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myfictionaldreams · 5 months

Note

Slides in with a bucky request!

Can you do a possoves bucky? Like someone flirts with her and that leads to an argument that leads to to feelings coming out with marking dirty talk and rough sex? Pretty please

Always Watching // Bucky x Fem!Reader

Requested by: hey bestie, thanks for the request!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, angst, possessive behaviour, obsession, jealousy, threats of violence, enemies to lovers, pining, unwanted attention, flirting, sexual harassment, arguing, rough kissing, biting, marking, scratching, rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, overstimulation, light dom/sub, hair pulling, oral (f receiving), size kink

Words: 6.3k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

The word used to describe your relationship with Bucky Barnes was ‘strained’. Strained because you’d prefer it if it were at least adequate, and no one could fault you for the attempts made at becoming his friend and helping him with the transition from the Winter Soldier to a member of the Avengers. In truth, you’d tried more than most to help him, especially as he was still at risk of being compromised and shifting back to the assassin’s mindset. You prided yourself on your compassion and empathy, always providing physical and mental support to Bucky, asking how he was, helping him move into the Avengers tower and adjust to going on missions.

Except, somewhere along the way, it had become evident that from at least Bucky’s perspective, you were a person to keep at arm’s length. Your questions would be ignored, and your attempts to help in medical situations would be pushed away. The only responses you’d receive were belittling comments or fierce glares that would have you backing away from the man and shutting your mouth. Even when you kept to yourself, his eyes always seemed to follow you around the room, eyes burning with what you assumed to be hatred, like he was plotting all the ways to eradicate you.

For some unknown reason, Bucky Barnes seemed to hate you, and you had no idea what you’d done to offend him. The other Avengers and agents you called your friends had all implored that he didn’t hate you, but when you stated the experience you’d received from the long-haired man, there was no response but an awkward close-lipped smile and shrug of the shoulders.

This treatment had been going on for months now, avoidance, glare and comments under his breath, and you were slowly getting to the end of your rope. Even earlier in the day, he somehow managed to get under your skin with only one sentence.

“Are you really going out in that dress?”

At first, you’d been embarrassed and somewhat mortified by his comment, wishing to cover up the beautiful dress that Natasha had helped you to pick that emphasised your body shape and the perfect colour to compliment your skin tone. Soon, the embarrassment changed to anger, finding the comment rude and unnecessary. Who was he to say what it was that you wore? Especially tonight, everyone had returned from a difficult mission and decided it was about time the team let their hair down and went to a nightclub for drinks.

Other than the comment, the rest of your night was amazing. You were feeling a light buzz from the alcohol and danced so much that your calves were beginning to burn from standing in the heels borrowed from Natasha. Even as you became lost in the music and masses of people squeezed into the club, you were still hyper-aware of the man watching you from where he was leaning against the wall.

“Does he even blink?” you shouted, attempting to be over the pounding bass to the red-haired woman you were dancing with.

Natasha tipped her head back and laughed, glancing over her shoulder a second later to assess the man who seemed to be staring at you constantly. Bucky didn’t even have the gall to look away in embarrassment, having been caught staring and that only made Nat’s smile widen as she turned back to you with a twinkle now in her eyes.

“You know why he’s staring”, she says matter of factly, swaying her hips as she talks into your ear.

Your eyes roll so hard that you have a momentary headache. “He does not have a crush on me. Can you please stop saying that? The man clearly hates me! I feel like my skin is burning from his stare, like he wishes me to combust spontaneously.”

After the tight-lipped smiles from your friends, they would often tease that maybe he was being so mean and hateful because he had a crush on you. You’d laughed initially, and some small part of you was hopeful that this was the case, but the more he belittled, embarrassed and ignored you, the more evident that was not the case.

“Maybe he’s just admiring the dress that I know he loves”, Natasha shouts confidently, grabbing your hand and twirling you around in an attempt to show off your outfit.

Despite her ridiculous statement, you laughed, “Well, he has an interesting way of admiring it! I’m going to go and get another drink. Do you need one?”

Natasha shook her head and held up her beer bottle, which was still over half full. Giving her one last smile, you made your way through the sweaty, head bobbing with the music until you finally found a free area at the bar, which was busy enough that you knew it would be a while before being served.

Someone pressed against your arm as a new person also had similar ideas to you, leaning on the bar and trying to get the staff’s attention with a click of his fingers. You took a deep breath to try and refrain from rolling your eyes at the arrogance of the man next to you, who was leaning on his forearm on the bar side.

“What are you having?” he shouted confidently with a grin, and it took you a good minute to realise he was talking to you.

“Oh, no, it’s ok. I’m getting my own drink; I’m sure it won’t take long”, you politely decline, turning your body away from him for a moment, hoping to catch the eye of the bar staff so you didn’t have to stay there any more with the guy next to you.

“Nonsense, pretty girl like you shouldn’t be buying your own drink. Come on, let me buy you a drink. I’m Chad, by the way”, he responds whilst sticking his hand out for you to shake. You stare at the hand before shaking it with a limp wrist, wanting to show that you aren’t enthusiastic about the conversation.

“Nice to meet you, Chad. I appreciate the offer, but I’m really fine buying my drink”. You pull your hand out of his grasp and try to take a step away, but there are so many people at the bar that there’s nowhere to go. Chad only moved closer, ignoring your discomfort as he leaned his face towards yours.

“Don’t be like that, Baby, it’s just a drink. Your dress is beautiful, by the way, it really makes your…eyes pop” As he spoke, he was not looking at your eyes as you crossed your arms to cover your chest. “Are you here alone? Maybe we can grab a drink and go somewhere beautiful; I’d love to get to know you on a more personal level”, Chad asked, lifting his fingers to stroke the apples of your cheeks.

“She’s not alone, and get your fucking hands off of her”, came an aggressive voice from behind as a warm chest brushed against your back.

Bucky pushed against Chad’s shoulder, giving him enough space to stand between the two of you, so now you’re staring at his back as he protectively became a shield for you.

“Hey man, what the fuck’s your problem! Who do you think you are, touching me like that?!” Chad shouted loudly enough that others began to turn and stare at the scene.

You could feel the thickness of the atmosphere, and there was nothing more you wanted to do than de-escalate the situation, not wanting Bucky to get into any further trouble as he was already being watched like a hawk by Shield.

“Bucky, please stop; everyone's staring!” you tried to pull on his arm, but he stayed completely still, ignoring you as he stared daggers at Chad.

The man looked between you and Bucky before settling on you and pointing at Bucky, “Is this guy bothering you? Listen, asshole, she clearly doesn’t want to be with you; otherwise, she wouldn’t have been out here buying her own drink, now would she? Why don’t you get lost so the pretty girl and I can get back to getting to know each other?” Chad smirked cockily.

This only made Bucky tense further, his posture straightening as he took a threatening step forward, and Chad flinched. Bucky’s gloved hands clenched at his side as you quickly did a visual check to see if he had any weapons, but you couldn’t see any in the suit jacket and jeans; you were sure he probably had them hidden up his sleeve.

Bucky took another step forward, nostrils flaring as anger radiated off of him in waves of heat, and genuine fear pooled in your stomach with how the situation escalated as you tried to push him away from Chad.

“If you ever touch her again, I promise you, I will fucking ruin your life. No, you know what, scratch that. If you so much as look at what’s mine again, there’s nowhere on this planet that you can hide; I will find you and end anything you find precious, including your life. Do you understand me?” Bucky asked, his tone surprisingly calm for promising such life-ending threats.

“What's going on here?” another voice joined the conversation as Steve and Tony appeared at your side, pushing the growing crowds back to give everyone space. You would have been thankful for their arrival had you not been staring open-mouthed up at Bucky. Not only was he threatening to kill someone for you, but you didn’t miss the possessiveness in his words and actions, and the biggest question screaming in your mind right now was what he meant by saying ‘what’s his’. Surely he didn’t mean you? Everything was becoming far more complicated than you’d anticipated.

“Is he compromised?” Tony asked in a hushed tone to you as he wrapped a hand around your upper arm, prepared to pull you away from the scene if needed.

Bucky’s eyes snapped to the hand on your arm, the glare moving to Tony’s face as the billionaire changed his stance to one like he was preparing for a fight. Your heart nearly stopped, everything becoming too overwhelming and escalating to a level that no one would be coming down from if it wasn’t stopped soon.

“No! Tony, he’s not compromised; he’s fine. There was just a misunderstanding-”

“A misunderstanding? Is that really what you are calling this situation?” Bucky demands, staring down at you whilst moving out of reach of Steve’s outreached hand.

“Bucky-” you try to reason with him, but you notice that his eyes have gone in the direction Chad seemed to disappear from. He was moving before you could even stop him, following wherever the guy had escaped. Quickly looking up at the confused Tony and Steve, you tried to reassure them whilst beginning to follow after Bucky. “Everything is fine! I’m just going to make sure he’s ok”.

You mostly needed answers than anything, feeling completely and utterly sober now and not wishing to return to the dance floor. As well as making sure that Bucky wasn’t going through with any of his threats.

You were going from being within a stuffy nightclub full of alcohol and dancing people with not enough room to move and music so loud that your voice had to strain to be able to be heard by others. To now, you’re rushing out of the entrance, out into the open air that was considerably colder, added to the fact that the heavens had opened and the rain was pouring enough that it was hard to see more than a few feet in front of you.

Any sane person would have turned right back around and reentered the club just to have some cover, but your adrenaline was pumping, and after a few seconds outside, you were already drenched, so there was no point trying to find the jacket you’d left in the cloakroom.

You follow in the direction Bucky had stormed off, trying to weave through the people running through the rain and past the busy New York traffic. “Bucky!” You called out for him while wrapping your arms around your chest, trying to keep some of the warmth you’d found in the club, but the more you were out in the open, the more the rain wholly soaked your body, drawing the freezing temperatures into your bones.

You stare at his back as he continues to walk with a purpose; you aren’t even sure if he’s following Chad anymore or just needs some air. You try your hardest to keep up, even with the struggle of the slippy wet floor and your ridiculous choice of heels burning your calves enough that you contemplated risking the sanity of the bottom of your feet by taking them off.

“Please, just wait, Bucky!” you shout to the man in front, who, of course, doesn’t slow down. You were at your wit's end, cold and drenched from the rain, confused by Bucky’s reaction in the club, not just from Chad but also the look from Tony grabbing your arm. There was clearly something more going on, and him running away, potentially on the warpath, was only making your anxiety increase to the point of wanting to scream.

Distracted with your rolling emotions, you hadn’t noticed that you were no longer following anyone as the street in front of you only had the occasional couple walking past with umbrellas over their heads.

You’d somehow lost Bucky.

“Shit!” you curse to the sky, letting the rain pour down over your face, unsure of what to do. You could return to the club, but you were now much closer to the tower than you were to the club and at least back at the tower, you could use Jarvis to assist with trying to track and find Bucky.

Before you could follow through with your decision, a gloved hand wrapped around your upper arm, pulling you quickly into an alleyway that had some shelter above your head, protecting you from the rain. Just as your mouth opened to scream and combat training reflexes moved to punch whoever had grabbed you, the movements were halted as you became face-to-face with a very pissed-off Bucky Barnes.

All air rushed from your lungs as you were forcefully pushed up against a wall as Bucky leaned his metal arm beside your head, leaning over you. Even though his blue eyes were burning with more intensity than you’d ever seen before, you still sighed in relief that he hadn’t rushed off somewhere, but now you just had to deal with the confrontation you were hoping for.

“Go back to the party”, he demands in a voice so low that you almost coward from him. Still, instead, you held your ground, pushing off the wall, expecting him to move back in a show of confidence, but he remained hovering close enough that it only meant that there were a few inches between your faces.

In the shadows of the alleyway, he looked threatening, especially with his bulky silhouette, but for some reason, he looked somewhat like a fallen angel. The fierceness in his swirling ocean blue eyes that devoured you completely, the height and strength that was trained through every single inch of muscle throughout his body, even his shoulder-length hair left unbound and dripping from the rain, gave him a mysterious look. It was nearly enough to distract you from the events that had taken place. Nearly.

“What? No! I’m not going back to the party. What even happened back there?”, you demanded, trying to remain as confident as you’d felt when leaving the club and not letting the adrenaline altogether go from your system.

Bucky looks away, towards the end of the alleyway in thought before finally muttering, “It was nothing”.

You scoff, “It wasn’t nothing! You threatened to kill the guy in there, Bucky! And what was all that with Tony? I saw the look you gave him! Oh, and what did you mean by touching what was his?”

To your shock, Bucky smirked, but his gaze was so vibrant when he turned back to look at you that, on instinct, you took the step back again to press against the wall. “I told you not to wear that stupid dress,” he says under his breath, like he is telling you a well-kept secret but is forcing himself to say the words.

You frown, your chest restricting, making it difficult to breathe. “The dress? Why do you hate this dress so much, I can wear whatever the fuck I want, Bucky! Stop trying to change the subject! Everything you do is so confusing. For months, you've acted like me even breathing in the same room as you is an inconvenience and then you’re threatening some asshole guy at the bar and protecting me? What’s that about?”

“Because I knew I’d have to be fighting off dickheads like him all night! That’s why I have an issue with the dress. When men like him take one look at you and assume that they have any right to even talk to you, let alone any of the other fucked up shit he was hoping to get from you”.

His outburst shocked you to the core, leaving you stunned and fumbling to think of any words. “I…I don’t understand where this is all coming from. Wait, aside from Chad, no one is allowed to talk to me? Who do you think you are to decide something like this? Maybe I want a cute guy to buy me a drink!”

“You’re naive if you think guys will only want to buy you a drink and nothing more”.

Your face heats uncontrollably at his words, hating the condescension lacing his words. “Don’t talk to me like that! Maybe that’s just what I want anyway. Someone nice to buy me a drink and treat me with kindness that clearly you won’t give me! So how dare you try to dictate my life by saying what I wear means you’ll have to be my knight in shining armour! You don’t have to do anything for me, these past few months have clearly shown you don’t give a shit about me so why care so much what people do to me?”

“You don’t understand”, he seeths through gritted teeth.

You want to scream in frustration from the lack of answers, letting all the energy form in your arms and hands as you pushed on his chest, needing some space between both of your bodies, but he was built of stone as he didn’t move at all.

“Then explain!” you shout in frustration, the heat and adrenaline returning to your veins. “Because I’m losing my fucking mind right now! Why do you act like you hate me one minute and save me another whilst acting like you have any sort of say as to what I wear and who touches or looks at me?”

“Because he touched what’s mine!” Bucky bellows, his face dropping close to yours as a vein bulges on his temple. “Call it jealousy, call is possessive, I don’t fucking care. Do you know how hard it is to see you in the line of fire at work and then come out to places like this and watch every guy and woman in this place have their eyes all over your body, wishing that they could have you? And then watching that asshole Chad come and talk to you, giving you those compliments and then having the nerve to touch you? He was a dead man walking”.

Your mouth opens and closes, feeling like you are having an out-of-body experience. “But… but you hate me”, you say, sounding as defeated as you felt.

Bucky scoffs again with less anger this time, the tone of his voice calming slightly as he leans closer, crowding you in his warmth. “I don’t have you, sweetheart, but I’m so fucked up in here”, he points to his head, “I can’t risk being near you”.

“Bucky-”

“Just go back to the party. I’ll call you a cab; just don’t follow me.”.

A lump forms in your throat. There’s no way you’re leaving him to go back to the club, and just as you’re about to tell him that, he’s suddenly dipping his head and cheek against yours so that he can whisper into your ear. “Just know that even though I’m not there, I’ll know if someone is looking at you. Your body is for my eyes only, so if anyone approaches, they’re dead”.

