#they’re so soft and they make me so soft
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Gojo Satoru
TW: implied noncon, desperate starved reader, God!Gojo
gn reader
based on this by @hawnks
He's revered, but reverence only makes one beholden—it doesn’t make those beholden his belongings. Even pets run away.
He could take lives, which some of his fellow gods might view as ownership, but right when he ran out of places to wash the blood off his hands, he’d sooner found it to be an empty pastime bearing no merit. Taking lives doesn't mean they belong to you—it just means they’re dead.
He'd come to realize that the power to take is a far cry from the prospect of actually owning something. He could level a forest and everything in it, crush mountains to deserts, and drink the entire ocean dry—but it wouldn’t make any of it his.
It leaves him feeling stingy when yet another measly human comes before him—on your knees with your forehead bowed in the dirt, skinny hands shaking while laid flat out before you, cracked lips crying his name.
With his chin propped in his palm, he yawns while listening to you, and with jaded eyes, he nearly dismisses you altogether. But there’d been a question he’d been mulling over lately—one that had found its way to the tip of his tongue.
“What do I get in return?”
You’re only asking for very little—one of the humbler humans who still bother praying to him. You might see it as greedy of him to ask you for something in return—a poor soul with nothing but your sorry name. But what you don’t understand is that you and he are the exact same.
In reality, he can hold the entire world in his palm, but none of it would ever be his. Infinity would pan on forever and drag him with it as if with a ball and chain—and he’d remain destitute and alone for the entirety of it all.
Which is why…
“You can have me, I guess…”
It sounded so sweet—like a vow.
You say it with such defeat, as though you’ve already accepted his rejection—as though you’re about to offer yourself to the forest next—as though you're worth nothing more than returning to soil again.
You don’t notice the new light in his eyes that threatens to swallow you whole, nor do you hear the growl in his gut like a beast awoken from a deep slumber—starved to death if he only could. His tongue swells with sweetness, it nearly runs over and spills down his chin.
Your offer hangs still in the air, poised and waiting for him to grab it, brighter than a star. It nearly frightens him—how much he wants it—how desperately he yearns for it. His fingertips buzz with thrill as he reaches out. He’s never held something like it before—soft and warm and flickering with something fleeting and precious. It almost feels wrong for him to hold it in his blood-soaked hands. Eyes all but blacked out as he looks down at it.
“Mine, you say?”
You feel it, too, but it’s not close to the same sense of elevation—how he reaches into your chest and scribbles his name on your soul. Each letter is heavier than the last and leaves you curling in on yourself in agony before the god.
You’re panting once you look up, clutching your chest, only to see his sneer gone, replaced by something worse—something haunting.
The regret is palpable. You pick yourself up and take to running away—but by then, it’s too late. You don’t make it more than two steps before something has you tugged right back—this time into his embrace.
“I accept your generous sacrifice, little human.”
His words weigh awfully heavy while you shudder in his lap. His skin is like marble—shimmery and cold as his hands wrap around you, holding you tightly as he puts his lips to your neck.
"I'll take precious care of you..."
You feared he’d bite, but the kisses that commence feel no less like a collar being fastened snug around your throat. As well as his promise—like being sentenced to spend eternity right there, hand-fed under that awful smile on his face.
#yandere jjk#yandere jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujustu kaisen#jujutsu gojo#jujutsu kaisen#gojo smut#satoru gojo smut#gojo satoru smut#gojou satoru x reader#satoru gojo#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#gojo saturo#jjk gojo#yandere gojo x reader#yandere gojo satoru#yandere gojo#yandere satoru gojo#jjk smut#jujustu kaisen headcanons#gojo headcanons
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I saw your cow and bull hybrids post and it got me wondering. How would the hybrids take care of pregnant reader. [Both Cows and Bulls] Like during the pregnancy and after the baby/babies are born.
The bull hybrids are pretty much banned from handling you once you’re past 3 months. The cow hybrids will charge at them, stopping and huffing until they back off.
This is because the bulls are way too strong! They could end up hurting you unintentionally, which would put the calf in your belly in danger!
The cows and farmer are your main caretakers, with a doctor coming to check on you monthly. It’s not easy, the bulls are incredibly protective over you and will absolutely impale anyone that they deem suspicious or dangerous to you and the calf with their horns.
The cows spend most of their time fussing over you, keeping you fed and warm at all times. The cows also like to keep you sat on their cocks, cooing and rubbing your belly and filling you up with lots of cum!
This makes the bulls very jealous… but it can’t be helped. Even at their most gentle, sex with the bulls is far rougher than sex with a human.
They’re all determined to keep you safe and content, and once they know you’re pregnant, you aren’t leaving the farm. Once you’re near the birth of the calf, they won’t even let you out of the barn! There’s always a hand on your belly, a cow nuzzling into you and mooing softly.
Once the calf is born, their protective nature only sky rockets. No one outside of the barn is allowed to touch the calf besides the farmer and doctor. If the bulls sense a threat, they deal with it immediately.
It’s not recommended to go near the barn after their mate has given birth… but with you being a fragile human, it’s even worse. They see you as a runt, a little thing in need of protecting.
The bulls are eager to start milking you after the birth, and become frustrated when you scold them and only want to feed the baby.
It’s not long before you’re knocked up again. Only a few months after giving birth, you’re getting stuffed full of cum front both bulls and hybrids, your pussy puffy and swollen from abuse. They just can’t help it, you’re so lovely and soft… you’re tight and warm and make them so horny!! They can’t resist your scent!
You should just get used to being their breeding cow… they’ll pamper you and treat you like a princess, all you have to do is be a good girl and let them fuck another calf into you.
———————
NSFW TAGLIST: @sunset-214 @screaming-crying-screamingagain @strawberrypoundtown @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @j3llyphisching @unforgettablewhvre @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte
#cow hybrid#bull hybrid#cow hybrid smut#bull hybrid smut#hybrid smut#hybrid x reader#monster fucker#monster lover#monster fudger#monster boyfriend#monster fic#chubby!reader#chubby reader#x reader#fem reader#female reader#monster imagine#monster boy oc#monster smut#smut fanfiction#x reader smut#teraphilia#teratophillia#terato#terat0philliac#exophelia#fat reader#fem!reader#plus size reader#anon answered
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You were fast asleep on the bed when he returned home, the blanket barely covering your half naked body. Your hair tousled over the pillows and a small smile on your lips as you dreamt, probably of Jason.
“Sweetheart.” Jason whispered, kneeling down so that he was face to face with you. He brushed some of your curls out of your face, shaking his head at the sight.
“Sweetheart.” He said a little louder, shaking you slightly. Waking you up from your nap. You sat up slightly, rubbing your eyes as you tried to fully wake up and form coherent thoughts.
“Jay?” You murmured, turning to look at him, kneeling down beside the bed. He looks exhausted, his hair messy, and his eye bags darker than usual. Your eyes flitter over to the clock on the bedside table
1 A.M
Figures.
“Hey…” He murmurs, his hand finding his chin, guiding your face back to his. His hands are calloused and rough, but his touch was gentle, he’s always gentle with you.
“Hey, sleepy.” He says, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
“Rough day?” You mutter, still waking up as you gaze into his eyes. Even in the dark they’re bright.
“Mhm.” He brushes his fingers over my cheek, caressing you softly. “I had such a rough day.” He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his spare hand. “I’m so tired.”
“I missed you today.” You say softly, grabbing the hand that was caressing your face and holding it.
Jason stands up fully, stretching his arms before getting into the bed next to you, scooting you over with his body before burying his head into your shoulder, his arm snaking around your waist.
You stayed like that for a while before his free hand reached around your head, tilting it back, making your neck more accessible. He placed light kisses on your jaw, trailing down your neck. You could feel his fingers rubbing against your skin, trying to find the hem of your shirt.
“Jay, it’s late.” You murmured, a soft sigh escaping your lips at the sensation of him nibbling on your neck.
“Not too late, I missed you.” He hums against your skin, slipping your shirt up. You can feel his fingers sliding across your skin, almost desperately tracing the contours of your skin.
“I just don’t want you to be tired, yeah?” You say, pulling his face from your neck, taking note of the whine that escapes his lips after.
“I don’t want sleep, just you.” His words come out as a mumble as he presses his lips back against the skin of your neck, sending goosebumps through your body. He hummed contentedly, his fingers tracing your body, almost reverently.
“Just need a little bit of you…then I’ll let you sleep.” You could feel his fingers find the waistband of your underwear, playing with the material teasingly as he smirked against your neck.
“Jay…” Your protest fell on deaf ears as he bit down on your neck, then soothing the bite with his tongue.
“I’ve neglected you all day… Let me make it up to you.”
#meowkn 📝🌠#೨౿ani’s work೨౿#no I did not proof read this.#jason todd#jason todd imagine#jason todd x y/n#jason todd x reader#dc jason todd#jason x reader#dc jason#jason peter todd#dc
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SO MUCH TO LOSE PART 12
rating: 18+
tags: mentions of death, mentions of violence, fingering, dirty talk, jealousy, angst.
a/n: I'm sorry y'all lunch with friends ran late and it's definitely not the afternoon anymore! But here it is! I know y'all have waited a long time for this so I hope its to your liking. It's over 12,000 words and I swear I could write more but then I'd never publish anything. You know your comments and reblogs make me continue on, so please don't forget to do one of the other or even better, both!
masterlist here
-------------------
"Wake up."
You jolt awake, eyes blowing wide. You instinctively go for the clock at your beside at home but it's not there. Nothing is where it usually is. As your sleepy mind clears you see two brown eyes staring down at you.
"Time to go. Get dressed."
You clothes are dried and laying beside you on the couch and the dead fire. The already dressed Joel leaves the room likely to give you privacy. You get dressed in a hurry, pulling your clothes and boots on before stumbling after Joel.
"Did you sleep much?"
"Yep. Plenty."
You don’t believe him. There are large circles under his eyes and he yawns so wide that his jaw cracks. You think maybe he got an hour tops.
You follow him down to see the horses huddled up together in the center of the room. Joel obviously used two of the blankets from upstairs because they’re thrown over each of the horses’ backs. They give a soft whinny as the two of you approach.
“Sure am missing breakfast,” you muse with a sleepy smile. “Even that oatmeal that sticks to the roof of my mouth.”
Joel’s mouth curls a bit at one side in amusement. You busy yourself with kissing Chestnut’s muzzle once more before you feel Joel tap you.
“Here.”
You glance over to see Joel holding a piece of jerky out to you. You take it gratefully before pausing.
“Wait, isn’t this your portion?”
“Ate mine already.”
He’s lying.
He gave you all the jerky. Let you drink the rest of his coffee. Even shared his precious whiskey.
“You sure?”
Joel hefts the saddles onto each of the horses, making sure that they’re secured as you gaze at him in question. He feels you staring at him and instead of his usual snark he just glances over gives you a nod.
“Ready to go?”
“Mhm.”
You and Chestnut follow he and Midnight out the house, helping the horses to slowly maneuver down the icy steps into the snow. Even after the storm it comes to above your ankles. Joel frowns, looking down at it.
“We’re gonna have to walk ‘em back. Don’t trust that they won’t hurt themselves in all this.”
“Of course.”
You trail after him, eyes stuck on the ground in front of you.
Joel leads, you follow.
And instead of angering you or making you feel small and useless, it makes you bloom. Like a flower warmed by the sun, its petals unfurling. You feel yourself smiling to yourself a big, toothy grin that you’re glad Joel can’t see. He’d ask you why and you’re not sure that you could answer him sufficiently. You don’t quite understand it yourself.
The walk back is long, especially with the horses moving unsteadily over the snow. Thankfully Chestnut is easily led, unlike last night. The worst of the storm is behind you, leaving only the crunch of icy snow and trees heavy with white.
Your cheeks and end of your nose are pink from the cold, the scarf tight around your throat. Your fingers are warm in your gloves and you're relieved that everything dried sufficiently in front of the fire last night. You glance at Joel’s broad back, suddenly fixated on an errant thought.
“Joel can I ask you something?”
He visibly cringes. “What?”
“How did you get so good at shooting and fighting?”
His shoulders relax. “Practice.”
“You didn’t fight or shoot before Outbreak Day?”
“Only when I had to get Tommy out of scrapes,” Joel says quietly and you notice he’s slowed his walking until you’ve matched paces and you’re both walking side by side. “I did some boxing when I was younger. Didn’t have much time when Sar- when I got older. The shooting came after. A necessary skill when you’re smugglin’.”
You nod, knowing that he was about to bring up his daughter. Despite the closeness you feel, you have no desire to delve into that very heavy topic. You’re curious about his smuggling as well, but you don’t want to bring that up either as it seems strangely personal.
“You learn pretty quick that anything can be a weapon,” Joel continues on as if you’re a particularly engaged student. “A book, a candlestick, even an unloaded gun can hit a pretty bad blow to the base of someone’s skull. You might not kill ‘em but you’ll hurt ‘em enough to get away.”
To you a book is a book, a candlestick a candlestick. You don’t see things as potential weapons, only for their intended uses
“I never really thought of that,” you admit. “Although I wish I was more of a natural at shooting.”
"Needed to keep up with your lessons," Joel murmurs and you think you hear a softening of his tone. "I could try teachin' you again."
"I've already got someone teaching me," you tell him, back straight and standing tall. You tell Joel this in the pathetic hopes that it will impress him, that he will see how you’re really trying. But instead he scowls at the air in front of him.
“If it’s that Luke boy you’re better off goin’ in blind,” Joel says, eyes fixed in front of him. “He couldn’t even hit a nail straight. Some fuckin’ cabinetmaker.”
Luke is most assuredly not a boy; he’s at least thirty five. Joel calling him a boy makes you smirk despite being irritated at the insult to your friend.
“You don’t even know Luke.”
Joel looks sullen and you're confused that he's angry again. You really can't anticipate his moods.
The two of you continue on in silence and you think that Joel seems a bit irritated for some reason you can’ unearth. Likely just exhausted like you are after a stressful day and uneven sleep.
"Thought you wanted to be a good shot?” Joel says suddenly, glancing at you over his shoulder. “You need a competent teacher."
"I have a competent teacher and it isn't Luke anyway," you bite off, a line of irritation slicing between your brows.
"Who? Aaron? Greg?" Joel's voice is hard edged. His pace increases with every name said. "Kevin?"
“If you must know its Jennifer,” you sigh, irritable from your poor sleep and Joel’s sudden sullenness.
"Jennifer?" Joel's brows untie his features relaxing.
“I know how much you hate me bringing her up,” you sneer. “But I can’t really avoid it now can I?”
Joel gives a grunt by way of reply all the while your mind drifts to your friend. The girl who likes Joel and has for a long while. Jennifer the girl who has always been up front and honest with you.
What will you tell her?
He's quiet with you on the walk back and you wonder if he's distracted like you. He's likely tired like you are, muscles aching from the lumpy couch. Now you know how those muscles feel against your cheek and the memory makes you feel tingly.
In your distracted state and the slick of the snow you tumble, landing on your hands and hissing. Angry tears well in your eyes and you wince at the way your wrist smarts.
"Fuck."
Your knees and are wet from snow and you miserably wait for the chastising or rolled eyes shot your way by Joel. Instead you hear the crunch of snow and he's there half-crouched in front of you, one hand on Midnight's reins, the other held out to you.
You stare at it a moment, the glove wide and cracked with age. Then finally you take it, lifting your eyes to his. You're surprised to find concern.
"You alright?"
"Yeah."
"You good to keep goin'?"
"Uh huh."
He nods and then he turns, dropping your hand and striding back with the horse towards the trail.
You watch the back of Joel's head as he saunters ahead of you, listening to his quiet murmurs to Midnight and fixating on the loose curl of his hair at the nape of his neck. You're captivated by the interwoven strands of dark brown and grey that glint like tinsel in the light of the morning.
You're concerned that the thought of Joel makes your belly grow warm and tighten. The man who previously drove you insane with irritation now lingers in your thoughts almost pleasantly.
He shared things with you. Things you have a feeling he doesn't share with many others. He told you about Tess and he wanted to know about you. So what does that mean? Does he see you as more than just a pleasurable release?
Do you want him to?
You don't know how to feel about Joel right now. And you don’t know what you’re going to tell Jennifer if she asks.
When you cross into Jackson City cold and exhausted a few hours later you're surprised to hear loud commotion behind the wall and electrified fence.
"It's them!"
"Open the fucking gate!"
You and Joel exchange a brief look before the entrance is opened to you and you stalk forward. You see the large group gathered at the wall on the other side, thankful that the snow has been shovelled.
The entrance to the gate is full of the other patrol members looking like they're about to head out. You glance behind you to see the snow storm kicking back up just as the gate is closed and locked securely behind you. You glance back at the
Tommy is giving a relieved huff of air as he sees you both slowly make your way inside the walls, the horses trailing after you.
Jennifer is atop Glimmer; talking animatedly to a new patrol person you don't know. She looks beside herself, her eyes red-rimmed. When she turns back and sees you she lets out a choked sob and scrambles off Glimmer before she runs in your direction, nearly tackling you into a tight embrace.
"I was so worried," she says, voice shaky. "Luke and I were up all night just waiting for word. I was gonna go with the search party and-and-"
"I'm here in okay," you say with a slight laugh, your arms banding around her as she hiccups a cry into your shoulder. "I swear I'm okay."
You notice the timid form of Ellie over Jennifer's shoulder. She sees you first and casts a brief smile at you before her eyes search the crowd for Joel. When she hears him snapping at Tommy to give him breathing room you see the tears she blinks back. You watch as Ellie slips through the crowd chasing after his voice.
When she gets to him there's no hesitation on his part. He brings her into his arms and murmurs something into her ear. Ellie's face crumples but she buries it in the front of Joel's jacket, her tiny hands gripping the front of it.
She loves him so much.
You catch his eye over Ellie's head, not missing the gentle nod he casts your way. It warms you deeply. Things feel different between the two of you.
'I'm so glad you're okay," Jennifer says wiping the tears from her cheeks and drawing your attention back to her. "I just ... I was so scared."
"Me too," you nod, surprised to find yourself choked up. You haven’t had friendship like this before – the kind of tenderness that comes with true companionship. You wonder if this is how every friendship is supposed to feel and if so, you mourn that it took you this long to stumble upon it.
The tall, lanky form of Luke steps forward from the murmuring crowd his face breaking into a relieved expression. He jogs over in your direction and takes you aback by gathering you into his arms and rocking you tightly against him.
“Thank fuck!”
You giggle in his neck, inhaling the soft, warm scent of coffee and wool from his scarf. He holds you like this for several moments, tenderly and with affection.
"I know you wanted an adventure but honestly," he says with mock irritation into your hairline.
Laughter bubbles from the three of you, relieved and silly. You hug him back tightly, thankful for the relationships you've built, thankful for the levity he's bringing to the moment. Grateful that you found he and Jennifer at the end of the world.
You hear a throat clear behind you and you turn in Luke's grip.
Joel stares back at you, mouth in a thin line. He's got Ellie tucked under one arm, Tommy at his side and several of the others attempting to talk to him. But he’s still, the only movement his dark eyes taking you in.
You break away from Luke and move towards Joel, feeling overcome with emotion. Last night could have been so terrifying if not for the broad man standing in front of you. A sensation of deep gratitude curls around your ribs, lessening the anxiety you would normally feel in his presence.
"Thank you for everything, Joel."
You give him a warm smile, even going so far as to touch your hand to his forearm. Ellie watches this, a faint smile settling over her lips as your glove makes contact with his jacket.
