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honeycollectswhump · 1 day

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[masterlist]

CW: whumper pov, pet whump, dehumanisation, cutting (NOT self-harm), gore

Mireille hadn’t put too much thought into it, not really. But she didn’t need to. The moment she lay eyes upon the initials carved into the jewelled perfume bottle in the home of one of her suitors, it was decided.

Henri was a good man, certainly as good as he could get, though not without some imperfections. He was of good stature, broad shoulders, though unaware of how to present them, always slouching slightly, as if the weight of his own frame was too much. And really, that wasn’t acceptable in the eyes of perfection. Maybe Mireille could make him great, could make him her own and teach him how to be proper, but maybe this was the best he could get and she’d just waste her time. Honestly, she’d rather be certain of her efforts, but he didn’t need to know, for his presents still made lovely decor.

He did have good taste, otherwise she wouldn’t have entertained him for so long.

All that matters now though, is the sunlight catching in the glass carvings of the bottle, the image replaying in her mind. She wants it too, and she wants it now, and Mireille knows just the possession perfectly suited for this:

Her little ashtray.

There is no thought in her mind of where to do this, who to ask. None of them would see the vision in her mind, the exact way it’s supposed to look. They’d all mess it up, ignorant of the gracefulness she lent to her ashtray. No, this is a personal project.

It is too easy to acquire a proper knife without suspicion. These men –the useful ones– – would bend over backwards just to get a chance at pleasing her. Sometimes she’d go as far as calling it boring, but what else was she supposed to do when all it took was the batting of her lashes, looking up at them with big, dumb doe eyes and slightly parted lips? Her body spoke a language none of them could resist, none of them were ever more than prey to fall in worship.

And worship they did, falling to their knees to satisfy her in all the ways she allowed them. She was their queen in satin sheets and velvet dresses.

So here she sits, legs crossed elegantly on her precious couch, the fine knife not yet unpacked, resting in a silver case, embedded with diamonds.

No one else understands that not only does the result need to be flawless, but every single step needs to be immaculate, from the tools to the cutting to the one performing. An image has to be created, a scene, and none of those lowly things could ever understand her vision. That was what has always made her inherently different, inherently superior, and deserving of rightful worship.

A servant rushes into the room, hitching breaths restricted by the working collar, eying the golden bell set carefully on the glass table in front of her.

“You called, Mistress?” they ask, staring cautiously at the floor, not yet daring to raise their eyes to meet hers. Good. She wants them revering.

“Yes. Fetch me my ashtray, won’t you?” Mireille drawls, her bubbling excitement hidden under layers of refined grace. “And bring me some strong dogs. They will be needed.”

The servant nods, not worrying their stupid little head about her meaning, teasing what's to come, and rushes out as quickly as they came. They look frail, purposeful like porcelain, probably why she bought them, though their name or number had left her mind long ago. An unimportant piece of information abandoned along the way, replaced with something of value.

Only minutes later, the same servant returns, gripping the ashtray’s golden leash too tightly. It’s barely noticeable but nonetheless doesn’t escape her all-seeing eyes; the way their knuckles drain of colour disturbs the otherwise pristine scene. They are followed by two guard dogs, muscular and well rested, their posture straight and imposing, their gaze hard and cold like unmoving stone.

The ashtray looks perfect as usual, the thought both pleasing and stinging in a way that does not fit her image. So Mireille pushes it aside, a worry for later or preferably for never. They can’t have taken long to get him ready. And yet…

“Undress the ashtray. I want his chest to be free” Mireille orders, snapping her fingers. The servant quickly complies, buttoning the fine blouse the ashtray was decorated with open, pulling up away from him and folding it with learned precision.

It only takes a hand movement for the ashtray to step forward, for him to sink to his knees in front of her. The poor lamb doesn’t yet know what is coming.

“Hold him.”

The ashtray gasps and for a single, disobedient moment looks up at her with big panicked eyes. The way his blue eyes shine in the golden light of the chandelier does nothing but strengthen her resolve. Maybe, in another world, the view in front of her would be a painting she saw at an auction, a beautiful angel wrapped in gold captured by beasts of stone, unknowing of his fate. And like a painting, it is only natural for her to leave her mark.

He doesn’t struggle, even when she can’t imagine this was part of his training, he just looks at her pleadingly, unsure what he is even begging for.

It’s a scene now and Mireille will be a perfect part of it.

Slowly, she stands up, taking the silver case from the table as she passes it, positioning herself right in front of the ashtray. It opens with a satisfying click, revealing polished metal, sharp edges, red velvet and her initials finely engraved on the handle. Mireille can just about stop a laugh from bubbling up.

She crouches down to the ashtray’s eye level, laying a hand on his cheek. He doesn’t even lean into it. “Don’t. Move.”

Mireille takes the knife, letting it gleam in the gentle light, and hands the case to the servant still watching.

She can’t mess up now. It has to come from her heart.

Carefully, she traces her initials into the skin on his collarbone, making only slight cuts, letting her letters swirl around.

M. A. B.

Holding the knife like a painter's brush, with meticulous, perfected movements. It comes to her like second nature and the first step is completed.

In a final decision, she lays the knife’s edge on the first line of the M, watching the ashtray’s breath hitch in horrible anticipation. Not even a wince has broken through his training and Mireille is more than curious to test how far she can take it.

Were he any cheaper, she’d love to test what would get him to break his training. If she could get him to speak after all. But that wouldn’t be graceful, now would it? It would be a waste.

Instead, she presses it into his flesh, cutting down slowly, precisely. Once, then twice. The ashtray’s breath gets laboured and it only fuels her. She knows what she wants; an ornate engraving, decor on his skin, a signature on her masterpiece.

Fresh, richly red blood pours from the cuts, running down his bare chest like tiny rivers, connecting and separating, getting caught in raised scar tissue.

Mireille moves carefully, taking her sweet time, her lips opened slightly, imitating an artist. Position, press, slide. His flesh parts beautifully, like he was made for this. For a moment, she looks over to the servant, who is pressing the case against their chest, their face showing sloppily concealed horror, and it makes her smile. They would probably call it brutal, ignoring the gentle way her knife slides through his skin, not meeting any resistance. They’d call it violent, not comprehending the second artwork the rivulets of blood form through the hand of fate itself. They lack the mind of an artist and the nature of a human.

By the time she reaches the A, the ashtray is barely holding back sobs, letting out silent, crooked whimpers –a sound so ugly she should punish him for it–, as she etches her mark deep enough to hit the bone. Still, he doesn’t move, doesn’t strain against the unforgiving grip holding his arms, against her carving following the twirls and flourishes.

She doesn’t admit to herself that it is more challenging than she thought, to follow the rounded lines with a tool that craves sharp edges and straight incisions. The curves of the B make the knife catch on the bone and the ashtray lets out a soundless gasping scream, blue eyes nearly rolling back in his head. The tears he could barely hold back before now run down his face in a disobedient river, mixing with the blood on his chest, destroying her artwork.

He lifts his head upwards, in a last attempt to stop the flow of the tears, but it only makes them drip from his chin into the gashes and he is destroying everything–

A slap echoes through the room, loud enough to make his pathetic sobbing stop in an instant.

“Get your act together.” Mireille hisses, grabbing his chin and letting her manicured nails dig into his pretty face. “Or I will rip you apart, you worthless piece of trash.”

Only the word Worthless seems to get through to his stupid fucking pet brain. There is a reason he was made into a thoughtless object instead of anything else. His beauty is his only strength, the only reason they didn’t mercy-kill him, punish him for stealing space and air and atoms from anything with more use.

He is an ashtray or he is Nothing. And if he keeps ruining her attempts to make Something out of him, he will wish she had let him keep his voice to beg for death.

At last, the ashtray doesn’t act up any more, stays motionless and silent as she finishes the B. When she pulls his skin taut, she can feel him tremble with the effort to keep still. Seems like his training had some use after all.

Finally satisfied, Mireille lays the bloody knife aside, giving herself some time to analyze her work. Briefly, she turns to the servant to order a towel, before devoting her attention back to the signature, quickly overflowing with blood. It’s beautiful, but her interest lies somewhere else.

She digs two fingers into a line of the A, pulling the incision apart. The ashtray only manages a whimper that she gives no regard to, as she digs deeper and deeper through the tissue, against the continuous blood flow. Then, against the intense red, her own personal gold shines through.

Bone.

A pleased giggle escapes her.

It is done.

Whatever will happen, whoever will lay their eyes upon them, it will be eternally clear who he belongs to. There are nicks in his bone that her knife and her hands caused and he will forever know.

And when her stupid little ashtray comes back to his senses and remembers his silent purpose, he will thank her for it tenfold.

Taglist: @whumpsday, @2in1whump, @sodacreampuff, @webbo0, @toyybox, @sowhumpshaped, @clickerflight, @itsawhumpsideblog, @piniatafullofblood let me know if you want to be added or removed :)

i hope you enjoyed this chapter!! if you did, i would be very thankful if you considered donating to @whumpcloud's gofundme for their top surgery (of course only if you are financially able to!!!). it would mean the world to us both <3

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 19 hours

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04/17/24 Daily OFMD Recap

== Nathan Foad ==

More pictures of Nathan in Love's Labours Lost!

== Kay Buchanan ==

Our friendly neighborhood OFMD Master Leather Worker has more pictures for us! This time, maybe Black Pete's bag? Anyone know off hand?

SRC: Kay Buchanan's IG

== Taika ==

So these pictures are adorable, but be warned of a potential jump scare if you watch the rest of the video-- thank you @ofmd-ann for the awesome stills, I did NOT want to put the full video on here xD See her post here.

(via Ritas tiktok)

== Lesley Fucking Jones ==

== Vico Ortiz ==

Sneaky shot of Vico from behind <3 Img Src: @enbybruje's IG

== Dominic Burgess ==

Technically this would be Cats & Crew but I'll allow it because Dominic is such a friggn adorable cat dad and he deserves so much love for that.

Src: Dominic's Twitter

== Watch Parties ==

= Flight of the Conchords =

Bit of an adjustment at least on the RhysDarbyFaction discord server for FotC watch party, we'll be watching 3 episodes a piece Thursday and Friday so as not to run into the next week. Continues tomorrow with episodes 5, 6, 7, of season 2 at 4pm PT / 7 pm ET / 11pm BST

#FlagOfTheConchords

#OurFlagMeansDeath

= Palm Royal Season 1 =

A new watch party hosted by @lcwebsxoxo on twitter is up and running! Thursday Episodes 3 and 4 will be playing at 1 pm PT / 4 pm ET / 9 pm BST

#PalmRoyale

#OurFlagMeansDeath

#SaveOFMD

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Cast Cards =

Tonight's cast card features the other fisherman (Pedro Lope) that Stede robbed on his first "raid". We're gonna have a whole set of cards soon I can feel it @melvisik, thank you for these!

= TealOranges & Garlic Soup Week 2024!! =

Prompts are up for this years TealOranges & Garlic Soup Prompt Week! The week will run June 23-29, 2024 with themes and prompts for each day! This prompt week celebrates all things Jim/Oluwande and Archie/Jim/Oluwande/Zheng!

Plain Text for Prompts

Additional Information & FAQ

This Years AO3

== Love Notes ==

Hey there lovelies-- I've had 3 hrs sleep today so the words on the screen are starting to run together. I'm still getting love notes from yesterdays request, and thank you so much, I promise i'm catching up to the messages, you all are the best crew someone could ask for. Thank you for spreading some joy in this crazy ass world.

Tonight I would like to send a reminder that we have not lost OFMD, as so many of said, we still have 2 wonderful seasons, and those boyfriends are currently boinking their way into oblivion in their inn, making their poor customers insane. But beyond that... had a discussion today with multiple dear friends / crewmates that made me feel a lot better about the whole thing too. I know it's months in the gravy basket now, but this is not the end for OFMD. Chaos Dad told us it was over, but in all honesty it still doesn't feel over. WBD is driving itself into the ground, Dad's been off at the WBD lot, it feels like things are moving in a better direction again. It may not be today, or tomorrow, or even the next few months, or a year or so, but I think we still have a chance to see the ending of our story.

And we've all said it before, but it bears repeating, even if it never happens, we get to make it happen. Stede and Ed live on in all our crazy ranges of work out there, that so many of you have been just CRANKING out lately, I've been astonished at how much new work I've seen from folks in the the fandom I know, and new folks I haven't met! It's so inspiring to see OFMD affect people so much that they felt they could put little pieces of themselves out into the world through art of all mediums.

I hope I'm making sense at this point.. if not, sorry about that! But know-- there's always hope. There's always S1 and S2, and the infinite universes we get to dream up from those two.

Rest Well lovelies. Img Src: @Chucklesandbleu on IG

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's theme - Bowties!

Gifs Courtesy of @fandomsmeantheworldtome and @sam-reid!