The breath hitches in your throat as your fingers clench, and you remember that they’re still resting on Bucky’s chest as you grip his shirt tightly. The warmth against your face retreats as he attempts to move back, and it is out of instinct that you glance towards his lips. You’ve never experienced anyone becoming possessive over you before. It should have had you running in the opposite direction, but your feet remained planted in that same spot, leaning towards the protective force in front of you.

Bucky then surprises you as you watch his frowning lips shift into a knowing smirk, laughing under his breath which causes a pulse of attraction through your cunt. “Oh Doll, you’re going to need to stop looking at me like that; otherwise, you won’t be returning to that party”.

A surge of confidence rocks through your core as your gaze burns into his intricate, beautiful eyes, “What if I don’t want to go back to the party?”.

You try not to jump away from the gloved hand, now cupping your jaw, tilting your face up towards the covering, shading you both from the continuing thrashing rain. The warmth of his breath skips over your exposed throat as he runs his nose along your skin, causing a shiver to rush down your spine. “You don’t mean that?” his tone had deepened and sounded increasingly strained, as if he was somehow holding himself back.

You weren’t entirely sure what was happening and how everything had changed to such a degree. All you were 100% certain about was that there was no way you would be going back to any party without Bucky.

“I mean it more than you could ever know”, you say with a rush of breath, finding it difficult to hold back the restraint to continue looking up entirely at his mercy simply.

Bucky contemplates your words as his nose drifts lower, and your heartbeat thumps hard in your chest. You are sure that you’ve felt the delicate kiss of his lips against the sensitive skin beneath your ear. “I think you like it when I show you who you belong to”, Bucky states with arrogance and sultry need that equally has your knees weakening.

The pure desire pooling in your underwear was becoming impossible to ignore, like a flame had been lit within your body and was slowly devouring your rational thoughts. A weak moan escapes your lips as your eyes drift close.

“Bucky…” you trail off, beginning to tremble, not from the low temperatures or being soaked through from the rain, but because your arousal had hit you so deeply that he consumed all thoughts.

“Yes?” Bucky asks as he laughs throatily at how you were so easy to succumb to his advances.

“Just fucking kiss me already!”

The pleasure and pain that enveloped your body was something that you’d crave and dream about for months to come. Pain because his lips pushing into yours with such force that your body was pushed back against the brick wall, but the overwhelming pleasure from finally feeling his mouth on yours, the hand gripping your jaw moving to the back of your head to cradle it with gentleness that you were surprised he as even capable of. The urgency didn’t end there, even as you finally received what you both had truly wanted for all of this time. You needed more of him, all of him, every single inch of his body you wanted to feel without the barrier of his clothes.

Bucky’s nose pushed into your cheek as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss, both of your mouths opening to allow your tongues to dance and caress one another. You moaned, tasting the mint on his tongue and something that was so uniquely him your mind momentarily lost any coherent thought.

His massive body was pressed against yours so that you were consumed by him completely. Which also meant that you could feel the hardness of his arousal rutting into your stomach as he gently rolled his hips to try and relieve some pent-up frustration.

You were ready to give him everything, right there, in a random alleyway in rainy New York, where anyone could stumble upon the two of you. Thankfully, Bucky still could hold onto some restraint as he put some distance between you.

“As much as I’d love to fuck you in front of everyone, I have the sneaky suspicion that Fury would not be pleased if a member of the Avengers were caught having a quickie out in public”.

In any other situation, you probably would have laughed at the absurdity and realisation as to just how far gone you’d become to actually be ready to lift your dress and let him fuck you. However, you were so caught up in the fact that this was happening and hearing the beautiful man in front of you say that he wanted to fuck you in a public setting only added to the deep desire from his possessive tendency to increase.

Bucky pressed a chastising kiss to your temple as he began to shrug his jacket from his shoulders to then wrap it around yours, and you could have moaned at the warmth and mouthwatering scent of his cologne surrounding you. The man you thought hated you didn’t give you any time to lose your senses as he grabbed your hand and tugged you out of the alleyway and back into the startling freezing rain.

As the Avengers tower was only a couple blocks away, it was easier for the two of you to run in the rain, with his arm wrapped around your shoulders, using his big build to shield you somehow from the wetness, but you were already soaked.

Finally, once in the safety of the private elevator that was only used for residents of the tower, you both were once more consumed with each other. His jacket was pushed to the floor so he could run his gloved hands over your shoulders and back to cradle your face.

Your back was against the elevator wall as he crowded around you, trying to taste every possible area of your mouth. Your leg lifted, hooking around his hips and causing your dress to hitch further up your thigh until it rested around your waist, pulling him closer.

In this position, he was able to thrust his tented jeans against your panties, the rough material catching your clit and causing an obscene moan to echo around the small space. His lips left yours but only so that he could kiss down the side of your neck, causing more mewls and pathetic squeaks to leave your parted mouth.

“I want the whole world to know you’re mine”, he declares as his teeth scrap against the area where your shoulder and neck meet. The same part of you that was throbbing for his possessive tendencies needed him to do whatever he was alluding to. To persuade him to continue, you ran your fingers up his firm chest, scratching up his throat and to the nape of his neck so that you were able to grab a handful of his hair and tug him even closer.

However, arriving at the Avengers’ living quarters interrupted the two of you. Without missing a beat, Bucky's hands lowered to your thighs, picking you up so that your legs were now wrapped around his waist as he supported your weight with his hands on your arse.

Your fingers remained in his hair, pulling his face back to your neck as he began to suck on different areas, marking your skin with darkening, wet patches. The tiny reasoning voice at the back of your mind was warning you that you’d regret those marks tomorrow, but with the want and need to have his lips and teeth all over your body, you couldn’t care less if he was marking you.

Everything about his touch was seering in heat, even though those leather gloves still covered his hands. It was as if you could feel the temperature of his burning skin through the material, and it only made you more desperate to claw at his clothes. Equally, Bucky needed to feel more of your soft skin and learn every inch of your body.

You were only half aware that you’d entered his bedroom because the low lighting had naturally turned on by the building's sensors. It was minimalistic, and for a second, your focus zoned into the sheets and pillow led out on the floor and not on the bed, which was just a bare mattress that he all but dropped you into the centre of.

His lips were on yours again, and you were thoroughly distracted from the makeshift bed on the floor. The sharp sting of his teeth grazing your bottom lift caused you to mewl and pull on his hair, exposing his thick neck that gave you the opening to begin your exploration, licking and teasing until he was shivering and sitting back on his knees.

You admired him momentarily as he seemed to do the same for you. His handsome face was flushed with arousal, the pupils in his eyes so vast that it was almost as if the clear blue didn’t exist anymore. His chest was heaving with steading breaths as he began to pull on each of the fingers of his gloves.

“How expensive is the dress?” he asked, eyeing the cleavage that had been his downfall all night.

“It’s Natasha’s”, you answered breathlessly.

“I’ll buy her a new one”, Bucky mumbles, gripping the edges of the dress and tearing the material into two. You gave a startled scream as you were suddenly left in your underwear, but the shock at being exposed was swiftly distracted by him ripping his shirt directly down the centre so all the buttons popped off, and the material shrugged off his broad shoulders.

Even though this wasn’t the first time you’d seen him without a shirt on, your breath caught in your breath at his beautifully sculptured chest and abs, mouth already watering with the need to lick every inch of him.

“Be a good girl for me, Doll and spread your legs”, he demands with surprising gentleness, still sitting back on his knees and stroking a soft caress against your outer thighs.

A pathetic whimper bursts from your chest at the praise, pussy clenching with need that you didn’t waste a second before opening your legs. Even though you still had your panties on, Bucky's gaze became hungry, as if he was a man on the brink of starving to death as he licked his lip and began to lower his body.

“You don’t understand how long I’ve wanted to do this”, he admits, gripping the edge of your underwear and beginning to drag the material down your legs.

You smile to yourself, straightening yourself in the centre of the bed and getting comfortable as your legs naturally lay across his shoulders as he led stomach first on the bed.

“Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you”, you tease, but all the smug arrogance is drowned out by the pornographic scream from feeling his tongue taking a long, exaggerated lick from your perineum to your clit. You weren’t sure who was louder between the two of you with the moans as Bucky finally was able to taste the girl he’d been wanting for months and you for having someone actually wanting to give you some form of pleasure.

Every time you made a noise of pure joy or increased in volume, Bucky repeated the action, learning what you loved. Your thighs were nearly suffocating him with how hard they were squeezing around his face, and you knew that he would happily die right there between your legs if that’s what you truly wanted. Then there was the hair you were clenching, probably having ripped out two handfuls as you pulled on his long hair, hoping to have him as close as possible between your legs.

“Fuck Bucky! Who taught you how to do that- AH! I’m so close!” your back was arched, eyes clenched tightly closed as the pleasure was tightening within your core. His tongue lapped with quick flicks, firming the tip to add more pleasure as he pushed it into your dripping pussy. His moans added extra stimulation as you happily came all over his face, trembling and twitching cunt around his lips and tongue.

Just as Bucky was about to add two fingers into your still pulsing hole, you shouldn’t take the wait anymore and begged, “Please just fuck me already, Barnes!”

The Avengers grinned down at you as he began to crawl up your body, nipping each of your breasts with his teeth through your bra as he moved. Your cheeks warmed, seeing the shine over his stubble from your juices that he’d been happily drinking. Your thoughts didn’t remain on this fact for long though as he was kissing you feverishly once more, meaning you could now taste yourself on his lips.

With his mouth thoroughly distracting, you’d not noticed that he’d been unbuckling his belt and shoving his jeans and boxers down his toned thighs. Without waiting until they were entirely removed from his body, he swiped his cock between your folds, coating his length in your liquids.

Your mouth gaped open as the tip of his cock nudged into your entrance, stretching it to a level that you’d not been used to. “Shh, it’s ok, Doll, you can take me”, he promised, with one hand holding your hip steadily and the other against your cheek so he could hold your face still.

He was so deep, impossibly deep. You could feel him everywhere, widening your cunt until you were fluttering around his cock, and he hadn’t even begun fucking you properly yet.

“Nearly there, try and relax for me”, Bucky praises into your ear as your eyes widen, realising that it wasn’t even the entire length of him inside of you yet. Only as he was pushing into your cervix did your head fall back, and you sighed out. “That’s it, you’re taking me so well. Put your arms around my back; you’re going to need to hold onto something”, he boasts as you try and take a deep breath, your fingers reaching around his back, nails digging into the skin to give yourself something to hold onto.

Spreading his knees further apart on the bed, Bucky readjusts his position to gain more momentum. The man fucked good. More than good. You were pretty much pleading incoherently to whatever gods were above or below. There wasn’t anything you were begging for, just whatever it was that Bucky seemed to be doing, that it never stopped.

Each stroke caressed that sweet spot within, and with the way his hips rolled, he was able to nudge your clit with his body. Added to the mouth on your neck, biting and licking the sore spots to ease the ache, his hands pinning you down to the bed only added to the raw possessiveness dictating Bucky’s movements.

Harder and faster, his hips moved. The thick cock pounding into your cunt until you were seeing stars and cumming again, squeezing him so hard he had to still his hips to stop his own orgasm from spiralling.

But then, he's pulling out and turning you onto your front, spreading your legs once more and demanding, “Arch your back for me, Sweetheart”. Doing as he instructed, your still-covered breasts pressed into the mattress as your hips angled up. With one hand holding onto your shoulder and the other on your hip, he began to fuck you with just as much enthusiasm.

In this position, he somehow felt even more deeper, and all you could do was cry out and moan with how good he felt.

“Tell me you’re mine, I need to hear you say it”, Bucky grunts as you came for the third time, becoming overstimulated and disorientated with how good you felt.

Your cunt was still squeezing with the effects of the orgasm as you repeatedly told him, “I’m yours, only yours, Bucky”.

Bucky’s head tilted back so that he could release an almighty grunt, the hands on your body tightening enough that the skin became tender, but you didn’t care at all, not with how good you were feeling. You could feel his cock throbbing and the wetness that followed, dripping from your hole and onto the mattress beneath.

It was a long few minutes before he eased out and collapsed onto the mattress beside you, the two of you breathing heavily as his metal fingers stroked slowly down your spine and his lips followed.

“You should have told me earlier”, you whisper over your shoulder to him.

“Hmm?” he asks, moving up to your shoulder, where he carefully kissed the skin that was tender from his grip moments before.

“You should have told me how you felt”, you explain, thinking about how much time was wasted.

“Maybe. But then, I wouldn’t have had so much fun threatening everybody for looking at you”, he answers with a grin, kissing your cheek once before climbing off the bed and returning with the sheets from the floor.

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #marvel smut #bucky barnes one shot #jealous bucky #bucky barnes x reader #marvel one shot #bucky #mine*

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bewitchedsouls · 1 month

Text

princess treatment with simon pt2

warnings: use of female descriptions (wife, girl), food and eating

• simon who sends you money to go and get whatever to want done, whether that’s your hair, nails, shopping, even though you tell him he doesn’t need to as you have your own job and your own money, he still insists, in his eyes whatever his wife wants his wife gets

• simon has your favourite flowers in different colours on pre-order for every month of the year, he would love to give them you in person but incase he’s away on a mission he doesn’t wanna miss the little tradition he’s made for you

• simon who comes back from missions and the next day tells you to get ready, as he has a day planned out for the both of you and a special date for you in the evening

• simon who’s breath is taken away every time he watches you walk out your bedroom door in your pretty clothes ready for your dinner date, who’s heart practically skips a beat as he takes in what he’s missed

• simon who makes you leave your purse and any money you have at home, he would never allow you to pay for anything when he’s around, you might as well insult him

• simon is also a man who when you go out to eat wants you to be eating good, he makes sure you get what you really want and doesn’t ever tell you to hold back, in fact constantly checks if you would like to add anything else, he just wants his girl to be happy and well fed and he’s gonna make that happen

• simon who as soon as you arrive home, sits you down to take off your shoes for you, being the gentlest giant he can possibly be, you wouldn’t believe this was the cold ghost man who goes into tough battlefields and dangerous situations killing people

• simon who gets his pretty girl to sit on the sofa watching the tv as he runs you a soothing bath with one of the many bath bombs he’s bought for you, lighting you’re favourite candle, anyone would think you were the one doing the job he does

• simon who doesn’t mind doing all this for you though, he just wants to dote on his wife and allow her to feel important, treated and pampered, he is a man who loves his wife and would do anything for her

i hope this one is a good as the last but i feel like it’s not :(( still hope you enjoyed !!

#masked men #mask kink #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #ghost #ghost x reader #cod headcanons #cod x reader #cod #wholesome #princess treatment

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colourstreakgryffin · 3 months

Note

Oh my gosh! HELLOO!

Anywho~

I had a request for Alastor with a reader who’s contract with Valentino just ended and Angel brings them to the hotel to help them get on their feet, they have lots of trauma from what the endured, maybe they stay close to Alastor because he’s very much a gentleman and never treats them like Val did?

Thank you!!

