Rosa_E

Este es mi casi diario 🇲🇽 - 21 años

[calebsfavoriteusedthong]

Sharing is Caring

Valko/Caleb/MC *this is not part of Quiet Claim

Horny thoughts EXTRA: Caleb and Valko using a dual entry fleshlight as punishment.

Link for a visual (very NSFW) 🔞MDNI🔞

This is a gift and a thank you for the amazing ideas (including this one) to @stardustsirens 💜💜💚💚.

Check the rest of the Horny thoughts list here

For two men who had both agreed—out loud, with words, like adults—to share a relationship with you, Caleb and Valko were doing a spectacular job of acting like they'd never heard the word compromise in their lives.

It had started over breakfast.

Specifically, it had started over the fact that Caleb had taken the last of your coffee without asking and Valko had taken that personally.

"That's not what this is about and you know it," Caleb said, his voice gone quiet, that meant he was past the point of raising it. He stood in the living room with his arms crossed "You've been doing this for months. Every time I'm here you find something. The coffee, the blanket, the remote—"

"She was cold," Valko said. "I gave her the blanket because she was cold. You were sitting right next to her and you didn't notice."

"I noticed."

"You were watching the stupid game."

"I can watch the game and notice she's cold at the same time."

"Clearly not, since I'm the one who got up."

Caleb's eye twitched. Just slightly. "You got up from the other side of the room to bring her a blanket that was sitting six inches from my hand so you could—"

"So I could what, Caleb? Make sure my girlfriend wasn't cold? That's the crime we're prosecuting today?"

"She's my girlfriend too."

"Then act like it."

Caleb uncrossed his arms and stepped forward, and Valko, because Valko had never backed up from anything in his life and wasn't about to start now, also stepped forward to meet him. They ended up in the middle of the living room with their chests almost touching and matching expressions of immovable stubbornness.

"You want to talk about acting like it," Caleb said, very quietly. "Let's talk about last Tuesday."

"I'm gonna need you to be specific."

"You called her ten times, Valko."

"I was checking on her."

"Ten times. In an hour. I was with her. She didn't need to be checked on, she was fine, you just wanted to make sure I knew you were calling"

"This is actually insane," Valko threw one hand up. "You're telling me I'm not allowed to call my girlfriend?"

"Not when I'm with her"

"I'm trying," Valko said, clipped and precise, "to take care of her. Which I realize is a foreign concept to a man whose primary contribution to this relationship is showing up on weekends and looking pretty—"

"I look..." Caleb stopped. A vein in his temple was doing something concerning. "That is not the point—"

"Oh my god, that is enough."

They turned at exactly the same time, the argument dying mid breath, and found you standing in the bedroom doorway. You had your arms crossed, a silk blindfold hanging from each hand, and the expression on your face was one you reserved for occasions when you had reached the outer limit of what you were willing to tolerate.

You looked at Caleb. Then at Valko. Then at the ridiculous amount of physical space they had managed to eliminate between two fully grown men who had, three days ago, been in your bed at the same time without anyone losing a limb.

"I have watched you two argue all day" you said. "You have both been in this relationship for months. You have both—" you paused, choosing words, "demonstrated, repeatedly, that you are capable of being in the same room as each other."

Neither of them said anything. Caleb had the grace to look slightly embarrassed. Valko looked like he wanted to say something and was physically restraining himself.

You held up the blindfolds.

"I'm done mediating. You want to act like you don't know how to share?" Your eyes moved between them, steady and completely unmoved by the combined effect of the two of them standing there looking like scolded golden retrievers. "Then I'll make it simple for everyone."

-------------------------------------------------

The bedroom was very quiet by the time you got them both in there.

They ran out of things to argue about. It was hard to continue a territorial dispute when they couldn't see where they were in the room. They stood where you'd put them, stripped bare, blindfolded, shoulders still carrying the tension from the living room but with nowhere to direct it anymore. Both of them had their hands at their sides, not touching anything, assuming they were far away from each other.

They were not.

They were close enough that if either one of them exhaled too hard they'd feel it. You'd done that on purpose.

You sank to your knees between them and looked up at their faces —both of them tight jawed, heads slightly tilted, trying to orient themselves by sound alone— and took a moment to appreciate the fact that two of the most difficult men you'd ever met were currently standing blindfolded and completely at your mercy because of a disagreement about coffee.

You poured the lube and wrapped your hand around Caleb's cock first.

His head went back immediately, a rough groan pulling out of him, hands gripping his own hips to stop himself from reaching for you. "God, your hand—can do it a bit faster?"

"Don't rush her," Valko's voice came out tighter than he intended. He was trying to figure out from the sound of Caleb's voice exactly how far away he was standing.

You moved your hand to Valko and his whole body shuddered, a sharp exhale escaping through his nose. "Fuck, I've been waiting all day."

"You're both getting it," you said, keeping your voice smooth and even.

You picked up the sleeve from the floor beside you.

Dual entry, no center barrier, ribbed on both ends. They knew you loved toys and they loved using them on you. Neither of them had any reason to suspect what this one was about to do.

You lined it up, shifted your weight onto your heels, and pushed it down over both of them at the same time.

The sound they made was almost identical, two sharp, breathless gasps in perfect sync, the ribbed interior gripping them both tightly. For a second they both just stood there processing the sensation.

Then you pushed them closer, the rest of the way in.

The tips of their cocks met somewhere in the barrierless middle.

"What—" Caleb's whole body recoiled, knees buckling, one hand shooting out sideways for something to grab onto and finding nothing. "What the—what is that—"

Valko made a sound that was not a word in any language. He'd gone completely rigid, every muscle locked up, his chin dropped to his chest.

"Is that—" Caleb's voice came out strange and strained, working through the information his body was sending him with visible effort. "Is that another—is someone else—are you—" He stopped. "What the fuck?"