#daily ofmd recap #daily ofmd recaps #ofmd daily recap #ofmd daily recaps #taika waititi #kay buchanan #nathan foad #vico ortiz #dominic burgess #ofmd #our flag means death #save ofmd #long live ofmd #adopt our crew

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eff4freddie · 3 days

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Touch | Part Three

Of bar fights and ice blocks

Words: 4.3k

Part One | Part Two

Warnings: slow burn to the point we might just be embers, eventual smut but next chapter I promise, teeny bit of blood, quite a lot of masculine nonsense, Joel is hot but remains grumpy

When you were in eighth grade you fell madly in love with Johnny Hocart. He was a theatre kid, wildly charismatic for a 14 year old boy, and smart enough to recognise that you had a crush on him and use you for it. You’d signed up to help out with the school play that year, Johnny being the lead in Death of a Salesman the only motivation for your sudden interest in the arts, and he turned you into his roadie almost immediately. You used your own money to fetch him chocolate from the vending machine, you carried his water bottle around behind him on the off chance he might be thirsty. The afternoon you applied his eyeliner for him, on tippy toes and terrified to topple over and take his eye out in the process, fuelled your first fumbled attempt at an orgasm (you wouldn’t get it right until eleventh grade, but you had fun figuring it out). He made you feel something heavy and relentless and heated in your chest, something that unfurled its wings and beat against your rib cage when he walked into view. The little shit let you dote on him hand and foot right up until the wrap party when he stuck his hand up Donna D’Marco’s skirt and spent the rest of the year bragging about it. You were crushed by it, the weight of the humiliation heavy on your shoulders, slumping you forward and folding you into yourself. You vowed to never forget it. But you had, until you met Joel.

Sitting in the mess hall you wondered what happened to Johnny Hocart on outbreak day. You liked the idea that he hadn’t died immediately, that he’d lived in fear for a few months before getting shot by a raider, or maybe that he’d been traded to a slaver and collapsed one day from exhaustion, from malnutrition. You hated to think of him as a clicker, because even though he was a dick no one deserved that, but at the same time you liked the kind of dramatic irony of him as a bloater, overblown as his ego had been.

You chewed your sandwich, one eye on the door, waiting for Marla and definitely not waiting for Joel. You thought instead about the clients you had booked in for the afternoon, and how you were going to finally sort out Peter Fletcher’s tennis elbow so that he could comfortably hold his rifle, and why didn’t they call it rifle elbow since that sounded so much cooler, and you considered all of this while you kept your head down, and very purposefully didn’t think about the hazel flecks in Joel’s eyes as he gazed up at you, one hand cupping and lifting his muscle while you stood square between his knees.

He’d been grumpy and dismissive, you reminded yourself, and the minute he’d felt some relief he had just up and left. You conveniently forgot the part where you had essentially ushered him out the door, suddenly keen to exorcise your living space of him. You weren’t even sure exactly what that was about, except that you had felt the first flutterings of a wing against your ribs, had recognised the feeling as something dangerous and done your best to quash it.

You were contemplating this when a shadow appeared at your table, and you startled.

‘Shit, sorry, just me,’ Ray said, and you craned your neck up to regard him. ‘Can I?’ he asked, pulling at the chair opposite you, and you nodded while you tried to calm your heart. You could see something was up.

‘You ok?’ you asked, when he was finished apologising.

‘Me and my stupid glorious brain,’ he said, and you were tempted not to let him go on any further. ‘I intercepted a message that read like it was raiders, something about a big stash, an old pharmacy that hadn’t been hit yet. Coordinates, too.’

‘That’s great,’ you said, watching his face carefully, studying the lines across his forehead, his furrowed brow, decoding Jackson’s best decoder. ‘It’s not great,’ you concluded.

‘They called in a bunch of patrols to go check it out,’ he said, and suddenly you imagined Joel on the back of a horse, leaning to the left to try and protect his right side, gun strapped to his back and his neck muscles straining under the ache of it. You grimaced. ‘Marla’s was one of them,’ Ray finished, oblivious to your sudden turmoil.

It was a poorly kept secret that Ray was in love with Marla. Poorly kept in that the only person who didn’t seem to know was her. You suspected Ray would have happily stayed put in Chicago were it not for Marla going arse over tit for the idea of living on a ranch. She had barely had to convince him to come with you both, such that he had offered to trade and borrow to get the supplies you’d need, parting with his mother’s wedding ring that he wore on a chain around his neck in the process. You weren’t even sure if Marla noticed, as it had been lost in the service of gaining three passable sleeping bags, and Marla had wrapped her arms around Ray’s neck and kissed behind his ear when he presented them to you, and you had seen in that moment that for Ray it had been enough.

You could tell Jackson hadn’t been what he expected, not least of all now having to share Marla with an entire town.

‘Ray, you did a good thing,’ you said, reaching out and putting your hand on his bicep. He nodded his head, slowly.

‘You heading to the Bison tonight?’ he asked, and you scrambled quickly to come up with an excuse.

‘I was going to check on Maria,’ you replied, grateful for your guilt reminding you that you’d still not caught up with her. ‘It’s been a while since I saw her, and she’s due soon-ish I think. I was going to take her some dinner.’

He looked at you, his mouth downturned and his brows saddled over his eyes, and you felt yourself retracting from his sadness, from his regret. Johnny Hocart had painted your face in similar colours.

‘Yeah, ok,’ you said. You tried hard not to show on your face that the idea was making your skeleton want to crawl out of your mouth and try its luck on the road. But you could see Ray was struggling, that he was bouncing his leg up and down under the table. ‘Marla’s a fighter,’ you said. He looked at you for a long moment, then nodded his head.

‘Bison. Tonight,’ he said, with finality.

You didn’t ask if he knew who else was going on the expedition. You reminded yourself you didn’t care, taking a big swig of water to drown the butterflies.

—

Propped up at a table off to the side, you had a clear view of the bar on your right and the door on your left. You were sitting with Ray and his friend that you didn’t know, and you were trying to participate in conversation but your guts were churning. As much as you wanted to stay in the moment, you couldn’t stop yourself scanning the crowd for threats. Someone smashed a glass over by the jukebox and you felt yourself startle, nearly knocking your own drink off the table. Over by the bar Chloe Bennett, owner of lumbar back problems and occasional sciatica, demonstrated how much her yelping laugh sounded like a woman being stabbed to death with her own stiletto, and you wanted very much to push your chair back and leg it, but Ray kept glancing at you to check you were ok, and his friend Simon seemed quite nice generally speaking, and if nothing else you might be able to drum up some more business out of him.

‘So you don’t charge anything?’ Simon was asking. Simon and Ray worked the radio together most days, Ray listening in to the white noise for any sign of covert communication, and Simon dutifully twisting the knobs beside him. Some part of you registered that he was conventionally attractive, and you wondered if the way he was leaning in to you as you chatted was what passed for flirting in an apocalypse, but also you were watching Ray scanning for Marla, trying to telepathically tell him it would be ok.

‘I mean, we don’t have money,’ you answered Simon.

‘You don’t barter then?’

‘I’m grateful to be here. My home is payment. My safety is payment.’

‘I don’t buy it,’ he said, and he was grinning and you knew that it was playful, but also you felt a wrinkle of frustration in the folds of your skin.

‘You don’t agree?’ Simon shrugged at you in response, and for a reason still not clear to you it made you want to slap him a little bit. You turned to Ray for help, but Ray was looking at the door, and when you looked too you saw Tommy and Joel had just walked in.

‘Fuck,’ Ray said, and you scanned his face for anxiety but found only awe. ‘They are so cool.’

Simon nodded in agreement, and you scoffed in surprise.

‘Are they?’ you asked, and your companions turned to you, confused, and Ray even slightly betrayed.

‘Tommy basically keeps this place going, him and Maria,’ Simon informed you as if this was news.

‘Peak Mama and Daddy Jackson,’ Ray chimed in.

‘Joel. He’s just…’ All three of you turned to watch him approach the bar, nodding to the bartender, who had started pouring him a whiskey the moment he walked in, and slid it over to him.

You weren’t sure how you wanted Simon to finish that sentence. Your eyes kept being drawn to Joel, the broadness of him, the salt and pepper in his hair in stark contrast to his strength, the power under his muscles and behind his eyes. You felt warm in your palms where you had held him, flexed your fingers to try and get the heat out.

You let the conversation move on without you, staring down at your drink, tracing the droplets of condensation first from the body of the glass and then down to the tabletop. If you hadn’t rushed him out would he have let you keep massaging him? Would you have peeled his shirt from his body and explored the planes of his skin? You wiped the water away before it could damage the wood.

‘They’re heading out tomorrow, first light,’ you heard Ray saying, and suddenly your attention snapped back to the present. ‘So I want to be on the radio early, before they go. See if we can find the signal again, make sure the raiders aren’t going in first.’

‘You said you thought they were further out,’ Simon pointed out. ‘That it was bouncing off the mountain.’

‘I know but we’re a day behind.’

‘That’s a lot of ground to cover.’

‘Not on horseback,’ Ray reasoned.

‘We don’t know if they have horses,’ Simon replied. He held his hands palm up on the table, in appeasement, you realised.

‘We don’t know that they don’t, either. We’re sending seven of our people out there…’ your stomach lurched at seven, and your eyes flicked again to Tommy and Joel, and you wondered if tonight was last drinks for them, not knowing if they would both make it back, a time for two brothers to come together before heading back into war. ‘…including Marla, and I just want to-‘

‘What does Marla have to do with it?’ Simon asked, and you decided then he was either an idiot or heartless, and neither option was preferable. You exhaled slowly through your teeth, and watched Ray for his reaction, and wondered if either of them would notice if you just slipped away into the crowd.

You watched Ray gather himself. ‘Marla is a good shot,’ he said, eventually.

You could feel Simon preparing to argue but suddenly there was yelling, actual yelling not imaginary traumatised-by-the-end-of-the-world yelling, and all three of you turned to the bar.

Jacob and another man you didn’t recognise were standing at the other end of the bar, pointing fingers at Joel and Tommy. Joel had already stepped around his little brother, squaring off with them, and you could see that his body was braced, a tightly wound spring in a flannel shirt and jeans. You picked your glass up off the table and cradled it to your chest, as if that would solve it.

You didn’t know Jacob. He was one of the men who had already decided he didn’t own muscles, or feel pain. You knew that he was younger than the men he was squaring off with, that he was full of bravado and empty of brains, the type to shoot first and think later, and it wasn’t lost on you that back in the day he would have made the type of cop that was the subject of several enquires and a few unflattering news items, who would have been shunted off to be the deputy of a shithole town that’s biggest crime wave was when a couple of cookbooks went missing from the local library, a town that he nevertheless tortured until he retired.

Jacob was currently yelling so hard spittle was flying across the bar, and you could make out the carotid artery along his red neck.

‘All well and good for you two,’ he was saying. ‘Sitting back while the real men go out and defend this town.’ Joel was moving forward towards him, despite Tommy pulling on his sleeve to bring him back, and everyone in the bar was now frozen, watching. Jacob continued, because he was as dumb as he was hateful. ‘Oh I’m on the fucking town council, that means I get to decide who lives and who dies without having to put my own arse on the line. Fuckin’ weak, pathetic-‘

‘Lower your voice,’ Joel said, completely calm and also utterly terrifying. Jacob laughed, actually laughed, in Joel’s face.

‘Fuck off old man,’ he spat, taking another step towards Joel, who wouldn’t back down. ‘You don’t get a say either, ridin your little brother’s dick all the way to retirement.’

‘It’s men and women,’ Joel continued, undeterred and still deathly calm. One afternoon on the road you’d come across a snake on the path, big and brown and poised with its head up, watching you. It had taken you ten minutes to back away from it, so sure it was about to lunge. Watching Joel now, inching forward towards Jacob, you had the same feeling. Jacob wasn’t following Joel, made too stupid by his misplaced entitlement, his anger and his impotent fury. ‘We are sending the real men and women to defend this town, and Tommy and I’ll be here to keep it safe while you’re gone.’

You exhaled for the first time all day, the tension you didn’t even know you were carrying with you suddenly releasing. But Jacob was more angry now, and Tommy was backing up Joel and squaring off too, and you felt the heat in the room ratchet up.

‘I’m having a baby, you fuck,’ Tommy said, and Joel raised his hand to calm him. Tommy immediately settled back behind his bigger brother.

‘Not to say we ain’t grateful,’ Joel continued, but Jacob had noticed that the whole bar was watching, that Joel was about to talk him out of an argument, that he was about to be alpha’d by a man twice his age. He took three steps forward toward Joel, who had already reached back to push Tommy out of the way, and Jacob’s arm was swinging just a fraction slower than Joel’s, who clocked the younger man hard in the jaw and sent him spinning, landing hard on the top of the bar and shattering glasses and bottles underneath him. He was only down for a second before he was back up and swinging, landing a blow on Joel’s eye socket before he and Tommy had him by the back of the collar. You realised you had stood up and had moved towards them only when you were close enough to hear Joel grunt ‘a fuckin bar fight, really? You that fuckin clichè?’

Jacob just grunted, his airway constricted by his shirt that Joel was now using as a vice, and even in the middle of the violence you could see he was careful not to compress harder than he needed to, holding him sturdy but without gripping so hard as to injure.

The four men headed for the door, Joel pushing Jacob through first and then following, using the momentum to swing the younger man out and down the stairs and into the dirt below. His friend rushed to him, pulling him up and away, and as you followed them out you heard Jacob spitting threats of his return. Joel was puffed, leant against the railing to catch his breath. He turned to his brother, checked on him, and then to you, where his eyebrows shot up and you realised he was seeing you only now. Your breath caught in your throat. You had no idea what you were doing there, either.

‘You’re hurt,’ you said after a moment, gesturing to his fist. You could see a scrape of blood pooling on the knuckle.

‘Ain’t broken,’ he said. Turning to Tommy he more or less ignored you. ‘You ok?’ he asked. Tommy nodded, before he also nodded to Joel’s fist.

‘Take him to ours,’ he said to you. ‘We got ice in the freezer. Time to work some more miracles.’

You were alarmed, pretty much constantly, but especially so when Tommy turned back to go inside.

‘You’re not coming?’ you asked, and you hated that your panic had carried through into your voice.

‘Gotta make it right here,’ he said, without turning around.