Oooh! I like this one a lot! We got a second Angel but unlike Angel, we’re probably better and less snarky and bitchy. Sorry, Angel. Anyway! Idk if it’s meant to be romantic or not so I am gonna guess—

Alastor- Redemption Path

Alastor can’t help but feel sorry and feel pity for you. You’re just like Angel but you aren’t as bad as Angel. A ex-pornstar that has finally been free from the pimp Overlord, Valentino and your dear friend Angel Dust is so relieved that you’re safe from him, now, he’ll take even more measures to make sure you’ll do better than him

Bringing you to the Hazbin Hotel, Angel Dust introduced you to the Hotel Staff. Hoping they could help get you back into Hell more stably. Out of Charlie feeling immense sorry for your sexual abuse trauma, Vaggie considering to sign you up for counselling and Angel Dust barking at Husk to be nicer to you. Alastor is the one who is the most interested in you

Alastor is the one who escorted you around the Hotel. He is the only one who treated you so perfectly, he is a true sweet gentleman and he is doing much for you that it’s unbelievable. He doesn’t want anything from you? How is that possible

Throughout the days since you first checked in as a client, Alastor notices the way you follow him around and he finds it adorable. You’re such a lost lonely little puppy needing somewhere to feel safer and he doesn’t mind playing that little safety spot for you. It’s quite amusing

“Oh. My dear, is something bugging you?” Alastor asked curiously as he finally turns around to face the cute eager shorter sinner that has been clinging onto him and following him around ever since he was polite and ‘respectful’ to them. Treating them like a person and not like an object. Unlike the first and only Overlord they knew at the time, he doesn’t even notice their curvy attractive body or make creepy sexual remarks in the slightest

He just compliments the cozy colourful classy outfits they’d wear, calling each and every one ‘adorable’. He finds you adorable as a whole and he is entertained that you’re so enamoured by his kindness, that you act like a baby fawn following his mother around

The sinner that has been following him around all day, takes a few seconds to even blink. You’re shyer around Alastor since he actually gives you a voice and a say-so, something you’re unfamiliar with. Having that… you never did back with Valentino and it’s almost overwhelming that such a friendly treatment is addictive to have, the way he handles you with delicacy. He isn’t usually a man to sympathise with an awful situation but for some reason, he sympathised with you in his own special little way. You’re thankful that he is even more polite and caring than anybody you’ve ever met, even Angel!

“Oh. My, you’re shivering. Are you cold?” You didn’t actually answer Alastor with words but instead with actions, approaching him and shyly reaching out for a handhold but you didn’t actually touch him, reminding yourself of his no touching clause. You hoped he’d let you slide this once. You don’t really have anybody to talk to after you were jolted awake from night terrors over what that awful squeaking sex-obsessed freak of a moth did to you throughout your contract with him

Angel is there as a friend but he’s busy still suffering under Valentino’s maniac rule right now, you don’t want to bother any of the staff nor Charlie about your problems whilst they are busy. Sooooo

You figured your emotional support, the one who has been very patient and understanding with you. He hasn’t let you down once just of yet

Alastor willingly takes your hand when he recognises your reach out attempt and brings you up to his side in a lone but strong tug. Not minding the sweater you wore being your only coverage for your bottom half. Just a cute off-the-shoulder sweater and thigh highs. Whilst your style mirrored Angel’s in an odd way, you didn’t gross the Radio Demon out like the current top pornstar did. You’re more innocent, more sophisticated

You’re nothing like Angel, despite escaping from the same ugly world as that spider sinner is still trapped in. You’re a recovering traumatised, overexploited pornstar in need of help to gain a new life within Hell and Alastor actually likes the idea of playing that knight in shining armour you clearly view him as. He can’t tell why but he likes it

Leading you down the empty, slightly dark hallway with one arm around your body to keep you close, pressing your face against the side edge of his broad chest and the other slightly stylishly twirling his signature staff-like microphone cane, the Radio Host plans to take care of you in other ways then just hand you some blankets and set you out to your own Hotel room. He’d prefer to personally put you to sleep and the process would be begin with a picture show, a talk and a darker warmer room

You didn’t know why but your face was beet red, your heart was pounding in your chest and your eyes sparkled as you tilted your slightly fuzzy head up to look at Alastor. In, what felt like a blink, his crimson red eyes flashed a sense of genuine affection before returning to the usual half-emotionless bloody haze as the radio effect on his rather mighty voice kicks in with the overlap of both sincerely caring and classic semi-mocking Alastor style caring

It doesn’t help that you swear you can feel his heartbeat grow faster…

Is Alastor feeling the same you are?!

“Come now, darling. You’re clearly having bad sleeping patterns. How about me and you watch that picture show you’ve been holding off? Yes. Yes, I know. I don’t like your technology but I wouldn’t be a help provider if I didn’t provide you help, now would I?”

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starrluvs · 6 months

Note

I have a request! How about a scenario where we have a very ugly and strong argument with Bi-han, but later he comes back to apologize and let us take it out on him for treating us so badly?

(I just want some agressive sex/rage sex/fury sex with this man)

𝐁𝐈-𝐇𝐀𝐍 | 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐘/𝐀𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐗

cw: fem reader, married couple, piv sex, bi-han is a little rough, reader cant stand bi-han's attitude tbh, angry sex, make up/apology sex, fighting for dominance, cock drunk reader, mentions of bi-han dirty talking in cantonese creampie, bi han and reader are both sassy/petty little shits that still love each other, and i think that's it! minors dni please!

wc: 2.6k

a/n: wow idk why this took me so long, but i kinda like this one ;) ... ty for this idea, nonnie <3 i also want to mention that the mention of bi-han speaking/dirty talking in cantonese was heavily inspired by a headcanon i seen from @bihansthot ! anyways, enjoy!!

silent treatment was without a doubt something that bi-han absolutely loathed. he truly believed it’d be better off if you were to scream your lungs out at him instead. but getting a cold shoulder and silent treatment from you was something his ego couldn’t handle. had anybody else dared to ignore his presence the way you had these past forty-eight hours, he’d probably have them executed after the first five minutes of this frivolous behaviour. but you, his wife, was a different case.

bi-han couldn’t discipline or punish you the way he would towards his students and lower ranked lin kuei ninjas. you were his wife– his equal –and this silent game of ‘who’s willing to crack first?’ was driving him mad, although he’d never admit that to anybody… yet.

the fabric of the towel was soft against your hands while you worked on drying out your hair. having just exited the shower, you were in nothing but a silk blue robe that complemented your husband's traditional colour scheme. just the thought of him made you scoff out loud and shake your head, who the hell did he think he was?, you thought to yourself. about two days ago, bi-han appeared to be grumpy when he arrived back at your shared compound after finishing his duties for the day.

being the supportive wife you were, you tried to talk to your husband, ask him if he needed anything from you, or even tried to see if he would be vocal about what was bothering him. and much to your dismay, he lashed out on you as if you were some peasant who worked under him during the day– which you sure as hell weren't.

“leave me be. the last thing i need tonight is another insignificant fool blabbering in my ear constantly.”

his voice was sharp when he walked past you and entered your shared bedroom. bi-han having miserable mood swings wasn’t something new, but he almost never verbally took out his stress on you– possibly because he knew better. truth be told, you were too tired for his attitude today and had no intentions of letting him ruin your peaceful afternoon. all you did was let out a ‘hmph’ that you purposely made loud enough for him to hear and continued in silence with the fruit you were cutting up for yourself in the kitchen.

ever since that transpired, you haven’t said a word to bi-han and completely ignored his presence, which made his blood run colder than it already was. he was a hard person to read when he kept his usual stoic expression, but deep down you knew he was aware of how frustrated you were with him. which is exactly what you wanted.

letting out a tired sigh, you look at yourself in the mirror and take time to fix up your hair before exiting the bathroom and arriving at your bed. as you sat in silence for a moment, you felt the temperature noticeably drop… he’s here. rolling your eyes, you decide to comfortably tuck yourself in on your side of the shared bed and warm yourself up from the chilly air.

however , your eyes never shut– not even when the door creaks open slowly and reveals your husband’s tall form. his demeanour didn’t seem to be as aggressive compared to how it was two days ago, which you were grateful for. but you still avoided eye contact with him and stared at the wall in silence, not wanting to be bothered. you knew your worth and refused to feed into your husband's ego, because you knew that it was already big enough… your thoughts came to a halt when you heard bi-han speak up. “your juvenile behaviour is astounding,” he scoffs, and you can damn near feel his eyes piercing into you.

in response, you calmly grab your pillow and walk right past him, making your way to the living room. bi-han watches you settle yourself down on the couch as you lay down and begin to curl yourself up comfortably. all he does is release a sigh from his lips, contemplating on what his next course of action should be. bluntly calling you childish probably wasn’t the best thing to say after two days of neither of you talking to each other, but he couldn’t stop himself from speaking his mind.

deep down he knew he’d have to put his pride and ego aside to resolve this. he was the eldest of three sons, a powerful and deadly assassin, the grandmaster of the lin kuei– and yet here he was, allowing silent treatment from his wife to get under his skin. letting out a stubborn groan, bi-han made his way towards you and knelt down on the mat so that he was at face level with you on the couch.

he calls out your name in the softest way he could, hoping you would turn to him. but he clearly failed to get your attention as you didn’t say anything back. his small whim of patience had already run out, “do you insist on telling me what your problem is?” this time his tone sounded more cold and gruff, as usual. rolling your eyes once again for the night, you turn to bi-han and finally speak to him, “last i recall, i was just a mere insignificant fool blabbering in your ear when i tried to talk,” he could've sworn your tone was sassy, sarcastic and authoritative all at once– as if you were just waiting to bite at him.

if he was being honest, it’s one of the many things he found so attractive about you. the way you didn’t take shit from anybody– not even himself –made bi-han fall hard for you… he needed a strong willed woman by his side. but moments like this proved to be a form of self realisation. the only people who would ever dare to talk back to him were just you and his brothers. he was so used to everyone following his lead and command, it was almost… refreshing, to have somebody stand their ground.

the glare and frown you had on your face was something you were far too beautiful for. bi-han closed his eyes and inhaled as calmly as possible, trying to collect his words and choose them wisely. “what i said to you that day was regrettable–” you cut him off before he could continue, “and?,” you were already unimpressed with his words, “it’s not like there’s anything you can say to take it back.” your husband must’ve known that just words alone wasn’t going to solve this.

“i understand that, but,” his cold hand gently grasps your arm, causing goosebumps to raise all over your body. “perhaps there’s something i can do to make amends for what i’ve done?”

and now you’re here, back on your shared bed, taking out your own frustration above bi-han on his cock. you had your hands planted on bi-han’s chest as you bounced up and down his shaft, “fuck..!” your voice lost that sting it previously had, making bi-han grow a prideful grin on his face. “still trying to put me in my place?” your husband’s taunting only made you feel more agitated than you already were. with an attempt to keep your moan in, you bite down on your lower lip and snake your hands up to bi-han’s neck, keeping a slight grip. “s-shut– ngh!– up…” the movement of your hips refused to come to a halt, forcing bi-han to lay back and stay below you.

it felt like a battle for dominance between the two of you. two hard headed (and sometimes ignorant) lovers trying to prove to each other how much power they had over one another. bi-han was confident that you knew how easily he could overpower you in terms of strength, but decided to let you have your little wish of ever taking control over him. looking down at him, his chest was covered in sweat and his ears and cheeks were flushed in a light shade of pink. though you’d have to admit that your hands around his neck were a great touch. it felt as if there was a surge of power and control coursing through you.

apart from his occasional groans, the cryomancer stayed silent as he watched your voluptuous body on top of his. noticing your lover’s face contort in pleasure, you can’t help but spew out more words, “yeah… did you r-really, ah!, think that i would tolerate that b-behaviour from y– f-fuck!,” before you could finish blurting out what you wanted to, bi-han had gripped your hips hard enough to stop your movements as he fucked up into you, making you cry out at the sudden surprise of pleasure he was bringing you.

the grandmaster only chuckled. he found your sounds pitiful, “you talk too much.” from the way his cock was jackhammering into you, it proved too difficult to spit out any sort of petty comment towards him. the speed of his thrusts made your body feel limp and your husband took note of this from the moment you slumped down, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. his voice was dangerously close to your ear from this angle, “mmm…such an incompetent attempt of being in control,” your pride disallowed you from letting out any moans, “fuck.. y-you..!” hearing how slurred your words were only made bi-han scoff.

your attempts at keeping composure were becoming futile and bi-han knew how close you were to cumming around his length with the way your pussy tightened and gripped him like a vice. “i can feel how close you are, love,” bi-han stops his thrusts but keeps himself fully buried inside of you. before you could get the chance to protest or whine, the cryomancer speaks up. “i have no intention of letting you cum until you accept my apology.” the expression he held was smug while he secured your waist with that same grip he had before, making you unable to move your hips.

you’d been so focused on taking out your frustration on him that you forgot the whole point of this was him trying to make amends for how he lashed out on you. truthfully, you would’ve purposely told your husband that he’d have to take you out on a fancy date in order for you to accept his apology… but you already felt so fucked out from how his cold cock was abusing your insides just moments ago. you were so close, and you needed that coil in your stomach to snap. “fuck, i forgive you– okay? just let me cum already, pleaseee–!” bi-han groans in response and glides a cold finger to press on your clit, making you shiver in pleasure at how swollen and sensitive your bud feels. without any more wasted time, the grandmaster delivers his quick thrusts from underneath you once again and rubs fast circles on your clit.

the feeling of everything was becoming overwhelming, “ahh– ‘s good! it f-feels so g– ngh!” your mind was clouded with lust and each sentence you tried to complete ended up failing to connect coherently. there were words that left bi-han’s mouth, but you could barely decipher what he was saying with the way your heart beat drummed in your ears–

it was in that moment, your cries echoed in the room as you pulsed around his cock, gushing around his member. bi-han reduced the speed of his thrusts while trying to help you ride out your high. once you finally come back down from your bliss, you feel your husband's cold, rough hands manhandle you and flip the position that you two were in. you were now layed on your back as bi-han towered over you, parting your legs and easing between them.

being able to admire your body with the positions swapped felt so refreshing to bi-han. watching the way your breasts heaved up and down with short breaths… the way your skin was coated with sweat, resulting in your hair being out of place from its presentable manner you previously had it in. and being able to see your juices not only coating his cock– but also the inside of your thighs. seeing your slick trickle down to the mattress… gods, you were so beautiful like this.

bi-han couldn’t waste any more precious time just observing when you were unintentionally inviting him to ravish you even more than he already has. the cryomancer grabs your leg and hooks it over his shoulder as he positions himself enough to easily slide his cock into your pussy. being filled up again made your walls flutter– you wanted to be here forever, just taking his cock while it stuffed you full. to no surprise, bi-han’s thrusts were rough as he began to chase his own high.

your moans never came to an end and were only received as noises to push bi-han further. the cryomancer decides to place a grip on both of your legs this time and leans closer, pinning your knees right by your ears and increasing the force of his thrusts. your folded position had you seeing stars as bi-han’s cock was angled even deeper than before. the way his tip kissed your sweet spot again and again– you could no longer stop your tongue from lolling out, followed by drool rolling down from your mouth.

bi-han snickers, “all of that attitude earlier…” he moves closer to your face and his nose touches yours, “just to be reduced to a cock hungry vixen beneath me– shit!” your husband spits out, feeling how your walls clenched around him from his harsh words. even if you were able to coherently speak, you would never admit how much of a mess you become when bi-han works his cock inside of you…

the grandmaster felt himself becoming dangerously close to his climax, and you felt it with the way his rock hard cock twitched inside of you. his volume started to increase and his grunts became shallow moans that he desperately tried to hold back. noticing this, you use the last bit of your energy to purposely squeeze hard around him, clamping your pussy around his cock as if you were trying to keep it all for yourself. the unexpected action made bi-han lace out a loud string of swears and words in his mother tongue. although you didn’t quite understand what he was saying, you were aware that they were phrases he only used in scenarios like this, making you assume that only vulgar words were leaving his mouth.

the roles were reversed now– this time he was the one hiding his face in the crook of your neck with your lips right by his ear. his hips started to stutter and lose the rhythm it previously had. letting out a lustful hum, you speak into his ear, “inside… haah– c-come on..! fuckin’ fill me up, please!” hearing your voice spew out these words was enough to do it– he filled you to the brim with his seed.

you made sure to milk him dry, taking every drop that he had to offer you. both of you laid there, completely fucked out and exhausted– his body was still slouched over yours while he took time to catch his breath. very slowly, he pulled his cock out of you and planted a peck on your lips, “in no other realm would i have imagined reciting vows with a woman that carried such a flame and sharp tongue,” he leans down and places yet another kiss to your swollen lips,

“yet i could never imagine falling in love with anybody else…”

#bi han #bi han x reader #bi han smut #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat #sub zero x reader #sub zero

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morallyinept · 1 month

Text

ADORATION - A Joel Miller x Breast Cancer/Mastectomy F!Reader One Shot

Written as part of my B O D I E S Series 🤎

BODIES MASTERLIST

Summary: After some completely unexpected and devastating news, a long journey of loss and healing, Joel shows you how beautiful he still finds you.