"That's 'ko," you said pleasantly.

"What the hell—" Valko's hips snapped back on reflex, a choked sound tearing out of him that he was going to pretend hadn't happened. "Sweetheart, what did you just—"

"Relax," you said, both hands clamping down over the center of the sleeve, fingers squeezing the material to keep them where they were. "You didn't want to share so now you're sharing this."

Caleb's breathing had gone completely to pieces. His chest was heaving, jaw working around words that weren't coming out in the right order. "You actually—" A sharp breath. "You seriously—"

You gave the sleeve one slow twisting squeeze and he lost the sentence entirely.

"Look at you both," you teased, from your knees again, looking up at two flushed faces with tremendous satisfaction. "So territorial. So impossible. And completely hard inside the same toy."

"I am hard for you," Valko snapped, the words coming out slightly less convincing than usual given the circumstances. A dark flush had crawled all the way up his neck and into his ears. He tried to step back, thighs shaking. "Take it off. Right now. I am not doing this, I don't—"

"You're not going anywhere."

You delivered the first stroke before he finished the sentence and the sound that came out of both of them at the same time was something you were going to think about for a very long time.

The friction was immediate and overwhelming—the ribbed interior stimulating the entire length of their cocks while they were pressed tip to tip. Neither of them pulled away.

What happened instead was considerably more predictable given who they were.

Valko's jaw set. You felt him shift his weight, recalibrate, and then drive his hips forward hard—a full thrust into the sleeve that was transparently designed to shove Caleb back through force of will. "Move," he said, through his teeth.

"No," Caleb answered and met him head on.😝

The impact of them hitting tip to tip inside the slick toy punched a moan out of both of them, loud enough that you were briefly grateful for the thickness of the bedroom walls.

You started pumping the sleeve to match their rhythm and leaned in. "There you go," you kept your voice low, right in the space between them. "All that energy you've been wasting arguing about coffee." Another stroke, firm and deliberate. "Look how much better this is."

"Don't act smug about this."

"I'm not acting smug," you said, completely smugly, picking up the pace. "I'm just saying. You've both been impossible for three months and it took me five minutes to solve it."

"This isn't solved—" Caleb's voice broke on the last word as you twisted your wrist on the next steoke. He swore, hips stuttering forward. "This is—this is not what I'd call solved—"

"Less talking," you said."More cooperating."

"I am not cooperating with him," Valko thrusted forward again.

Caleb met him again without hesitation.

"Come on, 'ko," you watched his face carefully. "He's pushing you back. Are you really going to let him?"

"Pips—"

"Absolutely not," Valko said through his teeth and reached out blindly until his hands found Caleb's shoulders and dug in. He used the grip to anchor himself, rolling his hips forward in slow circles that ground them together until his voice betrayed him, dropping from furious to undone in the space of a single breath. "I'll—" a shaking exhale, "I'll outlast him. Just like I've done it for months."

"You are shaking," Caleb pointed out, panting, sweat running down his temples and soaking into the edge of his blindfold. His hand had found its way into Valko's hair, gripping tight, the only thing keeping him upright as your hands worked faster. "You're already—you're twitching, I can feel it—you're so close you can't even—"

"Don't," Valko warned.

"You're falling apart and I've barely—haah—" Caleb's smugness dissolved as you squeezed the center of the sleeve. "God—"

"Shut up," Valko's command would have landed better if it hadn't come out an octave higher than his normal voice, cracked clean down the middle by another roll of his hips.

You slid your free hand up the flat of Caleb's stomach, felt every muscle pulled tight, holding back. "Tell me how it feels," you ordered.

"It's—" Caleb's was losing rhythm, the competitive edge bleeding into something desperate. "It's too much. The heat—I can feel him—Pips, please, I'm going to—"

You stopped the stroke immediately, keeping them locked against each other with nowhere to go.

Caleb made a sound that was mostly just suffering.

"Not yet," you said, turning your head slightly. " 'ko. Tell him."

"Tell him what?" Valko gritted out.

"How close you are."

A long silence broken only by both of them breathing like they'd been running.

"Damn it," Valko said finally, the grip on Caleb's shoulders turning white knuckled. "He's—" another shaking breath, "he's too much. Too hot. Everything he does just—" He cut himself off, jaw clenching. "Stop moving, Caleb. I'm serious. Stop—"

"I can't," Caleb moaned, his whole body moved forward, one final thrust that buried him as far into the sleeve as he could go.

Valko's forehead dropped forward, finding Caleb's shoulder, Caleb's hand was still in his hair. Their chests were heaving in the same broken rhythm, breath mingling in the small space.

"There," you said quietly. "Was that so hard?

Slowly, like he was doing it without deciding to, his body moving before his brain caught up, Valko's forehead dragged up from Caleb's shoulder, sliding along the curve of his neck, up his jaw, until it came to rest against Caleb's forehead.

Caleb went completely still. You didn't move. Didn't speak. Just watched.

Valko's hands, still gripping Caleb's shoulders, slowly loosened. Spread flat. Like he was steadying himself against something he hadn't been prepared for. His breath came out ragged and uneven against Caleb's lips.

Caleb's fingers in his hair tightened again and he tilted his head up slightly.

Valko tilted his down.

Their mouths met somewhere in the middle and neither of them made it a question.

It wasn't soft. It was two people who'd been circling each other for months finally landing, all that accumulated tension finding somewhere to go at once—Caleb's hand pulling Valko in by the hair, Valko's hands sliding from Caleb's shoulders to the back of his neck, both of them breathing hard through their noses because neither one was willing to break it long enough to properly inhale.

You started moving the sleeve again. Slow at first. Then faster.