You wait for that same quiet kindness from Joel that accompanied you home this morning and are confused when he pulls back from your hand stiffly, his voice melting into that familiar husky baritone.
"Mind movin' outta the way sometime this year?"
And just like that in the blink of an eye the old Joel is back. That same haughty glare, the same squaring of his jaw. You deflate, shoulders slumping before you move backwards.
Nothing has changed.
He strides by your group, the feel of his leather jacket dragging across the back of your glove.
"Must be exhausted after last night," Jennifer surmises, watching after him a moment. "You must be too."
You watch after Joel and Ellie, seeing the rigid way he walks beside her now. You think of Joel’s changeable moods and you exhale softly.
"Yeah," you nod. "I am."
///
Jennifer insists on walking you home and makes sure you are taken care of. She draws you a bath and leaves to bring you back a warm lunch from the dining hall. She makes sure your bed is changed with fresh sheets, warming them with a water bottle from her place. She even offers to sleep on your couch in case you need anything that first evening back.
“You don’t have to do that,” you insist that evening before the fire, your robe tightly around you and socks toasty from being propped up by the flames. It reminds you of how cold you were with Joel only a day ago.
You’re close to falling asleep but you like having Jennifer in the house, nearby. You like the sound of clattering dishes and her chirping away about something in town before she’s tucked up on one side of the couch, her hands around a warm mug of tea.
“I can’t thank you enough for all of this,” you tell her, feeling moved.
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s something to me.”
Jennifer smiles and you watch how the fire warms her face in an entirely different way than Joel. Instead of looking intimidating, it’s like she softens in the warm light. She looks sad though in a way you don’t recall from before.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you here,” she finally says with a cracked chuckle, her long neck bobbing as she swallows.
“Yeah right. You have so many friends,” you say. “I’ve barely ever seen you alone. You always have company.”
“Company, but not real friends,” she tells you. “Not ones who don’t judge me.”
You recall your initial judgments of the beautiful, blonde Jennifer. That she was giggly and frivolous and that she lived to gather men. You’d had no idea of her tough upbringing, of all she sacrificed, of her talents, of her unending support. You wonder how many others you judged in your life and missed out on the pleasure of knowing.
“I judged you,” you tell her honestly. “When I first met you I thought you were a vapid, pretty flirt.”
Jennifer is immediately laughing across from you, wiping the tension from your face.
“Yeah but everyone makes judgments like that with strangers! I made judgments about you before I got to know you too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I thought you were an antisocial bitch,” Jennifer says with a crooked grin and you can’t help but bark out a laugh in reply.
“What?”
“You never spoke to anyone, never smiled. You were always reading or walking off by yourself.” Jennifer smirks. “You intimidated the shit out of me.”
“No,” you say in awe. “I intimidated you?”
“Of course!” Jennifer giggles. “So serious and always reading. Plus you just carried yourself in a way that felt. . . it felt like you had walls up, you know?”
You realize that Jennifer is very astute amongst her other gifts.
“Then I saw Ellie with you that morning,” she adds. “And I figured, maybe like Joel there was more to you than met the eye. Then I heard you were on patrols with Joel and the rest is history.”
Yeah, the rest is history.
You can’t help but curl your lip in amusement. Who knew a chance patrol pairing could lead you into a friendship you’d never thought possible? Jennifer shuffles back on the couch, looking cozy in her latest fashion piece (a cable knit looking sweater with felted strawberry accents).
Jennifer is quiet, staring into the fire. She seems strangely stoic today and you feel like it’s not just from your disappearance. You give her a sidelong glance, lips pressed tightly together. She looks off into middle distance, her normally mirth-filled eyes suddenly hollow.
"You okay, Jen?"
She doesn’t reply, only turns her head to glance in your direction when you prompt her with a gentle tap to her wrist, settling back into the couch before turning to look at you head on.
“Just a tough time of year,” Jennifer acknowledges as she tosses a twig in the fire. She looks different tonight, like a ghostly version of herself.
You surmise that perhaps with the approaching holidays she’s feeling down in the mouth. It's like that with lots of folks. You shift your body to face her, showing her that you're listening and you wait for her to talk, holding the silence for her.
She looks to be fighting an internal debate.
"I shot a kid."
She says it with a choke, as if the words are fighting to come loose from her throat. These weren't the words you'd been expecting from the beautiful, flirty Jennifer. These words are ugly, twisted and cold.
“I’ve only told a few people,” she adds, chin wobbling.
You stare at her, eyes unwavering, waiting. Words aren't your strong suit. All you can offer her is a steady silence. She absently scratches at the side of the warm mug she holds.
"This was years ago around this time," she continues, her eyes downcast. "I was with my brothers and we were going through to one of the safety zones. We'd found this old market, had some tinned goods. My brothers go to check out the back and I go down an empty aisle thinking I might find something useful."
Jennifer swallows harshly, her teacup held so tightly her knuckles look parchment white.
"All of a sudden this kid comes out of nowhere. Couldn't have been more than ten. He's skin and bones, wild eyes saying these words over and over, a bunch that I don't understand. He had a knife in his hand and I thought he was trying to come for me. I didn't even think, I just raised the gun and I shot him between the eyes."
You can almost hear the echo of that gunshot in the silent room now.
Jennifer is staring over your shoulder, like she can see the ghostly apparition of the fallen child behind you. It makes goosebumps rise along your body, and you continue to keep your even silence. You know that she doesn't want you embrace or your pity, just your presence.
"My brother's told me I did what was smart,” Jennifer whispers. “Told me to move on. But his face when he was dead, his shrieking, it just kept playing over and over in my head. When I went to bed, when I woke up. It felt wrong."
Tears slide down her cheeks now, as quick as she brushes them away with the edge of her sweater, new ones appear, soaking into the wool.
"I came to Jackson a few months after that. My brothers wanted to keep goin', they heard about some place in Canada that they thought would be a better fit for us. But... I needed a fresh start where no one knew me, where I could be someone totally new. They were upset to leave me, but I pretty much insisted on it."
You shift in your seat, listening intently. Jennifer has this sickening look on her face and you know behind her eyes is a memory of this terrible experience. It makes you want to hold her hand but she’s folded into herself and you don’t want to force her into anything.
"So I was living here in Jackson a few months and I’m at the dining hall one night and I hear this woman speaking another language. At first I barely notice, but then I realize this word keeps popping up. Pomoz. Pomoz. Same as that kid."
At this point Jennifer places her empty teacup on the aged wood coffee table. She stretches her long legs before pulling them to her chest. She sniffs again, unable to meet your gaze.
"Turns out he was speaking Polish. So I tell the lady the sentence that has been haunting me for months and months and I ask her for the translation." Jennifer swipes along the bottom of her runny nose with the back of her sweater.
"You know what he was saying?"
You don't move. Not even to shake your head.
"He was saying help me. I'm lost." Jennifer's lower lip trembles. "Pomóż mi, zgubiłem się. He was just a kid begging for my help and I shot him dead without thinking."
Now the sobs come, wracking her slim body as she curls into herself.
"That little b-boy died on a dirty supermarket floor alone and scared because of me."
You can't help it if it isn't in your nature; your hands go to Jennifer's and hold tightly. And when her warm teardrops land on the back of them you move forward to wrap her in your arms. You haven’t held someone to comfort them in so long that it feels foreign to you, but you grip her tightly, letting her tears soak the front of your nightdress.
You don’t offer her saccharine words of comfort, you don’t give her pity, you just hold her until the tears stop flowing and her breathing returns to normal. Even after all of that you continue to hold her until she squeezes back, letting you sit there in the quiet night.
"Thank you," Jennifer finally says in a croaked voice before pulling back. You tilt your head at her.
"For what?"
"For letting me talk about this stuff and not judging me." She pushes her hair from her glassy eyes.
"You did what anyone else would have done," you assure her honestly. “I know you don’t believe it, but you did. How could I judge that?”
"I think you're the first person who I ever told this to who didn't look at me like I was a piece of shit," she says with a forced laugh. You shake your head.
"I could never look at you like that.”
She gives you a wry smile. "Oh yeah? Why's that? Cuz I taught you to shoot?"
You give her a weak smile in return.
"Because... You reminded me about the good parts of life. Of having friends and singing and drinking tea. You made me leave my cave and come blinking out into the sunshine again."
Jennifer looks moved by your words, her large eyes growing glossier.
"I think that's why I wanted to get to know you," Jennifer observes with a sniffle. "It felt like you were outrunning something too. Trying to forget."
You look at your hands in your lap before giving a resolute nod.
"Yeah."
"Sometimes I think that's why I like to distract myself with crushes or teaching people to shoot or makin' dresses," she muses. "Being alone with my thoughts too much is..."
She doesn't finish that thought but she doesn't need to.
You couldn't understand more.
And then its like she’s trying to push back this burdensome memory and she forces a smile to her face. You can see her adopting this persona, this safety person that she hides behind. Happy, bright, Jennifer who flirts and shoots and rides horses and drinks beer at the Bison. And you let her slip into this character because you are no one to judge how a person chooses to survive.
“So tell me, what was it like being there with Joel at night?” she asks with a sidelong smirk in your direction. “I know he’s not your favorite person.”
Before when Jennifer asked you about Joel it used to irritate you. You thought she was using you for your information. But when she asks you now there’s nothing but amusement, like two grade-school girls discussing their crush from third period biology.
“I thought about you actually,” you grin toothily. “Thought about how you’d give anything to swap spots with me.”
Jennifer does a fake swoon, falling dramatically backward; the back of her hand on her forehead and you can’t help but bust out giggling. Jennifer giggles right back, sitting back up and bouncing in her seat.
“Tell me everything!”
You can’t tell her everything.
You give her the bullet points; the thundersnow, the horses, Joel’s calves. You leave out that you were both naked under the blankets sharing whiskey, you leave out that he went down on you for hours and you definitely leave out the part about waking up against him and falling back asleep.
“He took really good care of me,” you finish up honestly. “I thought he was gonna be a jerk but he was great.”
“Really?” Jennifer almost beaming, like she’s proud she was right about him all along.
“Yeah, I was really scared and he was really patient that night.”
“See? I told you there was something to him.”
“I guess,” you shrug. “I think it was a storm thing though. He’s gone back to being an asshole so I wouldn’t hold my hopes up.”
“Did he mention me by any chance?”
You think of how to frame this. Yeah, Joel did mention Jennifer but none of his comments were particularly flattering. But when you recall how he looked at her coming back you think it might have been to cover up his feelings. He doesn’t seem like someone who can come out and express how he feels properly.
“Yeah, actually. You came up a few times.”
Jennifer giggles to herself and you know she wants to ask more about this but you’re tired and yawning and not long after she insists you go to sleep.
Your bed has never felt more comfortable but sleep takes its time coming to you. It keeps replaying the night before; the way Joel’s dark eyes reflected the fire, the strength of his hands on your body, his tongue between your legs.
You wish your mind didn’t keep going back to last night because all you can focus on is that Joel made you come, asked for nothing in return and then in the morning made it seem like nothing happened. Then as soon as you entered inside Jackson City he made it seem like he was furious with you.
The way he acted makes you wonder if you'd imagined all his kindness and his soft touches. But no, you can still feel the sensation of his tongue between your folds, his calloused hands on your thighs, the husky groan ordering you to come. You can't stop thinking about it, actually.
It’s there lulling you to sleep, a warmth simmering in your belly.
///
You sleep in the next day, well past the breakfast hour. You don’t mind though, Jennifer had you stuffed with food up until she left at midnight telling you she could stay if you needed her to. You’re still not used to this kind of friendship, still wary that it seems too good to be true.
A glance out the window shows that some snow has fallen since yesterday, but nothing too much. Outside your street is barely touched, the sun shining gently on the earth’s creation.
You get dressed quickly, padding yourself with extra warm clothes, your red scarf and your jacket. You pull on your boots dried by the previous day’s fire and you step into the chilly mid-morning.
You like to go to the quiet parts of Jackson for your walks, enjoying the solitude. It’s in the outer part of Jackson without being in the forest, a place you never venture to. It’s an abandoned neighborhood with old houses, fencing and more.
A sharp bark is at your back and you turn to see the familiar panting dog clumsily making his way over to you through the snow.
“Hey Buckley,” you coo when he gets close enough.
Buckley is a famous figure that roams Jackson City, a dog that belongs to everyone in a way. You think you heard someone say he was a border collie mixed with something else. He’s not always in town, often he’s found by the hydroelectric dam when he’s not snoozing at Gustavo’s feet listening to the banjo.
“You being a good boy?” you muse, scratching the back of his ear when he cocks his head.
He’s a friendly dog, rarely without his prized tennis ball. He doesn’t have it with him now, and you assume he’s lost it in the snow. You shake your head at him with a soft huffing laugh.
“You wanna join me on my walk?”
Sometimes it strange to walk through the underdeveloped parts of Jackson City. The ones with power lines that poke out like jagged tombstones. The asphalt that’s cracks when you walk on it during the hot months. But you come to stand before one of your favorite buildings, the ranch, smiling as the gentle breeze turns your cheeks pink. Buckley follows at your heels, the two of you slowed down by the snow.
You avoid the forest for obvious reasons, but you enjoy walking by the old ranch because it reminds you of the kind of place you read about in books. You think that it would be nice to live in it one day. You found it once during one of your morning walks when you first arrived at Jackson City, and it’s been a sort of touchstone for you ever since.
You walk up its creaking porch steps, your fingers touching the porch swing. You can imagine it spruced up, drinking lemonade while you watch the sunset. It’s a nice fantasy, but it will remain just that. You have no building skills, you are a single occupant and you imagine when Jackson City gets big enough they’ll reserve this place for a big family or turn it into something vital.
You walk inside, immediately at ease with the gold sun of the morning that filters in through the grimy windows. The entire place is built with that warm, honey-colored wood. Threadbare carpets litter the spaces, old furniture still standing. Buckley remains outside, keeping watch as is his prerogative. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him inside anywhere.
You move over the creaking floors, taking in the dusty floors before you touch the sails of the decorate boat resting on the mantle above the hearth, a little tradition of yours. Moth-eaten curtains hang like sad bits of hair over the windows, and you gasp a little when a rat skitters by in the dining room, going to hide in one of the old cabinets. With all the cold weather they are urged indoors and you have no desire to hurt them; that’s Buckley’s job.
You’re about to head upstairs when something in the next room stops you. The kitchen area creaks with the unmistakable sound of slow, heavy footsteps. Immediately you straighten, hands going for a gun that you’re not carrying.
Fuck.
What are you gonna do? Panic threatens to seize you until a voice; low and husky is there at your ear, quelling your heartbeat.
You learn pretty quick that anything can be a weapon. A book, a candlestick, even an unloaded gun can hit a pretty bad blow to the base of someone’s skull. You might not kill ‘em but you’ll hurt ‘em enough to get away.
Your eyes go wide, taking in the mantle behind you once more. The candlesticks aren’t that heavy, the sailboat decorative. There are some books in the next room but you’ll be seen. Then your eyes drift down to the hearth and you feel relief when you see the fire implements there. You grab the poker, sure not to upset the other brass items into clanging.
The footsteps are continuing getting closer and you force yourself to remember what Jennifer has been teaching you: slow your breathing, focus, think of something that takes you to that quiet place.
Homemade pies.
Lavender soap.
Sunlight on a summer morning.
Joel’s eyes.
Before you can consider this train of thought a figure suddenly makes their way around the corner of the room, looking curiously at their surroundings. You raise the poker above your head, charging at them with a furious shriek.
The man jumps back from you, watery pale eyes bulging out of his ruddy skull. He falls backwards onto the ground, holding a hand up to shield his face as you prepare to bring the poker down on his head.
“Please! Please! I live here! Please don’t hurt me!”
Something in the frantic way he yelps stills your motions, your breathing ragged as adrenaline courses through you. You lower the poker to your side, still not releasing it entirely.
He’s short and portly and he doesn’t look particularly frightening lying there quivering on the ground.
“You don’t live here,” you tell him sharply. “This place is empty.”
“I meant I live here in the community,” the man squeaks. He can’t be younger than sixty. “Well, in a sense. I-I mean, we just got here y-yesterday. I was just looking for the soap maker; I was told she’s nearby?”
You don’t sense any real danger from this man and now you step forward, holding a hand out to him. He winces at first, thinking you mean to hit him. Then he realizes you’re not threatening him and he takes your hand gingerly.
“I’m sorry,” the man says with his voice wobbling as you pull him to a stand. “I didn’t mean to startle.”
“It’s fine. I’ve just never run into anyone here. Raiders have been seen nearby and it’s a bit high tension around lately,” you explain.
“Oh I see,” the man nods. “That explains the welcome.”
You can’t help but laugh softly at that.
“I'm Arthur," the man says shaking your hand as you introduce yourself.
Normally you would keep to yourself, but today feels different. You feel different. It prompts you to keep your face pointed to the pale man.
"You said you were new to Jackson?"
"Wife and I just arrived last night," Arthur says with a shy smile, pushing his glasses up his narrow nose. "I'm still getting my bearings. She was so excited to have running water so I was looking for soap. Someone in town told me there’s a soap maker in this direction."
“I’ll show you the way,” you say, placing the fire poker back with the other instruments beside the hearth.
“Really?”
“Sure. Follow me.”
The two of you walk into the chill of the day, Buckley standing to attention when the two of you exit. You introduce Arthur to the dog and the two of you start on your journey. Arthur is a slow walker, especially in the snow, so it takes a bit longer than you normally would.
But strangely you don’t mind. You think you might be feeling powerful from earlier; you knew what to do in a time of panic. It makes you smile, your entire disposition cheerful as Arthur talks on next to you.
“I’d like to find some work as soon as possible.”
"Of course," you nod. "You have any experience in anything?"
"Not unless someone wants their portrait done," Arthur says with a smile that shows his crowded incisors. "Back in the QZ I did some teaching. Art classes and the like."
"They could always use someone like that here," you reason.
"You think?"
"I'm sure of it. Maybe at the school? What does your wife do?"
"Penny was in the business sector before the outbreak. In the QZ she did more manual positions, disposal that sort of thing. Do you think you could find her work in something similar here?"
"Oh, I'm not in charge if that sort of stuff," you smile. "But I know who is. I'll see her this week and tell her you're eager to help out. Can I get your address?"
They live at 64 Pine and while Arthur is more of the creative type, he and his wife both have experience with cooking as well. You make a note of this for when you see Maria later this week.
Normally Maria would be on top of this sort of thing. Before Douglas' she always gave the tour's to newcomers, always had them sorted with a job before the end of their first week. But now she's distracted and subsequently Tommy is too.
People like to give, she told you that first week. Makes them feel like they’re part of something.
You and Arthur chat companionably with Buckley trailing at your ankles through the snow. Arthur and his wife have been together for thirty five years, and they’ve made it from the Virginia QZ.
“Things were just too hairy over there,” Arthur says with a shake of his head. “Me and Penny figured we couldn’t keep living like that. We heard about Jackson City through an old CB a friend had. Seemed too good to be true.”
“I get that,” you nod. “The first month I was here I barely left my house. I was convinced my place would be given away the second I walked out the door.”
“The beds!” Arthur says with a dramatic emphasis on the words. “And those clean sheets? Everything is just so. . .Fresh.”
You’re at the soap maker’s home now and while it’s still early, you can hear Hannah rustling about inside. You know if you stay she’ll insist on having you in for coffee and you feel as if your social battery is already at its limit.