Pairing: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Breast Cancer/Mastectomy F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader in terms of ethnicity, hair colour etc... However, Reader had breasts and hair before treatment. I've imagined Reader to be around a similar age as Joel, who is 56 when writing this, however Reader's age is not mentioned, so you can determine/imagine it's you, if you'd like to, bub.)

Word Count: 8.3k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Triggers & warnings: Mentions of breast cancer/double mastectomy/surgery/grief/loss/depression/body issues/illness & recovery/fear/mentions of death. Established relationship/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks)/breast worship/Joel loves on you hard.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: It's important to me that all types of readers are represented in my work, therefore this collection of stories is written for readers with REAL bodies. However, anyone can enjoy them. Whilst this story may not specifically represent your own personal journey, it is my hope that it resonates and offers comfort and enjoyment. The condition/disability mentioned in this story is not 'one size fits all' - everyone's journey is personal and unique, and I have undertaken as much research as I can to write accurately and respectfully. 🤎

MAIN MASTERLIST | JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

You’re whining, keening softly as your nose dusts the crown of greying curls resting just below your chin.

They tickle gently on the inside of your nostrils each time you inhale, smiling into the beam of sunlight that strobes onto the pillow, blinding you into a warm, balmy bliss.

Causing your body to spasm and jerk beneath him; little bursts of electricity soar with static, crackling down your spine. You arch your back, pushing your nipple further into his warm, wet mouth.

The insatiable pull around your nipple draws hisses from behind your teeth, eyes rolling back into the furthest reaches of your skull.

Your fingers press into the back of his cranium, cradling him close; losing yourself to the never-ending swirl of his tongue around that fleshy, hard bud as he tongues it, sucks it, nips it...

Hips grinding in a languid cadence against his crotch, a hard bulge catches on your clit as you grind against his cock; stiff and leaking into his faded, worn-out boxers.

Joel’s a self-confessed breast man. He likes pawing at your ass too on the very regular occasion, but he spends most of his foreplay time - and any time, really - latching onto your breasts like a hungry infant.

He likes to suck your nipples out of the puffy swell of your areolas on warm mornings when you wake nestled around him. Coax that stubborn left one out of it's invert with a probing, flickering tongue.

He loves to pinch the stiff, hardened peaks through your top when you're chilly to make you giggle and squirm against him. Feels closest to you when you sit together watching a rubbish film on Sunday evenings in his lap, and he casually has his hand up your shirt holding onto your breast like he would your hand.

It’s a comfort you both enjoy; a big, reassuring warmth holding onto you. He likes feeling the weight of them as they fill his palms, watching the bounce of them, mesmerized, as you ride on his cock vigorously.

Joel’s all up in your marvellous chest at any chance he can get. Sucking the pebbled teats between his lips, swirling his tongue around and around as you fist through his wavy locks and groan when he brings you to orgasm just by lavishing your breasts with his mouth - he loves how sensitive they are.

Especially the right one, it's almost as sensitive as your clit.

Just a few licks over it on this lazy weekend morning, has you panting and almost tearing the roots from his scalp as he squeezes the left one inside his deft fingers; flicking the nipple with his rough index pad and groping a lavish handful.

He’s rutting into you, on the cusp of just pulling his cock out of his boxers - that have seen better days - and slipping into his beautiful wife writhing underneath him; he can feel you seeping through the thin cotton against him.

Joel squeezes your breast again as he sucks at the other, humming at your moans. You croak out his name; each vowel rolling off your tongue with abject need.

Opening and closing his fist around the mound, grunting in rapture, he brushes his thumb along the underside, when he stops. Shiny nipple popping out of his wet mouth, with that furrowed brow pulling his face into a tight knot.

“Darlin’,” he says, with a pursed mouth; his heavy eyes falling to your breast, and his stubby thumb running under the obvious hardness of a lump. “Ya feel that?” He questions, gently.

You look down at him realising his pause.

“Why are you stopping?” You gasp, your hips still moving, slit making a sticky mess against his cottoned length.

You stop grinding, sitting up as you take your breast from him and squeeze all around it, slightly irritated at the interruption, until you find it for yourself.

You feel an unwelcome visitor nestled within the soft curve under your breast, inviting itself bluntly into yours and Joel’s lovemaking.

“God,” you say, his concerned eyes meeting yours.

A lump, no larger than a pea, yet heavy with the weight of uncertainty, that suddenly makes your blood run icy. Your heart pounds a frantic rhythm against your rib cage.

Fear, cold and unyielding, spreads poisoned rust through your veins as you trace its contours; your fingers lingering over the unfamiliar bobble of its terrain.

“It’s probably nothin’,” he reassures with a nod, with eyes so deep you could fall into them and never see light again.

"Yeah," you nod too, but your own eyes convey your trepidation.

And it’s enough to halt any chance of morning sex with your burly husband in its tracks, as you disappear quickly into the bathroom for a thorough inspection.

Disbelief, a fleeting hope that what your fingers trace is merely a figment of your imagination, or a cyst at best.

All weekend you fret and worry until you can call the doctor's office on Monday morning.

You can't count the number of times you touch it, prod at it. You tell yourself out loud that it’s probably nothing, like Joel suggests.

Yet, as reality sinks its claws into your rational thinking, fear takes root, gnawing away at the fragile threads of your composure.

Yeah. Probably a cyst.

Your breasts change all the time; lumpy and bumpy; they’re not as perky as they once were. Your monthly cycle sees them ache and weight heavy like granite blocks sometimes.

It’ll be fine. Nothing to worry about. You tell your weary reflection, but she has a hard time believing you as she stares back with unblinking eyes.

When Joel doesn't put his hand up your shirt as you nestle into him during your Sunday night film ritual, that's when the tears kick in.

Excusing yourself to the bathroom, you don’t cry in front of Joel, but he’s not so easy to convince that everything's fine, and it’s just allergies making your eyes red, when he knows it’s not allergy season. Or that you have any allergies.

“S’alright to be worried, darlin’. But ya gon’ be okay.” He tells you he’s coming to the doctor with you.

You argue that it’s fine, but he's insistent with his brooding frown and pursed lips like he’s constantly chewing on a wasp. He tells you he loves you no matter what, and you’ll be fine and that’s that, as he squeezes your hand.

He pulls you close as you watch the film together spread out on the sofa. Still no hand up your shirt. You see the colour moving on the screen, hear the dialogue and music, but none of it sinks in. You’re staring at the TV completely blank.

He excels at making you think clearly, challenges your fears and helps you confront them with simple questions and words to get you to think differently. It’s one of the main reasons you married him. He has a level head.

And you don’t realise how tense you are until Joel rubs your back and you melt fully into his chest.

With more soothing words and reassurances, eventually you believe him that you’re probably being irrational and panicking over nothing, because Joel has this knack of waving a magic wand and making everything okay.

But it isn’t okay, not this time.

Within two weeks you have a mammogram and a biopsy after the doctor murmurs hmms and huhs at you.

You’re told not to worry as there’s only a two per cent chance that it’ll be cancer, as you’re stripped bare before the prying eyes of medical professionals and the cold embrace of diagnostic tests.

The loss of control over your own physicality is so fast, leaving you feeling exposed and deprived of the autonomy you'd once taken for granted.

Unfamiliar hands groping and prodding on your breasts replace Joel’s warm, tender ones, and you try to hold it together inside the sterile walls.

You break the moment he has you in his arms outside in the long, lonely corridor of the hospital and asks you how it went.

Joel throws himself into work on the construction site, and you throw yourself into a sinking depression, clouded with worry and worst case scenarios.

You’re sent home with stitches and painkillers after the biopsy, and all you can do is wait.

The invasion of a hostile takeover of your once jaunty mood hovers thickly in the air between you both at home during that time.

You do the one thing you shouldn’t and Google fucking everything. Survival rates, post-op images, types of cancer and all the dread that your eyes can take in until you can take in no more.

You then switch tactics and try to stay occupied and distracted. You play Joel’s old country rock playlist full blast, deciding to turn the house upside down and clean and bleach the shit out of every nook and cranny of it, until Joel comes home, eyes stinging with the fumes, and asks if you’ve lost your damned mind.

You smell bleach on your fingers for days after and it reminds you bleakly of the smell in the hospital corridors.

You lay in bed side-by-side at night, awkwardly staring at the ceiling, recalling how most nights you can hardly get enough of one another. But Joel rolls over and mumbles an exhausted goodnight to you, and you try your hardest not to cry; but the tears slip silently out the creases of your eyes anyway.

You’re called to come in for your biopsy results almost a week later, and the car journey there is deathly silent as Joel and you stare out the windshield and don’t say anything the whole way there.

Joel glances at you and you feel the weight of his ginormous hand on your thigh, squeezing it, and you barely register the sensation at first, turning to him as he squints in the sunlight as he turns the wheel.

There’s no casual flirting, no animated discussions about supper; no singing along to Bennie And The Jets together on Rock FM.

You watch the town pass you by out the window like it’s a stranger, equal parts numb and terrified.

The specialist takes a seat opposite you both, their gaze never wavering as they speak in a soft voice laced delicate with empathy, and you immediately know from the look on their face.

“It’s gon’ be alright, darlin’.” He says.

Although you’re unsure if it’s for your benefit or his, as his eyes remain focused on the road and glaze over in their emptiness somehow.

"I wish there was an easier way to say this, but the results of your biopsy came back, and I'm afraid it's cancer..."

Your breath catches in your throat, your world dangerously spinning out of control as the weight of those words settle over you like a suffocating shroud.

"Cancer? Two per cent…" You whisper, your voice barely audible above the rush of blood in your ears.

The medical speak jumbles your brain. Triple-Negative. Faulty BRCA1. Aggressive…

The words fade out and so do you.

But when you come back, you're looking at Joel; at his profile as he speaks. Mouth moving at the specialist with questions fired behind stunned snarls.

You're not sure where you go, or for how long, it’s just all muffled and quiet. Like being underwater, it fills your ears completely as you sink. Peaceful in a way.

The first time in weeks you’ve had any peace inside the tornado of your mind. It all stills.

He’s so beautiful.

You think it’s odd how a man can be deemed beautiful, like it emasculates him somehow, but it's the right word, you think. Beautiful, with heavy features etched with concern, yet softened by an unwavering love that radiates from his soulful brown eyes.

In the opaque light filtering through the window, you notice the creases at the corners of his eyes, the remnants of countless laughter-filled moments you’ve shared; your mind reliving through all of them in a handmade scrapbook decorated with glitter glue.

You can hear that little breathy snuffle he makes as he chuckles at something you say, whether it’s genuinely funny or moronic. His eyes, once bright with hope and joy, now glisten with unshed tears filling round shiny scleras, reflecting the tumult of emotions churning within him.

He talks, asks all the right questions you can't even form into comprehensible words. And somewhere through the falling, the tumbling, you love him even more for it.

You spend a quiet moment tracing the prominent curve of his nose with your eyes down into the way his lips will quirk upwards in a playful, crooked grin that never fails to warm your heart.

Yet now, they’re drawn down into a thin pout of worry; a silent plea for reassurance amidst the uncertainty that looms over you both.

Joel's a practical man, hands on. He needs to know. He needs to have all the facts and weigh up all the options presented to him like a gloomy spread of cards on the desk before him.

You can’t help yourself, reaching your fingers out and tangling them in the soft tendrils of his hair as you brush them behind his ear.

But you're fixating on his hair, once a riot of chestnut curls that framed his face with youthful exuberance, now bear the distinguished marks of time - strands of silver threaded through the greying curls that fall in gentle waves around his temples.

It’s almost like they’re greying further in front of you as you watch him now.

When was the last time he got a haircut?

Your fingers brush against the fuzzy, silken stubble that adorns his jawline and top lip, a tactile reminder of the physicality of your love, recalling the way he rubs it against your face, your inner thighs...

His jaw clenches slightly, a reflexive response to the weight of your shared anguish, yet his grip on your hand remains steadfast.

Your eyes drop to the calloused knot of thick, squeezing tendons and bone crushing around your own.

The look in his coffee bean eyes as you advanced towards him, stacked chest puffed out; filled with love and pride that you were his. You remember his speech, how he choked around carefully thought out words relishing that he’ll get to spend every waking moment with his best friend.

The gleam of his wedding ring and the feel of the warm metal is no longer perfect in its circumference as you trace your finger over the tarnish of it. It’s flecked with tiny scratches from his work.

You remember how handsome he looked in his snug-fitting tux as he waited for you at the end of the aisle scattered with rose petals.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you picture him looking down into your coffin, wearing the same tux; red eyes and snot falling from his nose as he collapses, wailing your name in haunted howls, and it’s enough to have you fleeing from your chair, with a spine-chilling scrape against the floor, in search of the nearest bathroom as your stomach lurches.

You barely make it, spilling your insides into the toilet bowl uncontrollably.

No. No, no, no…

The harsh fluorescent lights flicker overhead, casting eerie shadows against the cold, tiled wall with you pressed up against it; your breaths coming in ragged gasps that echo in the hollow confines of the tiny bathroom.

Tears stream down your cheeks, hot and relentless, as the weight of the diagnosis presses down upon you like a suffocating lead blanket, threatening to engulf you in its darkness.

Panic claws at your chest, its icy fingers tightening with each heartbeat, squeezing the air from your lungs until you feel as though you’ll suffocate beneath its crushing weight.

You can't breathe as you fumble at your buttons on your shirt trying to loosen them.

"I got ya, darlin'. I got ya." He soothes. "It's okay. I got ya. Sssh. Just breathe. I got ya..."

It doesn’t take Joel long to find you at all. All tiny and cowering in the cubicle; sobbing wildly as you reach for him, and he pulls you to him and lets you shatter against his broad shoulders.

His voice is your anchor, pulling you back slowly.

It's not fair. You can’t leave him.

You slur something about fucking it all, you’re going to die anyway, right? Might as well go down swinging, before he takes the bottle from you, muttering fucks of his own, as he prods you back up to bed and wraps band-aids around your bleeding toes.

You don’t remember him picking you up and taking you home, or holding you all night.

You don’t remember him finding you in the kitchen at around two AM, drinking yourself stupid with broken glass around your feet, and his concerned tone asking you what the hell you’re doing.

You eventually fall asleep encased inside of his arms and inhaling the spiced scent of his skin, breathing it in deeply so you don’t forget it.

He makes you breakfast in the morning that you don’t eat, irons clothes for you that you don’t wear.

Buys you brightly coloured flowers, that he knows you love, to cheer you up. But you simply let them wilt and die on the counter top, not bothering to get a vase out for them.

You just sit and watch them die; their velvety petals shrivelling and curling before your eyes over the course of days.

Cancer just doesn't affect you, it affects the people closest to you, too.

That’s what the website says that you’ve been directed to. You realise this when you notice Joel and you haven't had sex since the day he discovered the lump.

You haven’t kissed either, not passionately anyway. Your breasts have been unloved and untouched by him, for what feels like weeks, when the man usually can’t bear to not grope or pinch them playfully when he holds onto you. Or sneaks up behind you when you're washing up the dishes, making you splash bubbles in his face.

In a bout of feverish desperation, you climb into his lap whilst he’s watching a game and nursing a bottle of beer on his day off, kissing him with wanton bites on his neck making him frown, as you push your chest towards his face.