—

The walk to Maria’s was three minutes at most and still you would have flayed your own skin clean off not to have to do it. You could feel the wings now, beating hard against your rib cage, and you swallowed only to taste acid on the back of your tongue. Joel was silent, but it was the type of silence that belies being pissed off, a general curmudgeon-ing, that set you on edge.

You thought again back to your teacher. When the clients in pain, keep them talking.

‘How’s the shoulder?’ you asked, into the darkness in front of you instead of looking at Joel’s face.

‘Thought it wasn’t my shoulder,’ he said, and it took a second for you to realise he was teasing you, not goading. ‘S’ok, I hear it’s all connected,’ he pretend to console you, and you squawked out a surprised laugh, wondering if you’d ever, up until this moment, made a sound like that before.

At no point had you considered that Joel Miller could be funny. Now, though, you discovered you had even less of an idea of how to talk to him.

‘You’re not going out on the run?’ you asked, and you hoped not to sound too relieved, too hopeful.

‘Got things to look out for at home,’ he said, and you stayed quiet in the hope that he would keep talking. ‘Ellie and me, we had a rough time of it…she’s been quiet. Thought best to…’ he trailed off.

‘Maria said you went to Salt Lake?’ you asked, and because you were still unable to look at him you didn’t see him flinch. ‘Why did you have to go there?’ you continued on.

‘Didn’t realise Maria liked to gossip so much,’ he said, and you heard it then, the hardness of it.

You rushed to defend her. ‘I was just curious,’ you started, and Joel stopped you, stopped walking altogether. You turned back to him.

‘Dangerous thing,’ he said, and you wanted to tell him that you knew that, that you weren’t normally like that, that you were clever and you had survived this long because if it, but he was already turning up the path to Maria and Tommy’s place, and all you could do was trail behind him, like a fucking lap dog, worried he’d lock you out if you took too long to get inside.

From the couch Maria called for Tommy, and when Joel responded she pulled herself up to stand. You were surprised by how big she’d gotten, trying to remember the last time you’d seen a pregnant woman. Let alone a pregnant woman about to pop.

‘I know, I’m huge,’ she said, when she saw you staring and you snapped your eyes back to her face.

‘Radiant,’ you said, and she snorted.

‘Thank you for lying,’ she replied, and you felt the warmth of genuine affection between the two of you, thought for a moment of sunshine on your skin, of your sister.

‘Tommy said you had ice,’ Joel cut in, and Maria noticed Joel’s hand, her face hardening.

‘They started it,’ Joel said, and you nodded behind him to confirm that this was indeed true. You saw the suspicion in her eyes, the way she was careful with him, and you stepped forward, taking his elbow.

‘I’ll sort it,’ you said, smiling with what you hoped was confidence. Joel looked down at your hand on his arm, then up to your face, where you ignored his obvious indignation at being herded like a child. ‘On we go,’ you said, feeling like a deranged grade school teacher, trying to get her class of unruly six year olds through to 3 pm unscathed. You didn’t see the bemused look on Maria’s face as you pushed Joel down the hallway, but you wouldn’t have wanted to anyway.

Once again you found yourself crammed into a kitchen with Joel. Sitting him at the table you put some ice in a cloth then plopped down into the chair beside him and held out your hand. He stared at you, unmoving.

‘I can do this,’ he said, and you were tired then, having dealt with quite a lot of male bullshit in just the last two hours, and so you groaned and pulled his hand to you, holding him firm by the wrist lest he try and patriarchy his way out again.

‘I can do it better,’ you said simply, and he huffed out a laugh.

‘Now that I don’t deny,’ he said, and it was quiet, just barely muttered between the two of you, and when you looked up into his eyes you found that they were crinkled with something like amusement, something like affection.

You looked down, flexed his fingers for him, heard him hold his breath when you inspected the knuckle.

‘They teach you this in school, too?’ he asked, and you heard again that he was ribbing you. You decided it was a good sign.

‘No this is purely growing up with a daredevil older sister,’ you replied.

‘Family resemblance, then,’ he replied and you looked up at him sharply, angry for a second that he was calling you meek, that he was deriding you for a perfectly normal reaction to the collapse of society, but you saw nothing on his face that belied any aggression. If anything, you saw warmth.

‘This sore?’ you asked, just gently wresting a fingertip on the bone. His hands were big, with thick and powerful fingers, and you were doing your absolute best not to consider what they could do to you, if you let them.

‘S’alright,’ he murmured. For a moment you saw outside yourself, watched you hunched over inspecting the paw of a lion, a little mouse reaching in to extract a thorn.

‘Here?’ you said, hushed under the light of Maria’s kitchen. You pressed down slightly, on exactly the same spot, and heard his breath stutter. You realised the makeshift ice pack was too bulky to fit between his knuckles, so you opened it and took a block out, resolutely not looking up into his face.

‘Tell me if this is too cold,’ you said, holding the block between your fingers and running it gently over his skin.

‘Mmhmm,’ he hummed, gently. You kept the ice moving, your eyes watching his hand for any sign of a tremble, but he stayed resolute under your touch.

The heat of his skin started to melt it, cold water running down and snaking under his palm, between his fingers. It washed away the blood, so that you could see only scratches, surface abrasions, from where knuckle met jaw. You watched the pink of it, mixing with the water, little rivers of something precious, something Joel. You were aware only of your finger tips, the push of wings against your chest present but forgotten, as you witnessed him, his essence. As you gazed down on the thing that made him, that kept him, the life in his veins. As the block melted down to just a wafer, as it healed, sealed over the hurt, you lifted it to your mouth to taste it, wanting the iron and the tang of it, the sharpness of the cold mixed with the heat of him, of your open mouth.

You heard his breath hitch. Your eyes flew open, not having realised you’d closed them, and landed on his face, where you gasped when you saw the look of pure wanting, of pure desire, painted pink and red over his features. You dropped his hand in your panic, your face burning, your legs moving before your brain had even taken a moment to collect itself.

‘Thanks Maria I gotta go think Joel will be fine I hope you’re ok will drop some food around you’re the most beautiful pregnant lady I’ve ever seen take care bye’ you vomited, gathering your coat tight around your shoulders and wanting but not wanting, terrified but hoping, to hear footsteps down the hall behind you. You wrenched the door open, felt the welcome rush of cool on your face, already halfway down the porch before you heard it slam shut behind you.

You sprinted, shuffling over ice but not slowing, back to your home. As you went you followed the wall, wondering how it could have made you feel safe now that you were trapped behind it, wondering how you could possibly live with the snake poised to lunge at you, how you could outrun it when it had taken up home inside your belly, beside your breath.

Tag list (just learned what these are, lemme know if you want me to add you)

@orcasoul

#joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #fanfic #joel miller #pedro pascal #the last of us #tlou

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frizzle-mcshizzle · 3 days

Note

CAN I HAVE SOME KESLERxJULINE HCS??

YES YES YES 1000X YES (sorry this took so long) i really want to start calling them frosted beakers because it sounds cooler. anyways.

Juline struggled to control her ability after she first manifested because not only did she manifest at 14 much later than the rest of her peers, her ability is more connected to her emotions than it is for most fosters, making people around her see her as unstable and unpredictable, which upset her/made her angry, which make her ability harder to control and it was an endless cycle.

Kesler was a dorky curly haired 15yo with glasses and wasn't afraid of her and saw her as another noble kid he had to tutor to make sure his mentors still liked him and he wouldn't get sent to Exilium for some random made up reason

Juline didn't want to be in alchemy class, her parents pulled her out of her art class to go to the advanced alchemy class when she hadn't gone to alchemy class in years. so she was missing her favorite class and was now in a class she didn't understand forced to go tutoring with some dorky boy (who was a little cute (not cute enough to make her enjoy the class though)

eventually Kesler called out her behavior towards him not expecting anything to come out of it. but instead she apologized and said it wasn't fair of her to treat him like that. Kesler was shocked that she actually treated him like a person and Juline was offended that he would expect her to treat him otherwise. over the next several weeks they ended up having a lot of fun in the tutoring sessions together.

Juline played bramble in foxfire and it's something she genuinely enjoyed and was good at Kesler on the other hand couldn't play to save his life. Kesler lover to watch her play. because it was the only time he ever saw her smile so wide that her dimples would show.

they ended becoming close friends and then dating when they where around 17. they spent a lot of time around Kesler's family home as there was a forest right outside of the neighborhood he lived in. they spent a lot of time by the river because Juline could practice her ability and it was private and away from prying eyes, so they had the freedom to do what they pleased without comments about bad matches

the first spring they where dating Juline got really excited when snowdrops peaked through the snow and after that Kesler started to call her snowdrop. the nickname stuck for the rest of their lives, and they started buy each other jewelry with each others flowers on them

Juline was forced to go the elite levels by her parents, because they hoped that she and Kesler would break up with the distance and they wouldn't have to deal with a bad match for a daughter

they successfully avoided having a bad match daughter as well, Kesler was constantly being told he would ruin her life and Juline was struggling to keep up with writing letters and homework and classes didn't help. on top of that her parents wanted her to go to all these windowing gala's and she just complied because it was easier than fighting them on it. she also thought maybe just maybe her parents would realize she didn't love anyone else and would except the fact that wanted to marry Kesler.

they broke up around the time Juline graduated because Kesler wanted to protect her from the scorn, and he told her to find someone who would give her what she deserved because he couldn't.

they stayed apart for a few years neither dating anyone else because Kesler regretted what he did with everything in his soul but didn't think she would forgive him, and some part of him believed it was the right decision because he wanted her to live without scorn. Juline had given up on going to windowing gala's and decided to focus on her work because she didn't want to do anything else.

Kesler's older brother Eben went to the matchmaking office to get his third match list and Juline was on it. he decided to invite her, not because he was remotely interested in her but because on the off chance she came he wanted to give his little brother a second chance with the woman he still loved.

Juline went to Eben's windowing gala hoping that for some dumb reason Kesler would be there, the gala was hosted in a forest not far from the dizznee family home. not a lot of people came because they didn't want to go a 5th born's gala,

while there wasn't a lot of people present compared to the other gala's Juline had been to there was still enough people present for Juline to find it overwhelming. She asked Kesler's mom who was helping her son host if Kesler was there and she pointed down the path Juline knew all too well. it headed right to the river where she and Kesler had spent so much time together.

Juline took a deep breath and headed down the path telling herself that she would give Kesler a peice of her mind, because how dare he decide for her whats good for her, if she wanted to live with scorn she would she wasn't some coward who couldn't handle it.

Kesler was sitting on the fallen tree by the river and wouldn't even look her in the eyes. Juline lost all words she had in her head the second she saw him. all she could say was "i missed you Kesler"

they talk and talk and talk until the sun goes down. tears are shead apologies are made again and again and again, they stay by the river until dark, then even longer. Kesler asks Juline if they could start over, start from the beginning, and Juline agrees in a heartbeat, they part with promises to call in the morning,

Juline returns home with a hope in her heart for the future, not caring how it would effect her cushy noble job. she got Kesler back, she finally got him back.

Kesler didn’t stop thanking Eben for what he did, and Eben told him he owed Kesler after how he treated him in the past, Kesler was just happy to have his best friend back, he had always forgiven a little to easily.

Juline and Kesler dated in “secret” for years (it was blantly obvious that they where heads over heels for each other to anyone that had functional eyes), while Kesler built slurps and burps up from the ground. they didn’t get married until they where in their 80s because they liked the peace of living without the full fledged scorn

when they finally decided to get married, they had their wedding at Havenfeild, Juline announced to all of her noble friends about the wedding knowing they would be horrified that she was marrying a talentless. Edaline helped with the decor, and planing the whole wedding, it was actually quite small and peaceful wedding. she was fired from her noble job the second their marriage went through the government,

#i actually forget that i completely made up the snowdrop thing #its so cannon in my mind #Doodle came up with frosted beakers btw #kotlc #keeper of the lost cities #kesline #kotlc juline #juline dizznee #kesler dizznee #kotlc kesler #thanks for the ask!#frosted beakers #bullet point fic

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gojoath · 3 hours

Text

ಣ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ STAY HOME INSTEAD, OKKOTSU YŪTA

you loved your boyfriend, you did. but you think there’s only so much of his.. devoted personality you can take before the cracks begin to show.

summary. fem reader. yandere yūta. obsession. manipulation. stalking. yandere themes. aged up characters. toxic relationships. jealousy / possessiveness. creampie. yuta is insane. he knows exactly how to get into your mind. wc, 6.4k.

note. another repost :)

today has been such a drag, you grumble to yourself as you trudge your way up the stairs to your apartment that feel harder today than any other day. your legs feel moments away from buckling underneath you, your eyes are tired and you’re in need of some food— a bath too maybe.

but still you don’t think you’ve ever been as excited for a dinner with your friends than you are tonight. it’d been a while since you’d gotten the chance to go to one, other plans getting in the way and something always seeming to crop up last minute. you sigh as you take the last step onto your floor landing and fiddle mindlessly with your keys before pressing them into your apartment lock with a satisfying click.

you just can’t wait to unwind first, maybe after a well deserved nap on the couch for an hour.

you let your belongings drop at your front door as you roll out your shoulders, sliding off your shoes before you’re taking your first step into your apartment to flick on the lamp in the corner. you can’t wait to be wrapped up on your couch, tangled in your blanket and the low, ambient lighting that always makes your naps ten times more fulfilling. your eyes are almost closing at the thought already—

“oh, you’re back” a steady voice sounds just as you push through the door to your living room, and the nature in which it catches you off guard makes you jump before it’s followed by two warm hands resting on your shoulders.