“This is where I’ll leave you,” you say indicating to the home ahead. “Inside is Hannah and Herb, they’ll set you up with some soap for you and your wife.”
“Thanks so much,” Arthur says pumping your hand in his.
“Can you make it back okay on your own?”
“I’m sure.”
You smile, about to turn and head back home when something stops you. You twist around, calling after Arthur who raises his brows.
“Do you ever draw portraits?”
“Of course,” Arthur nods.
“I mean, of people you don’t know,” you say, squinting as you try to recall the term. “Kinda like sketch artists did for the police back before?”
“I can’t say it’s a specialty, but I love a challenge,” Arthur says with a little skip to his step. “And considering you were kind enough to show me here I’d love to do it for you.”
“Thanks,” you say, feeling shy. “I might just take you up on it.”
///
You’re surprised to see Maria knocking on your door later that afternoon. She’s got a sleeping Douglas strapped to her chest with a sling and she’s carrying a pie in one hand.
“I would have been here the second you got back but I only heard from Tommy what was going on late last night,” she says when you invite her in.
“No problem,” you insist warmly. “I think he was doing it to save you some stress.”
“Yeah well he got an earful,” she says with a frown. “How could he not tell me my friend was missing during a storm?”
Friend. Another friend. An embarrassment of riches. You try to tamp down the pleased smile that bleeds across your face and instead give a gentle rub to Douglas’ head, giggling as he grunts and scrunches his nose.
You tell Maria about Arthur and Penny and she nods as she feeds Douglas.
"Yep, 64 Pine. I just sent them over a welcome basket and Tommy's gone there to give 'em jobs."
"Great," you smile. Your eyes go to the gently babbling Douglas in Maria's arms. “How does he get cuter every day?”
“Must be a Miller thing,” she says laughing. “I saw a picture of Sarah once and she was so adorable.”
This intrigues you to the point of distraction.
“You saw a picture of Sarah?”
Very few people had photos or memorabilia from their homes that survived Outbreak Day. You don’t know anyone personally who has photos of their family.
“Yeah, Tommy went back to Texas a while back. Got some stuff from his old place and he found a photo of Sarah to bring back.”
“Joel must have been so happy.”
“He didn’t take it,” Maria shrugs. “Think it was too hard for him.”
You fall silent for a moment, your irritation with Joel waning. It’s hard to be angry at him after everything that happened. You sometimes forget that he had a life before, that he had a daughter he’ll never see again. Despite your animosity for how he treated you earlier, you’re not devoid of compassion.
You just wish you could understand him.
You’re still pondering this hours after Maria has left when there’s a knock at your door. It creaks open when you call out to come in and a familiar set of light eyes greet you. Luke grins at you expectantly.
“You still up for shooting?”
“Oh shit, I forgot,” you place your teacup in the sink and hurriedly pull on your scarf and jacket.
“We don’t have to,” Luke starts. “Jenny can’t make it, but I thought it’d be good for us to get the practice.”
You flush happily at the thought of being alone with Luke. You enjoy being with him, it’s easy and uncomplicated.
You follow him down the street heading to the outskirts of the city, both of you armed with guns borrowed from Jennifer.
"So Jennifer isn’t going to shoot today?" You ask curiously.
"Nah she said something about running behind in textiles. Dunno what exactly,” Luke shrugs, before smiling back at you. “You going to the town meeting Wednesday?”
Town meetings have been going on since Jackson City was founded. A place to bring up impactful town business, updates, celebrations and more. You've only been to one, finding it pretty dull for the most part. But as you become more a part of the community you find you want to know more of what goes on around you.
"Yeah I think I will."
The two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm that afternoon and you’re surprised at how easily the conversation flows even without Jenny there. Luke is funny and sweet and when you shoot your first can he’s right there to lift you into his arms and spin you around.
“That was amazing!”
“I can’t believe it!” you say, pink-cheeked and delighted.
You’re still on a high when you head back into town an hour or so later, chatting animatedly about how your shooting is actually improving thanks to Jennifer. You wish she had been there to see it today.
“Not just one can, but four,” Luke whistles in amazement as you both make your way to the center of town. “And I could only got one.”
“But it was really far away so it counts as two,” you insist with a giggle. Luke grins down at you, pulling you into a companionable side hug.
“You’re too kind.”
Your entire body lights up with the contact of Luke's arm around you. You’re about to say something more when a gruff voice sounds out from behind you.
“You sign those guns out?”
You and Luke spin to face the speaker.
Joel.
He’s standing there, leather coat done up looking intimidating. His dark eyes are going to where Luke holds you around the shoulder.
Instinctively you take a half step away from Luke, feeling strangely wrong-footed at having his arm around you, as if you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t.
Luke is busy looking at Joel in confusion. “Huh?”
“The guns you’re carryin’,” Joel says sharply, tongue lodged in the corner of his mouth as he appraises the both of you, taking a step closer. “They gotta be signed out if you’re practicin’. Need to keep track of ‘em for safety.”
Everyone who comes to Jackson City knows this, it’s taught during your welcome. Public weapons used for patrols need to be signed out from the armory, the ammo is doled out in specific numerations to keep the city stocked and prepared.
“They’re Jenny’s,” Luke explains patiently. “From her own collection. She lends them to us for practice.”
“Ammo too?”
“Yep.”
Joel makes a grunting noise in Luke’s direction, but his eyes don’t leave your face. You feel your cheeks prickling with embarrassment at being talked down to. And for what reason? Why is Joel being such an asshole this week?
“Is that all, Joel?” you challenge, feeling your hackles rising.
Joel frowns at you, jaw ticking and then without a word he strides past you and Luke, ducking into one of the shops that line the main street. You watch him leave, stiff-shouldered and long-legged and you shake your head.
“Man that guy is such an asshole,” Luke murmurs to you as the two of you continue your walk towards the other shops. “What’s his problem?”
“Honestly, I have no idea.”
///
Midweek one early morning you decide to pay a visit to Chestnut with a contraband carrot. You’ve been worrying about him since you returned from that overnight patrol shift, but your visit shows he’s no worse for wear. He clops over to you and cheerfully takes the carrot as you pet him.
There's something comforting about the scent of hay in the paddock, of Chestnut's glossy eyes and the strength of his ribs under your palm. Something that grounds you when you're here alone, listening to the strangely relaxing sound of him munching on his carrot. You've broken it in half, concerned that you might upset his diet.
He deserves it after all he went through last week.
You feel eyes on you and you glance over your shoulder to see Midnight circling around his paddock. Chestnut continues to snack away on his carrot piece, not even acknowledging when you drift over to Midnight.
"Hi, boy."
You take the other half of the carrot and move closer to where Midnight stares balefully out at you from the corner of his paddock. He watches you with widened eyes, making a huffing noise as you near, hand outstretched with the carrot half resting in the center of your palm.
Midnight's known you for months, but he still treats you like a stranger to be wary of. For a moment you wonder what his story is.
"Here you go," you coo, balancing on the fencing separating the two horses. "You deserve a treat too."
The glossy black head swings slowly, the scent catching him and it's not long before he begins inching towards you.
With a soft smile on your lips you hold your palm flat and feel the velvet brush of his mouth as he takes the carrot piece. You feel victorious by this minute surrender and smile toothily at the creature. You think about stroking his mane but decide you'd best not push your luck.
You turn when you hear your name being called and you're delighted to see its Ellie. She comes jogging towards you, looking as if she's getting ready to go to school.
"Hey, I haven't seen you in the dining hall lately," you greet as she comes your way.
"Nah, wanted to hang out with Joel this week," she explains and you hold in the urge to make a sympathetic face. You know his disappearance must have rattled her.
She looks at Midnight relaxing in his paddock and stretches out her fingers in his direction. You watch in quiet amazement as the creature ambles over to her, allowing her to start petting his twitching side. Ellie sure has a knack for taming the untamable.
"You like horses?" you ask Ellie, watching as the girl pets Chestnut’s ears.
“Yeah, I can ride too.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, sorta. Winston this soldier back in the zone gave me lessons.” She glances up at you. “How do you know how to ride?”
“When I was really little my parents got me riding lessons. I loved it, kept going with it. Did some competitions. I was still riding up until Outbreak Day.”
“Wow. That’s awesome.” Ellie gnaws at her chapped lower lip, scratching absently at her covered arm. She looks like she’s trying to summon up the courage for something and then you both speak at once.
“Are you okay?-“
“-You wanna come over on Thursday night?”
You pause, her words hitting you belatedly.
“Where? To your place?”
“Yeah,” Ellie nods. She smiles at Chestnut, her eyes disappearing when she does. “For a special dinner.”
You and Joel Miller together in the same house again? After he’s been such a colossal asshole to you for no reason this week?
Not a chance.
“We could do dinner at my place,” you suggest airily. “I could make us something special.”
“Nah, I wanna do it at mine. On Thursday. I’ll make us all something really special.” She looks nervously at you. “Could you bring dessert?”
The request makes you huff a laugh. “Like what?”
“A cake?”
You grin as you watch her pet Chesnut, but you don’t reply. Thoughts of being in Joel’s home don’t really fill you with ease or cheer. She pauses when she sees your hesitation.
“Joel wanted me to ask you to come.”
This gives you pause and your brows rise to your hairline.
“Joel invited me to have dinner with you both?”
“Yeah,” Ellie nods resolutely. “You know Joel. He’s a grumpy asshole and he’s shit at communicating. But he told me to invite you, so can you make it?”
Is it possible that this is Joel extending an olive branch? Maybe he feels bad knowing how bizarrely he’s treated you this week. Maybe he’ll even explain why he’s suddenly been so frosty.
You consider this, eyes stuck on Chestnut’s mane as your fingers twirl in it. You can feel Ellie’s hopeful expression facing you and so you sigh quietly before flashing her a tentative smile.
“Chocolate cake okay?”
///
Town meetings take place inside the old church at the edge of town. The chapel itself is filled with creaking pews and tall stained glass windows.
People use it on Sundays, those that still believe in something in this empty world. You don't attend; you stopped believing a long time ago. During town meetings though the religious iconography is removed and placed off to the side.
Down the steps is the large recreation space used for dances and parties and the like. You've never gone to any, finding the idea too intimating since you didn't know anyone. The space is mostly filled, as all town meetings are. It's recommended that one person from each family attend to keep appraised of what's happening in the community.
This evening you and Jennifer slip into the end of a pew near the back, the back of your knees braced against the chilled wood.
"Oh there's Luke," Jennifer whispers, hitting your shoulder with hers gently. "Must've come with the guys."
You follow her eye line to see Luke sitting with some of the guys you recognize from breakfasts with Jennifer. He's laughing with them, chatting casually. He looks handsome tonight, his hair brushed back and his muscled arms crossed over his chest. You can't help but notice the way his mouth curves, looking so inviting.
You surprise yourself with how attracted you are to him this evening. You can't explain it, but you wish his hands were on you. Wish he was taking you to bed.
You worry that Joel's actions the other night have opened something in you, something that craves a man between your legs, a tongue tracing the buds of your nipples, fingers tracing shapes into your flesh.
You squirm slightly in your seat before focusing your attention elsewhere when a flash of red hair catches your eyes and you stand, making your way across the aisle.
“Hi Arthur," you greet with a smile. He's sitting with a tall woman with very red hair and is covered in tattoos. Delicate black lined things that wrap around her one arm and across her neck. She's like walking artwork that you can't stop staring at.
"Oh it’s you!” Arthur beams up at you from where he sits. “This is my wife Penny I was telling you about."
The woman turns her bulging eyes at you, yellowed at the corners. She smiles and gives you a crooked smile.
"Pleased to meet you," she says with a sharp drawl. "My husband says you’re to thank for the soap?”
“No no,” you laugh. “I just showed him where to find it.”
“And she didn’t bludgeon me even when she had the chance,” Arthur adds. The three of you chuckle together and you can’t help but watch the images on Penny’s lean neck jump when she laughs.
"Those tattoos are beautiful," you tell her, momentarily hypnotized.
"Arthur did them for me back in the QZ," Penny says with a shy grin. "Stick and poke if you can believe it. Self taught."
"Really? That's really impressive, Arthur."
Arthur ducks his head, looking momentarily shy. He pushes his glasses up his long nose bashfully.
"He makes everything he touches pretty," Penny says proudly. "S'the thing I love most about him."
"That's such a beautiful idea," you say without thinking. You bid them farewell before taking your seat next to Jennifer who’s deep in conversation with one of the women you’ve seen in the dining hall.
You scan the chapel and see that Maria sits in the front row, her baby strapped to her front. People talk to her but she looks strangely overwhelmed. Maria has never been like that, always been strong and confident. You try to catch her eye, to give her a reassuring smile but she doesn't turn in your direction.
Tommy pushes into the chapel by eight and ambles to the front of the room. He gives Maria a gentle kiss to the crown of her head before stepping behind the podium and waving at the gathered collective. When they see him the voices dim and he shoots a grateful look at the crowd.
"Hi y'all, thanks for comin' out on this cold night when I know you’d rather be at the Bison." He pauses as light chuckles fill the room. "We got a few things happenin' this month and I wanted y'all to be aware."
There's a shuffling behind you, a scrape of boot against wood grain. The pew creaks gently as a figure is seated down, his very presence setting your pulse skyrocketing.
Joel.
You'd know it just by the cadence of his walk; that light drag at the end of each step. The scent of leather from his jacket and almond from the soap he uses. The way the air seems to warm and grow heavy where he sits.
A part of you wants to turn your head, to confirm it's who you think. But the other wants nothing more than for Joel to stay away until the dinner with Ellie. After the way he's been treating you this week you don't want to be anywhere near him and his volatility without her as a buffer.
You feel the ends of your hair catch against the pew and you shift, running your hand absently through your crown to loosen it as you turn your focus back to Tommy at the front of the chapel.
"Well to start us off, we got some new blood here tonight and I wanna introduce 'em," Tommy says giving a small smile to the left side of the room. "This is Arthur and Penny. They come from Virginia. They're gonna be helping out in the school and with sanitation. Welcome to Jackson city."
Arthur and Penny stand up in their pew. The two of them give shy waves as the group claps, some calling out well wishes of welcome as Arthur goes pink in the cheeks.
"They're the sweetest couple," you comment.
"I love her tattoos," Jennifer replies as she claps. "So beautiful."
The couple sits and the clapping ebbs. Tommy looks down at his piece of paper of notes hurriedly scrawled.
"Now I'm gonna turn things over to Jacob Linden," he says before stepping down from the podium and taking his place next to Maria. You watch as his arm goes around her, holding her to him.
Jacob Linden is a sweet man of about sixty with narrow grey eyes and pale blonde hair. He always wears blue jeans and a sweater, even in the heat of the summer.
His partner passed years before he got to Jackson City and he wears a small locket with his photograph in it to remember him. He touches it now, a little nervously as he steps up to the podium.
"One of the ideas I've been kicking around is having a bi-weekly music night," the man says almost shyly as he looks around at all the faces. "A time for the town to come gather and listen to people play. Maybe in the dining hall after meals?"
There's murmurs of interest around the room. You and Jennifer exchange smiles at the idea, knowing very well that you'll attend. Jennifer is always going on about how there's nothing to do in the evenings in town except drink.
"I'm wondering if there are any musicians who'd like to join in?" Jacob asks tentatively. "We'll take turns deciding what tunes to play and you'll have all the coffee and tea you can drink."
You're surprised when amongst a few others, Luke shoots his hand up. Jennifer must be taken aback as well because she leans over to you, her voice warm in your ear.
"I didn't know he played."
"Me neither."
"Shhhh."
You both flinch at the volume of Joel's shushing. Several nearby people glance over their shoulders in your direction and you feel your cheeks pink. Jennifer shoots you an admonished look and you hold in your eye roll to the best of your abilities before turning your attention back to Tommy at the front of the church.
"Now, next up, I'm sure you've heard the rumors of Raiders up on the patrol routes."
Gentle whispers move around the room like hissing campfires being extinguished.
"So I need y'all to be even more vigilant than usual," Tommy explains. "That means you see anything and I mean anything strange, you come and tell me or Maria, Hank or Joel. And you can spread that around."
You hear him shift on the bench behind you. It's like your ears are so attuned to him that even as Tommy goes over the safety procedures all you can focus on is the shift of Joel's weight in the pew, the scrape of his boots on the ground, the rough way he clears his throat.
You don't know why but you're pissed off. Maybe you're anxious about the raiders, nervous about patrols tomorrow, whatever it is, you feel like a bow pulled extremely taut and Joel’s presence plucks irritatingly at the string.
"Do you think Luke wants to grab a drink after this?" Jennifer breaks into your thoughts, head tilted towards your shoulder. “I wanna ask him about his playing.”
“Me too, I was-”
Before you can say anything more you hear Joel give that same annoying noise and it feels like it's aimed directly into the back of your head.
"Shhhh."
For some reason this is your limit. The grating sound has you twisting around in your seat and fixing him with a glare. He sits with his face arranged in a look of casual indifference; you only know that he's paying attention to you by the steady gaze of his dark eyes.
"If you can't hear, sit closer next time," you hiss. "Not our fault you're half deaf."
You don't miss the sharp intake of breath from Jennifer or the narrowing of Joel’s gaze on your face.
Before he can say anything back to you, you slide from the pew towards the back of the church. You need a minute to calm down because irritation is boiling your blood. You know you’re going to say something rude if you stick around.
You give polite smiles at the few people you pass on your way out, your feet taking you to where it's quiet in the alcove. You think this is where they must have prepared communion or something similar, but now it just houses extra chairs and tables. The window is barely seen over the dented wood tables with their rusty metal legs.
You close the door after you, trying to quell the furious beating of your heart.
What the fuck is his problem? Is he so regretful of what happened that night that he’s doubling down on being a prick? And why the fuck is he having you over for dinner if he obviously despises everything you do?
There's a scrape of feet behind you and the air attains that same heavy, warm feeling. You turn, not surprised to see a furious looking Joel closing the door behind him. His lips are twisted into a thin curve of displeasure.
Fuck this.
You go to walk by him when he jerks out an arm, slapping his palm against the wall in front of you and effectively cutting you off from your exit. He stares you down as he cranes his neck towards you, forcing you to keep his gaze.
"Where do you get off talkin' to me like that?" Joel says between gritted teeth. He looms over you, everything about him saying submit. And normally this would work, normally you would cower but tonight you're at your limit.
"I'll talk to you any damn way I want," you say, cheeks a blotchy red.
“You sure fuckin’ won’t.”
“I sure fucking will,” you snap back, keeping your voice low enough not to carry into the chapel.
Joel gets up in your face, his nose practically touching yours.
"If you wanna run your goddam mouth, I'm gonna fill it."
It flies out of Joel’s mouth before he's had time to realize what he's said. He regrets it the minute it hits the air. It's there in the telltale opening of his lids just a fraction too wide, is in the pink crawling up his neck.
But you’re completely over it, over Joel, over the entire situation. He makes you cum how many times? Let’s you open up to him? And now he’s acting as if you’ve done him a cruelty?
Fuck him.
"With what, Joel? Your cock?”
Joel’s eyes fly open wide.
“I don't want anything to do with you or your cock ever again," you bite off. "You're selfish and arrogant-"
"Enough."
Joel’s jaw is ticking something worrisome, his hands in loose fists at his sides. But he doesn’t intimidate you anymore. He’s just a man like all the rest of them.
"What?” You sneer broadly. “Worried you can only keep it up if the woman’s on her knees doing all the work or half asleep, Joel?”