It only kills you further when he shakes his head and tells you not like this, darlin’ before he lifts you off of him.

It creates an argument. You accuse him of not finding you attractive anymore, and he growls at you that you’re being ridiculous, before you yell even louder.

You don’t even know why you’re yelling or how you even got to this point. Nothing makes sense anymore.

And yet now, for the first time, you don’t know what he’s thinking behind that knot of muscles pulling his face taught; what he’s feeling, and it fucking terrifies you as you plead for him to talk to you.

You and Joel never fight like this. You always talk about things that bother you both. You've never heard Joel raise his voice in the whole entire time you've known him.

Honesty and open communication has always driven your relationship and come naturally between you both.

But instead, he leaves to let you cool off. You don’t know that he doesn’t go far at all. He just drives his truck round the corner and sits there in it, sobbing helplessly into his thick palms until it gets dark and he goes to a bar in town to drown his sorrows further.

You don't know that it kills him not being able to touch you; he wants to. Fuck, he wants nothing more than to ravish you, but he’s terrified he’ll hurt you, or will do something dumb that only his own mounting panic convinces him he’ll do.

For the first time in his life, Joel feels completely helpless.

It’s not fair. He can’t lose you.

“Let me see,” you prompt, and he drops the ice-pack to reveal a nasty black eye in the early stages of birth.

You find him in the kitchen late when he eventually comes back home, and making no effort to hide the fact he’s had a heavy drink.

He looks up at you, holding an ice-pack to his face and waiting for the tirade from you.

Red grazes orbit around his fist too, knuckle skin missing, you note. His eye is almost sealed shut with the swelling that’s a mix between blue and purple, in stark contrast to his golden face. Broken blood vessels litter the area, and he sniffs deeply before he speaks again.

“Ya should see the other guy,” Joel assures with a tight mouth.

He has a large dimple on the left side of his face when he smiles; an almost perfect, crescent like the moon in its waxing phase. But it’s hard to coax a smile out of him for it to be fully revealed these days; his mouth constantly twitches into a downward arch most of the time.

As you look at him, there’s an old man somewhere inside of his face; a burdened man, exhausted and on the verge of giving up entirely.

Cancer just doesn't affect you, it affects the people closest to you, too.

“What happened?” You query, tentatively as you dab at his knuckles.

“I lost my shit.” He replies stoically, as you tend and fuss over him whilst sighing.

You look up at him and as much as you want to be mad with him, you can’t - he’s hurting too.

Comprehension is a difficult task to begin to tackle. You ask so many whys - why me? Why is this happening? But fail to find an answer to any them.

Everything has been spun one-eighty and you’re still dizzy from the shock of your diagnosis.

Hours and soon days disappear from your life, like sand falling in an hourglass, as you try to fully understand what’s happening around you.

You feel as though meandering through a blur, your body robotically doing the things you're supposed to, but your mind not being fully coherent. Get up, eat, work, go to bed and so on. It ticks continuously whilst your limbs belong to that of a zombie.

Questions, thoughts and images... all blinking through you trying to piece it all together whilst you move stagnantly. But eventually the anxiety begins to chip into your mentality and inserts thoughts that you daren’t venture down.

The exact truth is staring you in the face, but try as you might to refute it, it’s plainly obvious and it begins to terrify you in ways that are new.

You have cancer.

It invades your dreams and deprives you of sleep. Tears make themselves acknowledged, at the most inconvenient of times too, like shopping in the grocery store, or typing at your computer at your desk at work, and trying to hide them from the prying world is a task in itself.

And you don’t realise it at the time, but Joel’s going through the same. Questioning, worrying, just as paranoid and stressed as you are.

And you both need to talk about it, you know you do, but yet neither of you can quite summon the courage to do so.

“M’sorry,” he says into your hair, as he pulls you in for a crushing cuddle against him.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, as quiet tears absorb into the plaid flannel pulled tight over his chest from your eyes.

But it's not okay. You have cancer.

Over the course of your discussions with the doctors, specialists and oncologists - and other medical professionals, whose names, faces and titles get lost in the swampy fog of your brain - the words ‘bilateral mastectomy’ are tossed around.

It’s clear the risks aren’t worth you keeping both of your breasts when they tell you you’re at high risk of it potentially coming back. To add another punch to the blow, they suggest removing your ovaries too, mumbling the words just in case.

Just in case…

You look at Joel, devastated. You’d both agreed that children were something you weren't both keen on having years ago, but it still feels like that choice of having an open dialogue about it is ripped from you.

When you agree it’s the best way forward, and he agrees too with a face that looks like he’s just had a lobotomy and doesn’t know where he is, a date is put in the diary for the surgeries and treatments, and it’s sooner than you think it will be.

There’s hardly any time to breathe and take it all in.

A day before the surgery and you’re sitting at the kitchen table with a face on as Joel comes in from work, sawdust caked in his hair and boots.

Your voice cracks as you explain that perhaps you should just call it time. Let him find someone else. You won’t be upset, you want him to be happy as you mutter incoherently about death and divorce, and death again, until he shakes his head defiantly and huffs loudly.

He reaches into the fridge for a cool beer and offers you one, but you don’t reply. He looks down at your face.

At the face that Joel affectionately calls butt face.

The beer fizzes over the top in a foamy eruption as he slams it down on the counter top.

“Ya really are an idiot, ain’t ya?” He says, slumping down heavily into the chair beside you.

“But,” you begin and he makes the butt face at you, with pushed out lips and squinted eyes. “You won’t want me anymore.” You whisper.

His face pulls serious as he drags your hand into his blistered ones. “I ain’t fuckin’ goin’ anywhere.” He grits. “And neither are you.”

“But-”

“Quit with the butt face, darlin’. In sickness and in health. Ain’t that what we promised?”

“Yeah, but-”

He shakes his head again, his stubby fingers finding their home on your face, catching renegade tears in the whorls of his fingerprints.

“What, ya think m’gonna not love ya anymore because ya ain’t gonna have any breasts, is that it?”

That’s exactly it, hit the nail on the head, and although you don’t say it, he knows. Damn it, he knows.

“Ya really think m’that shallow?” He clicks his tongue around his teeth.

“No, of course I don’t,” you shake your head. “I’m just… I’m scared, Joel. I'm really fucking scared.” You gulp.

“I know.” He says, pulling you into his lap and wrapping those big, strong arms around you. “M’gonna be right there, when ya wake up, okay? M’gonna bring ya home and we’ll get through this, together. You n’ me. One day at a time. Okay, butt face?”

It’s the first time in weeks you smile and the first time in weeks you kiss; a soft, but tentative peck against your lips, that still holds back somewhat.

Pushing your foreheads together you sigh out, unable to think about anything else.

Two operations, four and a half months of chemotherapy and three weeks of radiotherapy, and it takes months for your hair to grow back.

You remember recoiling in horror as it fell out in clumps a few weeks after the chemo started, until you decided to just be done with it, and had Joel shave it off for you.

He offered to do his own in solidarity with you, until you snatched the clippers from him.

“Don’t you dare!” You almost shrieked as you ran your fingers through his tufty curls, smiling. “You’re never getting a haircut ever again.” And he smirked at that.

“Yes, ma’am.” He'd said as he put them away.

You had woken, groggy and aching, to Joel's face smiling at you and pushing a water beaker to your lips. You looked down to see your chest covered in bandages and drains under your hospital issue nightgown.

It was an odd feeling, you didn't feel much of a difference in those first few, post-op days; weighted down by the drains and dressings, and in and out with the pain meds.

They shifted you out of hospital the next day to recover at home, and Joel took up the role of carer, doctor and home cook as he fussed and got you comfy on the couch in a suffocating fort of pillows and blankets.

After the ovarian surgery, you started taking aromatase inhibitors, which were an added nightmare as these treatments bring on an almost immediate menopause with your ovaries now gone.

No gradual decline - a full push over the fucking cliff, face first. You can’t bear for Joel to touch you when you’re burning up and sweating; soaking the sheets through completely that you fear you’ve wet the bed.

When you’re sick from the radiotherapy, he feels useless hearing you heave behind a locked door. All you can do is lay in bed for days, struggling to keep food down and sleep it off.

You're too weak and exhausted to climb the stairs sometimes, so Joel carries you in his arms up them, even though it kills his knees and makes him groan silently when it pulls on his back. But he still does it anyway.

There are more discussions as the treatments carry on. More options, more pills, more chemicals. More time spent feeling like sludge.

Your bandages and dressings finally come off and you see yourself for the first time in front of a mirror, and there are a few moments when you can’t feel anything. Like there’s no water left in your body to cry anymore.

You just stare at your reflection with the nurse hovering by your side.

They warned you you’d be left with scarring. The scars from the mastectomy extend across the skin of your chest either side and into your armpits where you had lymph nodes removed too. They’ll fade over time, but will never completely disappear.

They warned you they’ll also feel permanently numb. And they’re right, as you touch your mutilated body with shaky fingers, you feel… nothing.

It’s another loss to mourn, the loss of your femininity, of yourself.

And that’s the worst feeling of all as you stare at the mess of your chest that was once curved and bouncy and shapely like a woman ought to be.

Now you’re flat as a board and there’s nothing remotely feminine about your body now, you think.

You can feel the sensation of touch to some degree, but it’s nothing like before. No sensitivity, no prickly feeling that creates goosebumps, just completely numbed out.

And over the course of some weeks, you can feel odd sensations arise, like you’ll touch your chest and you’ll feel it under your armpit. Your body feels all out of sorts as it slowly heals.

You have options; you can have more surgery to build you a pair of breasts if you'd like, but that comes with more pain and recovery and you decide you’re done with that.

You can wear a padded or filled out bra, you can have a tattoo which you briefly consider to cover the scarring.

But you settle on remaining as you are for now. Overwhelmed by the options out there, when you truly believed there was nothing that could make you feel even remotely feminine again.

Maybe something pretty, like flowers…

And Joel nods at all of them as you ask for his input, but ultimately he just wants what you want.

You cover the scars up with layers. You sleep with long sleeved tops and no longer undress in front of Joel. You can't bear him to see you like this, not yet.

Each day you think will be the day when you garner enough bravery to show him, but don't.

It feels weird, like some days they’re still there, akin to a phantom limb. You find yourself checking your chest as you feel the familiar bounce of them as you run down the stairs, or go to grope them with the suds to clean in the shower and the loss devastates you all over again.

He reassures you, telling you that you're beautiful with sincere eyes, and there's nothing that you need to worry about. But it still niggles away.

That lone, renegade thought that he might not be attracted to you anymore when he sees them, suddenly becomes the loudest of all.

They say time is a healer. Patience, understanding. And Joel has been all these things and more.

He’s carried you above the surface of the muddy water when all you’ve wanted to do is drown at times. He’s the one who nudges you awake each morning with a nose in your cheek and reminds you to take your pills.

He’s the one who brought you a beautiful coloured scarf to wear on your head when you lost your hair. A gorgeous floral print that you admired with a smile at the intricate pattern of petals as you ran your fingers over the silk of it.

He’s the one who, despite working all the hours God sends, still comes home and makes you something to eat because he knows you might not have any energy to cook.

He’s the one who still tells you he loves you, no matter what’s going on under your tops and sweaters that swamp you in their bagginess.

It isn’t time that does it at all, it’s him.

You wake one morning, months after, as the sun pools in the bedroom, and look at Joel on his back, asleep and snoring gently.

Joel’s seen you at your absolute worst; your most vulnerable, and he’s still here. Resilient, strong. A man who puts others to shame.

A man that you still desire, and you want him to desire you, even if you’re not whole anymore.

You reach out and touch him, hand brushing over the swell of his golden belly to convince yourself he’s real. Soft, downy hairs around his belly button tickle your palm gently.

He stirs at your stroking, sleepy eyes looking down at you as he blinks, adjusting to the light.

“Ya alright?” Joel asks, and you nod with a smile.

“I love you.” You say to him and he blushes, like he always does at that. Pink capillaries coming to life in his cheeks.

“I love you, darlin’.” He confirms, clutching your hand and kissing across the knuckles gently.

His hair is a tousled mess, the greys on his chest seem more plentiful and it stirs something within you; something the intense and gruelling treatments haven't fully killed off.

You straddle him and lean over, kissing him, much to his surprise. Your hands roam over his soft belly, squeezing gently as he smirks around your lips, and yelps a little when you pinch a ticklish spot.

“Hey now,” he warns, as your tongue licks over his lips.

He hums out as his hands sweep up your back, cupping the back of your head as he slips his tongue inside your mouth.

To taste him again is divine as your body instantly relaxes onto him. He nips gently on your lip and you groan out as you feel how hard he gets underneath you.

You can’t help but subtly grind on him as he groans into your mouth.

You break the kiss to sit upright, heart thrumming in your chest as he looks up at you with those dark, molten eyes.

"I'm ready to show you." You say and he straightens up.

"Okay," he nods, thumbs stroking over your thighs gently.

Without hesitation, you lift up your top revealing the flat, scarred wasteland that is your chest now, that you haven’t had the courage to let him fully see.

For a moment, his face is completely unreadable and you consider reaching for your top to cover up again.

You hold your breath as his eyes wander over the puckered welts; you feel his fingers twitch against your hips.

He sits up on his elbows, eyes locked onto yours, licking over his lips slowly as his peepers follow the lines back and forth.

His eyes dip further down to the two, little dimpled scars from where your ovaries were removed, either side of your tummy.

“Don’t ya dare,” he says, as if able to read your mind.

And you realise that he can, in his own way. He’s always been able to see you even though you try to hide sometimes. He just has the patience to wait until you're ready.

He never pushes, he just waits, because he knows that eventually, you’ll crawl out from whatever hole you need to hide in for a while to deal, to process - whatever it is you need to do. Then you’ll come back to him.

And he’ll always be there aith open arms when you do.

Joel takes you in his arms, twists you so you’re laying on your back and he kisses you there without hesitation. Kisses gently where your breasts once were in the same way that he used to.

Runs his mouth delicately over the numbed skin, dragging lips and leaving wet tracks with open mouthed kisses.

You gasp out as your eyes fill with water, your fingers finding their rightful place, raking through his curls as he glides his tongue over every creased line of your scars.

“Joel,” you whimper, cradling him as you feel his hardness press up against your centre.

You can feel a tingle of the warmth from his lips on your skin kissing gently as your eyes pool. He looks up to see you crying.

“Baby, baby. Does it hurt?” He asks, worried.

You shake your head. “No. No, I can feel you.” You gasp, shaking. “It’s weird, but I can.”

“Where?” He asks.

“There, kind of,” you say, as he brushes his lips over the spot where your right nipple used to be.

He kisses you there and runs his tongue gently over the area making you shudder, and you feel the tingles again, strangely in your armpit.

It makes you giggle at how your nerves have patched themselves up all wonky, and he smiles at you, chuckling as he licks and tests all places that might have an ebb of feeling, with little kisses and watching your reaction to each one.

All the tension leaves your body, muscles relaxing beneath his gentle ministrations; breath steadying as you surrender to the intimacy of this moment.

Reaching down, you cup his swollen cock over his boxers, with the fraying elastic tickling your wrist.

“We really need to get you some new underwear,” you titter at the state of them.

He simply shrugs with a smirk. “I could just simply take ‘em off.”

You nod eagerly and he pushes them down over his hips as you stroke him; your palm sticky with him as he leaks undeniably into it.

“Ya sure?” He queries gently as you swipe him against your folds.

"Mmm, Joel." You groan at the feel of him as you pump him. "God, I want you."

It feels so good to have him touching you, so close. The weight of his body pressed into yours, crushing you again. How warm he feels against your skin.

“I fucking want you, Joel.” You plead, as you clutch his face in your other hand. His warm breath breathes life into your tired bones. “I don’t want you to be gentle either. I need you to fuck me, hard.”