Valko broke the kiss on a sharp desperate sound that Caleb swallowed immediately, pulling him back in, and then both of them stopped pretending there was anything controlled left about any of this. Their hips moved together instead of against each other for the first time, same rhythm, same direction, working into the sleeve in sync while the sounds they were making dissolved from words into something much more honest.

"Together," you said quietly, from below "Both of you."

They came at exactly the same moment, Valko first by a heartbeat, Caleb right behind him, both of them shaking, gripping each other and breathing into each other's mouths while it rolled through them in long waves. Valko made a sound low in his chest that you'd never heard from him before. Caleb's knees buckled and Valko caught him without thinking, arms wrapping around him on reflex, and they stood there holding each other up.

You looked up at both of them, blindfolds askew, foreheads together.

"So," you laughed "Same time next week?"

Caleb laughed first. Just one short exhausted sound, but it was real.

Valko pressed his lips to Caleb's temple, which surprised everyone in the room including him, and said nothing.

You stood up, brushed off your knees, and went to make yourself a cup of coffee. Nobody had taken the last of it this time.

Perm tag: @thealunari @i-idk-i-guess @hopelesslala @pearlescenthoney @stillseiims @xavisastrophil @thelastpolarbear @groovyravenagain @nanaminsmuse @darkairenkagamine @lunahaswings @ks-collection @calebunny @aweebs @crimsonrubie @lemurian-girl @aiycnlyme @grecianotes @yourlocalcatscammer @thicckage @goddesssevenseas @silvernight-m @little-lost-venus @gravitationalbluberry

[rosaelric]

Esto es a lo que Danya se tendría que enfrentar todos los días si no me hubiera amputado :P

[rosaelric]

Estoy demasiado separada de la realidad para jugar sudoku. Solo hice tres y ya alucino cuadros y números cuando me distraigo

[rosaelric]

Hice un thukuna Danya pq lo odio mucho mucho mucho

[rosaelric]

Por fin conseguí cuentas azules para hacer la pulsera de mi corazoncito Danya, ahora el set está completo

[daikaiju-arts]

(Based on this!)

[the-trash-site]

The Anime Suggestion

pairing: Kinger x gn! Reader summary: A rewrite of the anime suggestion scene to include reader tags: sfw, ep 5 setting, mid flirting, could be read as pre or establish relationship, fluff W.C:1k A/N:this idea hit me out of nowhere and now I want more anime Kinger ugggh

Pomni, Gangle and Zooble sat in the back of the typical looking anime classroom. While Jax and Ragatha sat in the front row with Kinger at the front, acting as the teacher by the blackboard. Immediately Jax dtarts to complain about the suggestion while Zooble snaps back to defend. That even Ragatha tells Jax to cool it.

Whilst turning in her seat, Ragatha notice the group is missing a member. She double checks around the room in case she missed you, but no luck. You aren't in the class room. So where are you?

"How did you know this was my suggestion?" Ragatha hears Gangle shock question and returns her attention back onto the group. Turning in time to catch Jax moving his chair closer to Pomni, to share a few words with the jester.

"Hey, guys?" Ragatha calls out, tearing her gaze away from the pair. She's able to grab Gangle's and Zooble's attention, but wasn't quick enough to mention you. Getting cut off by Kinger starting the so called class.

"Alright, class, today we're gonna learn," Kinger writes on the board effortlessly. Like he's done it many times before, "the popular foreign language known as… English?!" Kinger looks at the board, in surprise at the word. When did he write that?

Jax moves to a different seat in the front, ready to grab the group's attention to huff his annoyance, when suddenly the door to the room slides open. Ragatha lets out an 'oh' in realisation, watching you step into the class.

Kinger turns to face the incoming visitor and, sees you entering the room, while carefully studying the box in your hand. He feels his heart skip a beat at the sight of you. You're wearing a teacher’s outfit like his, but much sharper looking. Dressed in a black dress pants, a white button-up with the top button undone – which Kinger gulps at the sight of– and a black blazer.

Kinger felt his grip on the chalk become weak as you slowly meet his gaze. Looking over the thin rectangle glasses frame that sits low on your nose.

"Mr Kinger," no sooner do you make eye contact does Kinger drop the chalk, and the classroom behind you fades away. Replace with a backdrop of soft pastel bubbles. The lighting softens your sharp features, making you look heavenly. "I'm sorry to interrupt your class. But would you happen to have any more…" you speak softly, and professionally. Playing your role as a fellow colleague seriously, until- "staples?"

You look at the box in your hand in confusion, wondering when and why your holding it. Breaking out of your role as you become aware of the item, and your actions. With a shrug, you return to normal as you toss the box over your shoulder. Breaking the allure of the backdrop as it returns to the classroom.

As you enter the room, the others slowly turn to face Gangle. All with wide, disbelief eyes at having witnessed the background change when you addressed Kinger. Especially at the anime like blush covering Kinger's face.

"What was that?" Jax asks. The confusion and unimpressive tone are clear in his voice.

"Is this a romance?" Ragatha ask. Holding back a smile, ad she tries to contain her exictment. She can’t help but find it adorable.

Gangle's wide, dreamy smile at the scene is quickly wiped off. Her mask becomes redder under the stares as she stutters through a response. Embarrassment floods through her as she gets caught red-handed what her suggestion intentions are.

"Gangle?" Zooble pips up. Waiting for a response.

"I-I just think they're cute together." Gangle quietly admits. Hiding behind her hands as she avoids the stares and follow up questions.

Kinger doesn't notice his students arguing among themselves behind you, his eyes fixated on how you walk towards him instead. Watching you take a seat on his desk, placing yourself on the edge closest to him. Letting your legs lock in front to support you while crossing your arms. Kinger feels his mouth dry at how you enter his space. The confident strides, the casual pose and how beautiful you look in your clothes.

"Naw, thank you." You smile at Kinger. Flowers appear around your head from your happiness.