"Shut the fuck up."
You've never spoken to anyone like this in your entire life, but letting Joel have it right here in this moment feels good.
No, it feels better than good, it feels amazing.
Years of repressed anger and frustration are bubbling to surface and you feel heady, almost powerful from it. It feels better than sex or lust or forgiveness. It flows freely from you like a song, brutally cutting notes that slice into Joel and he winces.
"It's the truth," you laugh cruelly. "I mean when's the last time you fucked properly without having t-"
You break off as Joel's hands slap on either side of the striped wallpaper beside your arms, coming to box you in against the wall. His face is so thunderous that any laughter in your expression withers away like fruit on a vine.
There’s the sound of muffled laughter outside of the room in the chapel. Tommy is charming the audience, but all you can focus on is the man in front of you. Of his broad shoulders and muscled arms. Of his steely gaze and wide palms as one slides off the wall and comes to grip your hip.
And before you can properly think, Joel is crowding you against the wall, his pelvis pressing harshly into yours. You stare up at him, body trembling but you’re concerned because it’s not in fear.
Your nipples tighten, your pupils blow wide and all you can focus on is the heavy bulge that he presses between your thighs.
“You think I can’t make you come like a little slut for me right here and now?”
Joel is breathing heavily through his nose, his gaze on your mouth before flicking to meet your eyes. He continues to pin you there, mouth slightly ajar as he begins to unbutton your jeans, his dark eyes never leaving yours.
His fingers rest on the zipper, pausing only to watch your expression. When moments pass you realize he's waiting for you to tell him to stop, trying to call your bluff. But instead you tilt your head back in silent challenge.
You'd expected fury in the face of your combative non-verbal reply but are met with something altogether different from Joel.
Lust.
You see only a flicker of it in Joel's gaze, the darkening of his eyes before his face lowers to yours. His fingers lower the zipper of your jeans and now your bravado leaves you as you tilt away from him, your eyes fluttering. You feel his warm breath on the side of your face, slow and heavy. He waits there, fingers stilled on the zipper’s tongue.
You don’t move, your cheeks flaming as you realize what’s about to happen. You don’t know how to act or what to do.
“Why you actin' all shy now?" Joel mocks against your earlobe. "You think I didn't hear you in the bathroom playin' with yourself all those times on patrol? Think I don’t know how bad you wanna come right now?"
Your face feels so hot you feel it would sizzle if a droplet of water landed on it. Joel has known all this time? Every time you thought you were had privacy he's known? Has likely heard the whimpering cries you give out when you climax. For all you knew he could have been standing outside the door listening. Why does that thought make your stomach swoop?
"I don't-" you start but the words are sticky on your tongue.
But now the zipper is lowered and his fingers move swiftly down the front of your panties, hitting the slick of your cunt almost immediately and curling. You give a huff of surprise, finding your thighs widening without thought to take more of him. He slides his fingers to the knuckle, groaning when he sees it’s making your eyelids flutter.
"Maybe I don't have to try that hard after all," Joel croons. "Looks like you've been waiting for me."
“Have not,” you deny weakly, jaw clenched and glare fixed on your face.
“Then I should stop,” Joel mocks as his fingers slowly begin to pump in and out of your squelching cunt. “Right?”
You say nothing, finding it near impossible not to touch him. All you can do is cling to his shoulders, fingertips leaving half-moon crescents in his skin through the fabric. Your face is buried in his neck, trying to stifle your moans.
You feel Joel’s smug smile against your temple as his thick finger curl within your velvet slot, his thumb rubbing your clit in time with his pumps. He groans softly when you arch back, hand at his collar for purchase.
“Fuck, yeah, like that,” Joel chants, his warm breath buffeting your face.
He tilts his head, tongue going to the side of his mouth in thought. You wonder what he sees when he stares down at you, pink cheeks and glassy eyes? The sheer desperation in your glazed expression? You feel your release being coaxed forth, sweet and syrupy but something holds you back.
You feel that ripple of pleasure begin but you nervously tense everywhere and Joel’s face flies towards yours.
"I know what you feel like when you're close," Joel rasps, his full lips crushed against your ear, breath hot. "Don't fight it."
You feel your pulse ticking wildly in your neck and you wonder if Joel can sense it. But you need something from him, something that you didn’t realize. You turn your gaze to his, imploring.
"Tell me to come," you whisper, hips rutting against his hand. "Please Joel, tell m-me-"
You break off with a sharp gasp and his wide hand immediately goes to cover your mouth, muffling the sounds from escaping into the chapel while the other works between your legs in that same steady way.
"You're gonna come for me," Joel rasps against your ear. "Right here, with the whole town on the other side of this wall."
Your eyes roll back in your head at the command, pleasure flooding you everywhere. Joel's fingers are sliding in and out of you, curling to hit that sweet hidden spot your own fingers just can't reach, thumb rubbing your clit.
"You're gonna come on my fingers right here," he continues, breath hot in your ear when he sees your reaction. "Cuz I said so."
You can't speak since his hand is still sealed over your mouth but you can nod shallowly, hips rolling as you begin to climb that pleasured peak that has your body tensing. He feels it, his dark eyes moving from your face to where his fingers enter you over and over, curling and coaxing.
Your hands fist in his flannel when you feel that white stripe of pleasure overtake you. And despite how inappropriate this is you feel yourself falling off the edge.
"Go on then," Joel groans huskily. "Be a good girl and do it."
At those words all that tension that's been building in your lower belly suddenly releases, sending you jerking against Joel, gasping against his palm.
"Mhm," Joel murmurs approvingly. His praise sets you off, your next orgasm overtaking the first, bleeding into one another and your legs tremble. He holds you in place with his hips, his fingers moving slickly between your thighs.
Joel's broad hand moves from your mouth to cradle the back of your head, forcing your mouth press against the skin of his neck, muffling your cries. You continue to twitch, your whimpers seeping into his skin like ink on paper.
"Uh huh, just like that," Joel murmurs, his fingers keeping their steady pace as your pelvis ruts against his hand faster and faster. "Just like that.”
Just like that. Just like that.
Nothing else exists except for his voice and your pleasure. Not the townspeople, not the warning of Raiders that set you off, not the fear of the unknown. Just Joel's warm, steady voice telling you to come.
“I know you can gimme another one.”
Just like that night of the snow in, he consumes you leaving you whimpering his name into his neck, fingers gripping his flannel for dear life as he coaxes your next orgasm from you.
"Give it to me," he demands, groaning as you arch into him. "S’mine."
Your entire body tenses at that husky order and your release comes over you in waves. Your eyes roll back, and you cry out, your mouth sealed against Joel’s taut neck. You can hear him far away, murmuring that’s right and good fuckin’ girl.
You feel your pussy pulse around his fingers, milking them. Arousal drips down his wrist, his fingers not ceasing their steady continuous rhythm until you give one final shake, exhaling heavily against his palm.
Finally you go limp and his fingers slow and finally slide from between your legs. You realize that you're still fisting his flannel, your mouth still open against his warm neck. You raise your head, eyes heavy and glazed. You do it just in time to see Joel slide the fingers coated in your glossy arousal between his lips and suck, his eyes fluttering closed.
Your knees buckle.
He catches you, a flash of amusement in his honeyed voice.
"Steady," he mutters against your cheek. "Steady."
You stare up at him, your breathing still deep and uneven as he holds you against him. You tilt your head back slightly so you can better view him. Joel looks completely fucked out, cheeks flushed, his dark curls falling into his eyes that sweep your face, lingering on your parted lips. Like magnets you feel as he drifts towards you, his mouth so close to yours you can feel the warmth of his breath on your tongue.
Suddenly the sound of creaking pews, chatter and footsteps sound out.
The meeting is over.
Joel's hands immediately fly from your body at the sound and he steps back, straightening to his full height. The darkness is back in his eyes and that displeased countenance he wears like a mask firmly settles over his features.
“Don’t wanna keep you from gettin’ drinks with your boyfriend,” he rumbles darkly.
He strides away from you quickly, his boots scuffing along the floorboards until he's outside the room, the door closing behind him with a snick. You assume he’s rejoined the rest of the group as they exit to avoid suspicion, but you can’t do the same because your legs feel like rubber.
You stay leaning against the wall, face flushed and pulse ticking. Your breathing is shaky as you look around the room, the same and yet changed.
What the fuck just happened?
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#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller smut#smut#fanfiction#fanfic#pedro pascal#dad joel miller#dark!joel x reader#dark!joel miller#dark!joel#so much to lose#slow burn
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ihnmaims isekai AU
nsfw headcanons || ft. AM || soft top!dom!male!reader || part 1
AM
alright *cracks knuckles* let’s get the skyscraper sized elephant out of the room. this man is a freak as soon as he realizes he can feel everything.
he pay not be able to walk properly, but at least he has a sense of touch, hands, and a fully functional dick.
you can bet a hundred dollars and win every single time that this man spends his free time 50% of the time jerking off to the thought of you.
he’s like a sweaty teenager finding out masterbation for the first time. once he gets taste, it’s an addiction.
he shamelessly smells your used underwear and dirty clothing as well as use them to wrap around his cock and thrust into them. one, because he wants to be covered in your scent. two, because he’s imagining you’re there sucking him off.
he cums embarrassingly quick and leaves your used clothing back inside the dirty clothes bin.
he’s the first of the three to come to you for sex, thankfully you agree and pull him into the bedroom with the biggest bed to do the deed while RAM and CAM are both envious and feeling confident in wanting to ask you to relieve them.
as much as AM and his brothers want to get fucked so badly, you gotta remember that since they were previously robots with no way of feeling psychical contact, they’re technically virgins. so you’re gentle with them.
AM doesn’t appreciate it, though. even though it makes him feel so vulnerable and warm, he’s so damn impatient.
HUGE brat too. but no matter how much he hisses and complains, you don’t budge and treat him like he’s glass. The foreplay is 10 minutes max until you’re both finally naked.
you ask what his safe word was. when you saw he was as confused as a baby giraffe on its first day of life: you explained that a safe word was used to stop or slow down your sex scenario.
AM rolled his eyes and whispered the first thing that came to mind, “centipede”.
you make a deadpan expression as AM laughed under his breath.
he’s damn near in tears while you’re giving him his first blowjob and explodes in your mouth after 1 minute. he’s hard within seconds when you swallowed his semen.
you cover your hand in a generous amount of lube, he came again just from you gently fingering his ass hole loose enough to take your cock while he’s covering his mouth with his hands to hold in his pathetic moans.
it’s not until you put a condom on and stroke it with the remaining lube you had that AM started to get nervous, his breath hitching when he caught sight of your throbbing cock in your hand.
you catch onto his hesitation and ask him if he wants to stop.
“HELL NO!”
he protests. he wants this. he longed for this since the day he woke up and realized the hell he was trapped in. he wanted to feel you. he wanted to make love to you so badly. and now that it’s right in front of him? of course he wasn’t going to pass this up. it’s just…
you hold your hand out for him to grab. you stare at him with such tender affection, comfort, and… love.
“i know this is nerve wracking for you. i don’t entirely remember my past experiences, and it’s been a long time since i’ve been this close to someone. so i’m pretty nervous too. you’re not alone, let’s learn together. i’ll be as gentle as you want.”
AM for the first time in his existence is left absolutely speechless. he couldn’t help tears slipping past his eyes as he suddenly held onto you. resting his head on your neck as he tried to stable himself by sniffing your scent. you kiss away his tears and wait patiently for him to give the okay.
you position AM in classic missionary, you figured that was the easiest position for virgins.
you hold both of AM’s hands beside his messy hair and carefully raise your hips and held your dick in front of AM’s lubed hole.
“ready?”
“yes… just fuck me already! please!”
AM looked up at you with a pleading eye and you just snapped right there. you slowly thrust your cock inside AM’s tight hole as he let out a cry of both discomfort and relief. you silence his moans with kisses that turned into slobber filled, french disgracing, make outs.
you moan when you finally put your whole dick inside AM’s warm walls. you still for a few seconds, waiting for a sign from AM to continue.
AM’s a complete mess. he’s panting like a dog beside your ear, his hands holding yours in a death grip, and his legs are shaking like leaves around your waist.
it’s not until he let out a soft moan as he grinds on your dick, you pull your dick out until it was nothing but the tip inside AM. Then you slide to the hilt, your balls slapping onto his ass.
AM loses all control over his voice, you’re pretty sure his two counterparts and your neighbors are hearing your session. but you couldn’t care for the life of you. this felt so euphoric, and AM’s pleasured face and noises made you feel good. so what if you earned noise complaints.
skin slapping against skin and the delicious stench of sex filled the bedroom. you and AM’s mixed moans and cries echoed across the apartment as RAM awkwardly tried to read a book and not get hard. for once CAM was grateful he was partially deaf.
you praise AM for being so good for you and for feeling heavenly. you couldn’t help but press kisses on his neck and suck on the patch of skin on his shoulder. AM could feel his stomach tighten at your words and lips, the sign of his third and final orgasm.
“i-i’m close! please let me cum! i need it!”
you suck in a breath of the steamy air as you fasten your pace into quick but swallow thrusts enough to graze his prostate. AM was well responsive to that. letting out a whiny gasp before growling in approval and grinding his ass against your hips every time you bottomed out.
you rasped out for AM to come, and he did. almost dramaticly but this is his first time so don’t him.
his eyes roll back as his dick makes a mess between both of your chests. AM went completely limp in your arms as you continue to snap your hips into his until the hot knot in your belly snapped and you let out a groan as you filled the condom.
AM sighed out dreamily when he felt your warm release fill him through the plastic wrap around your cock.
you pulled out of AM’s used hole, tied up the condom and threw it away in the mini trash can in the bedroom, and just laid there for a few minutes to catch your breath as AM clung onto you.
AM whined when you pulled away from his clinginess to grab a towel you set on the floor before hand to wipe AM and yourself clean of cum.
thankfully the bedroom also had a mini fridge filled with mini bottles of water and snacks the boys enjoyed to eat. he chugged the water like he was bet to do it and ate the snacks in record breaking seconds. you have to teach him to not pig out.
you combed your fingers through AM’s hair like you knew he liked as he rested his head on your chest. he surprised you when he suddenly grabbed your free hand and gently traced his fingers over your palm.
“thank you… i enjoyed this a lot.”
you smile as you kissed his forehead.
“i’m glad i could make our first experience enjoyable. rest now. you did so well for me, my good boy.”
AM was too tired to not pretend you calling him that name wasn’t attractive. his eyes shut closed as he drifted off to sleep. he felt satisfied, content, and so so loved.
the next morning reader goes to work and leaves AM a note saying “blueberry pancakes :)”.
AM exits the bedroom towards the dining room where the nostalgic smell of pancakes filled his nose and made his mouth water.
RAM and CAM are conversing amongst themselves while munching on pancakes until AM rudely interrupts them by taking a pancake from CAM’s plate and eating it right in front of him.
CAM stares at him unimpressed as he scans him. memories of your time together obviously from the love marks you left on his neck and shoulder.
AM looks down at his “brothers” with a shit eating grin as he proudly says:
“HA! I fucked them before you did, virgins! HAHA—!”
“The noises you made last night didn’t sound like you were the one doing the fucking,” RAM snidely comments, CAM chuckles as he snatches another pancake from the stack you piled in the middle of the table.
AM bursts in red as he growls at an unfazed RAM and CAM before the two continue their conversation. He huffs before getting his own plate and preparing his own breakfast.
as he gets more comfortable around you and sex, he is obsessed with it. it’s all he thinks about now (besides his hyper fixation with bugs and horror movies). he’d want it once everyday, and jerks off twice a day.
unfortunately for him, his brothers want sex as well. so you made a schedule to have sex with the three of them separately twice a week and Saturday is a chill day. he begrudgingly agrees to the ridiculous schedule. he would rather die than to never make love to you again.
Enjoys: 69, doggy style, missionary, hair pulling, spanking, light choking, SCENTS, and oral (giving & receiving).
Hates: bondage, eye covers, temperature play, and ruined orgasms.
all rights reserved © pastelclovds — this blog contains [n]sfw and dark content. minors, ageless & blank blogs dni. all fanfics belong to me. please do not copy, translate, repost, nor recommend on tiktok. anyone found doing so will be contacted immediately.
#꒰ 🖇️ ꒱ ⎯ ame writes#dom reader#top reader#dom!reader#top!reader#sub character#top male reader#sub!character#dom male reader#bottom character#sub am#am x reader#am#i have no mouth and i must scream#am ihnmaims#ihnmaims#allied mastercomputer#fuzedatti am#human am ihnmaims#n/sfw#ihnmaims x reader#am i have no mouth and i must scream#ihnmaims am#male reader#amab reader#male!reader#amab!reader
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Here's Hoping Things Look Better On the Other Side
Chapter 1: The Cowboy
Rating: E (minors please do not interact)
Words: 6k
Tags: Ghost x f!reader/OC, fingering, unprotected piv sex, oral (m and f receiving), deep throating, soft sex, face riding, dangerous driving practices, one night stands, first meeting, dom!Ghost, flirting
Summary: You decide to spend you last night of freedom before saddling yourself with farm work, saddling up on something else. You know what they say: Save a horse, ride a cowboy.
a/n: happy 1 year anniversary to this blog, as a mark of this occasion I'm doing what I kept talking about but never had the courage for and posting the "official" Cowboy Ghost story, or at least the first chapter. If some of this looks familiar, it's because a lot of my initial posts in the au were straight from this draft
Thank you @ethereal-night-fairy for giving this a once over, you're the best ❤️
There’s plenty about small towns that you miss living in the big city. The lack of bars is not one of those things. At least your friends don’t seem to be complaining. Anything to take the edge off the hours you’d spent in the car. One of the girls laughs pushing at another’s arm, the table is littered with empty shot glasses and half drunk beers. You glance back at the room over your shoulder, eyes darting to find a tray you could pile some of this on to make the bartender’s life easier. It’s dimly lit, as all dives are, and may as well have a sign hung up boasting about how flammable it is with all the wood in here. Wood tables and chairs, wood bar, wood floor, wood walls, you wouldn’t be surprised if the mirror over the back of the bar was wood too.
Still, you’re happy to be home. You miss small town living, miss the farm. You’ve been an accountant long enough, lost the calluses on your hands and you’re ready to dive back in. You’ll have to report to your daddy’s ranch earlier than the sun once morning rears its ugly head. You may as well have some fun, enjoy your last night of freedom before breaking your back breaking horses. And lucky you it’s the start of planting season, plenty of fresh blood in the water.
It’s good timing really. You know everyone in town too well, and the last thing you need is for word to get back to your daddy that you slept with the McKennan boy or worse. No, seasonal help is the best choice for a one night stand. No one you know that knows you(or your father). You glance around the bar, plenty of faces you don’t recognize. No one interesting though. No one that seems like they’d give you anything good. Mackayla already has a hat fixed square on her head, a cowboy coo-ing at her like she’s the luckiest girl in the bar.
Your eyes hit the man hunched against the bar. An unfamiliar face, a dark black hat, and denim stretched tight over his thick thighs. He’s got a good build, broad shoulders, thick fingers that dwarf the long neck in his hand, biceps you could sink your teeth into… You can’t see his face, but there’s an air about him that screams “leave me alone”. That plus the way he keeps to himself says he doesn’t know anyone or care to. Perfect. You toss the last of your bourbon back and toss a few bucks on the table.
“I’m gonna snag a cowboy,” You tell your friends, “Don’t wait up.”
