an old request (but, i'm going through them at the moment) but, stepfather-simon is all for corruption, to plague your mind with filthy, depraved thoughts... 🙌

cw: stepcest, age gap (mid20s-50s), daddy kink.

he's perverted. ashamed to admit the feelings he has for his stepdaughter. he'll use them on your pretty pussy, telling you he's just making sure you're all nicely stretched out and prepared, by pressing a vibrator on the highest settings against your sensitive, swollen clit, your thighs trembling and shaking, deliriously arching your back as he begins to slide a dildo into your puffy folds, filling you with the silicone toy. he won't stop ‘til your entire body is weakened and shaking, so there's no point in fighting back against him as he takes what he's been longing for...

“attagirrrlll.. tha’s right, take it--c’mon- good girl.. listen to you’r daddy, baby...” of course, he's disgustingly ashamed of himself to be cheating on his wife with her daughter. but, your obedience, how inexperienced you are, it all drives him utterly insane.

your stepfather is too horny to wait any longer once he gets his filthy hands on you, taking what he desires as soon as he's got you ready, watching you addicted, his pathetic girl... :(

#orla speaks #tw stepcest #stepcest cw #tw: stepcest #tw: age gap #tw: age difference #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley #ghost headcanon #ghost call of duty #ghost simon riley #ghost x female reader #ghost x you

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proxima-writes · 9 months

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title: those vacation blues

[part two of karma is my boyfriend's dad]

pairing: boyfriend's dad!joel miller x female reader

rating: explicit 18+ MDNI

word count: 2k

summary:

It's the last day of vacation and Joel intends to make it count.

dear reader:

back by popular demand, boyfriend's dad!joel. inspired by this anon. banners below by @saradika

content warnings:

explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), explicit language, no use of y/n, alternate universe - boyfriend’s dad, age difference (21F and 56M), power imbalance dynamics, infidelity, asshole boyfriend, dirty talk, praise, pet names, almost getting caught, unprotected p in v, shower sex, joel miller having feelings. let me know if there are any that i've missed!

Joel has been dreading the last night of this vacation. He’s been sneaking around with you the last two days, fucking you at every opportunity and in every conceivable way. Sean continues to make the rare appearance before disappearing off to the bars and clubs to party, leaving Joel plenty of time to spend with you before the vacation bubble bursts and you return home and inevitably walk out of his life.

He’s supposed to be packing and getting an early night’s sleep since the flight back to Texas is another 4 am wake-up call, but all he can think about is you. He thinks about the squeeze of your thighs around his hips, the warmth of your pussy or mouth wrapped around his cock, the sweet way your voice sounds panting, moaning, or crying out his name. He’s shamefully hard as he tries to focus on folding his clothes and fitting everything back into his carry on bag with the addition of some souvenir cups he’s collected going to restaurants with you.

After adjusting himself in his shorts for a third time, he can’t take it anymore. He has to taste you, has to feel you one more time.

Joel grabs the extra key to your room he had made and crosses the hall, knocking on your door. If Sean answers, he figures he can spin some lie about just wanting to make sure you’re both packed. But if you answer, he’s going to fuck you senseless.

After a moment of no response to his knock, he lets himself in with the key. He can hear the shower running from the bathroom and the sound of your voice singing a song out of tune.

“I’m drunk in the back of the car and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar! Oh!”

Joel smiles, stripping himself of his shirt and shorts and quietly entering the bathroom.

“I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you!”

He wonders if there’s a reason you’re singing that specific song. Is that how you feel about him?

A man can only hope.

Joel slides the curtain aside and your head whips toward him, eyes wide with surprise that morphs quickly into happiness, your lips stretching into a matching grin.

“Well, hello,” you say, stepping back to give him room to join you. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you,” he murmurs, sliding his hands over your wet body, mapping the now familiar curves until he reaches your ass, his fingers digging into your cheeks and pulling you close. He flexes his hips, his hard cock dragging over the soft skin of your tummy.

You reach between your bodies and wrap your hand around him, pumping him slowly. Joel tilts his head to capture your lips with his in kiss that makes his blood run hot and his pulse beat frantically. A traitorous part his mind tells him that this is it, this is the last moment he’ll get with you.

He better make it count.

He pulls back, reaching up for the detachable shower head he’s grateful the resort has in all of its bathrooms. “Turn around, sweetheart.”

As you turn, Joel adjusts the settings on the shower head to the massage function, a steady jet of water hitting the opposite wall. Your back is pressed to his chest and you lean your head back on his shoulder, grinding your ass against his cock and making him groan.

“Behave,” he warns. “Put your foot up on that ledge.”

________

Your heart feels like it’s going to break free from your chest as you lift your leg and rest your foot on the edge of the tub, Joel’s solid body at your back has a shiver running down your spine despite the heat of the water clinging to your skin.

One of Joel’s broad hands palms your breast, squeezing roughly and pinching your nipple until you gasp. He runs the stream up your leg, the water pressure strong but not unbearable.

“I’m gonna get you nice n’ wet,” he says, the water creeping closer to your sex, “And then I’m gonna fuckin’ ruin this little pussy.”

He holds the shower head a few inches away, aiming the fierce jet of water just above your clit so that the pulse of water brings you pleasure without being too overwhelming.

“That feel good, baby?” Joel asks, voice a low rumble next to your ear. You nod your head quickly, chest heaving with labored breaths as water of all things has to you barreling towards release so quickly it’s making your head spin.

“Joel, Joel, Joel,” you sob, writhing against him as the water continues to pound against your clit. “Joel, I’m gonna cum!”