"Did I say that last part out loud?" Kinger awkwardly laughs. He feels himself becoming nervous, suddenly unsure of how to act around you. How should he hold his hands, or hold himself up?! Does he look okay?

"Yep! And, you're not looking so bad yourself," you tease. Shooting a wink his way over the top of your glasses. Something about that act makes you look more attractive than usual.

"O-oh, thanks." Kinger stutters. Having to look away from you, as he feels butterflies flutter in his stomach. He fidgets with his fingers in an attempt to soothe himself. Before you could tease Kinger any more, the vote called pops up. You spare a glance over your shoulder and spot Gangle being the most eager to leave. If her loud cries are anything to go by.

Figuring there must be a reason for it, you submit your answer. Soon, the vote results came in. Everyone's icon appears in order of their vote. First is Jax with a green tick to skip. Next is Pomni, also with a green tick to skip. Gangle's space remains blank, revealing she called in the vote. Zooble, Ragatha and your icon show up simultaneously with green ticks to skip. Last to pop up is Kinger’s icon with a red cross show he wishes to stay.

"Kinger?" You gasp at the chess piece in shock.

"Oh! That must have been a slip of a finger! An accident!" Kinger tries to defend himself. Hands flying wildly in front of his chest to deny any further accusations.

You smile at the sight, find Kinger's flustered appearance adorable and couldn’t resist teasing him a little more. "Are you enjoying this suggestions?"

"Yes? No! Well." Kinger stutters, trying to find a way to explain himself. At the sound of your footstep, Kinger returns to his surroundings and lets out an anime-like gasp. Becoming aware of you standing up from his desk to take a step forward. Kinger tries to step back to create space but bumps into the backboard.

"What about this suggestion do you like most, huh?" You lean close enough that you quiet teasing can't be heard by the others, and refrained yourself from touching him.

There is nothing pinning Kinger in place, and he still has room to step away, if he wants to. But he doesn't. Because your hypnotising mischief gaze traps Kinger in place, and it's exactly where he wants to be.

Over by the students, the others look at the display in various levels of surprise. Jax being an exception, as his stares in a mix of disguise. Gangle is silently cheering at the sight. Her hands move with what can only be described as anime-like speed to draw the scene. Her Shoujo suggestion of two teachers, who use every excuse to visit each other, must be captured before Caine switches onto the next suggestion.

divider by @/omi-resources ⟡ image I screenshot! I hope i did a good job :) ⟡ A quick treat as the Kinger oneshot request is still being worked on and I've reaching 3k words– oh lord, what have I done?

[rosaelric]

Estoy viendo FMAB con la vulva de fuera. Hohenheim me tiene mal.

[bunybrulee]

Pain

[jul1xan]

this is SO unbelievably cool!!

[polter-g3ist]

not like the drugs would work on him anyways for separate oc lore reasons—

I really love pairing Icarus with tall bug-eyed freaks 😭

Since Icarus is a paranormal investigator/journalist/researcher or whatever- His type is really just non-humans :’D 👍

[sweethearticism]

──── 𝓢 OMETHING OLD, SOMETHING NEW ₎ა ˙˖

♡ 𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟎𝟏 ੭

⌗ 𝓖.𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝓞.𝐊𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐒𝐔 𝐘𝐔𝐓𝐀

satoru has been your childhood sweetheart & fling for years. you're not getting any younger, but you're certainly getting tired. and yuta's gotten old enough to want to change that.

♡ ₊˚‧ cw. age gap ( reader & satoru are in their 30s and yuta's in his 20s ) :: first year teacher/former student!yuta :: scarjo :: post-shinjuku :: angst :: smut :: forced proximity :: friends with benefits :: so much yearning from everyone :: m.masturbation :: p in v :: dirty talk

˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ always had a complicated relationship with you. too intimate to be friends and too ignorant to be lovers. he held your heart from that clumsy smile in first year. with his glasses wobbled over his nose and his hair a mess of leaves. looking up at you with eyes that everyone adored— yet they dazzled for you.

you wished you never smiled back at him that day.

maybe it would have saved you the pain in your heart and heels. from this endless will-they-won't-they-waltz. you were gojo satoru's. in his apartment, on his accounts, in his arms, his kisses, his body, and in waiting—

but never his. not in his heart. you didn't think so.

it was physical. the frustration of his kiss after a long day and the passion of his fingers that memorised over the years how to melt you. lay you out bear for him. raw in a way that had become second-nature. sex was the most vulnerable you'd seen him.

but never, ever, would he allow you to see the true fragility of his heart.

the relationship was made only worse after the shibuya incident. where a moment of weakness nearly cost him his life and he still wore the scars as reminders. still, you waited. endlessly, hopelessly, picking at the crumbs from his palms and hoping they'd caress you as something more than the infinity between friend and lover.

it didn't matter how scarred he was. nor how long he'd strung you along. you wanted him. and he always had you in a way that he never deserved.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ had always wanted you in the way that he shouldn't have.

from the moment you smiled at him, all warm and comforting during his first day of class. your tender hands that guided him through the art of his blade. how you softened your voice when speaking to him— like he was fragile and you valued vulnerability.

he wondered if it's because you too, were fragile.

he saw it now. the tiredness in your eyes. the weariness in your smile. things he never caught when he was student and your priority. you'd taken care of him in the same way that satoru did. nurtured the boy with a monstrous onslaught of cursed energy and taught him control, calmness, confidence— and here he was now. twenty three and a teacher for the first years at jujutsu tech. guiding students the way you'd guided him.

he'd always felt more than just the affection a student has to a teacher. 'a puppy crush', is what inumaki called it. he was embarrassed in his youth, naturally. you're— what? ten years older than him? the thought kept him awake with a pounding heart and red face staring at the ceiling on nights he'd focused a bit too much on how close you were to him earlier in the day.

nowadays, he doesn't really care about the age gap.

his feelings hadn't faded like his peers told him they would. if anything, they grew with every passing year. the closer he got to you, the more he got to work with you— and now he was able to teach beside you? see you in your element and how attentive you were to every aspect in your life?

no, if anything, okkotsu yuta thinks he's in love with you now.

˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ broke your heart on the weekly. the sex was good— more than good. he'd arrive at your doorstep in a storm, kiss you in a blur, feel his hands all over you like they were simply tethers and you were the only answer.

he'd have you under him. skin-to-skin, heart-to-heart. gripping, and groping, and grinding so deep that tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you felt him in your very soul.

he'd play with your clit. stir your spine into a curve and keep it there with his cock fucking so deep that he rattled your heart. until your cunt squeezed him so tight and your voice called for him even more desperately—

he'd tear you apart. under his teeth, his tongue, his nails and cock. he'd pound you into the sticky sheets all night long, call you his filthy girl on your ear until you repeated it back in choked whines.

but he'd never call you his girl.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ saw the hickies on your neck when your collar would slip when you weren't looking. dark and red. all over your neck. like a mark— a claim— but they'd fade.

he'd see the dreamy look in your eyes when you'd sometimes leave a classroom, or satoru's office, or even a closet on a few occasions.

he felt the racing in your heart. the dreamy look in your eyes. the temporary smile on your lips. and he knew, of course he knew. even a person with one eye could see that you and satoru were something. more than friends, less than lovers, something that told others to back off.

but what yuta also saw amidst all the haze?

the void in your heart.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ took care of you in ways you never noticed. your coffee was always on your desk, a habit he'd started in fourth year. documents were always neatly in your office. you never walked home late or took the night train alone. he'd nudged his shoulder closer when you'd fallen asleep beside him on the ride back home. helped you to your apartment and made sure you locked the door after.

your apartment was an address he'd memorised. popping by with takeout and treats at the end of the week. leaving before you could question it too much.

if there was a mission on the roster that was particularly daunting, yuta would make sure he was there to assign to it first. he knew of your habit of trying to lessen the load on satoru's shoulders. and while he found it admirable— you were a person too.

he carried an extra water bottle. made sure you took your lunch breaks. helped with your students. he took care of you not because he wanted you to see him as anything more, but to simply repay you for the way you'd taken care of him in his younger years. he did it because he cared. not because he was waiting.

˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ couldn't take care of you in the way you wanted. he couldn't be the one waiting for you after school or on your train platform. couldn't show up to your apartment with emergency packages because missions were always more important.

not more important than you. never more important than you. but definitely more important that vulnerability, which directly involved you.

he couldn't be the shoulder you leaned on. he was just the body you were supposed to take your frustration out on. not the hand that held yours, but the one that held yours down as you both burst in that wrecking, temporary passion.

temporary, limited, fleeting. but in those moments— you were his.

he gave you what he could, because he cared. of course he did. but he couldn't commit. so instead he'd keep you waiting.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ felt a little at ease when you were both assigned to the latest mission. but that faded the second he noticed how tense you were. it was easy to do so; or maybe he'd just grown accustomed to your tells. he knew when you were happy, sad, tired, stressed—

right now, the way you sat in the backseat of the assistant manager's car beside him. arms folded and leaning on the door, staring out of the window as your thoughts were faster than the cars zipping by.

you seemed upset. drained. yuta wondered if it was because of another argument with him again.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ didn't really have the time to ask you if were alright. you were thrust head-first into the mission. sorcerers never really delved in the matters of curse users, but it seemed today was one of those special occasions.

these kinds of missions often called for stakeouts. controlled cursed energy and reduced residuals. a steeled mind and a steady heart.

and right now, it was taking all the endless, thousands of hours he'd spent training to keep his heart from thumping straight out of his chest when he had you with your back to his chest, pressed into every inch of him and your shampoo in his nose.

stakeouts. right.

the supply closet was more than just cramped, it was a test of his resolve. here you were, the woman he'd had heart eyes for since the first day he showed up all dull-eyed and bushy-tailed, now pressed against him in every meaning of the word. his knees against your thighs. your shoulders on his chest. his spine hunched to accommodate with the tiny closet but in turn flushing him further up into you.

he didn't know where to put his hands. so they were flat on the wall in front of you. which— wouldn't you know? trapped you even further against him.

his breath was thin. eyes unblinking. every internal thought praying to whatever was listening for him to think about something. anything. but the softness of you up against him. the scent of your shampoo. the feel of your breath, your thighs, your ass—

stop.

stop. stop. stop it.

think about flowers.

your hair smelled like flowers. . .

NO. think of something else. think of curses. scary things. disgusting things.

his mind was certainly thinking disgusting things. thinking how he wanted to press you into the wall and kiss you like a curse. until your soul left your body and he could swallow it. hold you, caress you, have you.

fuck.

his eyes squeezed shut. he sucked in a breath. he could do this. he'd worked so hard on his nerves. he could put on a mask. focus on the mission.

that was until, he heard your heart racing.

wait.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ wanted to take a peek at your thoughts. just for a moment. he'd trade anything in the world for just a second. just to know why your body was so stiff, why your breath was shallow, why your heart— was pounding.

little did he know how you stared at the wall. unblinking too. little did he see how your palms sweated as they too were pressed on the wall, between his.

his hands had gotten bigger, you'd noticed. hell, yuta had gotten bigger. when did he get so tall? tall enough that he had to crook in the supply closet and somehow he still loomed over you?

you tried to steady yourself. tried to think. think of anything else but the heat spreading on your face and the way your feet pressed closer. why. . . why were you feeling like this?

were you flustered?

not a cold day in hell. you'd never be flustered. not over your former student. not over yuta okkotsu, the boy you'd taught how to use a sword. who looked up at you with those big puppy eyes and followed you around like one too back then

no. absolutely not.