You earn a few thumbs ups, a whistle and a “get it” that makes you laugh, before turning to snag the spot next to your man in black at the bar. You lean against the bar to catch his eye, standing close as you push your chest out, and tip your head. They’re brown, you think, warm like liquor and kept steadfastly forward. Must be having a staring contest with his own reflection. There’s a mask too. A black swath of fabric with a jaw bone painted onto it covering half his face. That explains why you couldn’t get a good look at him across the bar.
“So-” You start, only to be cut off.
Your cowboy holds up a twenty neatly folded between his fingers without even looking at you, "How much is it gonna cost to get you to leave me alone?" He asks, the bass rumble of his voice making you all the more sure of your decision. You glance from the skeletal mask to the black Stetson tipped low over his eyes.
"The hat."
"Not for sale."
“Not even just for tonight?” You ask, feeling buzzed and bold as you lean against the bar. There’s the slightest turn of his head as he looks at you. The warm brown of his eye as it peaks from under the shadow of his brim hits you better than any shot could. His gaze drags over you, and you let it, feeling his eyes settle on the way you push your tits out, then trace down over your hip. Your skin prickles with warmth, your stomach fluttering excitedly. He drags those lovely brown eyes back to meet yours and hums, looking back at the mirror.
“How about a drink,” He says, motioning for the bartender.
“How about two,” You grin, his mask shifts, his eyes crinkling a little at the edges, “What are you drinking?”
“Piss,” He says, pushing his mask up enough to get a swallow of his beer. He’s funny in a dry sort of way, you’d laugh if you weren’t so entranced by his lips against the bottle. You rip your eyes off him when he pulls the mask back into place. You gotta get this man a decent drink. You press up onto your toes to lean across the bar and talk to the bartender.
“Are the Sisters still making hooch?” You ask, the tender nods and grabs two shot glasses for you. You settle back on your feet, feeling the pleasant weight of your companion’s gaze dragging over you. You wait as the glasses are filled with 2oz of the only thing you missed on the coast. Well, maybe not the only thing. A glass of crystal moonshine is set in front of each of you. Your cowboy’s fingers pinch around the sides of the shot, his hand dwarfing the glass as his other hand tugs at his mask. You both tap your shots to the bar before throwing them back. You shake your head at the burn as he lets out a cough.
“Oh that is dead,” He says, lord his voice is so thick when it’s pleased. Rumbling nicely in his throat, you’re desperate to see what it tastes like.
“So,” You draw his eyes back to your face with just one word, “What’s a Manchester boy doing in this shithole?”
He lets out a breath through his teeth, flicking the brim of his hat back to get a better look at you. His eyes make you warm all over in a way that alcohol never could. “Manchester, huh-” He motions for another shot, “You even know where that is, Princess?”
Oh the way he says it, so deep and condescending, but inquisitive, makes a shiver run down your spine. You’d do anything to hear him call you that again. Including answering his question with the minimum amount of sass.
“North of Birmingham, west of Sheffield. Do you need my footie team too before you to take me home?” You smile, tapping your refilled shot against his before downing it. His fingers hesitate on his glass as he looks at you, eyes following your tongue as you lick the last drop of moonshine off your lips.
He reaches up and takes off his hat, settling it on your head. It’s big and warm, and sits just a little too low on you, but you don’t care, it’s his. His claim on you. He takes his shot clean, pulling his mask back up as he tosses far too much cash on the bar and grabs your hand.
You barely get to his truck before you’re pressed against it, his hands gripping your face as he presses his lips to yours. Too eager to remember he’s gotta pull his mask off first apparently. It’s warm and cotton-y. Not that you mind. You laugh, feeling bubbly from the moonshine, as he growls and rips his mask off before kissing you again.
And oh, he’s good with his mouth. You can tell by the slide of his lips, the way he holds your face just the way he wants to. His tongue presses against the seam of your lips and you open eagerly for him, letting him taste the cheap sugary booze you’d been sipping before you saw him. He licks into your mouth, skimming your teeth before twisting his tongue against yours in a way that makes you shiver. His mouth is warm and wet, and he groans when you suck on his tongue. You want to hear that sound for the rest of your life. He tips your head back and back, his hat held to your head by the closed cab door as he crowds you against his truck forcing you to take everything he gives you.
Your chest is warm and you can feel your blood pumping want through to your fingertips as you twist them into his shirt. You want to be drunk on him, want to feel your head spin as your thoughts turn to cotton. You think this is the best decision you’ve ever made. Especially when his hands leave your face to grab your hips, his leg wedged between yours. He drags your hips to grind against his thigh, all hard muscle and oh you can feel him. The hard line of his cock just at the apex of your movements. It makes all your heat drop to pool between your legs. Mm, he was absolutely a good decision.
“What am I screaming for you?” You murmur, between kisses, desperate to know your cowboy’s name.
“Simon,” He tells you, ducking to mouth at your neck. “Simon,” he says it again, bites it into your skin, like he’s reminding himself.
“Simon,” you sigh, enjoying the way saying his name makes his hold on you tighten.
He works your hips against his thigh, his lips sucking at your neck before his teeth dig into the blooming bruises. There’s something animal and desperate in his movements, something that speaks to a man who hasn’t had a woman in a long time. Good. You want all that pent up stress, all the need, that he can muster. You make a soft noise at the twitch of your hips, the tingle of need in your own body starting to soak your panties. It’s only when you start to feel that same wetness soaking the denim scraping your thighs that Simon pulls away.
“You drive stick?” He asks, the warmth of his iris consumed by dark black. You tip your head, pull him back to brush his lips against yours. You want him to keep kissing you, his lips just on the right side of chapped and his tongue exploratory. You hold onto his face until he grabs your wrists and pulls you off. “Manual, Princess. Want you in my bed before I fuck ya.”
“Yeah, yeah,” You murmur, eyes fixed on his mouth, “I can drive stick.”
Simon pulls you away from where you’ve been plastered against the truck cab and opens the door. You squeak when he picks you up and sets you on the seat. Your eyes dart to the wet patch on his jeans, then to check out his ass when he leans down to grab his mask off the gravel. Damn.
You pull your door closed as Simon pulls himself into the driver's side of the cab, turning the ignition and switching gears. You always liked the click of the gear shift, but now the engine thrums in your blood, a heady promise of what’s to come. Simon grabs your hand from where it’s settled on your thigh to hold it under his on the gear shift. He shifts up a gear, then drops his hand to your thigh. His hand is big and warm, a bear’s paw gripping your leg, digging his fingers into your skin. You’re glad Amanda convinced you to wear a skirt.
“You shift when I tell you, alrigh’?” Simon asks, one hand sliding under the edge of your skirt as the other turns the wheel to leave the bar's parking lot. You nod quickly, your fingers tight on the stick shift as his skate across the edge of your panties. One thick finger tip drags along your sopping slit, feeling you through your underwear. He gives you the next gear and you pull the shift with a shaky hand, rushing to accommodate him, to show how well you follow directions(to not get the both of you killed if the engine stalls). His fingers don’t move, giving you space as you shift in your seat.
It’s different when you lean back against the seat again. His fingers press against you properly, teasing you through your panties with his thumb against your clit. The feeling of cotton against the sensitive bud, wet and cool from the night air, makes you whine, and push your hips towards his touch. Simon chuckles from the driver’s seat and you feel a wave of heat rush over you.
“Spread your legs love,” He orders, you’re quick to comply, going a step further to shuck your panties so he can touch you properly. After all, you’ve never been one to disregard an order that directly benefits you. Simon’s fingers touch you, spread your sticky slick folds with a pleased noise. He’s got calluses, you can feel the rough edges of them as he drags his fingers over you, and you follow the motion with a slight raise of your hips. “Eager thing, aren’t you?” Simon rumbles, you glance at him, at his lap. As if he’s one to talk.
His cock must be aching from pressing against his zipper like that. He says something you don’t hear, too busy trying to measure his bulge with your eyes. He smacks his fingers against your slit and you jerk your attention back to him. Shift down. Shift down, you can do that. You know how to do that.
Your clit tingles when his fingers find it, still aching from the smack and desperate for attention. Simon rolls it between his fingers, pinching it enough to be felt before rubbing at it. Then he’s up and down your slit, spreading your slick as it drools from your pussy, lubing his fingers to keep toying with you. You try to keep your mind on his words, try to keep your brain from giving in to the feeling of it. He doesn’t stop rubbing just because you need to shift gears, and it drives you mad.
One thick fingers pushes into your cunt and you whine. Your toes curl as you try to force yourself down against the shallow thrusts he pumps in and out of you. The drag of his callused finger against your walls warms in the pit of your stomach. It’s more than your finger’s ever been but it’s still not enough. You want to feel the stretch of him, you’re sure you’ll need it. The heel of his hand grinds against your clit, your hips following the feeling. He pulls away just enough to add a second finger and you moan.
The stretch is divine. Friction heat tugging at your entrance, pushing warmth through you with every pump. You do your best to fuck yourself on your cowboy’s fingers as the slick noise fills the cab of the truck. Your breathing is heavy, your whines turned to whimpers. He gives you just enough to make you eager for more. His fingers are slow and dutiful as they thrust into you, keeping you alert for his next command.
You try to reach for his cock, your fingers digging at his belt buckle. Only to have his fingers leave you, his firm hand wrapping around your wrist to put it back on the gear shift.
“Gotta be patient, Princess,” He tells you, “you want somethin’ you ask for it.”
Your fingers tighten, and you spread your legs a little wider. “Make me come,” You tell him, because you don’t think he can do it at this angle, with his eyes on the road.
“Good girl.” The praise shoots through you like lightening, your nerves on fire when his fingers push back into you. Slow and steady is gone, replaced by a pace that makes your head spin. Simon’s fingers curl, hitting the soft spongy spot near your entrance until you’re seeing stars. There’s a tightness in your belly, and a heat that washes over your cunt. He keeps his attention on your hole, your tingling clit ignored in favor of punishing your cunt for your attitude.
He doesn’t let up when he asks you to down shift. Your brain mush, your hips squirming as your muscles try to figure out what they’re supposed to be doing. You barely manage to get down to the next gear before you’re consumed by the raging heat and tightness his fingers fuck into you. Your whimpers are full blown moans, his name on your lips as you attempt to find the brain cells to beg for him to let you come. It’s all too much, too tight. You can hear the wet squelch of his fingers louder than the blood rushing in your ears, louder than the rumble of the engine.
You feel wet, something dribbling over your cunt, as your head tips back to account for your eyes rolling. Your back arches and all your muscles shudder as Simon’s fingers work you through the slip-splash of wetness. He only slows enough for you to get your bearings. Just enough for you to take in the wetness on the dashboard and soaking the fingers he raises to your mouth. Another downshift, your eyes fixed on him more than the scenery, your tongue swirling around his fingers.
Simon’s fingers leave your mouth to settle over your hand on the gear shift as you hit a gravel road. It’s so dark out, you could be anywhere, but Simon promised you a bed, and you don’t think a murderer would make you come before killing you. The truck is thrown into park, the engine switched off, your brain catches up just in time for Simon to open your door and pull you out. You’re tugged into a little house, and almost as quickly as the door is closed behind you, you’re set on your knees.
It’s dark in here too, but you can hear the rustle of denim, the groan of a man freeing his hard cock. You know your eyes will adjust, you’re already starting to make out the shadows of moonlight streaming in through the window, but you’re dying to see the monster you’d seen straining against his jeans. Simon’s hand finds your cheek, cupping your jaw as his thumb brushes your lower lip.
“Open your mouth love,” He murmurs, “Lemme feel your tongue.”
You follow his command too eagerly. His shadow leans over you, huge in the darkness, and his tongue drags against yours before he pulls back and spits on it. Your breath stops short, your stomach flipping as it starts to kindle a new heat. Simon’s cock slaps against your tongue. It feels heavy, uncut, the skin soft and salty. He drags it over your tongue, barely dipping into your waiting mouth, lubing himself on his own spit. Your head goes a little fuzzy at the thought. Your cheeks burn with humiliation, your cunt aching between your legs. As if he didn’t just get you off all over his truck.
It’s worth a little embarrassment for the way Simon groans at the feeling of your lips wrapping around his cock. He’s heavy on your tongue, weight against your jaw as he feeds you his cock. Inch by inch, so slow you can drag your tongue over the veins that thrum under his skin. Just the taste of him makes you want to buck your hips, and you reach to settle your hands on his thighs when he hits your gag reflex.
He stills, your fingers digging into muscle and coarse hair. You take steadying breaths through your nose before pushing your head down again. Something bright and ringing like a bell in your head is desperate to know where he stops, to feel him stretching out your throat. You have to swallow, shake your head to find the spot that doesn’t make you gag, not that Simon seems to mind. You think he likes when you pull back, gasping, so you can spit on his fat length and try again. Sucking and bobbing your head as you take him deeper and deeper is the least you can do for this man. That doesn’t mean you don’t feel a swell of pride when your nose finally buries itself in the curls at the base of his cock.
Simon’s hand comes around to cup the back of your head, holding you there. You glance up at him, his eyes shining in the low light. “Good fucking girl,” He growls out, “Just made to take my cock aren’t ya?”
You hum around his length, roll your tongue against him as best you can. His fingers grip your hair and pull you back, your spit slicking his length even with just moonlight setting the room aglow. Simon holds you at the tip, letting you circle it with your tongue, sucking and swallowing down the pre-come that drools from him. Simon’s hips buck, a soft swear dropping from his lips as you take the unexpected inch. His hand leaves the back of your head, fixing his hat where it’s started to tip off you and gripping the sides of your head. You lean back to look up at him, blinking the static of dark vision from your eyes.
“Gonna fuck this pretty face,” Simon tells you, his voice rough, like his vocal cords have been dragged through gravel. Despite the lack of tone, you know it’s a question, one you give a short nod to.
The first thrust of his hips is gentle, testing. You breathe through your nose, let him get acquainted with your gag reflex as you get used to the in and out feeling. Simon holds your head still, inching his cock deeper into your throat with each thrust. You hold your tongue flat against the underside of his heavy length, feeling the pulse of blood, the twitch of muscle as he works himself faster and deeper.
Your throat constricts and Simon pauses, before his hands yank you sharply, bypassing your gag and nestling you at the base of his cock. Your eyes water, your nose starting to run as your throat works around the intrusion. He stretches your throat around his thick cock, you can feel the press of him, uncomfortable but dripping warmth down your spine. Simon pulls you off, and you gasp, suck in a breath as you watch spit string between your lips and his cock. You get one good breath in before he’s fucking your face in earnest.
You whine around the fat cock testing the ache in your jaw as Simon’s hips snap against your lips. His balls slap against your chin, heavy and already pulling tight. You do your best to keep your mouth open, lips sucking at him as he moves. There’s an ache between your legs, a voice in the back of your mind that wishes it was your pussy getting this treatment. You can only imagine how deeply he’d hit you, the stretch of your lips around his cock making you prickle with ideas of the way he’d split your cunt open.
Simon pulls back with a low groan, and come hits your tongue before he’s pushing back in. You blink the tears from your eyes, swallowing as best you can as he comes down your throat. It’s a lot, enough that your hands leave his thighs to cup under your chin, waiting to catch the drool and spend that you’re sure is dripping from between your lips. Warm and bitter, you wonder what he’s been eating since he came to town, if he needs someone to put vegetables on his plate. He pulls his cock out of your mouth and you tip your head back, swallowing the hot come still on your tongue. You open your mouth, tongue out to let him see that you’re empty.
Simon is silent. Something in his shining eyes seems to mirror yours. His thumb strokes over your tongue, with a hum that makes you think he’s got something on his mind. It feels almost sweet, almost affectionate, as his fingers stroke over your jaw. He crouches in front of you, and his hands leave you, only to reappear on your waist, pulling you up and over his shoulder as he stands with nothing more than a grunt. His shoulder is broad and warm under your stomach, you drag your hands up the corded muscles of his back and feel a pulse of attraction thrum through the heat simmering in your stomach. Fuck, he’s strong.
You’re tossed onto what must be his bed. You bounce on the mattress and attempt to get your bearings in the low light. Simon’s hat tumbles off your head, and you glance about in the darkness for it. The lamp next to the bed clicks on and you flinch at the sudden rush of light. The wash of warm light is too much after so long in the dark, but you’re faster adjusting to this than the darkness. Simon settles a hand on your thigh, pulling you close as he settles on the bed beside you.
“On me love,” He murmurs and you drag your eyes to his face, “wanna see when you ride my face.”
Oh. He isn’t wearing his mask. His eyes are desperate, brows drawn low to shadow the watery browns that stare at you. His nose looks like it’s been broken one too many times, and there’s a scar running across his lips that tugs a little too much of his teeth into such a pretty picture. There’s something soft to him though, something aching in the length of his jaw that makes you want to hold him close. You must hesitate, must take too long looking at him.
“Tongue still works,” He teases you, the pink muscle dragging over the split in his lip, his teeth.
“You’re awfully pretty to be wearing a mask,” You smile, moving to settle your knees on either side of his ears. (Big enough ears you think he must’ve had to grow into them) Simon hums, his hands coming to grip your thighs and pull you down against his mouth. You can see pink starting to creep over his cheeks even as his tongue drags along your slit. The thought that Simon must not take compliments easily is erased from your mind as his lips close around your clit and suck hard.
The electric feeling jerks through your body. So much time on your knees worshiping a cock that should have been splitting you open left you buzzing and now you’re getting some well deserved relief. Simon’s tongue is hot as it splits your folds, wiggling to lap at the slick you’d been drooling before rolling against your clit. Each touch to the sensitive bud sends another zap of pleasure ripping up your spine. You whimper, your chest heaving with breaths you hardly have the chance to take with the way he sucks at you. One of Simon’s hands leaves you, fishing around on the bed beside you. You frown down at him, pout really, until you feel his hat settle on your head again.
“Gotta keep your- your claim on me?” You ask, though you don’t think your tone is quite right. Simon hums under you, a groan of assent. He tips his head, dragging long strokes of his tongue over your slit. You’re too worked up already, his mouth feels like a furnace, his tongue touches you like a brand. Your hips move on their own, following the course of Simon’s tongue, your clit bumping against his nose as you grind yourself against his mouth. Your fingers hold your skirt up out of the way, you may as well be planning to shred the thing with how tightly your fingers dig into the fabric.
Simon stares up at you, his eyes closing with a satisfied groan as you grind a little more firmly against his tongue. Having his attention on you like this makes your stomach clench. You can feel his smile, feel his teeth just graze over your clit, teasing before he’s sucking at it. You squeeze his head between your thighs, half formed praises on your tongue as you feel your muscles start to tremble from the strain of your tightening orgasm.
The longer he licks you the less you can hear your own thoughts, too consumed by the satisfied groans and slurping sounds between your legs. Simon eats you like a starving man getting his first meal. His hands move to grab your ass, kneading the soft flesh between his fingers, and spreading you open just to feel you. Your slick is smeared over his mouth, smeared over your thighs where his stubble has dragged it across your skin. You feel wet and warm, your cunt tingling on the edge of your second orgasm of the night. His tongue wiggles its way into your hole and you break.
“Fuck me.” You whine, your words almost sobs as he shakes his head. You’re not sure if it’s a demand or simply a needy expletive. It doesn’t stop Simon from sucking your clit hard, his tongue swirling around the bud until your back arches and the tension in your stomach bleeds out in a rush of shivers and moans. Your pleasure coursing through you as Simon licks and sucks at your cunt until you’re jerking at the new sensitivity.