“shit—“ you gasp as you blink quickly, feeling the rate of your heart pick up suddenly despite the way you still feel half asleep and oh so exhausted. but your shoulders slump once more when you look up to meet the gaze of the voice’s source. “yuuta?”

your new boyfriend okkotsu yuuta was someone you’d describe as hauntingly handsome, in the same sort of way you’d be attracted to your celebrity crush shirtless in a movie and covered in blood after beating the villain. his features were always a little sleepy, dark circles despite the way he managed to sleep well his nights at yours, but his black hair framed them nicely. although you were never aware of his presence unless he wanted you to be, it was his charm, you’d tell your friends.

his name is barely out from between your lips before he leans into swallow it as he presses into you, you’d think it’d been days since he’s seen you with the need that he pours into the kiss. his hands rest in their place on your hips and his fingertips squeeze into the skin, just enough to have your mouth opening to gasp before he seals it.

he takes the opportunity, drinks up the reactions you have to his touch as his tongue presses past your lips to graze against your own. it’s heated and impatient, every movement of his mouth feels like it’s set to devour you completely and you feel your lungs clench with the sudden need to breathe before you try to push him away.

“are you okay?” yuuta’s question is instantaneous with the break of your lips,

but your boyfriends gaze is lidded as he looks over you and you always found it to be quite intriguing despite the way others may call it something else. there was no shine to his eyes, no vitality, only this dull disinterest that only seemed to glow faintly whenever it touched yours. it was like a constant continual stare that made goosebumps prick along your skin, but also made you feel like it wanted to tear you out of it entirely.

people might find it unnerving but you always found the blue in yuuta’s eyes rather tranquil.

“you just scared me.” you let your head roll back slightly as you place your palm on your chest, trying to quell the erratic movement of your heartbeat against your ribs before it bounces out completely. you send your boyfriend a small glare, albeit nothing too serious before you’re wriggling out of his hold and walking further into the room.

“ah, sorry.” yuuta replies gently as he sends you a soft smile and scratches at the back of his neck. but his eyes remain on you as you cross the floor, finding purchase on the couch before he’s following suit to rest in the space beside you as the cushions dip under your combined weight.

“how did you get in here?” you ask, a resonant hum despite the way you’re not really listening as you focus on trying to get yourself comfortable instead, leaning back to grab the blanket that rests so invitingly on the back of your seat before you’re rolling it out and tucking yourself into it.

“oh, uh.. the door was open.” you don’t really register yuuta’s reply and you’re too tired to press the subject further, especially when he’s letting you rest your thighs in his lap so comfily. maybe if you were a little more awake you’d have remembered the click of your lock just minutes ago as you opened it. but right now his hands squeeze affectionately at your skin as you push yourself down onto your side, and you feel amazing as you rest your head on the arm of the sofa to breathe softly.

“i thought we could stay in tonight.” there’s a hopefulness to his words as he looks over you, eyes fixated on your drowsy features as his hands coax comfort into your bones with every graze of his fingertips. it’s like he’s convincing you, watching the way your eyelashes flutter and kiss the apples of your cheeks, like it’ll get him what he wants. “then we can stay like this forever.”

that’s how it always was, and it seemed to work— the past few weekends atleast.

“oh, i cant tonight. i have dinner.” you drawl soundly, your voice more of a dreamy, high pitched purr as yuuta’s hands work at your skin.

“oh, who will be there?” but his reply is still quick and despite the way your eyes are closed, you can feel the way his gaze cuts through you,

“just a few people from work, it’s been a while since i’ve been able to make one.” you don’t pay any mind to the squeeze of your boyfriends hands on your skin suddenly. his voice steals back your attention again before you can focus on it too much as he chews nervously on his lower lip.

“i don’t know them, maybe i should come.”

it’s a little irritating, the way yuuta is choosing to have this unnecessary conversation now— the agitation only being fuelled by the way his voice keeps pulling you out of your drowsy state of mind.

he’d gotten like this a few times, you’d opted to spend the last few weekends in your apartment with him which in turn meant denying the invitations that came before this one. you understood that he could get jealous, his devotion to you was quite flattering in a way, his need to constantly have you next to him just so he could ensure your safety, that’s what it was. he just wanted to keep you safe.

but that doesn’t mean it didn’t verge on overbearing at times, especially when yuuta always ended up following behind you at your heels everywhere you went. even before you both actually got together, you always found it to be some strange twist of fate that you both consistently managed to bump into eachother every time you left the house,

“yuuta, stop. you don’t have to follow me everywhere, i’m fine.” your words are sharper now and it makes his body tense, your eyes begrudgingly blinking open as you stare blankly at the wall opposite you both. why won’t you meet his gaze? why aren’t you looking at him?

“but how will they know you’re mine?” like the bites and hickies yuuta always greedily left on your skin weren’t proof enough, he always got a little agitated when you’d try to cover them up afterall. his fingers twitch in your thighs again and his voice wavers, it’s unsteadier than it was a few moments ago as his body looms closer to your own, curling over you slightly like how a cat would corner a mouse, but you pay him no mind.

“they’ll know.”

“but, you’ll be alone.”

“yuuta, i said to stop.” you snap as you push yourself up to sit, any remnants of sleep that you were clinging to have been swallowed up completely by the agitation that burns you now. you ignore the way yuuta’s hand reaches out to pull you back as you stand, not even sending him a second glance as you make your way out of the living room with a long, drawn out huff. “i’m going to get ready.. or am i not allowed to do that without you either?”

“sorry,” yuuta’s shoulders sag as he stares into the doorway that your figure just disappeared behind and he feels something sinister burn in his chest as his gaze widens. his next inhale is ragged as he hunches forward to rest his elbows on his thighs, his head is in his hands and he feels dizzy with the frustration that settles in his bones.

it’s not fair, why are they trying to take you from him?

“don’t be mad,” his words are muttered whispers, smeared into his palms as his fingertips shake. another unnerving moment of silence and his hands are shoved in his hair before they’re pulling at his roots. “i don’t like when you’re mad at me.” it’s unhinged, terrifying how quiet he seems to appear despite the way he’s anything but as he curls over himself.

yuuta’s words are barely audible, spoken only to himself and they’re nothing more than obsessive babbling under his breath, they’re disjointed and wavering under the spiral of his own overwhelming emotions. “i’ll kill them, this is their fault.” but they’re a declaration, determined— he’s driven by his devotion to you. nobody will come between you and your love. he has to kill them, he has to, he has—

“yuuta?” your voice reverberates and his movements halt suddenly before his head tilts to the source of the sound, but the way he looks at you is intense enough to make you feel rooted in place as you stand above him. he hadn’t notice you coming back in, maybe you hadn’t left him all alone without you, he knew you’d come back. “what are you doing?” his eyes were there, but it was like he wasn't seeing anything, like he was stuck in a nightmare, a vision that was at play in front of him that only he could see.

but he still manages to send you an almost misplaced, unnervingly sweet smile.

“they’re trying to take you away from me.” yuuta whispers, softly as you tilt your head in his direction. something in your bones is telling you to move, to run, but there’s an energy that surrounds him that dares you to. he’d catch you. it’s a threatening sort of pressure that you feel weigh down on your body, it feels like it swallows you completely and the space between you feels so tight that you can barely get enough air in your lungs.

you sway slightly as he pushes himself to stand, letting you stumble back before he’s steadying you, urging you to close the already close proximity before he’s letting his fingers stroke gently at your cheek. you feel trapped, figuratively and literally because the way he’s holding you is tight and as much as you want to try to break free, you still seem to lean into his touch.

“but you’re mine, your heart, your body, everything.” his tone is so sweet, almost polite and it makes a shiver trail down your spine. another soft, featherlight stroke of yuuta’s fingertips and you feel something warm burn along the back of your neck, although you’re not too sure if it’s a positive reaction yet. “because i love you.” it’s intense and too much, you’d only been together a few weeks and now he’s confessing to you like it’s nothing, like you should’ve known all along.

“you’re scaring me.” you manage to finally say as you place your hands on your boyfriends chest, but you don’t push him away yet. you stare up at him, because even despite the mused black hair that falls over his eyes— you think it’s a little confusing that the broken pieces of him only seem to make you want him closer, to put him back together. it was his charm.

“don’t be scared, this is pure love.” you let him pull you closer again and your palms remain on his chest, until almost by instinct, they’re lured to wrap around his shoulders instead. maybe it’s the sweet words he’s speaking gently into your ear, the way he’s holding you so softly despite the way you can feel the weight that’s keeping you pinned to him. “i have you, so i don’t need anything else.”

like he’d seal your body against his for eternity if you weren’t careful.

“stay with me.” yuuta asks again because he loves you, he gives you the choice despite the way he could easily lock you in here by force if he needed to. he dreams to, to have you all to himself— then there wouldn’t be any outside forces to tear you away from him, he wants to have you by his side forever.

but because you’re good and you love him, he knows he won’t have to do that just yet. right?

you’re wordless, you don’t speak as you blink up at him but he takes your silence as acceptance as he hums out a pleased sort of sound before he’s pulling you in again. it’s full of teeth and spit this time as he kisses you, like he’s devouring a meal— like he’s hungry, starved of affection and you’re a banquet of it, for him to feast as he pleases. until he’s full.

something burns in your chest and you don’t notice the way your thighs seem to be trembling until you take an unsteady step back as yuuta’s weight presses into you. as much as he lets you before he’s pulling you back again.

maybe it’s the way he kisses you that has you pliant, that has you eagerly meeting him with soft presses of your lips— trying to keep up with every wet press of his tongue as he sucks your lower lip between his teeth to bite. you’re lightheaded and warm but you can’t deny that something similar to fear still lingers underneath your skin when he pulls back to look over you again.

but why is the dread making everything feel so much better? maybe you’re just as twisted as he is.

it’s so fast the way yuuta moves you, the way you find yourself so seamlessly back on the couch before he’s caging you in, pushing you into the cushions as his body presses between your thighs. he notices the way your gasps of his name trail off at the end, he hears the whispery, breathy, pouty sound your lips make as you lean into him, so desperate to pull him closer as your thighs wrap around his hips and he knows what it is.

“see, it’s love.” he gulps and the sound makes your toes curl from where you’re sat, because he says it like he’s never been so sure of anything in his life as he pulls away to smile down at you. it’s sweet and warm, emphasised by the way his cheeks are a little flushed from your kisses— along with his lips as he gives you an adoring look and you try to brush off the pinpricks of arousal with a deep breath.

maybe this was love.

“but i’m done talking now.” the floor creaks as yuuta leans forward into you, his words taking a lower sort of drawl when he tilts your head to the side— revealing more of the skin between your shoulder blade and jawline as he kisses along the space. he’s overwhelmed with how good you smell immediately, your body heat, the feeling of your fingers in his hair before they pull at the roots with every rough graze of his teeth and he’s pretty sure his brain scrambles at the touch.

it’s needy and a little wild the way he’s suckling marks into your skin, closing his lips around the previous ones he’s left that he thinks are getting a little too faded as he rolls them back between his teeth. you’re almost trembling beneath him, arching into him— pulling him even closer and he could get used to this, being wrapped in you, having you beneath him. what would he have to offer you to make you stay by his side forever?

yuuta’s palming at your clothes and you’re whispering sweet little pleas that drive him fucking crazy, he’s so consumed with lust he thinks he might actually pass out as his teeth sink so deep into the crook of your neck he almost draws blood.

“yuuta, please.” you try, beg for him to give you what you need but the sweet sound only makes him press himself deeper into you, the hem of your shirt slinking up with his wrists as they smooth up your body.

“will you give me all of you?” his voice cracks under the weight of his arousal as he feels you move beneath him, hips clasped tight around his and your pussy feels like fucking silk against his cock, even with the fabric between you as it sticks to his overheating skin.

but yuuta needs to hear you say it, needs to hear you say that you’re his for him to take, to mark, to adore. it’s easier when it’s done by choice, he can tell you love him when you gasp out his name in that pretty, dreamy tone or when your eyes remain on his despite the way his threaten to swallow the way yours glow.

“yesyes, just please.” your wound up so tight but the already shaky thread that was holding onto the dwindling weight of his sanity snaps when you grab at his hair to pull again.

yuuta makes a ragged sort of sound as he eases himself away from your lips to kneel on the floor beside the sofa, the gentleness in which he does is a stark contrast to the way he pulls at the fabric between you both— almost ripping the light material with the strength that always seems to surprise you when you notice it. like he’s hidingit.

“see, you don’t need anyone else. i can take care of you.” his dark pupils are blown as they look over you and you’re sure they look similar to the last sight a rabbit would see before it was ripped apart by a fox. you don’t dare to speak, to argue because the fear leaves you pliant, softbeneath him as he shoves down your clothes, then your panties as his warm fingers dig into your aching flesh.

you feel yuuta’s lips press into your abdomen before his teeth follow suit, accompanied by the way he’s dragging and working his tongue along your skin as he squeezes at your thighs. there’s a flush high on his cheek, driven by the mindless throb in his cock and you’d think he looks adorable if you didn’t feel like he was about to make you food.

it makes you feel even hotter.

mine, he murmurs against your skin— buries it there, like the skin will remember before he’s suckling another raised mark, covering you in a brand as he suckles a messy, drooled kiss into your hip.