"you remember the plan, right?" he murmured to your ear.

fuck. when. when did his voice get so raspy?

it was low, emphasising the rasp that stuttered your heart. muttering to your ear as to not give away your hiding spot. he spoke about the plan of action. refreshed you on what his stance would be. what yours would. everything vital for the mission to go smoothly.

but all you could think of was. . .

when did yuta grow into such an attractive man when you weren't looking?

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ had his mind racing by the time you both returned to the hotel. he entered his suite, shut the door, pressed his back to it and drew a shaky breath. fuck. was he thinking things? did he hear wrong? was it just the fantasies?

he's always been so acutely aware when it came to you. so he knew without a doubt: your heart was racing.

not only that, but you weren't listening. he swore he saw the tremble in your knees. heard the hitch in your breath. you were flustered— and that thought excited him, as it wedged into his own stuttering heart and bloomed possibilities.

were you attracted to him?

could he actually have you?

he wanted to be a good guy and say that he shook the thought off. chastised himself. but yuta was hardly the boy that he once was. still sweet— but with an edge. so tossed off his jacket. sat on the bed. nurtured the thought like a flame dancing in his palms. dangerous, scandalous, and everything in between.

long legs kicked onto the bed. his dark hair that had grown out a bit since his teen years splayed over the pillows as he stared at the ceiling. recalling your softness that pressed into every inch of him. the weight of your back on his chest, your hands trembling between his, your perfume enveloping him.

fuck. you were so close. so right. it took everything within him not to bury his nose into your neck and inhale your sweet scent. drag his lips on your pulse. seize your waist.

wait.

wait wait.

stop it.

he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut as that familiar, uncomfortable strain tightened his pants. no— he wasn't gonna do it. he wasn't. he wasn't about to touch himself to the thought of you when you were on the other side of the wall.

it's a miracle his dick even behaved in the first place when it was wedged up against your back like that. your ass— shit.

he needed some relief. just a little. lest he drive his cursed energy into a spiral and have you knocking on his door to check on him cause you sensed it. he didn't think he'd be able to hold back at all then.

so he reached down. slowly. stroked his thumb along the bulge in his dark pants and hissed a soft breath. slow. gotta go slow.

the callouses from his swords-wielding dragged over the curve of his erection. pushing his thumb to his already leaking tip through the fabric. rubbed slow and steady. shattering his sanity bit by bit. as he gulped down moans and whispered whines.

dark, hazy eyes fluttered. blinking up at the ceiling as he tried to imagine your face. tried to pretend it was your soft hand wrapped around his dick. your thumb swiping on his dripping slit and jerking him off so messily.

no— you wouldn't be messy. nothing about you was clumsy. not like him. not like the way he fucked his face and chewed his lip so hard it broke skin. not like the way he grunted, and panted and whined your name from the back of his throat.

no. you were perfect. so so perfect. it's why he was able to spurt all over his hand without so much as a few minutes. his mind spinning, breaths ragged and his eyes hazy hearts. for you. only you.

he needed to have you. in any way he could. and now that you'd given him an in? he finally had hope.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ decided he was going to start small. whether you made the move or not, he wanted to show you that there were other options. safer ones. warmer ones. that didn't involve you getting your heart shattered every friday.

it started with being there for you more. being there in the morning when you clocked in for work to give you the coffee himself. bringing you lunch. walking you home and making sure he finished missions as early as possible so that he could.

he'd carry your bag for you. fill out extra paperwork so you wouldn't have much to do. offer to grade any outstanding papers from your classes for you.

yes, every action was more charged now. every time he saw you relax there was a brighter flicker of hope within him. but this was more than just trying to show you a better option— no. it was intimacy.

intimacy in the form of taking care of you. showing you his love in small, meaningful acts. showing you he was there. that he cared. because love was earned. much like trust. and he was willing to do whatever it took to show you that he could be trusted.

that he could take care of you.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ got a little bolder. just slightly. not pushing— never pushing. but persistence. he locked eyes with you whenever he could. held the state until you looked away or he absolutely had to. let you know that he was seeing you. that he always saw you.

his hand would brush yours as he handed you your coffee. shoulders nudging, fingers feathering. in all the ways that were natural but there. enough to notice. enough to get a reaction out of you.

he listened close. always. listened for your heart. looked at your eyes. for signs of discomfort. for something that told him to stop. but there was none.

did you feel it too?

the spark when his hand cupped your shoulder to guide you into your apartment? when his arms wrapped around you to give you a hug every morning? when your knees leaned on one another on the train ride back home?

he saw it. you were beginning to realise. beginning to entertain that flame that danced between the both of you. tempting. alluring.

but why— why, why. why.

were you denying yourself?

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ found himself frustrated when he was alongside satoru and his mentor let something slip.

he's always looked up to him. appreciated him. cared for him. nothing would change that. hell, satoru was the one who saved his life. gave him a home. satoru was the reason he met you in the first place.

but that didn't change the fact that he was still the reason you shed tears.

it was silly, really. fleeting. satoru probably didn't even realise that he had said it with how absentminded it was as he walked down the hallways alongside yuta.

"you know how woman can be. hard to please."

hard. to please?

it was a pleasure to please you.

"you know, sensei," he couldn't even begin to stop himself. his voice lower than intended. eyes deader than he realised as he glanced over at satoru who spared him a small look. probably surprised at the tone.

but that hardly stopped yuta, as he spoke flatly. too bluntly.

"you really should appreciate the things that are right in front of you more."

˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ had always appreciated it. he would never not appreciate you, the girl from his childhood who chased him down when he stole her dango and offered her shoulder for him to bawl into whenever the world became too much.

satoru had always wanted you. in a way that was dangerous for the person he was raised to be. it was selfish.

which was exactly why he couldn't.

there were too many risks. too many possibilities. too many things standing in the way of him, you, and the life he'd always wanted to give you. something other than the sorcerer world and endless missions and never a concrete forever.

vulnerability was weakness. and even if he could get over that; he never would be able to give you everything that you deserved.

˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ knows it was even more selfish to keep you around even when you deserved so much more than him. deserved to move on and find something that wasn't his scarred body or his weapon soul.

he loved the sex. loved the velvet of your skin against his. the sin of your lips on his. your body, everything about it— but he wanted more. craved it in the fantasies that he laid awake thinking about when you occupied the place that sleep should.

right now though, sex was the only way that he thought he could have you in. in the raw physicality of it all. outside of feelings, and heart, and soul. outside of the risks, the complications. when you were under him. nails scratching on his back and voice calling for him so sweetly, so sinfully, like he was just satoru rather than gojo satoru.

just his. in that temporary, aching way.

˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ hated leaving you the morning after. when you were your most beautiful. covered in his scent, his marks, his love. yes. the love he denied time and time again even when it'd branded itself in his heart.

you were beautiful when you slept. curled in the sheets and hugging around a pillow he'd substituted himself for. he couldn't bear it. to have you reach out for him while he'd love and leave you all over again.

but he was afraid.

so maybe, keeping you at arms' length was the better option. selfish, yes. but chaining you to a broken and dutiful being like him felt even more selfish.

˖ ࣪꒰ SATORU GOJO ꒱ ˙˖ hated the fights, but he always got so overwhelmed. he never learnt how to regulate those emotions. not when you're raised in a clan and given everything you want— and the times that you aren't resulted in painful punishments if you asked too much.

he always said the wrong thing. always wound himself up. let all the thoughts bunch in his head and boil over until he was spitting fire at you.

he remembered everything single fight. everything single thing he'd said to you. every time you tried to pretend you weren't crying and all the times you couldn't.

he'd remember this fight, too. as you stood in the centre of his living room. your face twisted as much as his. your hands gestured while his balled. when you both clashed it was ugly. like metal scraping on metal and trying to shatter the other.

he'll remember what he told you. when it all got too much and everything zeroed it. when he told you to get the hell out of his house, and snapped a piercing blue glare over his shoulder at you.

"you're just an overgrown friend."

cutting— stabbing. aimed to carve out any fight in your heart and poison it with the lie that he thought you were a bother. that he'd outgrown you. that you were just a leach of the past.

he'll remember how you stormed out of his apartment.

he'll remember your tears on his carpet.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ nearly dropped the files in his arms when he'd answered the call to your sniffling.

"are you— are you okay? hey, hey, shhh." he hushed over the line, brows pinching and mouth frowning. how he hated hearing you cry.

"I'll be there, okay? just wait for me, deep breaths." it took everything within him to bite back an endearment at the end and hang up.

he was there in twenty minutes. with your favourite takeout in one hand and dessert in the other. but when you answered the door, with glossy eyes and a blotched face— he nearly dropped both in favour of bundling you up into his arms.

once yuta got his arms around you, he wasn't sure he was ever letting go again. not with how you curled into him and you both sat on the couch. as you clung to his jacket and trembled. how you sobbed into his shoulder as if you'd choke up your heart.

he held you. close. protective. one large hand to the back of your head while his other arm wrapped around you. tucking you under his chin and hiding you away. shielding you from the world that dared to hurt you.

"it's okay, I'm here. I promise I'm here." he murmured to your ear. as he listened to your hiccups and chokes. as you spilled everything that happened between you and satoru.

he was so glad that you were too shaken to notice how his cursed energy crackled.

but he sucked in a breath. shut his eyes. counted to five. calmed down because he didn't need that right now. not when you needed him.

he held you until you were calm. cuddled you until your tears were dry. listened to whatever you wanted to say.

he was there for you. in every definition of the word.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ wasn't impressed when your phone lit up on the coffee table beside the couch with satoru's name on the screen. what did he want? after making you cry your eyes out like this he shouldn't even be breathing your name, let alone trying to talk to you.

what frustrated him even more was how you shifted. like it was automatic. like it was fucking natural to just let the guy who hurt you over and over back in yet again. he felt your arm move, knew you were reaching to answer.

his grip tightened. "you don't have to answer that, you know." he spoke, soft. soft enough to mark the twinge of irritation. "you deserve to be upset too."

you sniffed. rubbed your eyes and nodded your head before you leaned back on his shoulder. clinging to him. close to him. in a way that was hardly appropriate but none of you cared to admit in the moment.

the ringing stopped. his grip loosened. yuta nuzzled his head into yours and enjoyed the silence, even if your broken heart spilled in it. he simply held you. loved you.

and then the blasted phone rang again.

and then you hesitated again.

and then you reached out. fucking. again.

"what if it's something important," you murmured. he hated how naturally you could make excuses.

"well then he'll show up," yuta tried to offer. tried to steer you away as you shifted in his arms. reaching for satoru, slipping from yuta's fingers. as you always did.

"you really shouldn't answer—"

"just let me hear him out."

it should have ended there. he should have let you. should have just shut up and listened as satoru apologised over the line and you forgave his every sin because you never realised how much more you deserved.

yuta couldn't take it. not anymore. so as your fingers slipped around the phone— his shot out.

his arm around you had snapped over. easily outdoing yours as your hand was dwarfed by his. snatching the phone and gripping tighter. steeling it from your hold.

he wouldn't let you hurt yourself. not again. not even when you snapped your stare over to him and jerked to face him. that same strict look from when you trained him striking in your stare.

defensive, weren't you? for what— satoru?