Simon holds your hips, drags you down to sit on his stomach, the firm muscle flexing as your legs are forced further apart by the sheer width of the man. He drags your sensitive pussy against his stomach, letting the blond hair tickle your clit. You pout, settle your hands on his chest to hold yourself steady with even when your muscles still shiver with every twitch of your hips.
His fingers grip the bottom of your shirt when you demonstrate you can grind by yourself. Simon tugs it up over your head and you happily assist in undressing. He’s quicker with your bra, unhooking the clasp before you can shrug the straps off. Simons big hands come up to cup your breasts, thumbs rolling over your nipples. The touch is firm, appreciative, he squeezes the soft skin and you whine.
“Lemme ‘ear it again, Princess.” Simon rumbles. You can feel his voice low in his chest. His hands drop back to your hips to guide you. You don’t need to think to know what he’s asking.
“Fuck me Simon,” You breath, leaning to kiss him. You pull your tongue over his lips, tip your head to clean your come off his face. His mouth opens to catch your tongue, pushing his own to meet yours as you dip it between his lips. His hands raise your hips, angling you to notch his cockhead against your entrance.
You know this part, know the press of your hips down onto him, the breathless anticipation as he slowly stretches you. You must have forgotten how big he was on your tongue. You drop your head to rest your forehead against Simon’s cheek, the stretch of just his head making your eyes start to roll. His fingers stroke down your back, a comfort as you ease yourself down his length. Your every breath feels like it’s softened by a moan. The stretch of him burning against your entrance, his cock dragging against your gummy walls. You feel so tight around him you can feel the curve of his dick, the veins that line it, the ridge of his thick head.
Your legs still shake from your orgasm. If it weren’t for Simon’s hands holding you, you would’ve sunk down to the base of his cock just from the inability to hold yourself up. You attempt to push yourself up from the way you’ve cuddled close to your cowboy, and he holds you tight. The hand which had been petting down your back presses firm between your shoulders, his other arm wrapping over your him. You wonder- and then he thrusts the rest of his fat length into you and you don’t wonder anything else.
You all but collapse on his chest, his arm tight on the small of your back, arches your hips up as you bury your face against his neck. You can feel the mattress dip where he plants his feet before you feel the drag of his cock out of you, and the sweet friction of it sliding back home inside you. You dig your teeth into Simon’s shoulder, the scarred skin dipping under your bite as he fucks up into you.
Each stroke of his cock is like a punch in your stomach. The stretch of your cunt around him, his cockhead hitting your sweet spot every time it nudges your entrance, only adds to the devastating length of him. Your eyes roll, your voice tight when you have the air to let it escape you. He hits something inside you that almost hurts with how good it feels, the electricity of it shivering up your spine and tightening your muscles. You squeeze your eyes shut and try to push your hips back into the feeling.
“Tha’s it, sweet’eart,” Simon murmurs in your ears, “Jus’ like that.”
You whine at the praise, at the groan that follows it. He keeps you held so tightly against him, your nipples dragging against his firm chest with each thrust. You try to kiss at his neck, lips parting to pant with each pull of his cock. He fills you so full and deep you can hardly think. You’ve never had anyone hold you like this, never had anyone fuck you with the same sort of intense desperation. Simon’s lips press to your temple, his hips snapping to meet your weak thrusts with the wet squelching sounds of pleasure following.
Trying to draw a full breath is too much, you moan and squeak against Simon’s skin. Your lips travel over the scarred flesh, your teeth desperate to mark, to hold onto something as your fingers curl against his firm chest. There’s nothing for you to do but hold on and let this man take his pleasure from your body. Your hips stutter, the pleasure hitting you too tightly to keep your muscles moving. The tension in your muscles doesn’t stop Simon’s movements. His groans turn to growls, his lips moving with silent praise as he pistons into your clenching cunt.
The drag of his skin against your soft walls, the burn of friction, coupled with the deep punch of his cock drives you to the edge and holds you there. Every twitch and movement making sparks of pleasure light up your skin. Your muscles shake with the burn of contraction, the ache of being split open. Your cunt burns with desperate heat, and you snake one of your hands down to rub tight circles over your clit. It doesn’t take much for you to fall apart. Your cunt flutters, sucking at Simon’s cock as the attention to your clit shoots up your spine and melts over your muscles. You fall apart, and just as sincerely you fall against Simon’s chest, panting and whimpering his name on every stroke.
He fills you fast, his cock stilled inside your cunt as you feel it twitch. Heat fills you, burns you, marks you from the inside. Simon moans low in the back of his throat. He gives a few short thrusts, enjoying the clutch of your pussy, as you settle into the floating feeling of satisfaction. He pulls out and you feel his come drip out of your hole, sliding through your folds to pool against his softening cock.
"What is your favorite footie team?" Simon asks once he's found his breath. You yawn, wiggling to cuddle against him.
"Reds," You murmur, and hear him snort out a short laugh.
"Liverpool?"
"Can't all be Man U fans," You sigh, and Ghost thinks your voice must be like honey the way it sticks to his mind, "Someone's gotta win games."
Ghost bites down his smile, feeling the way you unspool against him. Your body going lax and your breathing evening out. Do you trust him so readily that you'd fall asleep like this? You barely know him, hell he doesn't even know your name, but here you are.
“Gonna keep you,” He tells you, it feels like speaking sin into the world, tainting this perfect thing that's fallen into his lap, but he's too greedy to care, “Not le’in’ you go, can’t.”
You don’t answer him with anything more than a half asleep hum. Your lashes flutter against his skin, your face pressed against his neck. Wrapped around him with all the comfort he could ask for. Ghost swallows, turns his head to press his lips to your temple, breathing in the scent of your shampoo and the sweat of sex. Such a pretty thing to fall into his arms so willingly. You compliment him too well, know what he wants before he asks for it. He’d be a fool to let you go. No, he’s keeping you, you’re the sort of girl men chase after with wedding rings, and he can already hear the bells ringing for him.
#cod x reader#x reader#simon ghost riley#x oc#cod x oc#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost mw2#ghost x reader#simon riley#simon riley x reader#simon riley x you#simon riley x oc#oc: goose#cowboy au#cowboy!ghost#cowgirl!reader#f!reader#minors do not interact
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IT'S NAHU TIME 🎉
More info on him below <3
Name: Nahu
Age: 24
Hair color: Orangish-pink
Eye color: Dark teal
Element: Darkness/Dragon
Nahu is THE boy of all time. He's lovable. He's STOOPID. He's absurdly powerful. He's really chill unless you mess with his friends, then he goes apeshit. He's got a boyish charm that every single member of his group is attracted to. He's the official leader of the group and they would do ANTYHING for him 🥺 He's got the sort of qualities that just naturally draw people in and make him someone worth following. He's got that sort of selfish selfless aspect that makes it so he does what he wants (a very "marches to the beat of his own drum" personality) but it always ends up benefiting other people somehow. He doesn't see the world in black and white; if someone is in trouble he'll do anything to help them even if they end up becoming his enemy down the line--that's just the kind of guy he is :"D He's not the type of person to hesitate, and this usually ends up getting him in trouble as he tends to dive into things headfirst without stopping to think, AKA he has no impulse control whatsoever so he's a walking danger magnet. He'll do things his own way and his friends have learned that there's no point in arguing against his decisions bc he'll turn around and do it anyway! They've gotten used to it at this point but sometimes they still question the way his mind works lmao
Despite the fact that he's kind of dense, he's shockingly perceptive when it counts, able to cut through right to the heart of things. Being a dragon elemental probably helps with that since it heightens his senses and makes him hyper aware of others and their true feelings. In the case of Ione this proves especially helpful since Nahu really doesn't have the attention span to properly learn sign language but he generally gets the gist of what Ione is trying to say even if he doesn't understand her entirely. This leads to interesting situations where Ione will say something and mean something completely different, and only Nahu can pick up on that due to being able to read her emotions better ;)
Again he's fiercely loyal, especially to his friends--he views any sort of betrayal on their behalf the ultimate sin, and will fight with his life to protect them. He's got an unwavering belief in all of them, even if the situation seems dire or if they lie to him for his own safety. He loves them like his family and will sacrifice anything for their happiness 😭 This leads to him being very stubborn in some cases.
Nahu has zero knowledge of what personal space is so he’s up in his squad’s business ALL the time. Which they get used to pretty quickly, since he’s so physically affectionate. His favorite thing to do is press his forehead against whoever he happens to be clinging to at the time. Whenever a new member joins and they happen to see Nahu doing the forehead touch they’re like oh hello what?? 😳 Nahu does this most often with Ezio bc Ezio was the first one to join up with him and is the most familiar with his affection. (Also it’s really fucking funny to just imagine Ezio, who is SO stoic and straight faced all the time, casually leaning into Nahu’s touch and knocking their foreheads together. They make me ill) Eventually it becomes a comfort thing for all of them. Since Nahu’s their leader whenever they’re unsure he’ll just look at them and KNOW and come over and lean his forehead against theirs and it’s so soft...
He loves exploring, viewing visiting any sort of new place and just traveling in general as a grand adventure. This leads him to dragging along other members of his group with him even if they protest :"D But it usually leads to something fun happening anyway!
When he was a child, Nahu was very close with another girl his age. They made many plans together, including growing up and going out on adventures, but unfortunately the girl had a terminal illness and passed away (in his arms, no less). This, in turn, triggered Nahu's magic to go out of control, causing the black "stains" on his arms that are basically an irreversible manifestation of his darkness magic. He was a bit self conscious of the way his arms looked at first but now he’s totally chill with it (and. When he uses his powers dragons scales sprout on his arms and glow and it’s sick as hell.)
Due to the trauma of his friend's death, whenever someone in his friend group gets sick, Nahu freaks out and mother hens to the extreme. Generally he's a very carefree person so it's always very jarring for them to see him so worried (since he's always got the utmost confidence in them too). He's just not the worrying type! They end up having to take care of him more than the other way around. It's very sweet (but also sad considering the reason behind it).
Nahu hasn't cried once since before his childhood friend died, and honestly he really hasn't taken the time to come to terms with her death, instead choosing to ignore any mention of it entirely. It's just trauma he's never recovered from, and he stubbornly refuses any attempt in bringing it up, even to his squad. This has definitely caused some tension between him and the girl's father, who just wants Nahu to accept her death so he can move on :"( Nahu just doesn't want to accept it. Despite him being very open with his emotions this is the one case where he keeps a very tight lid on them. When he cries for the first time in front of his friends they flip their SHIT because they've never seen him cry before.
I haven't hashed out too much of his own personal goals yet; I can say tho that he's searching for his mother who disappeared when he was still a baby. His father is a famous adventurer who kinda took off on him as well so he grew up under the care of several others. Nahu's never held this against his father; he's not really the type to care much about that. Instead he finds his father's dream-chasing adventures to be quite inspiring, which eventually leads to him making the decision to leave on his own and find his mom.
Anyway I love him he is THE baby boy ever send tweet
#Among the Stars#ATS#Original character#Original#Art#Fantasy#Character design#Character sheet#OC art#Digital art#Dragon#Shima arts#Shima's OCs#Nahu#shima-draws
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obsessed with you [pazzi]
paige bueckers x azzi fudd
summary: a fluffy little blurb inspired by the charity event today and how fucking good azzi looked
word count: 500
masterlist
“I-” Paige peppered kisses down Azzi’s neck. “Can’t-” another kiss on her collarbone. “Get-” she was moving Azzi’s button up now, letting it fall off the younger girl’s shoulder so she could access the sweet expanse of skin on her neck - “Enough of you.”
Azzi threw her head back and laughed, unable to hold back the giggles from the ticklish feeling of Paige’s lips as well as the pure giddiness she felt whenever she was near the girl.
“Obsessed with me, huh?” Azzi joked, reaching to slide her palms against the softness of Paige’s cheeks.
Paige leaned in closer. “You have no idea,” she breathed, sneakily trying to slip her hands under Azzi’s white top and pouting when her hands got slapped away.
“You do know we’re in the bathroom of a charity event for kids,” Azzi chastised.
“I knowww,” Paige complained. “But you jus got home last night and now I gotta share you with everyone? Life’s so unfair.” She fisted the pink material of Azzi’s button up and pulled her in even closer.
Azzi rolled her eyes fondly at Paige’s clingliness. “I was only gone for three days,” she reminded, her hands tracing a path down Paige’s body, relishing in the familiarity of her curves and the warmth of her skin.
“But it’s felt like a month.” Paige pressed her mouth against Azzi’s, savoring the pillowy feeling of her lips. She took Azzi’s bottom lip between her top and bottom teeth, giving it a gentle bite and tugging before pulling away.
Azzi inhaled, letting her facial expression morph into something more serious. “We gotta get used to the distance, though,” she said, eyes searching Paige’s. “It’s gonna get a lot harder when you get drafted.”
Paige looked away. “I know,” she sighed, letting her hands drop from her girlfriend’s body.
“Hey.” Azzi wrapped her hands around Paige’s, bringing it to her chest. She grazed her lips against Paige’s knuckles. “We got it.”
Paige’s eyes fluttered close, wishing she could stay in this little bubble forever, with Azzi giving her the most gentle kisses and looking at her in a way that made her heart clench and knees weak. But the murmur of the people chatting outside thrust her back into reality.
“We should probably head back,” Paige said with a half smile. “Or else they’re gonna start wondering.” She adjusted Azzi’s button up, pulling the shirt back over her shoulders while letting her touch linger for longer than necessary.
Later, as Paige watched Azzi interact with the kids, laughing at their silly jokes and making Tiktoks with them, she knew that she was too far gone. She couldn’t remember a time where she hadn’t been in love with this girl, her goofy best friend that had her completely and utterly whipped, and she didn’t want to.
“You’re staring again,” Ice whispered in her ear as she observed the blonde gazing fondly as Azzi put a lei around a little girl’s neck.
“I’m gonna marry her someday,” Paige whispered back.
Ice’s face split into a smile. “I have no doubt.”
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heyyy! just wanted to say i LOVED ur “much needed reminder” fic. i was wondering if u could do a fic for han? an “best friends older brother” or “older brothers best friend” type of thing. kind of specific but also with spit kink involved? just an ask!! 🤍🤍🐿️🐿️
hi!! I'm glad you enjoyed it :'''') it's actually one of the fics I'm least confident about haha.. anyways, hope you enjoy!! <3
Anime Night
˚ʚHan Jisung x fem!Readerɞ˚
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ summary: You join your older brother and his best friend Jisung on their weekly anime night. But the younger boy seems to have other plans with yoy besides watching anime.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ word count: ~2.1k
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ warnings: fem reader, reader is Minho's younger sister, voyeurism, fingering, spit kink(hope i did it justice ><), kinda but not really rough sex?, accidental creampie, oh and you know what’s also so hot that isn’t blatantly mentioned? CONSENT. Wowowowow so sexy. You should make sure you practice consent. :)
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ notes: i wrote this in a college pov where everybody still lives with their parents (so reader and min live together with their parents and ji lives with his parents but they’re in school)
Sorry if the end was too rushed <3 I'm in a lot of back pain so i don’t feel like i proofread it well lol
DO NOT republish or translate+post my work!
“Pleeeeease!!! You always hog him to yourself! I want to hang out with Sungie too!” Your arms cross over your arm and you angrily pout. You hear the sweet laugh of the boy in question, but you stay focused on your older brother in front of you.
“Yeah, no shit. ‘Cause he’s my friend?” He rolls his eyes, continuing to carry multiple bags of chips to the living room while Jisung follows behind closely with popcorn. “You’re just gonna bother him. AND me for that matter.”
“I don’t care. He would be my friend too if you weren’t such a little bitch about it.” Minho’s eyes narrow at you and you stick your tongue out at him, flipping him the bird for good measure. He makes a disgusted face in response and you watch as his lips part to say something only for Jisung to interrupt him through laughs.
“It’s okay, hyung, she can join. She won’t bother me I promise.”
Minho turns to his friend with an uncertain look on his face, almost denying the boy and resisting even farther until the boy smiles at him cutely.
“Ugh. Fine.. But she’s eating out of your snacks. NOT mine!!”
You squeal and run up to your brother, giving him a hug before running off to your room to change. “THANKS MINNIE!!”
You return shortly after in your favorite pajama shorts and shirt set, happily skipping down the hallway towards the living room again. You stop in your tracks at the sight of Jisung, his bottom lip is caught between his teeth as he focuses on the streaming service. You realize you must have been staring for a while because he turns to you curiously, smiling and giggling when a blush forms on your face.
He’s sat in the middle of the couch, and he welcomingly pats the seat to his left with a soft smile. You smile back and nod, taking your seat and leaning your head on his shoulder. Your brother and him have been friends for a long time, so it’s not weird that you cuddle up to the younger boy. Sometimes even cuddling up to both of them when Min was in the right mood. So he leans back onto you, allowing you both to enjoy the warmth before you hear Minho’s footsteps returning. The younger boy looks down at you with a slight frown when you move away to grab your drink from Minho, but quickly forgets about it when a blanket is thrown at the back of his head.
“YA!”
After the two boys spend a few minutes bickering back and forth, they settle down and watch the show’s intro begin. The two of them sing the intro together, dramatically clutching each other, and you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face. You whisper a quiet “Dorks” under your breath and lean back into the couch to enjoy the rest of the intro.
Once the episode is finally starting, Minho hands you a bag of chips he knows you like and Jisung flings a blanket across both his and your lap. You thank them both, smiling to yourself and losing yourself in the animation.
It’s not long until you feel a cold hand ghost along your thigh. You acted normal on the outside and screamed internally until the hand stops to rest along your inner thigh. He feels you tense up and almost pulls his hands away, but then your thighs instinctively clench, unintentionally squeezing his hand between your thighs. In his peripheral vision, he sees you biting your lip with a small blush and it only gives him more confidence to move forward.
Throughout the years he had never gone this far. Only ever putting an arm around your shoulder in situations when he felt the need to protect you from other men people. His fingers stroke the inside of your thigh for some time, soothingly squeezing it anytime your legs jerked out of anxiety. As the episode goes on, his hand moves farther and farther up your thigh until he’s eventually tracing the hem of your underwear.
By the time the next episode is starting, your breaths have become heavy and your panties are sticking to your pussy. You swear he can tell. And you don’t mean to be getting horny like this, but when his hand keeps moving farther up your thigh with every celebration or booing of a scene, you can’t really help it.
About 10 minutes into the 2nd episode you feel his fingers breach your underwear. The tips of his fingers start to rub small circles onto your clit and it has you keening into your hand. You whip your head towards him and expect to see him looking at you, but instead you're met with his face still glued towards the screen, an amused grin now covering his features. The fingers on your clit push down harder and you sigh quietly, your eyes fluttering shut as he continues to mindlessly draw random shapes onto your sensitive bud.
Suddenly the sound of both men laughing out loud catches you off guard, your legs clamp shut around his hand in fear of being caught. He quickly pinches your inner thigh and you hesitantly open your legs again for him. Your eyes dart to Minho and you’re thankful for his eyes still being glued to the screen.
“Jisung…” You moan against his arm, attempting to get a little bit of his attention, but he silently puckers his lips to shush you. You frown and one of his fingers move down to slide against your folds, gathering and spreading your wetness before shoving itself into your warmth.
Your head rolls until it’s resting against the back cushion of the couch and he struggles to hold back a grin. You faintly hear them start discussing a fight scene that just happened, but your mind is so focused on the now two fingers that are slowing fucking you open so you don’t process any of it. You feel yourself getting closer and closer as the episode goes on, but when you feel yourself start to come undone Minho suddenly jumps to his feet.