“yuu, please~” you whisper as you lift your head up to watch yuuta lean back onto his knees and throw your thighs over his shoulders with a long exhale through his teeth. your legs twitch against his cheeks as the warm air blows over your folds and it makes yuuta’s cock throb in his pants before he’s wasting no more time waiting.

it’s filthy, the urge in which he presses his mouth into you as your head rolls back, curling his tongue around your pussy before he’s dragging it up higher— laving your clit in messy, suckled kisses and rolls of his tongue. your boyfriend had always been an enthusiastic eater, he ate you out like he wanted to die there— to live, eat, breatheyour fucking pussy and he really wishes you’d give him that choice already.

another claim, another mine buried between your folds and the low, needy tone of yuuta’s voice sends blissful vibrations straight through your clit. the way he’s smacking and slurping at your slick is loud and you’d almost be embarrassed if you’re head didn’t feel like it was full of cotton, because you’re so wet and it feels so good.

he can feel the way you’re dripping down his cheeks, you’re almost babbling as he buries himself even deeper into you until his hips twitch with want, you’re so eager— so consumed by him he thinks you’d give him anything right now if he asked. this is exactly how he loves you.

your head falls forward slightly and your hands move to twist in yuuta’s hair again, pulling at the dark roots but the searing pain only makes him feel drunker on the taste of you. it urges him to press his tongue against the entrance to your pussy, whimpering at the first needy squeeze of your walls that greet him. mine—

your eyelashes flutter but his dark gaze remains on you during every moment. he needs to see every second of you like this, so consumed by lust and by him. your hips are desperate, needily humping against his tongue and he thinks it’s adorable, it’s his— your his, your body, your mind. he’ll carve his name on your every thought until he’s all you have left.

you twitch beneath him and he only leans more of himself on top of you, burying himself between your thighs as his large palms bare down on your hips so tight you’re sure they’ll bruise. he doesn’t want to stop, he can’t, not until you’re creaming on his tongue— giving him all of you, he needs everything.

“give it to me. all of it.” yuuta grunts, orders as your eyes finally lift to touch his and it makes you burn so hot you’d swear fire lived within his gaze. he lets you guide him to where you want him but he knows what you need, so he hums before he’s hooking his tongue around your clit once more.

he feels the bud grow firmer, more sensitive when he’s twisting and laving it in licks that you meet with eager, intoxicating twitches of your hips. “s-so good,” he knows it is, he’s studied you enough to know that, watched you play with your pretty pussy through your apartment window too many times for him to count, he knows what makes you twitch and how pretty you look as you cum. he’s so eager to see it now.

“g’nna cum.” you gasp and it almost makes yuuta pass out as he bares eagerly into you, pulling you deeper into his mouth as he trails his tongue underneath the hood of your clit and his lips close around it. he suckles languidly and you fucking tremble as your fingertips twitch against his scalp, his own needy moans muffled into the dips of your cunt as the warm bliss begins to curl and lick down your spine.

“look at me.” he needs to see you, see the love that pools in your eyes from him as your gaze peeks open— clouded with lust and so pretty he swears he almost cums in his pants. another press of his tongue and it’s instantaneous the way your body stiffens, breathing out his name like a hormone-drunken plea, like it’s the only word you know as your orgasm makes your toes curl.

you hear yuuta whine, long and low, with the first taste of your cream along his tongue as he drinks you up greedily, swallowing loudly with every eager slurp while his lidded gaze doesn’t waver from yours. you’re still looking at him albeit blurry, hands in his hair and he thinks you’re beautiful like this,

it doesn’t take long until you’re trembling with overstimulation, his cheeks and chin damp with your slick and his spit and you know if you don’t pull him away he’ll keep going. so you send him a pleading sort of pretty look that makes him bend for you so willingly as you lead him back up to you by his hair.

although the hard press of his cock against your sensitive cunt only reminds you of what’s to come.

“i need you, please.” he gasps when you pull him in for another kiss, so fucking sexy as you both moan at the taste of you along his tongue and it only makes yuuta throb against the inside of your thigh when you nod. he eagerly pushes down his slacks in response.

his fingers twitch into your hips before he’s pulling you towards him, letting your lower back press into the edge of the couch as he mounts you like an animal, like something carnal as he feels your skin tremble beneath him.

this was what it meant to be okkotsu yuuta’s, to belong to him. why would you pass this up for a night with your friends? you don’t need them, he’s all you’ll ever need. they wouldn’t have you trembling like he does, pouty lips and eyes glazed overs when you feel the first graze of his cock along the inside of your thigh.

the hunger in his gaze almost seems misplaced against the flush of his cheeks, but it still makes something race down your spine when you catch a glimpse of it through the dark bangs that fall relaxed over his features, still mused from your fingertips.

yuuta’s lips part against yours when the tip of his cock presses against the entrance to your cunt, and the sound he makes is almost tender as one of his hands come to softly brush along your cheek bones again. he holds you there, before he pulls away to rest his forehead to yours, to meet your gaze as he finally begins to sink into you and it feels so intimate, soft despite the bruising grip his other hand holds on your hips.

he sucks his lower lip between his teeth as he murmurs with a mixture of need and delight, he’d been waiting for this all day— to finally sink up into you, this is what you could have everyday if you’d just let him move in. he doesn’t care if it’s only been a few weeks, maybe he’ll pull another orgasm out of you— wait until you’re pliant and drowsy before he proposes the idea.

then you’d never have to leave again.

your thighs twitch as yuuta grazes past your swollen spots and he hopes the reaction is really because you can read his mind, maybe you want him just as much as he wants you. this really was pure love, and the realisation makes him smile before he whimpers when your walls reward the stretch of his cock with another needy squeeze around him.

his cock was pretty, long enough to make your toes curl and your pussy clenches hard around him the deeper he goes as he groans, leaning in to smear messy kisses along your cheeks as you grab and scratch at his shoulders. he hopes you leave marks.

yuuta’s hips stutter when he finally bottoms out and it’s like a reward the way you breathe out his name. the weight of his hips lean against yours as they keep you against the edge of the couch, and his fingers grope a little too hard at your skin as he breathes deep.

for the first time tonight, his eyes are clenched shut and he already misses the sight of you. but he thinks if he catches even a glimpse of you right now he’ll give into the needy coax of your pussy before he’s even had a chance to take what’s truly his.

another trembled exhale and yuuta’s breathing hitches when he feels you lean forward to kiss him once on the cheek, mumbling something affirming that has him shaking before he’s drawing his hips back.

“i love you.” he gasps and your pussy flexes again, as if it’s trying to coax back in every inch you lose— it’s like it’s telling him it loves him too as your body pulls a breathier croon of your name from his lips. his first real thrust is a little too eager, it’s clumsy and he whimpers before he readjusts himself on his knees to begin a real pace that’s a little steadier. it’s one that has your toes curling againwhen he hugs you closer, listening to him pant and moan softly between your own moans as his lips smear against your cheek.

“please, i love you.” again, and your hips grind up to meet his— you can’t deny that the affirmation makes you feel warm, something twisting in your gut that you feel too lightheaded to pinpoint.

maybe it is love, maybe it’s not too soon to think that way when he has you feeling this good.

your lips part to moan his name as he rocks forward again and he pushes against something sensitive inside of you as you arch—try to, although his strong grasp manages to keep you in place.

“i love you too.” your mind is hazy and you think it’s mostly a spur of the moment confession rather than a real one but you don’t care at this point when it only makes yuuta’s pace increase. he only gets faster, needier and that same pressure that you felt around him earlier is back as it bares down on you both— pressing you deeper into the cushions like it’s only driving him more.

your body jolts against his, every rock of his hips making the mess between your thighs squelch loudly around your apartment and every quick thrust leaves you breathless. his movements are driven by love, pure devotion to you like he’s proving that nobody will be able to take care of you like he can. he’ll kill anyone who tries.

“i— ah, i knew it. you love me.” yuuta’s words are barely audible, they’re unsteady and needy— almost lost behind the loud clapping of his hips into yours. but you can hear the joy in them, a soft sort of chirp that has a chill bursting along your skin despite how hot you feel. he only forces his cock deeper into your slick cunt following your little confession because you love him, you love him, he knewyou did. it was obvious, he could tell. that means you’ll be his forever, you don’t leave people that you love.

his pelvis grinds against your clit and your hands are back in his hair to pull again as his lips part at the sting, making his cock throb from where he’s pressing into you. “again.” please, he gulps, words like a plea, letting his slender fingers trace between your bodies to roll your puffy clit like he’s trying to lure it out of you again.

your breathing skips as you mutter out another i love you, it’s like a prayer rather than a confession as you babble mindlessly so lost in your pleasure as your pussy throbs around him.

“yuu—“ you squeal, but yuuta almost threatens to swallow you whole when his hand hooks around the back of your neck to pull you into another kiss as you cum. his hips press into yours, snug and tight with the first milking compression of your walls and you feel the spit trail down your lips as they move with his. but he licks it up so lewdly before he pushes his tongue back against yours.

the mindless movements of his mouth accompanied by the back and forth stutter of his hips makes you almost see white as he fucks you through another mind-numbing orgasm. “it’s s-so good, it’s perfect.” and it’s his, he rasps and the praise pours down your spine as you chant his name breathlessly into each kiss despite the way his thrusts interrupt the press of your lips.

yuuta’s haunting gaze opens as he admires you, drinks in the way your eyelashes kiss your cheeks— the way your eyes crinkle slightly with each particularly deep kiss of his cock. he lets them drop between you next, to take in the gooey ring of liquid that forms around the base of him everytime he draws his hips back. to admire the orgasm that he earned, that he owns as he pushes another hissed i love you between your lips.

your breathing becomes laboured as drowsiness sets in and he takes that as his signal to let himself go as his cock throbs with the weight of his orgasm, making him shake above you. his lips are still on yours before he lets them close around your tongue, suckling messily as he pushes his load into your puffy pussy, finally losing himself in the fluttering pull of your body.

you feel yuuta’s arm hook around your waist, tightening in some attempt to pull you closer despite the way his thrusts have been reduced to slow humps into you before they finally cease completely. but his lips still manage to bathe you in soft, affectionate kisses as they follow a path along your cheeks and lips.

you’re both spent, falling into a slump against the side of the couch as your ass slides off to rest on the floor beneath you and you stay like that for a few moments as you catch your breath. his kisses stop albeit momentarily as he pulls away to look at you, and you think it’s charming the way he’s flushed to his chest and still a little awkward looking despite the way you can literally feel his cock softening inside of you.

yuuta smiles at you, it’s kind and warm and it makes you forget all about the plans you were supposed to have before his palm is cupping your cheek again, and he’s kissing you once more on the lips. “sorry, i’ll run you a bath.” he breathes, laughs softly against your lips and you hum in acknowledgment before you wrap your arms around his shoulders.

you could stay like this forever, you admit.

another long press of his lips against yours and you’re both roused from your dreamy little makeout session when you hear the shrill vibration of your phone on the couch behind you. your eyes widen at your friends contact ID and you’re suddenly reminded about the plans you were supposed to have as you try to scramble to your feet, albeit shakily and a little messy when you feel yuuta’s cum eagerly smear against the inside of your thighs.

“shit, i forgot.” you gasp and it’s almost by instinct the way he feels his gaze darken, threateningly when you rush to your feet to pad towards the bathroom after giving him another quick kiss, although you don’t recognise the murderous intent. he loves you afterall. it’s not for you.

he feels his shoulders slump as he rests in the living room now, soft cock and half naked before he hears the running water of the shower switch on. he’s pretty sure he could ruin your little plans in the time it takes you to shower, it wouldn’t take him long infact. he’s pretty sure he left his katana in your bedroom when he arrived. if he left right now he could—

“yuuta! aren’t you coming in?” maybe another day.. maybe, he’s got love in his life now afterall as he finds himself rushing to your side.

it’s almost an hour later as yuuta rests on your bed, his hair is wet now— falling over his dark gaze and if he’d successfully managed to pull you into bed with him, he’s sure he’d be asleep by now. but his attention is still all on you, watching you lift up the various discarded outfits you’ve left thrown around your room as you look for your phone.

“yuuta, have you seen my phone? ugh, i literally just had it in the living room and now it’s gone.” you grumble, frustrated and despite how tired he feels— he still manages to perk up a little when you round the bed to look under the comforter beneath him. “could you help me look?”

he’d do anything for you.

almost anything, because instead of looking for your phone— he lets his fingers wrap gently around your wrist as you hover over him and he only pulls you closer, urging you to fall against his chest before you’re grumbling about how late you already are. but you’re not putting up much of a fight, you must want to stay here with him.

“don’t leave. you said you’d never leave me.” yuuta hums as he watches you push yourself up against his chest, hooking one of your thighs over his hips so you’re able to straddle his waist. you think you do remember saying something like that, although you can’t really be held accountable for everything you do when your boyfriend has you pressed against the shower wall.

his hands fall into their place at your hips and he sends you another lidded look before you sigh.

“yuuta, i’m already so late i need to find it.” you try, but he’s not convinced.

“i need you first, all of you. then i’ll help you look.” he had a way of melting you, irritatingly so when his words are accompanied by a strong rock of your hips against his. it’s controlled by his hands and in the exact spot he knows you like as you bite on your lip nervously, but you let him because you love him, don’t you?

don’t worry about being late, he made sure to text your friends from your phone to let them know the plans had changed before he decided to keep it safe in the pocket of his slacks anyway.

you: sorry, can’t make it tonight. busy for the next few months.

#cw yandere #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #okkotsu yuta smut #okkotsu yuta x reader #okkotsu yuuta smut #okkotsu yuuta x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk smut #jjk x reader #yuuta x reader #okkotsu yuta x you #yuuta smut

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jeanbie · 1 day

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WORDLESS #5 ★ masterlist.

pairing: levi x reader

genre: sugar daddy & contract killer au | warnings: implied violence, establishing feelings, mentions/references to john wick & the continental | wc: 6.8k

note: who expected me to actually finish this? (answer: no one) i'm so glad that i got to finish "wordless" and put these two losers in a place they deserve to be in! this chapter is the finale and also almost entirely from levi's pov, and this one flows in a chronological order :)

★ ch1. ch2. ch3. ch4. ch5

⏤ Sometimes, saying “I love you” is inappropriate, and given your circumstances, you think it might send Levi over the edge if he hears them again. But maybe he's ready now.