Your muscles go tense as your release hits you like a strike of lightning, every nerve lighting up deliciously. Joel pulls the water away slowly as your orgasm subsides, setting it back in its cradle while you catch your breath. He’s supporting your body with a strong arm wrapped around your middle, his other hand coming up to your cheek to turn your face so that he can give you a sweet kiss.

“Bend forward for me, put your hands on the wall,” he says. You follow his instruction, your back arched and hips pushed back. He runs his hands over your ass, the soft caress almost reverent but quickly turning dirty as he grips each cheek and spreads them. “Wish I could’a had you here, too,” he says, rubbing a quick circle over the pucker of your ass.

Your face feels hot from the foreign but not unpleasant sensation. “There’s always later,” you reply.

Joel clears his throat, his hands leaving your abruptly and for a moment you wonder if you said something wrong, like you weren’t supposed to suggest that something could happen between the two of you beyond the days spent together in Florida, but just as quickly you feel the thick head of his cock pressing to your entrance, the tip breaching you with ease as you gasp.

He grips your hips tightly, the spots beneath his fingertips aching from his strength as he slips his full length into your tight heat with a groan. He holds himself still, hips pressed to your ass for a long moment before he draws back, the head of his cock dragging across a spot inside of you that makes fireworks burst across your vision.

“Christ, sweetheart,” Joel groans. He thrusts his hips sharply and you cry out, flexing onto the tips of your toes at the sudden rush of pleasure. “How am I supposed to go back home and pretend I’ve never felt heaven like this?”

You moan, your cunt pulsing around him as he pounds into you. The water is starting to go cold but you hardly care with how hot your blood is running.

Joel brings a hand to your clit, rough fingers rubbing quick circles on the over sensitive bundle of nerves, his pace growing more frantic as he chases his own release.

“Give me one more,” he growls, “Be a good girl, baby, cum around my cock one more time.”

Your eyes roll back as you do just as he commands, the combination of his hard thrusts and his quick fingers, along with his dirty words, making you break for a second time. He groans, pulling out to finish over the curve of your ass, warm cum painting your skin before being washed away by the lukewarm water.

Joel urges you to turn around, pulling you close and kissing you deeply, his tongue tangling with yours in a way that feels like a goodbye you’re not ready to say. You pull back and search his face, finding a furrowed brow and a clenched jaw that makes your chest go tight.

“Joel—“

The door opens, uncoordinated steps entering the bathroom, followed by a loud, “Babyyyyy! I need to shower.”

“I’m almost done! Can you wait in the room, you’re letting out all the warm air!”

Sean leaves the bathroom with a mumbled curse, slamming the door shut behind him. Joel takes his first breath since the door opened.

“What the fuck do I do?” He hisses.

“Give him three minutes, he’s going to pass out,” you say confidently.

“How do you know?” He asks. You raise your eyebrows at him.

“Trust me, Joel, this isn’t my first rodeo.”

He huffs in exasperation but remains still and quiet as you count down in your head to the window of opportunity to get Joel back to his room. You exit the shower, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around your body.

“Wait here,” you instruct Joel before carefully opening the bathroom door and peeking through the crack.

Sean is lying face down on one of the beds, messy brown hair the only thing you can see with his face turned away from you. One leg dangles over the edge of the bed and his chest rises and falls with even breaths, punctuated by loud snores. Turning back to Joel, you hold a towel out to him.

“Like clockwork,” you whisper smugly. His lips pinch together like he’s fighting a laugh while he wraps the towels around his waist. You open the door and he dashes across the room quickly, hand gripping the towel for dear life.

You spot his discarded clothing on the floor and gather it in your arms and rush after him, catching him as he opens the door to the hall.

“Here,” you whisper, handing over the bundle of clothes. You wrap a hand around the back of his neck and tug his face to yours for a quick kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Joel looks like he wants to say something, mouth opening like a reply is on the tip of his tongue, but something passes over him and a wall goes up instead, words dead on arrival. Instead, you receive a curt nod before he crosses the hall and disappears into his room.

________

It’s just after 7 a.m. when Joel pulls his truck up to the curb outside of your apartment. Sean is once again asleep in the back seat while you’ve been riding shotgun in tense silence, your hands twisting in your lap. Joel wants to say something, wants to ask what you’re thinking and whether this is the end of the line for him, but he can’t. He can’t find the words, he can’t find the courage, he just…can’t.

When you open the door, Sean startles awake, looking around briefly in confusion before realizing he’s not at home. “You’re not comin’ back to the house, babe?”

“No, Sean, it’s over,” you say with a sigh.

“What do you mean?” His son replies. You pinch the bridge of your nose.

“I mean, I’m done faking orgasms and pretending that I don’t know you’ve been cheating on me.” You slam the door shut with finality and Sean slumps back in the seat with a pout.

Joel exits the truck and helps you with your bag, carrying it up to your door. When you unlock your apartment and cross the threshold, he remains rooted in the hall on the other side.

“Thank you for the trip, Mr. Miller,” you murmur. He hands you the suitcase, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

“You’re welcome,” he says. “And…if you need anythin’…let me know, alright?”

You smile, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, your lips lingering there. “You’ll be the first person I call.”

Joel feels his heavy heart lighten the tiniest bit.

________

Three days later, a text comes through to Joel’s phone when he’s just getting home from work.

It’s a photo of a new shower fixture with a detachable head, still in the box, set on a bathroom counter in front of a vanity mirror. In the reflection, he can see the curves of your body hugged by black panties and a matching bra.

Know anyone who could install this for me?

Joel grins.

Be right there, sweetheart.

Joel Miller masterlist.

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