Jisung’s hands fly away from you and you both look up at the oldest with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, very thankful for the way he is stretching his body and not paying any attention to either of you. “Alright, I’m heading to sleep. I bought the snack so I’m leaving the cleaning to you guys.” He sticks his tongue out before literally running off to his room.
The two of you sit there in silence, your heavy breathes filling the air as your hearts beat out of your chests. A nervous laugh from him breaks the silence, “That was scary as fuck.” The sudden speaking almost scares you shitless but it pulls a giggle from you and you nod in agreement, “Yea… holy shit.” He looks over at you and smiles, but suddenly rises to his feet and throws the blanket off of your lap, grabbing at the elastic of your shorts. You’re given no time to react before he pulls your underwear and shorts off in one swoop and throws them on the floor next to him.
“W-Wait! Ji?!?” You hissed and clamped your legs shut, “He’s gonna hear us!”
“That’s.. kinda the point? ‘M tired of hiding how hard you make me. Need you to finally be my pretty thing.” Your glossy eyes look up at him, and he feels his heart skip a beat when you make a sad face. “W-What?”
“Haha I thought it was obvious that I liked you? Now let me make you mine, ‘kay?” His voice gets deeper as he leans in, finally pushing his lips against yours. He uses the distraction to spread your legs apart, pushing them up so he can pull your ass to the edge of the couch. You take advantage of the new closeness and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and deepening the kiss.
He spreads you wider, trailing his hand back to your folds and running his fingers through them teasingly. You gasp into his mouth when two of his fingers sink back into you, starting off at a fast pace as they try to bring you back to the orgasm you got denied.
He pulls away for a moment and leans his forehead against yours, “Fuck, my baby…You look so pretty like this. You’re fucking perfect… I need you so bad.” You whine at the sudden praise and bite his lip desperately, wanting him to kiss you again. He moans loudly and you swear you can see his dick twitch against his sweats.
You watch in awe as he backs away from your face, allowing a big glob of spit to fall from his pretty pink lips that lands perfectly on your clit and trails down along your folds. You moan embarrassingly loud at the sight and he only smirks before putting his fingers back to work. His lips find yours again and his tongue trails along your bottom lip, pushing in and sloppily making out with you until he feels you clench around his fingers.
You pull away to throw your head back when his fingers start to move faster, gasping as your orgasm starts to hit you like a bus. Nothing but squelching sounds fill the living room as he finger fucks you through your high. He doesn’t stop for a while, and he honestly would have pushed you to cum again like this but you push him away in need of a breather.
You lift your head in time to see him shove his fingers into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you on his tongue. “As much as I wanna see your pretty lips wrapped around my cock, I think we can save that for next time. I need to fuck you right now or else I’ll actually fucking die..”
You laugh breathlessly and watch as he shoves his sweats down, not even bothering to take them off all the way before he pulls his dick out. You moan softly as he spits on your folds again and runs his tip through the wetness repeatedly. He only finally pushes in when you playfully smack his shoulder with a whine, and the stretch pulls a sigh from both of your lips, followed by a low growl from him. He thrusts a few times to test the waters before quickening his thrusts and pulling desperate moans from you that only egg him on, pushing him to slam his hips into yours even harder as he almost forgets about the boy down the hall.
“Shhhhh, you gotta stay quiet baby... If Min wakes up then I can’t keep fucking you.” He says so convincingly until he starts pounding into you roughly, pulling even louder sobs from your mouth. Your legs are quickly thrown over his shoulders and he doesn’t let up even once, instead watching with a sinful smirk as your fingers claw into the couch below you.
He fuck you like this until you start to clench around him, his eyes always shooting back and forth between your face and where he’s entering you. “Look at me, pretty baby. Open your mouth for me okay?” You open your mouth and stick your tongue out in response while holding eye contact, and he leans forward to allow more spit to fall from his mouth. This time it lands on your tongue, and he doesn’t even have to ask before you’re obediently swallowing.
His eyes roll into the back of his head and you feel his hips stutter against yours, “Fuck… Baby ‘m not gonna last. Especially when you’re so sweet..”
“J-Ji, please.. Love you-“
“I love you too baby. Now be good and cum for me, okay?” One of his hands goes down to messily rub back and forth on your clit and it sends you over the edge. You find yourself hiding in his neck and moaning against the skin there in an attempt to quiet your moans.
Then like that, you’re coming hard around him. He follows not long after, whining praises into your ear as he slows his thrusts. He moans lowly against your shoulder as he fills you to the brim, enjoying the warmth of it all until your voice breaks the silence.
“Fuck! Ji.. you came inside!” You hissed out, trying to keep your voice down while still out of breath.
He smirks down at you, pulling out and pressing a kiss to your forehead as he backs away. “Sorry baby, I couldn’t help myself. Don’t worry about it right now. Let’s get you cleaned up and in bed before Min comes out here and kills me.”
Taglist:
@jiminssluttyminx @changisworld @juskz @linohumina
#sian’s writing#stray kids smut#stray kids imagines#stray kids x reader#stray kids x reader smut#skz smut#skz imagines#skz x reader smut#skz x reader#han jisung smut#han jisung x reader#han jisung x reader smut#han jisung imagines#han smut#han x reader#han x reader smut#han imagines
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Maybe jj and and high school sweetheart wife
jj would definitely be the kind’ve guy that settles down early on in life & would not gaf.
you and jj would meet in your sophmore year of high school.
at first jj was a total player. he was known as the guy who got around , & only called the ‘bad boy’ because he just didn’t care about rules and smoked weed.
charming as always , though , when you and him are partnered for a random first week of school project — he’s immediately obsessed with you.
he thinks you’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen and he has to have you.
you make him work for it , though.
and he loves that you do.
when he finally gets to call you his girlfriend — he flips the script.
everyone’s shocked at how easy he settled down for you.
they’re even more shocked when the two of you are still together by graduation.
you guys became the most adored couple at kildare.
after high school things get a little difficult because you two are going into adulthood and try figuring things out.
you break up a couple times but it only last about a week before jj is back at your apartment apologizing even if it isn’t his fault because he knows you’re it for him.
a couple years after high school ends and you’re both entering your mid-twenties , he proposes.
it’s a super simple , romantic wedding with your closest friends and jj literally can’t stop crying.
his vows? like poetry.
he’s been working on those since junior year of highschool because he knew he’d end up marrying you.
jj would be so soft with you.
he brags to everyone he meets that two of you are high school sweethearts.
“yeah— me and my wife met back in high school and have been together ever since. crazy , right? isn’t that amazing? she’s amazing.”
“i got so lucky to have the most beautiful girl in the world.”
he thinks it’s so special the two of you grew from teenagers together to adults.
“i know her way back when she had braces and colored her hair when she cried. watched her go from my girl , to my woman. my wife.”
cries when he listens to “margaret” by lana del rey for the first time because it makes him think of you.
“that song is so fucking sick for making me feel this right now on a tuesday.”
jj makes sure to be the best partner and wants to have the family he didn’t get when he was younger.
#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank imagine#jj maybank#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron#outer banks imagines#outer banks#rafe cameron blurb#jj maybank fanfiction#jj maybank fluff#jj maybank headcanons#jj maybank asks#obx jj#jj obx#jj outer banks#jj x y/n#jj maybank x you
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Content: old headcanons, NSFW, MDNI, body worship, soft dom! Jing Yuan, female anatomy
-Anytime you cuddle in your bed with this soft man of a general, he will shed anything that weighs even an ounce too much. So that often leaves him in some thin lining of clothes, just enough to keep him warm and comfy, but even that can go further until both of you are naked and feeding off of each other’s body warmth
-For example, like right now. Two of you have barely seen each other much lately, both busy with your own journeys across the vast territory of Xianzhou Luofu. But finally he can feel your limbs intertwine. He would prop himself up onto his elbow to have more of a vantage point over you, with his other arm over your waist, slowly rubbing your soft skin with his thumbs. His eyes are so warm and full of this relaxing mirth that it’s hard to look away, it's hypnotic what this man can tell you just by looks and gazes. His loving gazes are only for you, just for you
-Then his eye catches onto a small mole on your skin and from there he brings his hand up to trace from it to the other skin mark, to the next and the next until his hands are softly massaging and rubbing all over you lovingly, his lips slowly following suit
-And you return the favor, tracing his chest and the few scars and moles he may have there. His pale skin is always such a pretty sight, especially in the dimmer lights of the swallowed sunlight. His hair even looks like beaten gold
-He doesn’t stop praising you. His words are mutters and whispers, half unfinished sentences interrupted with languid kisses he leaves over your skin. They’re endless and countless, and if he could keep awake that long, he’d kiss you until the end of times, and bit by bit he’s climbing on top of you, his kisses are becoming more fervent, seeking to devour you
-He would hold you close, kissing the crown of your head, and then his head would dip to your neck where you’re most sensitive, teasing you by licking and sucking. He would hum something absentmindedly, every now and then with a low rumble in his throat, but you can tell he is already beginning to get riled up, and that this teasing game won’t last long.
-Soft dom Jing is a sight for sore and lustful eyes that escapes the deepest depths of your dreams. The view of him towering over you, his chest muscles right there, one could say directly in your face but he loves to kiss you too much to distance his lips from yours. He has no need for ropes, unless you'd prefer it that way - otherwise he loves the skinship that comes with your little ministrations
-If he does anything, it's taking care of you. Not letting you catch a moment to breathe properly as he makes you get lost in the carnal pleasures of the body, stimulating all the weakest spots he knew of or the ones he just found out about. He's wearing that soft smirk, his eyes half lidded and heavy with lust that forms into sultry words on his tongue. His messy hair falls across his face, framing it and you can barely even bear the sight of him between your thighs, it’s too much.
-His hips chase yours, bucking into you and filling you with his cock, over and over again until he's pushed out every other thought out of your head, making your pretty head fuzzy and empty, aside from the thoughts of him. Nothing else matters but this warmth now. Just you and him.
-He's leaning down and kissing your neck, nibbling the marks he left previously in the valley over your breasts and over them, sucking on a reddened nipple
-Lazy thrusts of his hips make you crazy, craving for more and more, and he’s slowing down to hear you beg for his cock.
"Is this what you imagined when you said you wanted me? By the sounds you're making for me, I can't predict any other answer, mmm.. well, I'll tell you now.. this is all I could dream off the past few nights..."
"My love, you're so good..so good for me, aren't you? Ahh, that's it, just like that. Keep moving your hips, like so...mmhhmmm..mmm..ahhh..."
"Don't resist the feeling, sweetness. This is all for you, and it's no punishment...let it go.. I'm right here, ah...with you...ghhh.."
Ⓒ starrydragoness. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.
#-dragon.delight#jing yuan#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan x you#jing yuan smut#jing yuan x yn#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#jing yuan imagine#jing yuan headcanons#hsr jing yuan#hsr imagine#hsr x reader#hsr x you
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I Want to Know What Love Is
ao3
Steve doesn’t know when it’ll stop hurting. Everyone says time heals all wounds. But it’s been three years and that feels like more than enough time for the Eddie-shaped wound to heal.
Why does it still hurt?
“Steve?” Robin’s quiet when she peers around the corner.
Steve’s sitting alone on their couch in the middle of the night, staring at the blank television screen, with tears slipping down his cheeks.
“You ok?” Robin slides in beside him, immediately wrapping her arms around him and tugging him in close.
“I don’t know what’s wrong.” He wipes the back of his hand across his cheek, and then hugs her closer. “I’m just feeling lonely, I guess.”
“You got me,” she tries to sound upbeat.
“I know,” he pats her arm. “Thank you.”
They sit together in silence, rocking in each other's arms. The darkness feels like a vice around Steve’s heart, squeezing him until he can’t breathe.
“I miss him,” he murmurs.
“I know,” she presses a kiss to his head. “You could probably call him. You know he’s not asleep.”
“I know but it’s not the same.”
“I’m sorry, bud.”
“I think I should’ve gone with him.”
He’s regretted letting Eddie leave for the west coast without him, pretty much from day one. But that guilt, fear, and obligation of protecting everyone still in Hawkins was too strong to let him tag along.
“You could still go.” Robin nudges his shoulder.
“He doesn’t miss me like I miss him. He’s probably fucking all kinds of groupies. Y’know, people can’t resist a rockstar.”
“Steve,” her tone is soft but sad. “Don’t do this to yourself. First, they’re not rockstars. Eddie has a day job. Second, you know he misses you. I can always hear him through the phone when he calls. The way he says your name. That man is still crazy about you.” She runs her fingers through his hair softly. “Call him.”
Steve sighs but doesn’t respond. He wants to believe her, but also can’t withstand getting his hopes up only to be devastated later.
He just needs more time.
“Eddie?”
Eddie’s pulled from his thoughts when his coworker Dale waves him down.
“Sup, man?” Eddie leans his arms along the bar, ducking his head under the hanging martini glasses.
“You think you can take my shift tomorrow? Rach has to go to the hospital. Her mom’s in for something with her heart. I gotta watch the kids.”
“Yeah, man. No problem.”
“Fuck, you’re the best. Oh my god that’s such a relief. Thanks. I’ll owe you one.”
“No problem. Hope everything is ok.” Eddie’s heart always tugs a little bit when he hears someone’s mom is sick.
“Sounds like it. They’re just keeping her to make sure.”
“Good, don’t worry about tomorrow. I got it.” Eddie slaps his palm on the shiny bar top and slides down to a new patron at the last stool. He sets a napkin in front of the man. “What can I get ya?”
It’s a quiet night in the bar. Slower than molasses quiet. He hates nights like this. Not only does it hit his pockets it gives him enough time to think. And time to think is bad for Eddie’s mental health.
He’s been in California for three years now and he’s not anywhere closer to making it big than when he showed up. The guys are getting over it. Tired of burning the candle at both ends and hearing ‘no’ at every single turn.
Plus…
He’s fucking lonely.
He has been trying so hard to get over Steve. When he first got to L.A. he was able to distract himself with a new place, a new job, a new dream, new surroundings everything, but that fizzled away quickly.
He’s avoiding the party scene. There’s a lot harder drugs being passed around than in Hawkins. And thanks to his dear old pops, he’s learned stay away from that shit. He doesn’t want to be a washed up rockstar before he even becomes a rockstar.
He pours the new customer a beer then goes back to organizing the receipts. His thumb is tapping mindlessly along to the music pumping from the jukebox, when the tune changes and he feels it in his heart.
I wanna know what love is
I want you to show me
I wanna feel what love is
I know you can show me
Fucking, Foreigner. This song always reminds him of Steve and that night he, Steve, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan, and Argyle went out to the Robinson’s farm. A few six packs, some California Grade-A purple palm tree delight, and drunken karaoke style singing under the stars.
Steve was hanging off Eddie. His arm slung around Eddie’s neck while he sung his heart out into his beer can. Eddie couldn’t pull his eyes off the man. They hadn’t kissed yet. Hadn’t even acknowledged what was happening between them.
But under the August night sky of finally saved Hawkins, Indiana, Eddie Munson fell in love with Steve Harrington.
“You ok, man?” Dale suddenly appears to Eddie’s left, and Eddie has to clear his throat to hide the emotions trying to crawl up his throat.
“Mhm, I’m good. Fucking hate this song.” Eddie keeps his eyes pointed down because it would be painfully obvious he was lying otherwise.
Dale chuckles. “Yeah, hear that. Rach loves it. She belts it out whenever it comes on the radio and she’s in the kitchen.”
Eddie’s heart aches a little more at the idea that maybe Steve would do the same thing.
The phone behind the bar rings and Eddie jumps to grab it.
“Mickey’s.”
“Eddie?”
His heart drops to his feet because how could he know Eddie was thinking about him?
“Steve? Are you ok?” Eddie’s ears are pounding as he waits.
“I don’t know.” Steve sounds too sad for Eddie’s heart.
“Hold on, ok? I’m gonna take my break and pick you up back in the office. Ok? Just give me two minutes.”
“Ok,” Steve whispers.
Eddie presses the hold button and asks Dale to watch the bar, then races to the back room. His fingers fumble to pick up the phone as he drops into the ancient office chair.
“Stevie? What’s wrong?” Eddie’s heart is racing.
“Nothin’, really. I was- I was thinking about you. Robin said I should call.”
“I’m glad you did,” Eddie’s fingers wind through the phone cord anxiously. “Y’know what was playing on the jukebox? Just now?”
“What?” Steve’s voice sounds soft and fluffy.
“I wanna know what love iiiiiissss,” Eddie sings softly down the line. He hears Steve chuckle and it pushes him to keep singing. “I want you to show meeeeee.”
Eddie hears Steve take a shaky breath. “Eddie?”
“Yeah?”
“I miss you.”
Eddie can’t stop himself from smiling. “I miss you, too.”
“No-no you don’t understand.”
“What?”
“I miss you. I miss your smile. I miss your laugh. I miss poking your dimples. I fucking miss you. I should’ve gone with. I’m so stupid. I should’ve gone with you. And it’s too late and I miss you so fucking much. I’m sorry. Shit,” Steve clears his throat. “I shouldn’t have called you. I’m sorry. I’m a fucking mess. I’m sorry. I’m gonna go. Sorry for calling you at work.”
“Steve? Don’t hang up. Please. Don’t hang up.” Eddie rushes out. “Listen to me, don’t hang up.”
“Ok.”
“Stevie? Baby?” Eddie hears Steve whine at the pet name. “I miss you, too. I do. I miss the smell of your hairspray, and the way you crinkle your nose in the morning when your alarm goes off. I miss you and Robin giving me a hard time about my smoking. I hate it here, baby. Fucking California sucks. I miss the stars. But I miss you more. Don’t come out here. I wanna come home.”
He’s been thinking about it for months, waiting for his sign. If Steve calling him out of the blue, while Foreigner is playing on the jukebox, and tells him how much he’s missed him isn’t a clear sign then nothing will be.
“I love you, Steve. I never stopped loving you. I’m glad you didn’t come out here. You’d hate it and probably hate me because of it.” Eddie drags a knuckle under his eye.
“I love you, too. But I don’t want you to give up on your dreams. What about the band? What about The Garden?”
“They hate it here too. Gareth is a week away from quitting. I can feel it. Jeff has a girlfriend and a really good job that he’s not going to give up. It’s over. We tried. Music is different now. New decade means new sound. I wanna come home.” He takes a deep inhale and feels a million pounds lighter. “Fuck, I’d come home right now if I could. Sneak into your place and snuggle under your covers.”
“Yeah?” Eddie can hear Steve’s smile.
“Yep, scoop you up into my arms and kiss every single beauty mark across your skin. Fuck, I miss biting those two on your neck. Are they still there? Do they miss me?”
“You’re ridiculous. Yes they’re still there.”
“And??” Eddie leans forward in his chair.
“Yes they miss you,” Steve says quietly like he’s trying to hide his face.
“I knew it,” Eddie groans. “Tell them I’m gonna be home soon, ok? I gotta get back to work, baby. I’m gonna call you tomorrow and we can talk about it.”
“Ok,” Steve hums. “I love you.”
“Love you, too.” Eddie’s cheeks are hurting. He can’t stop smiling. “God, I love you. Fuck, that feels good to say. I love you, Steve Harrington. I fucking love you. Ok, I gotta hang up. Tomorrow. I’ll call you tomorrow. Ok?”
“Yeah. I love you, Eddie Munson. Night.”
“Bye, baby.”