(41) Giving them space when they express wanting to have some time alone.

It’s been a hot second since Levi saw you — and it’s killing him more than he’d care to admit.

Since the blow up in the shower over girls he wasn’t fucking in the first place, Levi hasn’t heard from you, and he hasn’t made much of an effort to reach out either.

Why did he even lie? There was no benefit from telling you he was seeing other girls; the only reason he said that so often was to manage the healthy boundaries between you, to remind you not to get too close, to remind himself that being with you is a risk.

Not that pushing you away has made his life any easier. On the contrary, he thinks it’s made everything worse.

It is almost dehumanising to admit it to himself, but he misses you. Since your rather unconventional first meet — which was a far cry from any ‘meet cute’ that normal situationships had — Levi has been telling himself that the circumstances surrounding you being in his life were unique at best, and that you weren’t permanent.

But now, he lives his life around a ghost of your body, making room for you in his home, making time out of his schedule, making arrangements to keep you happy.

Okay. Maybe it’s a little bit too late to acknowledge the feelings he has for you. Levi knows they’re there — he’s not an idiot. But making those feelings real is something he just can’t afford to do. Not yet. Not while there’s too much going on in his life.

Still, he stares longingly at the door every night when he staggers back home, as if hoping you might take him by surprise and crawl back into his arms. Not that you do, at least not for a while; not until Levi grows fed up of waiting and finds you first.

But for now, he’ll grant you he space that you need, the space you deserve. And in the meantime, he’ll try and make peace with the waging war in his head.

(42) Holding their hand while walking, even if there isn’t a crowd.

“This is nice.”

The neighbourhood Levi now lives in is much smaller than the last one. It pales in comparison to the condo it took forever to finally move out of, but having consistent security breaches just for a tiring view of the river didn’t feel worth it for Levi anymore. It made no difference to him if the apartment he all but owns for you is much farther away — you’re barely ever there, anyway.

Since putting his angst to rest, and since making it known to you that you’re quite literally the only woman he likes enough to keep buying houses for and invite over, things have been calm between you.

There’s still a strange unspoken thing, the remains of an agreement made out of convenience so long ago, to feed both the lust and pride Levi wanted and the safety you craved; but in general, Levi acknowledges that what he has with you right now feels like the closest thing he’s had to a partner in a long, long time.

Levi looks over at you, feeling your hand tighten in his as you cross a cute little park covered in flowery bushes and beds of tulips.

“I’m glad my neighbourhood has your stamp of approval,” he replies, tightening his fingers around yours before pulling up slightly to stuff your joined hands into his pocket. Though it’s spring now, there’s still a bite in the air, a chill that Levi is determined to shelter you from.

“Technically,” you start, and Levi can predict, like a robot, what you’ll say next, and mouths the words as they fall from your lips, “it’s mine, too.” Your eyes turn piercing as you scowl at him, “Hey! Don’t…predictive text me.”

“Then stop being so predictable.”

“I think we spend too much time together,” you mutter, looking back at the flowerbed you’re currently passing by.

Levi scoffs to himself and playfully scratches a nail against the hand lodged in his pocket.

“Then go away,” he says. No chance, is what runs through his head, and the coy smile you flash him is as equally predictable as the word he knows you’ll say next, starting with n and ending in o.

(43) Holding shopping bags that are too heavy for them.

Ever since Levi figured out how to share locations, he’s become obsessed with watching you move around on the map on his phone. Numerous times, he’s slipped up on spending hours watching your little circle move, sometimes not even moving at all.

If you had any complaints, he hasn’t heard them, though he very much doubts that you’ll complain in the future now that his stalking has worked out in your favour.

You might have initially thought that bumping into Levi outside the supermarket was a rather delightful coincidence — that was until he moved across the city, and has no real business in your area unless it concerns you.

“Perfect timing,” you say once you see him crossing the small car park in your direction. He has half a mind to pretend he hasn’t seen you and keep walking, but watching you struggle with your shopping is painful enough.

He grunts, reaching for the bag that is squeezing the blood from your fingers. “Don’t get proud about it.”

Sniggering, you happily let Levi grab the overweight bags and fall into an even step beside him.

“Why do you have so much stuff?” Levi huffs. To be fair, the bags aren’t that heavy, but he can’t see any reason for you to have bought so much considering you live at his house more often than you do your own. “You gonna share this shit?”

“If you want,” you reply. “You paid for it.”

His tongue clicks. Levi hasn’t paid you a penny since he last felt guilty about the fact he rarely paid you, despite that being the very foundation of your relationship in the first place, but even with what he paid you and hasn’t since that point, he knows your bank account is more than comfortable. Paying for all of this has barely made a dent, but that’s what the money’s there for.

He makes his way to his car pulled up outside the car park turning in a layby and struggles in his pocket for his keys.

“I live five minutes away,” you remind him, steps slowing.

“No, you just said you’d share it, so we're going to mine.”

With a sigh, you’re left with no other choice but to follow him to his car. “You know, the romance of you carrying my bags is lost now you’ve only walked it to the car.”

Before he pops open the boot of the car, he turns to you and sneers, “You want me to walk back and let you do it yourself?”

There’s no argument to be had. You get into the car.

(44) Standing between them and a busy road.

Habits. Levi hates to keep track of how many he’s developed since you entered his life almost two years ago. Time has gone by so quickly since the day he first met you, in the worst way possible, but since then, he’s transformed into a whole new person, a whole new paranoid man who overthinks everything because there’s no other option.

His habits as of late include worrying about you whenever you’re not around — whenever he’s at work, he’ll think of you. Whenever he’s in a different city or country, Levi will obsessively worry over what you might be doing, who might be on your trail, scenting your every move while you’re vulnerable. Another habit includes feeling like an overbearing parent even when he’s in the same five mile radius, but at least he’s self aware of it.

If you’ve noticed Levi becoming more clingy, less like who he swore he’d never change from, you haven’t mentioned it yet. Perhaps a small mercy to save him the mortifying task of admitting that he has feelings stored away for you.

Today, Levi has fallen victim to his habits of worry and has walked himself all the way to your university just to walk you all the way back home. His home, not yours. In a sense, your home, too. In an unspoken way.

Levi stands waiting for you in the overhang, gaze trained on the thick grey sky until he hears your class file out of the building in a chatter. Sasha is who he sees first, followed by another one of your friends he’s never met but has seen on Instagram once or twice, and then he sees you, looking thankfully in good spirits, and all too beautiful for your own good.

When you see him standing with his hands in his pockets, he allows himself the pleasure of pride when you break away from your friends just to join him, the smile on your face so genuine and radiant that he has to scoff in amusement.

“Hey, you,” you call, falling into his arms.

“Hey, yourself.”

“I didn’t know you were coming today,” you confess, pulling away to stare curiously at his withdrawn expression. Levi is already twisting an arm around your waist to walk you down the step and across the lawn. “I told Sasha I’d go to her café and wait for her shift to end. Didn’t you have that thing today?”

“What thing?” he mutters.

“The thing with Erwin. And some deadbeat called George, or something.”

“How many Korean men do you know named George?” Levi deadpans, though his arm does tighten around you in caution. “You shouldn’t even know about that. How do you even know?”

The busy road widens into view as you leave the closed campus. Levi’s pretty much counting the days before you graduate and never have to come here again, and the time is passing strangely slow in that department. It feels like it’s been ages since you enrolled, and he wants nothing more than for you to leave and become the greatest journalist in the world — or whatever it is you even want to do when you’re done.

As you walk, you lean into Levi’s side, furthering the distance between yourself and the road bustling with cars and buses. He frowns.

One of your habits since the accident on the bridge with your family had been to avoid busy roads, as if convinced something might happen again. You’ve told him numerous times that it’s irrational, but Levi doesn’t think so. It’s a very normal thing to feel afraid of everything, even when those things are a little on the unrealistic side.

Naturally, it results in Levi sliding his arm from around your waist and replacing it with his other one, positioning himself between you and the chaotic lines of commuting cars going home.

His heart flips when you smile at him for it, linking your arm around his while moving your waist out of his grip. Levi tries not to let it get to his head how much you trust him, how much he cares for you. But by the minute, he’s losing the will to keep it hidden.

(45) Rubbing the back of their hand with a thumb.

Back to habits, there are some that Levi has that he’s not particularly as proud of. But, as expected, you’re as good as it gets, and any habit he thinks he might have gotten away with hiding, somehow you pick up on it.

Levi flicks through a blueprint laying flat over his kitchen table, his hands nervously drumming the edge of the tabletop as he tries to memorise the elaborate labyrinth of a building he’ll be breaking into later to find his next hit. Usually, Levi has you at his home before and just after taking a job, just to eliminate the threat of you being hurt as a punishment.

He wishes that the company gave you unrestricted entry and protection without him being there to clear it, but in order for that privilege, Levi needed to address you as his partner, which just felt like an even larger target on your head. So, he settles for his home, though the worry does not cease.

This building is riddled with passageways and vaults, basement levels with so many access points that studying them feels intense. One wrong recollection could come at the cost of his life, and at the minute, his life has increased in value. Things are finally going right for him, it would be a shame to have it all taken away from him again.

A text from Erwin sounds next to him, and Levi all but glances at the screen to see what’s happening. All assistance available should he need it — he almost sighs with relief at the words.

In the past, Levi had thought he could never work in cohorts with other hitmen, but becoming partners with Erwin and his henchmen has been working in his favour.

Still, it doesn’t hurt to learn the layout off by heart. So, Levi pours himself over the blueprints and maps, memorising every detail, becoming so engrossed in it that he barely even hears you letting yourself inside of his apartment.

Your shoes hit the wall with a noise that makes him suddenly aware of your arrival, and he glances up to see you peeking into the kitchen, eyes scanning the room for any unfortunate signs of Elio before you approach him.

He notices the street market bag and inhales the smell of spice before looking back at the maps. “Hope you’re gonna share that.”

“Of course,” you reply, offended he even thought you might not. You place the container of tteokbokki on the table before sliding around to his side, eyes glued to the rolls of paper. “Where’s this?”

“Less you know, the better,” he mutters, leaning his head into your mouth as you kiss his jaw.

For a while, you say nothing, letting Levi memorise what he needs to while you assess the prints for yourself. Eventually, you shift your hand over his and squeeze, making him glance at you sideways.

You’re looking at him already, though you can’t see his eyes from the way he’s hunched over. Spotting Levi’s signs of anxiety must be incredibly easy, because somehow you’ve caught on, and begin to rub the back of his hand with your thumb, nose pressed into his bicep.

“Come eat,” you suggest quietly, after a while of basking in the silence with him.

He grunts, a typical Levi sound, and nudges you away. Though, you only shuffle to the drawer to fetch two forks — forks! He scoffs, rolling his shoulders as he rounds the table to take one from your fingers.

“Easier to stab with a fork,” you offer as an explanation.

“If my mother was here to see me eating tteokbokki with a fork, she’d lose her goddamn mind.”

“Well…” You start, trailing off after a moment. You’ve got nothing to say; he’s won the argument just by bringing Kuchel up, and both of you know it.

Scowling, you stab another wedge of tteok and chew it furiously, meanwhile Levi smirks to himself, victorious.

(46) Giving them a back massage when they flop on the couch or bed.

“I need to retire. I’m getting too old for this shit.”

“No way. How old are you now, like, twenty eight?”

“…I’m thirty.”

“Best looking thirty year old I’ve ever seen. Roll over, I’ll massage your back, if you want?”

If he ever refuses a massage from you, he’s an idiot.

Levi rolls over ungraciously, hitting the mattress on his stomach with a low groan. He rolls his shoulders, the bones cracking comically loud, and as you shuffle up to straddle his back, he groans again.

“Oh fuck off, I’m not heavy.”

Levi sniggers into the pillow, though as soon as your hands start to work their magic, he moans, the pleasure instantaneous.

“Make a house back there, if you want. Just don’t stop.”

(47) Staying up half the night to finish a game with them.

“I can’t do it if you’re not here, Levi. You need to get over here.”

“Do you not see that I’m trying?”

“You’re terrible at this game.”

Levi scoffs. He wouldn’t be so terrible if he actually knew how to play properly. His character begins to run in circles without him even asking him to, and Levi growls angrily.

“Fucks sake, this bitch is pissing me off.” Then, he wrangles the controller from your hands as you protest and says, “You be him instead.”

“But I don’t want to be Cody.”

“Me neither.”

As soon as you start moving little Cody around, Levi peers in scrutiny at the controller in your hand and how it so suddenly has stopped drifting on its own. There’s a circular dent in your inner cheek where your tongue is, and Levi scowls in your direction.

“You were sabotaging me,” he accuses, eyes focused back on May as she stumbles around uncoordinatedly.

“I think you’re just really bad,” you reply. Cody is moving fine, and finally, the mechanism moves and the story can progress. Hm.

Levi’s eyes bore into yours as you shift to face him, elbows snug in the blanket bundled around you both. Levi has been laying low for around two weeks now — he’s surprised with just how much he likes not having to work. Though, there have been a few times whilst playing this infuriating game where Levi has wished to be anywhere else.

“You’re good at a lot of things,” you tell him sincerely, “but just not games. And that’s okay. You tried.”

“I’m good at games,” he replies, offended.

You raise your eyebrows, “Like what?”

“Your animal living game.”