“Ya so fuckin’ beautiful, darlin’,” he grunts as he pushes his thick cock head against your drenched hole.

You both groan out as he fills you, stretching you wide around him and pumping into you gently as you acclimatise to his girth - it's been a while.

You wrap your legs around his waist as he mouths at your neck; tongue trailing down to your chest and finding that spot again.

“Snug as a bug in a rug... damn.” Joel quips, his tongue running over his teeth and then shaking his hips from side-to-side, making you feel all those little movements as he furrows up so tightly in there.

He flexes his groin and begins moving back and forth inside of you, pressing on that sweetly, pinchy spot deep inside; slightly uncomfy and yet incredibly good at the same time.

“Fuck me, Joel,” you plead, gripping onto his arm skin, “fuck me hard, please…” You whine as he sets to ploughing you like you command and demand of him.

You’re so wet that the sounds coming out of your pussy are almost farcical, making you giggle and him grunt as they squeak and soak him. He slips out a few times trying to gain his momentum - it’s like a damn slip n’ slide.

Joel presses down on your knee, bearing his weight on it so you can’t shut your legs. Making you endure it - to ride that full gigantic wave smashing into your pussy and rising up through your body.

“Ya so fuckin’ wet, ya drenched.” He’s panting, beside himself with the state you're in. “Gushing for me already, huh, darlin’?”

Your eyes roll back into your head and he smirks as he fucks hard into you like you want.

“Like this? This how ya want it?”

“Yeah, Joel. Don’t stop!” You wail.

“Ain’t gon’ stop til’ ya come for me, baby.”

He only slows to lean in and kiss you as he pistons in deeper, winding those hips of his into you further.

“Joel…” you drone. It feels so good as he grinds, so deep.

“Darlin’ ya feel too good. Fuck, m’not gon’ last like this…” he whines with a panting smirk.

“Slow it down,” you moan as he grips a hold of your thighs and brings you back onto him slower, deeper.

He licks over your mouth clumsily, tongue swiping across your nostrils, grunting out loud as your pussy clenches around him as you shudder underneath him.

He watches with a smile, lighting up the contours of his heavy set brow as you come around him.

And it’s like staring at the sun for too long; his smile brands itself into the back of your eyelids - a permanent scorch that you never want to forget.

And you feel every inch of him like this. He fucks into you slowly; your breaths hitching and falling from your chest quicker as you both work to build you up again.

“Joel!”

He reaches forward, stroking his thick fingers over the marred scars; feeling the smoothness of healing skin juxtaposed with the slight roughness of the scar tissue.

He strokes up to your neck, pulling you upright gently as you cry out when his cock hits so deep.

“Like that, darlin’...” he croons, as he winds further into you. “Mmm, fuck!”

You tremble and shake uncontrollably as he brings you to another orgasm.

“There ya are, baby. There ya are…” Joel smiles, kissing over your nose and cheeks. "So fuckin' beautiful, ain't ya?"

And he’s right there with you, head pressed into yours, watching; feeling as you squeeze and contract. Feeling you tremble and shake.

Watching as your eyes water and you gasp; your hands squeeze around his biceps, nails digging in.

You claw at him. Pulling him closer as he whimpers. A ragged cry escapes from his throat as he drives his hips deeper and struggles to contain himself.

You feel his teeth on your shoulder, grazing and desperate to bite down through the flesh. Your nails rake through his scalp, twisting and pulling as you pant and groan.

He watches in awe at you shaking on the end of his thick cock, rattling about as he turns you out and finally has his way with his gorgeous wife again.

His eyes fall over your chest and he looks at you adoringly, tongue weaving across the scars again without hesitation. Planting kisses and mouthing over the scars.

“Oh God! Oh Fuck!” You holler.

Making you feel every thick, beastly inch of him, as he pounds up into your insides like a boxer taking his fury out on the bag.

Joel pulls you by the hips upright, as he rolls onto his back, so you’re now on top of him. Everything’s fluid, swift and in a blur.

He anchors you down by your waist, making you sit on him; making you unable to escape him.

“Holy shit, oh shit-shit! Joel!” You exclaim as you gasp and struggle to swallow as the frantic intakes of breath choke you. “Oh my God!”

“Ya can take it… ya can do it, that’s it. Ride it.” Joel encourages. “So fuckin’ beautiful when ya take my cock like this, darlin’. God damn."

He just keeps coming at you; powering and thundering through you, without any hesitation in letting up anytime soon. He’s a powerhouse of sweat and grunts, breathing like he’s dying; small, quick rasps and wheezes gurgle in the back of his throat.

You find your pace, pressing palms into his broad chest and letting your hips bounce, and it feels so damn good as the curve of his cock rubs in all the sweet spots deep inside.

You reach down and stroke your clit, groaning at the feel of it tingling wildly under your fingertips.

“Stroke that pretty clit for me,” Joel croons, hammering up into you.

You stroke and rub the sticky nub, and then bring your digits up towards your mouth, sucking and teasing your lips with your fingers, and he watches enthralled.

“Suck those fingers, darlin’.” Joel hisses. “Tell me how good ya taste.”

“So good,” you smirk. You push your fingers to his lips, and he sucks them too.

"Yeah, ya do. Taste so fuckin' good."

You feel his thumb circle over your clit bringing you closer and closer with each swish of his pad against it.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes. YES!” You pant, as he grips around your waist tighter.

“Ya want me to fill ya up, hmm?”

“I want all of you, Joel.” You whine, desperate for him.

“That’s it, grind on my cock. Just like that.” He coos; his lip caught between his teeth as he cranks you around, holding onto your hips.

Your head flops onto his shoulder, your hand gripping onto the other as your lower half powers through.

“Mmm, Joel... please!” You groan, feeling your body tighten and clench again.

“Ya close again, baby?” He wheezes in your ear. "Gonna come for me?"

“Mhm… so close.”

“Come all over my cock.” He encourages. “Soak it, I want it all.”

“Oh God!” You whine.

“So damn good, fuck,” he grunts as you move around and around, your back tensing. He rubs it fondly with his big hands. “Right there, that’s it. Oh fuck, that’s so sweet, darlin’.” He groans. “M’gonna come so deep inside of ya.”

You cry out; your body shuddering and trembling on top of him, and you feel him tense and grunt out on a long, satisfied sigh.

You come, your head expanding and your body floating; your cunt clenching around him as you milk him completely dry. Tingles flood your body, your back arches and you can see the sun burning behind your eyes again.

Unable to think or say anything, Joel kisses you; silencing you before you have the chance to ruin this moment by shrinking back or wrapping yourself back up and hiding your body away from him.

For one millisecond, he’s weak; just a sweaty mess of bewildered man meat beneath you. Joel loses himself inside the holistic spiral of your irises for a moment, unable to get out or find his way through the maze of them.

And part of him wants to stay lost in them forever.

He trembles as he rocks slowly, feeling himself empty and deflate with a final grunt of your name, and his shoulders sag in unison into the mattress.

You wrap your arms around him and finally collapse upon him and lay there for a few minutes, listening to nothing but his heartbeat thrumming in your ears, eventually slowing its pace back to its normal rhythm.

Joel looks down at you as you run your fingers across his scalp and it makes him shiver; goosebumps travelling down his spine at breakneck speeds.

You stop winding the curls, shifting and resting your head up against his as you catch your breath.

He holds you, kissing you gently over your eyelashes and cheeks.

“Ya more fuckin’ beautiful to me than you’ve ever been, ya know that?” He murmurs into your face.

"They made 'em neater than I thought they'd be." He says.

You feel his knuckles sweep over your chest gently, unafraid to touch you at all, and you feel like a weight as been lifted as he does it.

You watch as he traces the ridge of the scars delicately.

"Yeah." You nod. You lift your arm up so he can see them run into your pit.

"Do ya feel much pain still? I didn't hurt ya, did I?"

You smile and shake your head. "No. It's just mostly numb. Just feels different. I'm really happy that I could feel something when you kissed me. Even if it was in my armpit," you chuckle.

"Ya still fuckin' beautiful," he smiles, and kisses inside your armpit.

You smile bashfully, headbutting his chin gently as you try not to let the tears water your eyes.

“Look at me, darlin’.” His fingers tip your chin up to him. Thumbs smearing away any tears. “I mean it. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever known. Fuckin’ balls on ya are bigger than mine.”

“I don’t know about that,” you say, reaching down to cup and stroke the soft swell of his between your fingers.

He groans, biting on his lip before his mouth finds yours again. "Ya tryin' to kill me?" He slips his tongue inside and tastes you all over again, his hands slipping down your back and groping your ass. “Ya so fuckin' sexy."

"You think so?" You smile.

"Oh, I know so. Ya always have been. Don't hide from me anymore, okay?"

"Okay." You breathe.

"Want ya sleepin' naked next to me again." He thinks for a moment. "Why don't I take ya out to dinner tonight? Anywhere ya want. If ya feelin' up for it?"

"You taking me out on a date, hmm?"

"Yeah. I am. Maybe put one of them nice dresses ya got on. I'll put on that shirt ya like. The green plaid one. Spruce myself up for ya."

"That's my favourite." You agree.

"Ya deserve to feel good, darlin'. Wanna take ya out. Show the world how fuckin' lucky I am."

You smile into his face. "What did I do to deserve you, Mr Miller?"

He kisses you again. Soft lips brushing against yours. "M’gonna keep loving ya. You n’ ya stupid butt face. Ya hear me, Mrs Miller?”

You nod, chuckling, safe in his arms; a place where you can feel safe and heal, and begin to feel like yourself again.

“I hear you.” You smile, as he pelts your face with swamping kisses in the warm sunlit bedroom. "I love you."

He smiles and he's never looked more beautiful.

“I love ya too, butt face.” Joel hums, as he crushes you to his chest and never lets you go.

I really hope you enjoyed reading this story with Joel, and welcome your comments/thoughts. I'd appreciate a re-blog if you liked it so others can find it on their dash to read and enjoy too - thank you very much! 🖤

BODIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST

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tarotwithlove · 4 months

Text

PICK A CARD ⋆ 2024 Predictions!

reminder that this is a general reading and messages found here may not apply to everyone. take what resonates, leave what doesn't, and don't force anything if it does not fit.

BOOK A READING WITH ME · BOOK A 2024 YEAR AHEAD READING WITH ME (GENERAL OR NSFW) · LINKTREE · 18+ PATREON · SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC · TIPS ♡ tips, bookings, and feedback are highly appreciated!

GROUP ONE

• reprieve from financial struggles. sudden positive turnaround or breakthrough in avenues you are, and have been, actively pursuing. modelling is significant, think also modelling clay.

• ‘california love’ by 2pac + 2 of cups. finding your soulmate… in another person or in a passion.

• doing things you wanted to do as a child or teen - wearing bolder colours or a specific style, getting a specific tattoo, starting a specific hobby, pursuing a specific career path.

• ‘this year was a movie’. barely having time to catch your breath with how things are changing . acting/directing breakthrough for some.

• getting your first camera for some, first luxury bag for others.

• beachside apartment.

• be careful of oversharing; of sharing plans, hopes, and dreams, before things are finalised. you may win the lottery this year, remember to protect your information as much as possible. be wise with your energy AND your money.

• start saving and investing.

• ‘the truth fool: be honest’. be honest with yourself most of all this year. if you can’t be honest with yourself about your dreams, goals, desires, regrets, and mistakes, who can you be honest with?

GROUP TWO

• highs and lows in mental health. trial and error with finding treatment or meds that agree with you. finally getting a proper diagnosis and help around june/july.

• finding out you’re cancer free or celebrating another year being cancer free. may be someone you’re close with, too. ringing the bell with a loved one. a clothing boutique, for some.

• adopting a stray ginger cat - especially if you don’t consider yourself a cat person.

• working at or opening your own animal shelter.

• ‘peach’ by the front bottoms. unrequited love. confessing to someone and being led on or being rejected; for some, realising the person you’re seeing is using you as a distraction or to get over the person they actually have feelings for.

• letting go of limitation with the way you live your life. being more adventurous. going skydiving, scuba diving, sperlunking, or deciding to become a nomad and travel while volunteering.

• this is your year of fateful connections, with things working out for you in unimaginable ways. you may meet a future business partner at a coffee shop or a high-paying client at the gym or at a hardware/crafts store.

• ‘the empty fool’. this is an oracle card of unlimited potential. the guidebook says: “the empty fool invites you into nothingness for a change. he carries no message and has no meaning. he’s simply here to remind you that your life is your own, and only you can create it. but before you manifest the things you desire, you must let go of all previous things.” you can achieve so much this year - if you don’t stand in your own way. even when things seem difficult, do not give up. your persistence will sow your rewards.

GROUP THREE

• suddenly coming into a large amount of money or into an abundance of opportunities - you have the choice to share this new wealth with others or to use it to found a brand new life for yourself.

• ‘say something’ by a great big world & christina aguilera. entering your first romantic relationship, having to heal wounds about love and self-worth you thought you had already healed. experiencing your first breakup.

• leaving behind your family or people who rely on you. moving to another city or country.

• nine of pentacles + the lovers. new job opportunities offering you the chance to have your own space and independence for the first time. new apartment.

• major theme of this year: choice. having to choose between yourself and your family; between yourself and your friends; between yourself and your lover. especially between your career/desired career and others.

• “do what feels right”. follow your heart.

• your intuition levelling up. seeing improvements in your finances thanks to a tarot, astrology, divination business or social media accounts.

• ‘habit’ by sekai no owari.

• learning to play an instrument.

• ‘the fool’s tax: live and learn’. facing the consequences of making the wrong choices time and time again, of following the wrong path, of fighting against destiny. you may feel things are not working out in your favour this year, no matter how hard you try or how much faith you have. it may be time to change tactics or to change paths entirely.

GROUP FOUR

• allowing yourself to be more free in all aspects of your life – especially sexually, for some. you may have had a bad breakup in the last year or two, which has made you generally hesitant to date again or enter another relationship, but this year sees you taking positive steps to turn your love life around.

• ‘get up 10’ by cardi b. standing on business. being able to look back at this year proudly, proud of yourself and what you experienced and achieved.

• getting cosmetic surgery or transforming yourself with skincare, diet, and gym - being able to look at yourself in the mirror and liking what you see.

• writing a love song or romance novel. going viral/blowing up/sales increasing because of social media word of mouth. think of what happened to ‘this is how you lose the time war.’

• spending time in nature. going camping and hiking, getting your dream job working in a game reserve, national park, or otherwise with the environment.

• welcoming your second child, for some. having twins. teaching your child/children about your job; one of them telling you they want to follow in your footsteps and do what you do and, thus, taking steps to make sure this is possible.

• saving for higher education.

• making the best of difficult situations. giving a sick pet all the love and care you possibly can and making sure their last moments are peaceful ones.

• ‘the faith fool: have faith’. things are working out in your favour, even when they don’t feel like it. don’t forget that.

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wegc · 3 months

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BACK AGAIN W HYPERFEM X SKZ ( if m bein annoyin please tell 😓😓😓 ) but currently thinkin bout changbin specifically and how hed treat me like a doll 💭

oh my god. changbin would be so doting and protective <3 he’s always making sure his girl comes home safely, making you text him updates every time you go somewhere without him, spoiling you with new clothes, makeup, and perfumes because you’re his pretty angel and you’re so high maintenance :(

changbin would totally carry you bridal style when you suddenly begin complaining about your aching feet that resulted from the heels you wore out that day; you’re just his little princess and he needs to take extra good care of you, right? that’s what he goes to the gym for! so he can pick you up with ease any time your heart desires💗 or when he wants to throw you over his shoulder and smack your ass ~

changbin who removes your makeup for you after you’re too sleepy to do so :( dating him is princess treatment 23/7! he pays for your nails and personally picks the colour himself: a pretty baby pink! he’s the type to hold a drink for you to sip on during your appointment when you’re hands are occupied :(

#also how dare u even suggest ur annoying🤬 ur not!!! pls keep sending me ur asks because they make me giggle #seo changbin x reader #changbin x reader #seo changbin fluff #changbin fluff #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #seo changbin smut #changbin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #answered #anonymous

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yanxidarlings · 3 months

Text

what's this? for once i am listening to a poll and not getting distracted by something entirely different?

fair warning this is probably my darkest yandere hp writing, reader goes through some shit (said shit being the slytherins shit) it's mostly just angst and misery with a hint of fluff (if you squint) honestly not that crazy about this, but i hereby present

YANDERE SLYTHERIN BOYS: NOT SLYTHERIN, AYE?