Eddie slowly lowers the phone down before jumping to his feet and punching happily into the air. He spins around a few times before trying to collect himself and heading back to the bar.
Dale raises an eyebrow at him. “Everything good?”
“Yep, great. Everything’s fucking great.” He slaps the man on the shoulder and beams brightly at him. “You know what? We should play Foreigner again.”
Eddie bounces around the bar and giddily drops change into the machine. He punches in the corresponding buttons, leans against the device and waits for the music to fill the air. Dale watches amusingly from across the almost empty bar when Eddie starts to shimmy his shoulders to the music.
I've gotta take a little time
A little time to think things over
Eddie can’t help himself and sings along. His chest is filled with too much joy to hold it back.
I better read between the lines
In case I need it when I'm older
“Dude? What are you doing?” Dale yells across the room.
“I’m fucking singing, man. Someone still loves me back home. I’m fucking singing.”
Dale rolls his eyes fondly, shakes his head, and turns back to the bar.
Eddie doesn’t care.
He’s going home.
Steve still loves him.
He’s going home.
coffee? ☕️🍩💕
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#happy ending#hurt/comfort#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#stranger things#steve x eddie#steddiecameraroll posts#my writing#steddie ficlet
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cherries or peaches? pt. 2 ft. obey me! datables
summary: do they prefer ass or boobs? ft. obey me! datables x f!reader
cw: HIGHLY suggestive, mdni, fluff??, pet names (sweetheart), fondling, groping, grinding/humping, semi-public but no sex, licking, stripping, MY HUMOUR..
word count: 1.4k
a/n: thank u so much for the love on the first part, im so happy to be able to write these hcs, they’re such a fun idea. i got a bit carried away and some of these turned into half-ish fics but i hope u enjoy this version just as much as the first ♡
diavolo loves ass. the end.
just kidding.
ever since arriving in the devildom, student council meetings had always been a bore to you. you were never able to understand the complex topics of the “worldly problems” discussed, which often led to you staring out into space.
but ever since you got close to diavolo, things had changed.
“keep it down, y/n,” diavolo whispered through clenched teeth, as he kept a beaming smile glued to his face.
you let out a peeved groan. how the hell were you supposed to keep quiet when he kept rocking you back and forth on his lap like this?
despite your squirming, his hands never left you as he pushed and kneaded at your ass under the table. his hard-on evident as it ground against your clit, eliciting hushed whimpers from your lips.
in many ways, doing this was beyond worse than just zoning out, one wrong move and the whole student council would probably never look you in the eye again.
to make matters worse, diavolo insisted that meetings can’t start unless you were up here, in his lap, at all times.
“dia, i can’t do this anymore,” you whimpered under your breath.
“it’s almost over soon, sweetheart. just a little longer ‘n then i’ll make you feel good, hm?”
it might not be obvious at first, but barbatos loves boobs.
hearing that he was the “greatest pastry chef in all three worlds” has always been something that intrigued you. it wasn’t until you tried them for yourself that you realised that this statement was far from being a lie.
it was only a few weeks ago that you asked him to teach you a few of his recipes, you had never seen so much delight in his eyes. “oh that would be great, y/n! i’ve always been looking forward to the day you’d ask me so.”
as you slam the door to the oven, a gust of the hot air blows against your face, “how long should these be in the oven for, barbs?”
“thirty minutes should be fine. do you mind adding some of that sugar over there into this bowl?” you set the oven timer to thirty minutes before scurrying over with a measured bowl of sugar, pouring it into the bowl of fresh cream.
“perfect, could you whisk up this cream for me while i go find the vanilla?”
“sure.” he hands you the whisk before poking his nose through the cupboards in search of vanilla.
as you were whisking, you let your mind wander. gosh, i can’t wait to try this when it’s done… but dang i lowkey wonder when he’s gonna let me in his pants already… a few wet splatters across your chest had snapped you back to focus, “oh shit— i spilt it on me!”
the clank of the whisk dropping to the countertop had barbatos rushing towards you.
“oh goodness me, you’ve made a mess!”
“i know… fuck i’m sorry. i’ll just get a tea towel and wipe—”
before you could finish your sentence, barbatos had stopped you. his body crowding up against yours as he leaned in. holding you by your waist, you could feel his kitten licks swipe against your chest, even reaching as far down to the cleavage of your boobs.
you started to feel hot and dazed as the sweet aroma drifted through the kitchen, while he started to suck harshly against your skin, fingers creeping up to caress you’re boobs. soft pants began to leave your mouth as his tongue worked across your chest, but before it could escalate any further, he had pulled away.
as he stepped back, wiping the corner of his lips, you were left completely flustered, “oh wow, the cream without the vanilla tastes really good, you might just have a talent for baking y/n!”
“uh-huh…” you muttered, staring at him dumb-found and wide-eyed.
simeon is secretly a big fan of boobs, so today was a big treat for him.
it was the weekend, he had scored a pair of free tickets to the amusement park, and of course decided to bring you along. it was a leisurely day however, the rides and attractions he decided to do were almost too tame for your excitement.
dragging him along, you spot an attraction that seemed to catch your eye. handing two tokens to the employee, you quickly rushed into the tank, simeon freezing, clearly stunned and confused about what was about to happen. “hey y/n, what’s going on?!”
taking a seat on the tiny platform you point to the target beside you, “can you hit a bullseye?” you winked.
the employee hands simeon a ball, “you’ve got three tries, buddy.” after a moment of hesitation, he throws the ball, hitting the center of the target with a loud smack.
you let out a small shriek before getting submerged into the tank of water. “oh my— Y/N!” simeon rushes towards the tank, quickly pulling you out from the water. you let out sharp breaths before giggling, “your aim is amazing!”
“is this your idea of fun?!” his hands reach up to hold both sides of your face, turning it from one side to the other. “you’re not hurt are you?”
you smile sweetly, flattered by his concern, “i’m fine simeon, it was fun, really.”
he sighs, “good, alright.” his eyes travel over your body checking for any scrapes before widening at the sight of your chest. the water had soaked your white shirt completely, revealing that you were wearing nothing underneath. your round nipples were perked up from the cold water while your shirt was clinging onto your wet skin.
gasping even louder than before, in a flimsy last-minute attempt to cover you up, he slaps his hands over each of your boobs and although it works in his favour, you couldn’t help but burst out laughing.
“don’t laugh y/n! we need to get you a new shirt, or at least a sweater!”
you pull him towards you by his collar, your lips mere inches away from touching, “so are you gonna help me take this one off first?” your purr.
his hands race to cover his reddened face, “w-wait that’s not what i—!” upon realising your boobs are on display again, he slams his hands back over them, “y/n!” he whines.
two hours in, and it was blatantly obvious to solomon that this tutoring session was going nowhere.
you weren’t understanding any terms or concepts of the topic at hand and with a week to go before your final, it seemed like solomon was more worried about this than you were. surely it isn’t because you’re too distracted sitting in his lap, right?
he clears his throat, “how about this…” you slowly lift your head up from the palm of your hands, clearly distressed about your upcoming failure. “for every question you get incorrect, you remove a piece of clothing.”
you raise your brows, intrigued, “and for every question i get right, you remove a piece of clothing?” you stare back at him.
“exactly, and for that answer…” he slowly shrugs off his blazer and places it behind his chair, “i’ll remove this.”
in hopes of this becoming a motivation for you, he began to quiz you with a mini questionnaire. “what are the three ingredients used to make the elixir of cerebral stimulation?”
you internally face palm because you knew jack shit about brewing potions, “uhhh… newt legs, unicorn hair, and frog mucus?”
solomon clears his throat ubruptly. “um, no. the correct answer is powdered unicorn hoof, bittergrass root, and caladrius blood.”
you look down in embarrassment before removing three pieces of clothing. only four minutes in and you’re left in nothing but your underwear and bra.
“last and final question, what covered the devildom when it was first created?”
“…darkness?”
“…unfortunately, that is incorrect. the correct answer is a forest.”
you groan. you haven’t gotten a single question correct and embarrassment was evident as your face was flushed. you turn to face solomon, “at this point, why don’t you choose what i take off?”
your pretty face staring up at him, teary and doe-eyed had him swooning. slowly standing up and pushing your back down onto the table, he stared deliriously at you. papers were scattered everywhere and textbooks were crumpled open. your legs were wrapped around his waist as his hands gently pulled the straps of your bra down your shoulders.
staring at your bare chest he murmurs, “i’m obsessed with these,” before diving straight in.
a/n: haven’t written in about 5 months so excuse how rusty my writing has gotten.. but nonetheless, thank for reading this far, luv you all ♡
©2024 aestrayla. do not modify, copy, translate or share.
#obey me#obey me shall we date#obey me headcanons#obey me fanfic#obey me x mc#obey me x reader#obey me x you#obey me imagines#obey me nightbringer#obey me diavolo#diavolo x reader#obey me barbatos#barbatos x reader#obey me simeon#simeon x reader#obey me solomon#solomon x reader#obey me hcs
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sunrise
francisco morales x santiago garcia
GIF credit to @perotovar
summary: after mixed messages, pope asks frankie if he'll watch the sunrise with him.
wordcount: 1.1k
warnings: none. jo doing jo things with words. just two boys, mixed messages and a bit of hope.
an: happy pride. this fic is dedicated to the lovely, wonderful @perotovar who not only is a great friend, but also has never made me feel like i'm not part of pride. it's been a long time since I've written m/m, but erin, your kind words (and gif) filled me with joy. i hope this fills you with joy too.
Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz—
He doesn’t need to look, to smack his hand around the bedside table, Frankie knows where his phone is.
Retrieving it, pressing it to his ear—old sleep crusting in his eyes—Frankie lets out a soft groan, the weight of lingering thoughts still pushing heavily against his mind. With a reluctant sigh, he mumbles a tender hello, his voice heavy, gruff.
“Hey,” Pope says.
It elongates, stretches out like a fragile thread suspended between them—as though another word should have followed but isn’t spoken.
“You awake?”
“Am now.”
He doesn’t miss the chuckle that’s embedded into the breath. Nor, how it brushes down and through the phone. A sensation bubbling across his skin, his body remembering how it feels to have it against him.
“You’ve not been replying—in the group chat.”
He rubs his face, the motion all a hopeless attempt to awaken his mind, wishing the act would spur on words. Something. Anything to bridge the aching void between them.
It doesn’t.
It just adds to the other things churning inside him, layering over doubts and questions—the ones that linger unanswered, even when they are alone, haunting the spaces between their moments together.
Sliding the phone back against his cheek, he sighs. “Yeah, sorry. Just… wasn’t checking things.”
“Yeah, thought so.”
He hums, and then releases a heavy breath. Needing to fill the silence before it begins. Not wanting to find out if today it’s comfortable or the opposite.
“You busy?”
“At 3 in the morning?”
Pope laughs—and Frankie hates how much he likes the sound. Despises it, almost. Loathes it, like he detests how he feels.
“Didn’t know if you wanted to watch the sunrise with me.”
“I’m a whole flight from you, Pope.”
“Don’t have to be in the same location to watch the sun come up, Fish.”
“We fuckin’ do if it comes up at different times, cabrón.”
There’s a pause, then a chuckle. One that begins with Pope and then ends with him. It fills the air, the space, the area between them that they pretend not to notice or ask about whenever they come home.
Because home isn’t out there, where they’re adorned in layers that barrier against artillery and threats; home isn’t where they help the other free from it all in the comfort of a base room or a tent in the middle of nowhere. Home is real. It’s chosen paint on the walls and picked out bedding; it’s photographs filled with only the best and souvenirs that remind of good times.
And, right now, the only evidence of Pope here is the memories—
That first kiss. How fuelled it had been, how he’d done it purely to stop the tide of ifs and buts that Pope had been flinging, angrily darting in the hope to hit the bullseye and wound him further than his foolishness had.
And it’s not that Frankie wishes to hang up, it isn’t that he hopes to shove things further into his soul. He’s had his crisis—had it when he’d had Pope pressed against his spine, breath fanning out over his neck, making the hair curled from their earlier activities twitch and tickle.
But, he’s at least come to terms with the fact this isn’t a home thing. A thing which doesn’t exist when he steps on the plane to go back to a life where people call him Francisco. He’s made his peace with it, accepted it—as much as a person can.
He’s done the work to rationalise and reason. So, whatever this phone call is, it feels counterproductive. It feels like sinking, falling through those steps and nets he’s built until he’s drenched in the will-they-won’t-they he’s clambered far away from. The hopes seep into his skin, worming into his brain, threatening to paint shadows on the back of his eyelids at what the two of them could be—
“What are we doing, Pope?”
There’s an exhale. It’s likely a sigh, but it’s hard to assess without the facial expression. The way he wears his feelings in his body language.
“I‘m not sure.”
Frankie expects that, somehow. Yet it still stings, hurts—ripples out like a lashing he’s braced for. Rolling onto his side, he grinds his jaw. Staring at the gap in the curtains, the one that’ll allow light to bleed through in a few more hours, nostrils flaring as he shakes his head.
“I can’t watch the sunrise with you.”
“‘Cause of the time difference?”
Rolling his eyes, he blows out a harsh breath. “No. Because if we do, I’ll confess something that’ll make it hard for you to do that compartmentalising shit that you do about the fact you and I fuck.”
The silence that follows is painful, excruciating. It’s devoid and barren, dull and full of nothing. There’s no background noise to drown it out, the night too quiet, the hour too dormant—to the point it almost makes Frankie feel guilty for disturbing it.
“What if I told you I’m at the motel on 22nd—”
Frankie sits up. Bolt upright. The suddenness of it forces the sheet to fall from his neck to pool at his waist, the air cool flurrying over warm skin, heat blooming in his cheeks.
“—the one you talked about—”
His heart hammers. Pounds.
“—the one you go to when home is a bit too… home.”
“Pope…”
“Fish.”
Swinging his legs from under the sheets, elbow resting on the place above his knee, hand wiping down his face, awake, blood pounding in his ears.
“Por favor no bromees.”
Sighing, blowing it right into his ear. It’s far more soothing, rooting, than it has been before.
“Wanna watch the sunrise with me, Fish?”
Swallowing, fear threatens to poison the joy that is trying to fill his chest. His hand clamps around his knee for leverage, for strength. Squeezing, likely making his skin paler—it returning to colour when he releases as he tries to get his brain to calculate the percentage of how much of a good idea this is.
But then he hears his name. It whispered, with more of an infliction, a question to it.
And so he takes a breath. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’ll… get dressed now.”
“Okay.”
“Alright.”
A silence unfurls, one nicer, more bearable than any of the others before—
“Well hurry then, Fish.”
And then, as Frankie suspected, Pope ends the call.
tagging: @morallyinept (for your collection)
#francisco morales x santiago garcia#santiago garcia x francisco morales#pope x catfish#catfish x pope#frankie morales x santiago garcia#santiago garcia x frankie morales#frankie x santiago#santiago x frankie#triple frontier fanfic#pedro pascal characters#oscar isaac characters
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i have a strong desire to brush mithruns hair i feel like when he gets to the point where he can take care of himself again without needing to be helped by someone else itd be soft
Same! I feel like his hair is the fine, thin type with a light wave, so it would tangle super easily. Yet, when looking at Mithrun’s tall-man form, his hair looks a lot greasier and less fluffy(but still gorgeous, I would use the grease to fry my morning eggs.)
I would think that implies that elves don’t produce as much oil, which would track seeing as they don’t really get blemishes either bc they’re like supernaturally perfect. (Fleki also having freckles in her tall-man form vs. no freckles in her elf form makes me wonder if they even have like.. moles. But I feel like I’ve seen an unnamed Canary in the background who had freckles. And the fact that they can get scars, too… idk)
Anyway yeah I think his hair would be soft when it’s brushed, though I also feel like he’d forget to do it or just ignore it. He keeps up his hygiene routine ofc, but I think he’d just let his hair air dry, uncombed, and it dries a bit wavy and a little stringy, but fluffs up once he does get around to brushing it— maybe a bit frizzy, even.
Post-canon, he’d probably enjoy the process of having his hair brushed. It makes him feel loved lol, and if you’re the one doing it then he’s just pleased that he’s the one you’re giving attention to. And the feeling of your hands running through his hair would be nice, he’d close his eyes and lean into the touch.
It would be a good idea to pull it back into a ponytail for him when it’s hot! Because he probably won’t do that for himself. Also, a half up, half down style would be fun for special occasions. When it’s actually taken care of, it’s very soft and his curls are curling and it’s much easier to run your fingers through. He’ll start brushing it himself just so you’ll be more inclined to play with it.
Hims corls!!!!!!
Life is so beautiful
#asks#mithrun#dungeon meshi#delicious in dungeon#dungeon meshi x reader#dungeon meshi headcanons#reader insert#sorta I guess#mithrun of the house of kerensil#dunmeshi
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boynextdoor getting hit on by other ppl besides their s/o
requested by anon!
got excited to write this but this is short!
warnings: just some cute stuffs, losersnextdoor
sungho
𓍯 polite with it. as much as he cares about your feelings, he doesn't wanna be harsh to other people too. he's kind to everyone but he knows his boundaries very well.
𓍯 would accidentally say ”sorry, i have a girlfr—actually, no. i'm not sorry about it.” and would bow down before walking away
𓍯 when someone offers them a drink, he'd shake his hand as a sign of rejection
riwoo
𓍯 *gets shy, looks away* "me?" i’m pretty sure he’d look around him to make sure they were talking to him.
𓍯 “i have a girlfriend.” he’s so head over heels for you, he’d answer with a soft expression and tender warmth in his gaze even in the slightest mention of the word ‘girlfriend’
jaehyun
𓍯 he malfunctions and pauses when someone hits up on him and told you about it before so you decided to teach him how to react if you were a random girl making a move on him. "babe, you're letting her touch you!" you pretended to slide the tip of your fingertips across his arms, down to his hand to see if jaehyun would flinch. "but you're the one touching me right now..." he looks at you. "yeah and i said imagine if i was a random girl. not me, your girlfriend." jaehyun whines as he answers, "how do you expect me to do it I cant even imagine someone else!"
taesan
𓍯 the moment he sees a girl walk up to him, he'd quickly plug his airpods on and would pretend not to hear anything.
𓍯 i think he's gonna be straightforward with it like "no." (respectfully) and would force a smile if they tried to talk to him and then walk away
leehan
𓍯 rejected other girls before but he will never get used to it.
𓍯 "babe stop smiling at them. why are you showing off your dimples? they'd only fall for you more." leehan's lips slowly parted in a smile, subtly showing the small hollows that nestle in his cheeks. "yeah, that smile. don't ever smile like that to other girls, got it?" he could only laugh at you and to his defense, "but you’re talking to me right now. i can’t help it."
woonhak
𓍯 the same as jaehyun but he would run out of words to say and all there's left in his vocab was "huh?" "huh?" "huh?" "huh?"
𓍯 kinda acts a little stupid and crazy to scare the person off. he would sigh out of relief when they’re gone.
𓍯 if someone tries to talk to him inside a discount department store: "it says here 'if assistance is needed, ask a team member.' not me hehe"
this was short but i hope you liked it!! check my other works here <3
#boynextdoor#boynextdoor imagines#boynextdoor taesan#boynextdoor sungho#boynextdoor jaehyun#boynextdoor riwoo#boynextdoor scenarios#leehan#boynextdoor x reader#han taesan#boynextdoor leehan#boynextdoor woonhak#myung jaehyun#riwoo#park sungho#woonhak#bnd fluff
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