“Animal Crossing?”

“Sure, that too.”

All Levi has ever done on Animal Crossing is make a character and proceed to hit everybody with his fishing net, not to mention dig holes around your front door so you can’t get out. Still, you say nothing — the look of disbelief speaks volumes to Levi and he rolls his eyes, turning back to May as she wanders off to the side of the screen and falls off.

Okay. He’s bad at games. That he’ll admit. But you like it, and by the time he’s gotten the hang of the controls, it’s already four in the morning.

(48) Getting them a coffee just the way they like it.

Remember those habits?

“You remembered!”

If not just to see your smile, Levi likes to bring you one of the expensive bags of coffee from Erwin’s studio. You could quite easily buy the bags yourself, but there’s no thrill in ordering something and having it arrive in due time, not like there is in making Levi steal three at a time as he leaves a meeting or training session.

Levi sets the bags with a loud thud by the coffee machine and hums.

“And you got me a drink!”

Yes. He has also become a barista and familiarised himself with the exact way you like to drink your coffee. The takeout cup he also borrowed from Erwin is placed down by your laptop as you relentlessly type away at an assignment at Levi’s kitchen table, and he presses a kiss to your temple and mutters under his breath.

“Thanks, babe,” you say, already sipping at the steamy contents.

“It’s hot,” he points out. “You’ll only cry when you singe all your taste-buds off.”

“I will not—” You slurp, then hiss, “Ow!”

“I warned you.”

(49) Buying them a special treat when you go out shopping.

You know what? No. Levi has given up on pretending like he doesn’t enjoy you being in his grill all day, every day, which is the reasoning for why he ends up in an expensive jewellery store with Erwin one day after a long haul of inspecting an upcoming raid location.

In all honesty, Levi wants to put his work to rest once the raid is all over. It will be their riskiest ploy to date, and quite frankly, Levi’s tired. He’s been killing people for years, cutting at the humanity he has left, and back in the day he would have been very comfortable with being a monster, killing until he was killed.

But now he had you. Now, Levi had someone to care about, so deeply and so passionately that it often left him feeling sick.

“That’s called love, Levi,” is what Erwin had said when Levi chose the rare option of opening up when he tried to explain why he wanted to retire early.

“Love,” he scoffed. But then Erwin had said something profoundly wholesome, leaving Levi with a bitter taste in his mouth.

“You’re not unloveable just because you loved nothing for so long. I know it took you awhile to get back to where you are now, but just because love went wrong once before doesn’t mean it has to again. Besides, almost two years of your bullshit and that woman is still there — I don’t think you need to be worried about her pulling away from you once you tell her how you feel.”

Which roughly translated to: Buy her something nice and quash until you can’t any longer.

Once Levi gets home, he hears you giggling at something and finds you with a book over your face, your legs kicking as you squeal like a goblin. His face twists and he asks, “That book got jokes in it, or something?”

You peer around the spine and look at him. “They kissed. They. Kissed!”

“Who kissed?” Levi makes his way to the couch and takes a seat where you were just lying down. The cushions are warm — you’ve been here a while, and the thought makes him smile.

“Evangeline and Jacks. It’s all so perfect. I didn't like most of the book, but what matters is that they kissed,” you tell him, a little too excited. You plant your feet in Levi’s lap. “I love love, Levi. It is the greatest. I love books. Men written by women!”

“Why are you giggling over other men in my own house?”

“I giggle over you when you’re not around, too.”

He hums once from the back of his throat, watching as you mark the page with your bookmark and close the book before crawling into his lap and curling into his arms. He welcomes you instinctively, the blocky shape of the ring he bought in his pocket.

After smooching your lips for a long fifteen minutes, Levi pulls away and reaches for the box. “Got something for you.”

“Ooh, show me!”

He produces the little box and hands it to you, but when your eyes round and you hesitate in taking it, he worries.

“I’m not proposing,” he says quickly.

“Thank god. I was about to be very upset,” you sigh dramatically, finally taking the ring box. “Most unromantic proposal ever.”

“The fact you think I’d be that lousy with a proposal is actually really offensive.”

The genuine grumble in his voice puts a flutter in your stomach, though soon after, it simmers into a cool pit of shock when you flip open the box and see the most delicate, gorgeous ring that you’ve ever seen in your life, not counting ones you ogle in shopfronts.

Cautiously, you lift your head to peer at Levi’s expression. It’s not a proposal — he’s just told you so, and considering you’re not even his girlfriend in official terms yet, it seems unlikely that anything like that will be happening soon. But it has to be more than just an offhanded purchase, and you’re determined to figure out.

Levi’s eyes tremble as he looks between you and the ring. “Is it ugly?”

You immediately shake your head, “Of course not!”

“Put it on, then,” he urges. The steady beat of his heart stutters out of tempo. Suddenly, he feels quite nervous as he watches you take out the ring and study its appearance up close. “Need help?”

“Yeah, it’s so hard, I can’t figure out how to put it on. Needs instructions.”

Levi tuts and gently takes the ring from between your fingers, grabbing your ring finger whilst trying to look as casual as possible. Somehow, he manages to slide the ring on without making a fool of himself, but when he looks back at your face and sees gemstones of your own lining your waterline, he frowns.

“I’m not gonna sit here and give a speech,” he starts. By now, you know him better than that. He’s never opened up about his feelings to you, at least not without feeling regretful of it the morning after, and you nod simply, eyes catching the glint of the diamond. “But you know why I’ve bought it. I don’t need to tell you what you already know.”

And he doesn’t. Somehow, despite Levi being tremendously unromantic, having no manners, and in general being a terrible companion, you at least know that he cares. And with his upcoming job creeping up on you both, it doesn’t require an above-average intelligence to work out why this ring came when it did, what it means if things go south, what it means regardless.

“I know,” you tell him. “Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

Instead of saying anything, Levi curls you tighter in his arms and presses a kiss to your forehead, closing his eyes when you snuggle your face into his collar and relax.

His mind has been made, his plans set. As soon as the job is over, he doesn’t want to look back. Only forward, with the woman who has made him feel alive again.

(50) Giving them a tight hug that makes them lose their breath.

Something is wrong. Something is horribly wrong, and there’s nothing you can do about it.

It has been days since Levi told you he’d touched down in New York, working out some stuff in the very famous Continental until he was set to join Erwin on whatever mission they had planned and prepared for. Levi hadn’t told you the details this time because the risks were too high, and now, it feels like a major setback.

New York is on fire, and Levi barely kept his life getting out of the Silver Sword compound. An entire mob wiped out by two guys with no backup — it was practically unprecedented, unseen or unheard of since John Wick was knocking around.

The Continental had done everything right in the aftermath, including keeping Levi in their small infirmary for days whilst tending to his excessive wounds. Fuck, he had been so reckless, so vengeful, so stupid. It had almost cost him his life ensuring that no leads followed him and Erwin back to Seoul, and although he had succeeded in destroying every last bit of incriminating evidence, the risks had been too great.

When Levi finally gets discharged from the infirmary, it is almost eleven in the evening, and New York has finally calmed down and settled in for the night. Erwin greets Levi in the lobby, a frown on his face, holding a destroyed black bundle of phone parts that bear a striking resemblance to Levi’s missing device. He swears.

Levi hasn’t heard from you since he got here. Since the last risky job he took in Gwangju last year, you’ve never been lax while he’s been away; he can almost imagine your fear, your paranoia, and before he can even hear Erwin’s well wishes, Levi’s crossing the lobby for the customer payphone and dialing in your number.

The line rings twice before someone picks up.

“Baby?” Levi asks, after three attempts of saying your name and no coherent response. He cranes his head around the curly wire and glares at the clerk, though she looks less than pleased being interrupted by Levi, “Is this a global line?”

“Obviously, sir. It’s a telephone.”

“I fucking know it’s a telephone, but if it’s global, then why the hell isn’t it working?”

The girl gives him grief about his manners and Levi is forced to give up on calling you, slamming down the phone angrily and feeling his body growing hotter and hotter with worry.

He knows you're fine, in his house with the big cat you hate to love, but he knows you. He knows how you operate, how you worry, how you love him too much.

“Look, we’ll catch the first flight we can,” Erwin assures him as soon as Levi has caught his breath and taken a seat on one of the black leather sofas. His hands are shaking violently. “She’s fine. I promise.”

“I know she’s fine,” Levi grumbles.

“Then get a hold of yourself,” sighs Erwin, his frown low and face tired. “There’s nothing you can do but wait. I’ve got people waiting on me, as well, you know.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“Dogs miss their owners just as much as girlfriends miss their boyfriends,” Erwin protests, because that’s all he has back home these days.

There had been a time where you had offered to set him up with your friend, Sasha, who deserved to be with a man who could handle her energy but also make her feel safe after her last terrible relationship, but Erwin is basically married to his work, and had got a dog despite Sasha being deathly allergic.

Still, Levi’s not heartless enough to know that Erwin isn’t missed by his dog, and probably other people in his life. And he’s right, there’s nothing he can do about the connection problems. All he can do is reign in his worries and wait.

The earliest flight they can find is the next morning, and Levi spends every second up to that point and up until he pulls up outside of his house in a complete state of panic. Would you be there? Did you leave, thinking he’d never come back?

Levi abandons his bag and leaves it in the backseat as he sprints from the car up the stairs, past his front door, and into his house. He kicks off his shoes once he’s in, the door hitting the wall with a booming slam.

He hears what he thinks might be scuffles, potentially even Elio’s claws, and right as Levi calls out your name, he sees you round the corner with a blotchy red face and feels his arms stretching out for you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” You slam into his chest, almost taking him to the floor, and encircle your arms around his neck so hard that the breath knocks out of his lungs. Still, he isn’t even annoyed; he squeezes you so tightly, tighter than he’s ever hugged anyone before, and shoves his face into your neck, inhaling the smell, feeling the way your body felt in memories while he was away.

“I’m sorry,” he says in a whisper, his features tugged in displeasure as you whimper into him, no doubt crying over his shirt. “I’m sorry, baby.”

“I thought you were dead!” you blurt, “I even cried on Elio’s back because I thought you had died! What’s the point in having a phone if you never pick it up or charge it?” You snatch yourself from his arms and gently beat against his chest with your fist. “I’m so pissed off at you!”

“I’m sorry that my phone got crushed,” he says, affronted that you would even think he’d ignore your calls on purpose. “I was in a hospital bed for three days! And then the bitchy receptionist got smart with me about their shitty phone, and I called but the line cut out. Sounded like a goddamn robot, I couldn’t hear a word you were saying.”

Your jaw drops, “That was you? I thought you’d died and some enemy gang guy was trying to call me to kill me!” Levi has to laugh at the look of worry on your face. He hasn’t been cared for in this way in a long time. Never been loved to this volume. “I unplugged the landline, I was so scared! Jesus Christ, Levi!” Then, like you never left, you rush back into his arms and let out a shaky cry.

“You did the right thing,” he tells you. Unplugging the landline was the silliest thing he could have ever thought of, but then he realises that you’re still here, and that you made peace with Elio just because you thought he had died.

Levi strokes the back of your head and shushes you, feeling your heartbeat hammering furiously against his chest. His is most likely the same, though he’s not so eager to acknowledge his own feelings.

After a while of standing there, and after Levi’s stroked behind Elio’s ears when he prowls towards them and rubs his head on Levi’s trousers, Levi looks back at you softly and takes everything in.

He has missed you more than anything, grieved the missing piece of his soul that is shaped like you. And, while he’s at it, yes! Fucking hell! He loves you!

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” you tell him, and Levi kisses you, his hands cradling your face. The kiss is firm, desperate, though he has no intention of walking you backwards towards the bedroom like he normally does after a job.

Instead, he pulls you in for a hug again.

“I missed you,” he mutters. “So fucking much.”

“Me too.”

He says with his mouth pressed into your head, “I’m done with this shit. I’m not taking any more jobs.”

You twist out of his arms, eyebrows raised. “Really? Why? You love your job.”

“I hate my job,” Levi confesses. “I have too much to lose. I just wanna live my life. And make it all count for something.”

For a moment, you stand there, looking at his face so intently that he almost feels uncomfortable. But then, as a smile spreads over your face, Levi feels like he can finally breathe again, finally feel like himself.

“Alright. If that’s what you want, babe, then let’s do that.”

And we can do it together.

(51) Getting adjusted.

Levi forgot what it was like to be normal.

He now wakes up at whatever time he wants to, feeling next to him for the lump in the bed where you sleep. Once he knows you’re still there (because despite being retired, he doesn’t think the habit of making sure you’re safe will ever go away), Levi wakes up and starts his day.

Coffee for one becomes coffee for two. Levi never has to eat breakfast on his own, never sits alone on the sofa or sits in silence at the kitchen table. Levi has lost half of his sink counter space to your belongings, lost half of his wardrobe to your own clothes. There are so many shoes by his front door that it looks like a storefront.

Elio has a mother, in a strange, estranged, visitation-hours-only kind of way. Levi has made room for you in his life and you fit perfectly, so perfectly that he barely remembers what it ever felt like to live alone.

The shower is always filled with two people. Levi finds your things all over the house in the most bizarre places. He has candles on every coffee table, pictures in frames, finds your cardigans hanging over every chair. But he loves it. He loves it so much. He can’t imagine ever not having it, having you, having this life.

(52) Finally saying the words.

“This is my first time using this thing.”

“What?” you gasp as Levi comes to sit next to you on the balcony.

Elio yawns inside, sleeping on the couch. It is partly his fault that Levi’s out here in the first place, though the thought of being tucked beside you on the outdoor couch in a blanket, watching the sun sink behind the skyline, is thankfully rather appealing, and he voices no complaints.