"remember, m/n, you have to do everything to be put into slytherin, no matter how it is the sorting works" draco levelled with m/n l/n, holding an uncomfortable amount of eye contact.

breaking away from the blond's gaze, m/n let out a snicker "i don't know what you're so worried about, draco, i'm the most slytherin person i know!" internally, everyone who wasn't m/n sighed. it was no secret m/n wasn't exactly.. slytherin material. but neither was enzo, or goyle and crabbe for that matter. but they'd all end up in slytherin together anyway, right?.

swinging an arm over the other male's shoulder, enzo pulled m/n in close "we just have to act as slytherin as possible, it'll be a lap around the quidditch pitch getting sorted if we just think things like.. how wicked snakes are- especially green ones! and.." the brunet furrowed his brows as he paused to think. "and just say mudblood over and over again as well! that'll convince them for sure"

m/n laughed, wiggling out of enzo's grip. if only he had actually taken the advice, maybe he wouldn't be where he was now.

"ravenclaw" "hufflepuff" "gryffindor"

what did the hat even yell out? all m/n knows is that it wasn't slytherin. he sat motionless on the stool, gripping the edges, waiting to hear 'slytherin' yelled out.

"mr l/n, please make your way to the ravenclaw table" a stern voice spoke.

he looked up to see professor mcgonagall staring at him, indicating towards the ravenclaw table. "what, why?" he gave the old woman a confuddled look "that's you're house, mr l/n" the look of confuddlement had turned into pure shock "the.. over there?" when mcgonagall quickly confirmed yes his mouth went agape "are you sure? i.." he pointed towards the slytherin table, where the rest of his childhood friends had been sorted "whilst i'm not entirely convinced, the sorting hat is, move along child" ushering him off the stool and towards the ravenclaw table, mcgonagall quickly went to call out the next name as soon as he was down the steps.

taking a seat at the very edge of the table, m/n ignored the greeting from the boy sat next to him to stare over at the slytherin table. only lorenzo was looking over at him, the rest avoided his gaze.

the boy pinched his forearm, leaving a red mark. but he didn't wake up in his bed nor the slytherin dormitory.

looking down, he saw his robes had taken on the blue and bronze colours associated with the eagle house. his stomach dropped, the reality of the situation coming crashing down. m/n l/n's life was effectively over

• the next day at herbology, the ravenclaw first class that day with the slytherins, none of them acknowledged him. it stung. sure, the reader had heard of purebloods not getting sorted into slytherin and being alienated from their family and circle, but it was never supposed to happen to him!

• the invisible treatment, alongside the howler he received from his guardian was enough to make him cry in the owlery after curfew. where else was there to cry? his new dormmates were mudbloods out for his magic! and the prefects patrolled the halls at night. imagine the humiliation if weaslebee or whatever the ravenclaw prefect's name was saw him balling his eyes out?

• lorenzo spoke to him, for a little while. but he knew the boy's parents would nip that behaviour in the bud eventually. the prestigious heir of the berkshire family? associating with a blood traitor? m/n knew none of them wanted to be dragged down with him.

• for a little while, he thought they just needed time to adjust to him being in a different house. it was just a house? the day after ravenclaw beat the slytherin team in first year, all hopes of that came crashing down.

"draco!" m/n smiled as he came past malfoy in the halls, "can you believe wattle stole the snitch? she must have knocked it out of higgs hands, i swear he had it" quidditch was safe, right? m/n had never given a hoot about quidditch in the past, but if it meant getting back in draco and his gang's good books, call him a connoiseur.

malfoy shot m/n a glare "let's see you do any better then" he spat. crabbe and goyle had their arms folded, as if they were the blond's bodyguards.

the ravenclaw went agape before puffing his cheeks out, trying to think of something to say "i- i was just chatting" he folded his arms, not in the intimidating way crabbe and goyle were, as if to make himself smaller.

"you're pathetic, l/n, you think i'd want to be friends with a disgusting blood traitor. know what? i'm glad you got sorted into ravenclaw so i didn't have to find out the hard way, you would have taken us all down with you, wouldn't you?" draco sneered out, eyes narrowing.

m/n looked down, his face painted with shock "draco.. i swear i'm not a blood traitor, the hat got it all wrong!" there was no reasoning with someone like draco, who had been raised with the strict pureblood beliefs shoved down his throat.

oi!, a voice rang out from behind him, turning halfway, m/n saw a boy in slytherin robes that he had never met before "who's this" "who are you" m/n said in near unison with the stranger "he's no one, riddle, nothing but a worthless blood traitor"

with that, malfoy, crabbe and goyle pushed past m/n, and began chatting with the other boy- riddle.

• to say the first few years at hogwarts are hell for m/n is an understatement. it wouldn't be a surprise if he developed anxiety, depression and paranoia from the constant ridicule and bullying. every corner he turned, one of them was there, calling him foul names, telling him he's a disgrace to his family name.

• who would want to stick around and become a victim as well? no one. that's who m/n had, no one. they brought anyone who he spent time with the same hell. it wasn't even just insults, it was physical, from getting into petty fights with mattheo, to theodore using the levicorpus charm to give him a concussion.

• if he so much as looks one of the greengrass girls way, elio would pour one of snape's potions over m/n's head and then tell the professor that m/n had stolen the potion. if he got the best grade in any class, enzo would accuse the reader of stealing his work, although tom always seemed to be the mastermind behind it.

• there was this one time when a girl a year below him, luna lovegood, began hanging around him, declaring that they were now friends. but m/n knew better than to get used to it, and he was right. within a few weeks of the friendship, a rumour started spreading that m/n was sleeping with rita skeeter and shit talking the quibbler. lovegood never looked at him the same.

• not to mention, the situation at home only got worse. the house was no longer a home, if it ever was. everything he apparently 'did' at hogwarts got reported back to his parents, who disowned him in fifth year.

• m/n didn't return to hogwarts after the winter break when his name was burnt off the family tree.

the great hall was bustling with students, catching up with friends after the yuletide season. the 'best spot' on the slytherin table (where the roasted turkeys were) was dominated by what was best known as the 'slytherin gang'.

blaise was quiet, but when wasn't he? he only spoke when something needed to be said. eyeing the ravenclaw table for his favourite person to lovingly stare (glare) at, he saw no familiar face.

darting his eyes back and forth between the entry and the table, a solemn look crossed his dark features. "what's got you so pissed, mate?" theo leaned over, following zabini's gaze. blaise briefly made eye contact with theo before taking a bite of roasted potato

"i don't see him either" riddle, tom, to be exact, remarked. theo made an 'o' face, the name didn't have to be said for everyone to know who they were talking about. they spent their days thinking of ways to torment him, who else would they notice the absence of?

• nobody explicitly said they missed the reader, but actions speak louder than words.

• tom was the first to notice something was amiss. you couldn't waterboard the information out of him, but he couldn't stand not to know where l/n was. he honestly thought the bullying was a bit ridiculous, but as long as he was isolating the reader, he didn't care how it was done.

• he takes action the quickest, stalking the long halls, trying to determine whether or not m/n was just avoiding them.

• it became something of a group mission find out where m/n is. before, they were just possessive, but now, now they were becoming obsessed.

• when the darling finally returned to hogwarts after weeks of being MIA, all the torment, all the bullying, it just stopped. they were being nice which only scared m/n even more. five, even four years ago he would have eaten this up. but he knew better than to trust people now- no, he was straight up paranoid.

BLAISE ZABINI

• blaise was one of the only ones who truly believed m/n was a blood traitor. but he never gave up on him. in blaise's mind, the years of 'torment' was him helping show the reader the importance of blood purity and status.

• blaise won't apologise for what he did, not sincerely. it'll be more of a 'i'm sorry it took you this long to understand the point'. he truly thinks he was just molding the reader into the perfect future spouse for him.

• the reader has simply traded one hell for another with blaise. refuse to agree to the arranged marriage? won't spend time with him? then the reader truly must be a blood traitor.

• blaise has his softer moments with the reader, where he'll reassure them that he never actually hated them, that he didn't mean any of what he would say to them. but the damage is done.

• when it's his night with m/n, sometimes he'll be awoken at 2am to the sound of m/n getting ready for the next day. when he tried to open the door to the bathroom, he had never heard such a panicked "don't!" when he asked m/n why, "i'm not presentable yet" it broke his heart.

DRACO MALFOY

• draco had been encouraged by his parents- no, by his father, to put m/n in his place. now that he looks back at it, it had nothing to do with m/n, it was about making sure draco never even considered betraying his blood status.

• he engulfed the reader in a hug when he finally saw him on the way to class. whispering apologies, holding back tears. "i thought- i thought you had done something stup-" but he was quickly shoved off, m/n even mocked him for the tears.

• for the first time in his life, he understood what it felt like to be in the readers position. merlin, he was a git, wasn't he? he'll spend his entire life trying to make up for it if he has to.

• what he couldn't handle was m/n rejecting his attempts at friendship. gosh fucking damn it just love him already, draco makes it clear that the bullying might be over, and he's really sorry it ever happened, but the reader is never allowed a life outside of the slytherins.

• people who interact with the reader are still targeted, leaving him as isolated as ever. at some point he might accept draco's offer of friendship, but he'd never be stupid enough to actually buy into that bollocks.

LORENZO BERKSHIRE

• lorenzo was kind of like the readers guardian angel throughout his years of torment. he might have been a bystander, but he never directly took part in foul 'pranks' they'd pull on him. it hurt his heart to see m/n so misrable, but he had a reputation to uphold and parents to keep happy.

• whenever the chance would present itself, enzo would try and make m/n's day a bit better. he sent anonymous chocolates from hogsmede for a good while, until pollux and draco started calling m/n a pig when he'd eat them at dinner.

• but it was the thought that counts! and that's what enzo tries to tell m/n in fifth year. he got punched. m/n told him to get lost in the forbidden forest and to take the rest of them with him.

• time heals all wounds, enzo probably has one of the best chances of developing an actual friendship with the reader. but they all want more, especially enzo. who believes he has some sort of precedence over the others for being 'so good' to the reader when everyone else wasn't.

• he thought he was being slick, discussing the possibility of an arranged marriage with his parents. but blaise has made plans a while back, and tom had taken the dark mark with the promise that his father would oneday have m/n marry him.

MATTHEO RIDDLE

• mattheo is by far, by a long mile, the worst of them all. he used to cruciatus curse on more than once on m/n whenever he was in a particularly jealous or bad mood. objectified him based on his looks "i'd bash your face in but then i'd ruin the only thing you have going for you."

• he didn't even know the reader before hogwarts, he just saw the way draco treated m/n, felt a funny warm feeling, and decided that meant he hated the reader.

• but god forbid anybody else does what he does, mattheo sometimes even tells off the other slytherins, the ones he doesn't like (draco lmao) to back off. maybe if he took his own advice m/n wouldn't be as traumatised as he is.

• lost his shit when m/n didn't return in fifth year. felt like he was dying, it was then he realised that maybe m/n is more important to him than he thought.

• babies the shit out of m/n when he comes back- he tries to at least. offers to carry his bags, trys to sleep in his bed with him, patches up even a small paper cut. it's a startling contrast, m/n probably feels like he has to go along with it, or risk becoming mattheo's target again.

THEODORE NOTT

• theo wouldn't have gotten in on the bullying if it weren't for his father and the others encouraging him. he didn't do nearly as much as draco or mattheo, but was still considerably worse than blaise or enzo.

• he would always hover around m/n, using his robes, sometimes skin as an ashtray. always making some sort of sarcastic or witty remark. and he always had a glare that would sink though m/n's skull, leaving him constantly on the edge.

• even during the earlier years of hogwarts, theo would have moments of softness, where he dropped the hateful act. which is why he was the one m/n trusted the least when the torment finally stopped.

• m/n keeping his distance, emotionally at least, is what drives theo over the edge. instead of saying something demeaning when he gets like that, theo now has outbursts where he demands closeness: mattheo will often have to drag him out of the room.

• there's always an over the top apology, only for it to go horribly wrong when the reader doesn't eat it up. he drowns in self hatred and anger, wouldn't it be great it time turners could go back years and none of this happened?

TOM RIDDLE

• tom honestly thought the reader deserved the treatment they got at first. to be born with pure blood and to throw away the privileges that came with it so easily? absolutely disgusting.

• he used to mastermind the bigger plans, until he came to respect m/n's intelligence and strength. anybody else would have ended themselves by now, and he had never met anyone as intelligent as himself. of course at first he developed his own hatred towards the ravenclaw whenever he'd get the same or a higher score on a test than him.

• his attraction to m/n causes him to pull out of partaking in the bullying by around third year. he's got better things to do, like being the top of the class over the likes of an ungrateful blood traitor.

• his main motivation in helping his father resurrect was the power it would give him over m/n. once he became a loyal death eater, he would be rewarded with m/n. the readers feelings be damned, tom wasn't above the imperius curse, amortentia or the cruciatus curse.

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somewhereincairparavel · 27 days

Text

🐚 Daughter of Neptune headcanons list 🌊 part one..

Note: I've never done a pjo hcs post like this with the aesthetic pictures and everything- but I've been Itching to make a daughter of Neptune one, since I consider myself as a Neptune child. So this is sort of a self insert haha, and I thought it'd fun cuz I have so many hcs abt this, I've only over seen ppl do a daughter of Poseidon one.

Also this one has reader x Jason Grace as romantic pairings, but it isn't the main focus. Like I said, this is a self insert, and I love my bb jason ;) + imagine having Percy as a big brother, goals fr

• Okay so you'd come to Camp Jupiter at the age of 8-9, so you definitely have a considerable amount of childhood before you came to camp. Which only made it harder for you to adapt to the barbaric ways the Roman camp worked.

• Also, Since Neptune was not a very respected Roman god, your arrival was considered bad luck. Octavian made you go through an intense trial (that motherfucker was like 10 years old and an augur, and was already such a bitch lol) + forced a newly elected praetor Reyna (who was also just 10 at the time) to hold a senate meeting before you were even offered a position at camp.

• Neptune is very feared by the romans though, since he represented the harsh brutality of the ocean, so you got the Roman Nico di Angelo treatment from camp. Everyone was scared of you, flinched when you walked passed them. this was to your advantage tho, since you never got bullied, mostly out of fear.

• so Neptune temples in Camp Jupiter are only taken care of by you, if you left for a quest or something then the shrines would be in such a horrible state, bc no one cares enough to offer Neptune anything or even clean up his shrine. You'd do the cleaning and offering.

• and the worst part? Your dad wouldn't even notice you even after your efforts.

• okay, your powers are quite similar to Percy's butt I feel like since Roman/Greek siblings always have powers that compliment eachother, you'd have better control over the earthly side of the domain. Like you can cause longer earthquakes, control seismic waves, and make volcanos erupt + cause bigger avalanches, Stuff like that.

• Your water control was actually a little limited, up until Percy arrived and helped you enhance your powers. And you helped enhance his control over earthquakes, since his earthquakes usually only lasted for a few seconds, his dad is more water dominant. So when you met him, you knew he was a missing puzzle piece in your life. You'd even be able to communicate telepathically to Percy underwater, a power you both never knew you needed.