Levi takes a swig of his whiskey and abandons the cup on the table, throwing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you close. It’s not exactly cold tonight, but he knows you too well, and knows that within an hour, you’ll be dithering next to him.

“Imagine having a balcony and never using it.”

“I’m using it now,” Levi huffs, pinching your neck. You squeal, “Fuck off, it didn’t hurt.”

You’ve been officially living in Levi’s home for two months now, although sometimes it feels like you’ve always been here. Still, despite you making yourself very much at home on the inside, neither of you have once come out to sit on the balcony, to bask in the lovely sun as it settles for the night, not until today.

“When’s Erwin coming?”

“Bout an hour or so,” Levi says in a low drawl, his head tilted back and hand massaging the side of your head. It had been your idea to invite a bunch of people over to your house — the house you now shared — and frightfully, Levi hadn’t opposed. It would be nice to share the wealth of simply being alive with people he now had the patience to care about.

You shuffle to look at him, and Levi picks up his head at the sound of you moving. Like always, Levi thinks you look beautiful, but since he’s made you his girlfriend, it has felt like every time he looks at you, he can’t breathe properly.

“I’m excited. This is our first time hosting a party together,” you grin, while Levi thumbs your ear and smiles. “Do you think Elio will eat Erwin’s dog?”

“No. Elio’s moved back onto a pescatarian diet, so I think Erwin’s mutt will be safe.”

“Good. I bought him a bone, do you think he’ll like it?”

“He’s a dog. Yes, I expect, why are you asking me this?” Levi asks, eyebrows scrunched, though he pulls you close to where his mouth is and kisses you straight on the lips. “Stop stressing.”

“I can’t help it. I’m nervous! It’s all so serious! What if nobody likes our house?”

He shrugs. “I don’t give a shit who does or doesn’t like our house. It’s ours.”

“Hnnngh. And I want you to have a good time!” you whine. “You deserve a bit of fun in your life.”

“My life is always fun now that you’re my girlfriend.”

He’s instantly won himself brownie points by saying that.

“Just tell me if it gets too much,” you mutter, lips on his, mouths together. “Okay?”

Levi hums. “Yeah.” Then, after he’s kissed you three more times and felt his heart shake, he nudges his nose against yours and says, “I love you, y’know that, right?”

You pause, eyes rounding wide as you take in the sight of him. Levi has never said those words before, not explicitly. But now is as good a time as any, right?

Levi has spent far too much of his life withdrawing from his emotions, hiding away from what matters most out of a fear of caring too much. In the past, he had cared too much and lost it all. You were never supposed to be something he cared about, but when it had happened, it happened so fast he hadn’t had the time to make sense of it all.

But now, now that he’s been through it all with you, ticked every box imaginable, become comfortable being vulnerable again, Levi thinks he’s finally ready to accept the love he deserves and dole it out to those who mean the most to him.

Your mouth moves against his, though he can’t understand the words coming out. He laughs, confused, and somehow manages to pull away and ask, “What’re you even saying?”

All for you to blubber out in a laugh, “I’ve been waiting for ages for you to say that!”

His heart bursts, chest soars. “You could have said it first.”

“I’ve said it before,” you protest, “in actions.”

He scoffs, “So have I.”

And he has, you really can’t deny it.

“Say it again, won’t you?” you ask sweetly, kissing the corner of his mouth, and Levi sighs, like asking that of him is simply too much.

“I love you. You make me very happy.” Levi groans when you cackle and squish the breath out of him with a hug, but this time, he sniggers too. Why waste the moment on pretending to be indifferent when he’s actually the happiest he’s ever been?

Levi Ackerman can finally say that he feels good. He feels safe, he feels content, he feels comfortable — and most of all, he feels loved. And in love. And totally at peace in the world with the person who makes him the happiest.

#levi ackerman #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi #aot levi #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #levi smut #levi ackerman smut #jeanbie

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hrts4kyo · 2 days

Text

Ride — ‹𝟹

♡︎ dom!keeho x fem!reader

♡︎ genre: smut. strictly, mdni. (wc; 2.0k)

♡︎ sypnosis: watching the way kyo drove so flawlessly, his hand gripping onto the wheel so tightly while his brows furrowed from his focus could only affect you in one way. Who cares if you both were on a long roadtrip? he’d be able to pull over for his girlfriend.

♡︎ warnings: manhandling, teasing, unprotected sex, fingering, praise kink (f), soft dom kyo, oral (fem recieving), pet names - baby, sweetheart etc, semi-public sex (car(??)), hand kink.

♡︎ song recs: roads - Portishead + self control - Frank ocean. ✭

“That’s insane! why would you even ask for that?” You laughed along with Keeho, looking straight onto the road infront of you both.

“What? I just wanted to make a joke its not my fault he misunderstood!” Keeho rolled his eyes, smiling as he tapped the steering wheel lightly while he drove.

“Yeah….Asking for HIS cream instead of whipped creme as a joke to a barista is crazy kyo” you quickly retorted, taking your eyes off the road and instead to the side of Keeho’s face.

“Okay, in my defense, he looked like a funny guy, I thought he’d get it” He quickly added, briefly taking his eyes off the road to look at you while he pouted.

You groaned sarcastically, grabbing a drink from the backseat and clicking it open. The weather outside was nice, and the breeze that was flowing through the windows was relieving. You were excited to go on a trip with your boyfriend, a very well-deserved trip.

After working for months on end to save up for this, you both were now driving to a villa you two rented for a month so you could easily spend time together away from the busy city. Keeho had come up with the idea first after you broke down infront of him saying how you were sick and tired of the 9-5 lifestyle, and so he comforted you with the idea of a long, rest filled holiday. And now, the time had finally come.

The sun was setting outside, giving the car a nice orange hue and beautiful ambiance. quiet music was playing on the radio of the car, specifically the songs you and Keeho had both picked out together for the road trip.

This was everything you ever needed.

As you rested your head on your hand, you sunk into your seat further, taking in a deep breath of air as you allowed yourself to finally let the excitement of this holiday swallow you whole. You continued to sip on your drink, vibing along with the music as you shared glances with Kyo every now and then. He seemed to be just as relieved as you for the break, his job wasn’t easy either.

And so, both of you sat in a calm and non-awkward silence as you drove out of the city, finally escaping the traffic and busy streets that were filled to the brim with people hurrying home to escape the rush of people getting out of work and kids leaving school.

The sun continued to set at a slow and sultry pace, the orange hue soon turning into a dark reddish-pink, a glorious colour that had a whole different energy to it. You hadn’t even noticed that you had briefly fallen asleep for just a few minutes, waking up in a whole different position.

You opened your eyes slowly, checking up on Keeho with a slight glance. He seemed to be perfectly fine, his focus on the road still as strong as 3 hours ago, when you both first left to start the roadtrip. Though, his energy seemed slightly different. Maybe he was mad you fell asleep and he got bored?

But no, Kyo was not the type of guy to react like that, especially right before a special holiday for both of you. And so, you didn’t overthink it.

You lowered your glance to his hands, one of your favourite features of him. He was still tapping the wheel lightly to the rhythm of the music, you didn’t know what this feeling was, but for some reason you found yourself staring at his hands for a while. . .

While you continued to watch his hands, you suddenly started to shift in your seat as you got some brief flashbacks of when he had his hands wrapped around your throat, or even better, in you. Your breaths were starting to falter, losing its consistency.

Keeho noticed this, looking at you from the corner of his eye, trying to pinpoint where you seemed to have been staring for a long time. And he followed your line of vision to hand up at his hands, a smirk plastering itself across his face.

He brung his right hand to your thigh, softly resting it as he began to caress it gently. bringing it up and down.

“You okay baby?” Keeho asked, putting his car on self-drive mode while he still kept his other hand on the wheel, just to assure that even if he took his eyes off the road briefly, you both would be safe.

You quickly snapped out of your trance, looking back up at his face that now seemed to have an unreadable expression.

“Yeah baby, Im all good” You smiled, trying to push aside how the warmth of his hand on your thigh was starting to get your head whirring into unspeakable places.

“You sure? you seem a bit red sweetheart” Keeho lifted his eyebrow, tipping his head to the side in a way of questioning the reliability of your answer.

Shit, was it that noticeable?

“Yeah, why?” You rose your eyebrow to mimic him, hoping that it would make him laugh and just forget his previous question, except, it didn’t.

“You’ve been shifting in your seat for the past 30 minutes staring at my hands.” He immediately added on, you hated how well he could read you.

“Well, you just have pretty hands, I thought we had established that already?” You sarcastically added on, still trying to alter his path and get him off your ass.

“Oh please, I can tell theres so much more than that. Come on now, look at yourself in the mirror, you’re blushing sweetheart” Keeho scoffed, eyeing you up and down as he pulled the little mirror down from the top of the car and placed his hand on your chin, tilting your head up so you look at yourself.

Fuck, he wasn’t wrong.

“So tell me now baby, what do you need?” Keeho slowed the car down as he checked the road to make sure there was no one behind him.

“You. Fucking hell I need you so bad.” You looked at him, turning a brighter tinge of red, embarrassed at how desperate you had gotten for him out of no where.

“That’s all you had to say”

And seriously, thats all it took for Keeho to swerve onto the side of the outback road, pausing at an emergency lane.

“Get in the back”

Both of you immediately became a laughing mess as you jumped over the middle compartment together, lips crashing against each other once both of you got to the back.

You began to straddle his lap, tongues mixing together in a heated rush. Keeho had his hand placed tightly at your waist, guiding your heat over his hardening bulge. Slowly, you grinded down on his lap, dragging your clothed pussy across his jeans.

“Fuck” Keeho seethed, sucking his breath in through his teeth.

He brung one of his hands down from your waist, to your lap, and right to the waistband of your skirt. His fingers travelled below the band, finding refuge on your aching cunt. He tediously and leisurely dragged his fingers across your pussy, collecting the arousal that was now practically leaking.

“Kyo…Please, need you so bad” You tried to find more friction in his touch, lowering yourself down on his fingers even further in hopes to feel him deeper in you.

“Shhh baby, don’t rush with it.”

He began to enter you with his middle finger, stretching out your puckered hole as you moaned out his name loudly, not afraid to make noise in the middle of no where. As he watched your face contort into pure pleasure, he added another finger, causing you to arch your back.

“God, feels so good” You whined, resting your head on his shoulder as he plunged his fingers in and out of you.

“Yeah? You’re so beatiful y/n holy shit” Keeho groaned, his dick now awfully hard in his boxers. Maybe even to the point where it was starting to fog up his mind.

You continued to match the pace of his fingers going in and out of you, bringing you to your peak;

“Shit, ‘m gonna cum kyo” You rolled your hips down on his hand, throwing your head back in delight.

“That’s alright baby, cum for me” Keeho said as he sped up hid fingers, finally tipping you over the edge.

You clenched around his fingers, cum dripping down your inner thighs and onto his palm.

After you had spilled all over his hand, he retracted his fingers from your dripping cunt and brung his two fingers that was now covered in your juices to his mouth, lapping his tongue around them as he cleaned them up nicely. His fingers left his lips with a quiet ‘pop’, the sight was so erotic, despite already cumming you could definitely go another round.

“okay now, lie down, you’re all prepped for me my girl” Keeho said, patting the side of the seat as you got off his lap, lying down on the backseat.

Keeho began to unzip his jeans as he took his boxers down along with them, His hard dick slapping against his abdomen. His red tip was leaking with pre-cum, throbbing to be in you. He leaned over you, bringing his face down to your collarbone as he inched your legs apart, allowing the head to line up with your glistening pussy.

He rubbed his dick against you for a brief moment, collecting the wetness so it was less painful to ease his way into you. Despite him stretching you out and him fucking you multiple times previously, it still took you a while to get used to his sheer size and girth.

“If you want me to stop, you can always tell me okay baby?” Keeho said as he looked into your eyes through his beautiful blonde hair.

You nodded, always appreciating his little warnings before fucking you raw.

He smiled, lining up his cock with your entrance, prodding it before pushing it in slowly. You whimpered, tensing up even though he had barely fit anything in.

“Gonna have to loosen up if you want me to fit baby” Keeho chuckled, breathing up against your neck, his hand moving strands of your hair from your face.

You sighed, trying to ease into his touch. And immediately, he was able to fit his whole dick inside of you, a slight groan escaping his lips as his cock nestled inside of you. Within just a few moments, he was out of you once again, only to slam into you harshly.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, clamping your hand on his bicep for support. He finally found a rhythm, fucking you so good you swore you lost the ability to speak straight at some point.

“Shit, you’re so tight” Keeho whined, kissing at the nape of your neck. His dick was hitting all the right spots, reaching your gummy walls and hitting your cervix so perfectly.

The effects of the previous orgasm was starting to creep up on you, sensitivity washing over your entire body. With no warning, you clenched around his dick that was still slamming into you, cumming around his rough length.

“Ah- shit! I’m cumming” You cried out, tears swelling on the side of your eyes.

Keeho stopped his movements, muttering underneath his breath as his dick twitched inside of you.

“Fuck, Me too” and with one last push, he was cumming along with you, painting your walls white and filling you up to the brim. He pounded his cum back into you, trying to clean up the mess that your arousal had left on the seat.

He pulled out with a tired wince, shutting his eyes tightly.

Before you could speak up, Keeho brung his face down to your now aching pussy, licking up the cum that had now splayed all across your inner thighs. His tongue ran across your clit, cleaning you up and carressing your legs.

“Feel better now baby?” Keeho asked at last, rubbing your face and plastering a kiss on your cheek.

“So much better. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

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