• Seriously tho it would be hilarious to look at, bc to the others, you both sound like squeaky dolphins but in reality you are just telepathically speaking with one another. The others wouldn't understand, and poor Frank would be so confused as to why you both are making strangled fish noises

Leo would troll you guys so bad for this lol

• your eyes would actually be black. Not blue, not sea green, just black. Your eyes would literally glitter like black obsidian rocks. because Poseidon is the calm side of ocean, hence sea green eyes for Percy, Neptune is the dark and scary side of the ocean, so that's black eyes for you. that difference would clearly reflect in your guys's eye colours AND personality (I'll expand on this more in part 2)

• but your scariness comes with a downside, you had no friends. No friends, except Jason and Reyna. it's just your dad's naturally strict aura surrounding you that makes your overall personality a Lil grumpy and moody tbh. You did have such a resting bitch face that wasn't helping either.

• Jason, being the noble boy he was, knew you were going to be his friend the moment you made a dramatic entrance to camp for the first time, getting scouted by the waves to New Rome. He knew what it was like to have a powerful, scary dad, but he acknowledged and empathized that you had it harder than he did. He was considered a golden boy, while you were considered a scary bad luck charm. But regardless of that, Jason was your first best friend. And eventually, your boyfriend.

• Reyna on the other hand, badly wanted to befriend you because she admired your mental strength, you were 9 years old and you were openly scoffed at by the legionnaires simply because your father was a scary man. Yet you handled it all so well. But she befriended you a little later than Jason did. Since she was so busy, she barely had any time to chat with anyone. You, Jason and Reyna bonded as a trio when you guys had your first quest.

• Reyna secretly shipped you and Jason from the very beginning lol, bc a Jupiter x Neptune union? Y'all were powerful and cute af together. The mutual pining drives her crazy though, like kiss already smh.

• Also, Nicknames! Your nickname was ALWAYS "kelp head" because your hair was wavy and shaped like seaweed lol. As much as you hated to admit it, the name fit a little too well.

• okay enough with the friendship stuff, let's talk about how much that bastard Octavian makes it his mission to make your life a hellhole. It isn't even funny anymore, he hated you from the very beginning. Not only because you were considered bad luck, it's because he envied that you were a direct descendant of such a powerful God, he couldn't even handle Jason's arrival, yours was just the last straw for him. He opposes your opinions in front of the whole senate + prevents you from getting elected as Centurion + attempts to prevent you from going on quests, bc he can't handle someone else taking the glory.

• He was also the reason you were put into the unpopular twelfth legion. The underdog legion. But Jason? That sweetheart made it worth being in the twelfth legion so you weren't complaining tbh.

• honestly? Octavian and you are famous in camp for your bickering though lol it's just always a back and forth between you and him, such burning rivalry and enmity. You LOVED roasting him and you were fucking great at it too. He deserved that for making you go though hell. You'd laugh like a maniac when he trips and he smirks when has the upper hand against you in senate discussions.

• Reyna is the only reason you both didn't beat eachother up at this point tbh

• once, Reyna came running up to you all panicky because Octavian went missing from camp. In response, you beamed and told her that you'd get the balloons ready in the dining hall for a grand celebration. Jason would burst out laughing lol.

• you'd steal his teddy bears and give them to younger campers, asking them to hide it from octavian. So the younger campers absolutely adore you, unlike the older ones.

• you are also quite the rebel in camp, JUST like Octavian predicted you would be, when you first came to camp. It was actually written in his auguries that the new child of Neptune arrival would be always shafting the rules, since the sea can't be controlled. It's in a nature for a Neptune child to walk their own pace (lol have you seen Percy??) That gave another reason for him to hate you.

• Even some of the lares in CJ would call you an abnormal roman bc you never acted like one. You were wild and temperamental.

This rule breaking tendency you had did earn you lots of punishments that included scrubbing the whole camp with a toothbrush. But it was worth it for you. Camp Jupiter sucked. And you were already in trouble, so what's a little more, right?

• you'd sneak out at night to explore New Rome, because again, the Romans had this weird bedtime curfew like. they have rules for every. Fucking. Thing. It pissed you off so bad. They wouldn't even let you explore the city at night? They were seriously wasting the beauty of the city, You'd definitely rope Jason in to break the rules with you. Like don't be such a goody two shoes smh. I feel like that's what attracted him to you in the first place. He's a goody goody boy with such a boring life, youd just make it interesting for him.

• besides, sneaking out is SO much easier when you can fly. So Jason is your personal airplane. The Jason Grace airlines.

• okay so after all your hardwork in the legion, you'd finally get elected to Centurion, after you successfully finished a quest to retrieve a lost Roman artifact, which was formerly Jason's position and he would become a co praetor with Reyna. But you were still very much disrespected in camp tbh, it just became an internalised thing for everyone to hate you at this point, Octavian was also great at putting your reputation under dirt, but you didn't really care anymore.

• now here comes the catch, Jason and you were sort of in a half-pining half-relationship situation, Before that jerk goes missing. because neither of you knew how to confess, and camp was SO strict when it came to relationships for some reason?? Like even dating has to be lowkey.

• you and Jason are totally the grumpy x sunshine trope lol except you're the grumpy, snippy and batshit one and jason is calm, levelheaded and optimistic one.

Perfect balance. Gosh your dynamic would be so cute :(

• you'd just be grumpily stomping around while jason stalks behind you, laughing lightly. You're super short compared to him aswell, so yeah it makes it funnier.

• You were in charge of welcoming Hazel to camp, since Jason and Reyna had some serious meeting stuff about the new prophecy Octavian told them about.

• poor hazel would be scared to death while meeting you, not just bc it's you, it's bc she just came back from the dead, so this is all rlly new for her.

• That's where you met him. Nico di Angelo. You'd bond over your shared mistreatment in camp. So you became homies w him fairly quickly. He saw you as this cool big sister he could have happy meals with talking abt life.

• you would be a little curious when he keeps disappearing off to somewhere tho, you knew he was lying about where he came from.

Okay part 1 of this is done, this was so long lol, part 2 would drop later, that's where you and Percy meet and stuff.

Update: part two is out! https://www.tumblr.com/somewhereinhogsmeade/746489087922520064/daughter-of-neptune-headcanons-list-part-two?source=share

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jaeyunverse · 8 months

Text

cat boy

pairing: yang jungwon x fem!reader

wc: 1882

genres: some fluff, mostly crack, enemies to lovers, neighbours au

warnings: profanity

summary: yang jungwon is pissed his cat likes you more than him. or, in which jungwon’s cat plays cupid and sets you up.

note: this is extremely unserious!!!! i only wrote it for funsies but i enjoyed the process a lot :) i hope the fic manages to bring a smile on your face hehe

masterlist

There was an angry-looking Yang Jungwon standing at your door.

You didn’t know why he was so pissed. You just knew you didn’t care.

“Your incessant knocking woke me up,” you replied dryly and leaned against the door frame, arms crossing over your chest. “You better have a good reason for ruining my sleep.”

“It’s five in the evening.”

“What’s your point?”

Jungwon’s jaw clenched, and the corner of your lip curled up a smirk. Provoking him was always so satisfying. Always so easy and entertaining.

It was crazy how he was the sweetest person with everyone else but the moment you opened your mouth, he glared at you and looked like he was plotting your death. The discrimination and harsh treatment you’d received from the boy upon moving into your apartment had hurt at first, but you’d soon learnt to take it with a grain of salt.

You’d learnt that it was way more fun to push his buttons and see just how far you needed to take things for him to reach his breaking point.

“Just shut the fuck up and listen to me,” Jungwon snapped, pointing an accusing finger at you. “I need you to stop playing with my cat. Do not touch her. Do not call her name. Do not do the weird fucking meowing thing you do where she meows back at you and you have those god awful meowing conversations. Do not—”

“Oh, yeah,” you interrupted and pretended to deeply think about something. “I think it was just yesterday that Cleo told me you were popping a vein over her liking me more than you. I must say, Yang, you have reached a level of pathetic I didn’t even know existed. Yelling at your neighbour because you don’t get validation from your cat? Tsk.”

Embarrassment and anger coloured the entirety of Jungwon’s face a deep red. “You don’t get it!” he exclaimed. “Cleo keeps clawing at the front door! She doesn’t even want to stay with me anymore. She stares at me with so much resentment because I don’t let her play with you all the time!”

“I’m confused,” you said, your eyebrows furrowing. “Why don’t you let her play with me if that’s why she hates you? Your problem has a very simple solution—”

“But she’s my cat!” he said, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He stepped closer to you, desperation evident on his features. “I don’t care if she plays with you, but the more she does, the more she realises that she’d rather have you take care of her.”

“Well,” you sputtered, a little taken aback by how much his cat’s preferences had distraught him. “If it’s any consolation to you, I don’t have the time or resources to look after Cleo, so she has no choice but to stay with you.”

“I don’t know how to make her love me again,” Jungwon mumbled to himself, not having heard you at all. “I know cats aren’t very loyal, but I didn’t think Cleo would dump me after everything we’ve gone through. I pay the landlord more money so she can keep staying with me without having to hide from anyone. I fought—”

“Yang!” you yelled and grabbed his shoulders. He snapped out of his reverie and looked at you in despair. You’d never thought you would feel bad for him, but you found yourself offering, “Do you want me to show you how I play with her? I don’t know why she prefers me over you, but maybe I’m doing something you aren’t. Maybe you’ll know what it is if we play with her together.”

Jungwon nodded eagerly. “Yeah, let’s go.”

“Now?” you asked incredulously. “I have to meet a friend for dinner.”

“Please,” he begged, and you didn’t think you’d ever heard him sound so hopeless before. “Just for ten minutes.”

You hesitated a bit for a moment, but then reluctantly agreed. “Ten minutes.”

Jungwon watched in awe as you interacted with Cleo. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw his ginger Ragamuffin so excited.

“Hey, Cleo,” you cooed, cupping her face in your hands. “How are you doing? How’s the most precious girl in the world doing?”

Cleo purred and leaned into your touch. Smiling, you caressed her cheeks and kissed her nose.

Gathering her in your arms, you stood up. The cat rested her head on your shoulder and closed her eyes.

“I really don’t see Cleo hating anyone,” you said to Jungwon, a small frown settling on your features. “I mean, look at her.”

He sighed and padded towards you, stopping only when he was right beside. His arm brushed against yours. “I don’t get it either.”

And then, as if to prove to you that he wasn’t lying about his cat having something against him, Jungwon lightly petted her.

Cleo’s eyes snapped open and her nails popped out. She pawed at him and he withdrew his hand immediately.

“Oh.”

“I don’t understand why she’s acting this way,” he lamented. “She was good to me until you came along!”

You scoffed in disbelief. “Are you seriously saying this is my fault? Did you even consider the possibility of you being a horrible owner?”

“You did not just say that!” Jungwon looked extremely offended, but you didn’t give a shit. You couldn’t believe he was blaming you for his problems.

“I don’t even need to say anything,” you sneered. “Cleo running away from you to me speaks volumes.”

You saw your neighbour’s jaw clench. His hands curled into fists at his side, and you wondered if you’d gone too far. You know he loved his cat; insinuating that he wasn’t taking good care of her probably hurt.

Besides, you knew it wasn’t true. Jungwon was a huge animal enthusiast. He’d looked after a turtle when he was five and had decided then and there that a career surrounded by animals was what he wanted. He was studying to be a veterinary doctor now.

Before you could open your mouth to apologise, he muttered, “I should have known this was a bad idea.”

Your blood boiled once again. “You really do have a knack for being the most ungrateful asshole anyone could ever come across, Yang.”

In your arms, Cleo meowed and lifted her head from your shoulder, staring daggers at her owner.

“Ungrateful?” Jungwon snorted in disbelief, not noticing the glares the Ragamuffin was sending his way. “You haven’t done anything since you came here! I don’t have shit to be grateful for.”

Cleo growled, and the boy finally acknowledged her anger.

You pointed a finger at Jungwon and fumed, “I take back what I said before. I do see Cleo hating you. You’re a little bitch who—”

“Oh, spare me.” He cut you off with a roll of his eyes, but you paid him no heed and continued,

“Maybe she’d like you better if you liked me better!”

The cat meowed again. The message was very clear. She agreed.

“I do like you...” Jungwon said defensively, but it was a pathetic attempt that convinced no one. Especially not Cleo.

“Yeah, sure.” You let out a humourless laugh. “You’ve obviously been a jerk to me from the very start because you think you’re the unapproachable, dark-haired, broody lead and I’m the sunshine who is supposed to make you open up.”

He gave you a sour look. “You’re not the sunshine.”

“And you’re not the main character you think you are. I’m not going to put up with your attitude anymore. Just stop being a dick and tell me what you have against me.”

Jungwon hesitated for a moment. You watched as he contemplated whether or not to tell you the real reason behind his grudge, and with each passing second, you slowly started to get a good idea of why.

You knew it was going to be something stupid.

He proved you right.

“I was trying to rent the apartment you’re living in. It has a better view and is way bigger. I live with a cat and you live alone—I thought it was unfair that the landlord chose someone who doesn’t even need the space.”

You were speechless for a while. You took your sweet time to wrap your head around the fact that Yang Jungwon was one petty son of a bitch.

“That’s it?” you finally asked. “You hate me because I snagged the apartment you wanted fair and square?”

He didn’t confirm. He didn’t need to.

You exclaimed, “Grow the hell up, Yang! So what if I got it? It’s been six months; move on!”

“You don’t need it as much as I do!” he protested.

“You don’t know that!” you said angrily. “You don’t know me! You never tried to.”

Jungwon opened his mouth to retort, but he didn’t really know what to say. He knew he was the one at fault. Maybe he should have apologised.

Too bad his stubbornness wouldn’t let him go down without a fight.

“It’s not like you ever tried to get to know me either,” Jungwon muttered.

“I brought you home-baked cookies the day I moved in. You said you didn’t want them and shut the door in my face. I invited you to my house-warming party too, but neither did you reply to my email nor show up. You really think I didn’t try to get to know you? To be friends with you?”

Your voice was laced with bitterness, but there were traces of genuine sorrow in it as well. The fire in your eyes from your bickering had winked out and you looked tired.

The boy found his resolve crumbling. Shame and guilt began to build claw at him from the inside. Maybe he had been unnecessarily harsh.

“I—uh..” Jungwon tried, “I’m sorry.”

You raised your eyebrows. “For being so rude to you, I mean, ” he added hastily. “You didn’t deserve it.”

The apology could have been way better but you weren’t going to complain. “Okay.”

Setting Cleo on the floor again, you moved towards the front door of his apartment. “I’ll get going.”

However, before you could turn the knob, Jungwon blurted, “Are—are you free now? Maybe we can hang out and get to know each other?”

“Oh.” You were dumbfounded. Out of all the things you expected him to say, this was not it. “I have to meet a friend tonight. I told you.”

Embarrassment tinted his ears a deep red. “Right,” he squeaked after clearing his throat. “Forget I asked.”

“Well—” you started after a beat of awkward silence— “I won’t be out for that long. Do you wanna come over to watch a movie later?”

“I have to get up early tomorrow.”

You decided that this was clearly not working out—but it wasn’t that bad. So what if Jungwon and you couldn’t hang out? You were on good terms now. That was an immense improvement in your relationship already.

Your neighbour, however, didn’t seem to be in the mood to cut his losses and move on. He tried again, “The weekend?”

You paused. Racked your brain to make sure you didn’t have any other commitments. “The weekend.”

“It’s a date.”

Strangely, you didn’t correct Jungwon. He didn’t take his words back either.

Cleo’s tail swayed in silent approval.

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