"who do you think you—"

but you hadn't realised. that as you jerked to face him you abruptly shoved closer. too close. too close for someone who was about to scold him as if you were still his teacher when you flushed up against him in a way that was anything but.

your breath hitched. he heard it. just like he heard your heart stutter. again.

for him.

yuta didn't flinch. even as your face brushed dangerously close. as your glare quivered. as your chest flushed into him.

his brows narrowed. eyes darkened. not with anger, not with frustration, but something more deadly:

love.

"why do you insist on hurting yourself over and over again? you deserve something good." he spoke, even. calm. like a man who meant every word and how to give it to you.

you hesitated.

you did that a lot with him.

why? because you felt it too? because you knew it in your heart that only ever said satoru's name?

you cleared your throat. not flinching away but not pressing closer. even as his fingers curled around your shirt and his arms steeled you into him.

even as he stared into your eyes with his half-lidded ones, as if he was trying to crawl into your very soul and hold it as his own.

even as your breaths mingled. your hearts slipping into the little space between you both.

skipping.

yearning.

"and how—" you steadied yourself. pressed your lips together. bracing that pesky resolve—

"how would you know what I deserve?"

"because I want to give it to you."

— as his shattered all together.

and his lips crashed onto yours.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ kissed you.

he kissed you.

hand bunching the back of your hair and the other clinging to your waist. his mouth molding on yours and your breath stolen in his lungs.

like a collision of stars. hot, burning, and oh so messy.

he kissed you with everything that he had. everything that he was, everything that he wasn't, everything that he wanted to be for you.

because you deserved more than being forgotten.

deserved something good.

something new.

yuta hadn't kissed many people in his life. it showed in the way his knuckles cramped. you noticed it in the clumsiness of his kiss that doubled down as roughness. in the way he hardly let you breathe before he pulled you back in. like he was trying to gulp down your very soul.

his lips were soft. his kiss was scathing. he pulled away to hear you gasp on his mouth only to drag you back in.

you should push him away. push him away and tell him to leave. push him away. push him away.

instead, you melted.

into something ruinous, something raw, something ravenous for love from the depths of your very soul. and you— kissed him back.

like he wasn't your former student. like he wasn't ten years younger than you. like he wasn't the relative of the reason tears were dried on your cheeks.

your fingers curled around his jacket. gasping for air as he parted. trying to call his name— to grasp reality— to stop yourself.

"don't," he rasped. fingers coiling tighter. eyes whispering the abyss yet alluring you all the same.

"just let me have this. just once. just let me love you, please."

and then he kissed you again. hotter. rougher. an inexperienced mouth, and yet it sought to worship you. tongues tangling and teeth knocking. as his blunt nails dug into you and flushed you into him.

old against new. inexperience against experienced. scared against sure.

skin-to-skin. heart-to-heart.

you whimpered. broken, ashamed, raw and — wanting. god. what were you doing?

it ended softer than it began. his kiss melted off of your lips. left your heart hammering and soul shaking.

dark lashes fluttered. pupils dilated. his lips just as swollen as yours.

yuta whispered something against your mouth.

three words.

sinful. scary.

oh, so, sure.

and you shattered.

˖ ࣪꒰ YUTA OKKOTSU ꒱ ˙˖ looked confused when you told him to leave. when you shoved at his chest and pulled away from him. curled into the corner of the couch as you ripped yourself from his embrace.

did he have the wrong impression? did he hurt you? force you?

no.

no, you kissed him back.

and that was the problem.

"you—" you choked, tucking your head away. like you couldn't bear to look at him. "you should leave. please leave."

he listened.

because he respected you too much to oppose. loved you even more to disobey you.

"okay," he spoke, soft. steady. as if you both hadn't crossed a line. well over danger and knee-deep in scandal.

as if his mouth wasn't on yours.

as if it didn't feel so right.

"okay, I'll leave," he assured. tender as he put space between you both. eyes selfishly lingering on you even as you quivered. holding yourself back from the reality that you both already knew.

he stepped away. easy. too easy. heading for the door and giving you your space. because loving you meant listening to you.

but not before he called from the door.

"just don't regret it, okay?"

not scared, or sinister, or even smug.

serene.

sensual.

"don't ever regret wanting something new."

he left. with his kiss still a ghost on your lips. and his words a phantom that would haunt your very being.

a curse. a caress.

I love you.

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/cursed-carmine & @/pixopix . art cred: @/相田 (twt) & @/udaysharmaarts (ig)

ᝰ.☆ enjoyed this piece? consider joining my patreon or commissioning me <3 I appreciate all the support!

[snoevergarden]

They throw away their wedding ring mid argument

Caleb

“Am I not important to you?”

He regrets it instantly but the damage has already been done. You stare blankly at the spot the ring is lying on. Suddenly everything feels heavy. He can't bring himself to move or pick up the ring. But what hurts most is the necklace around his neck that has been hanging since forever, which he never once took off let alone throw it away still hanging still while the ring which was a sign of your eternal bond was lying on the floor, once again reminded you of your place in his heart. It made you think that maybe the apple of his eye wasn't you.

Xavier

He leaves the tense atmosphere to calm himself but his actions had consequences. The ring which you preciously picked out, the stone on it heavily resembles a precious stone from Philos, his home. To make him feel like home was always near with you but now home seemed farther away. When he returns he sees a note from you saying you need some space and your own ring with the same stone lying beside it. That's when he felt the heaviness you felt seeing the ring detached from his hand. A reminder once again that how granted he took you for. And the tassel on his sword that hung everyday, mocking you, was a reminder of how fleeting you were in his life. “Then maybe we shouldn't be together,” was what he said to you before he threw it all away.

Rafayel

Papers and paints scattered everywhere as Rafayel desperately searched for the shining band that was meant to be on his finger. A ring made from the ancient jewel remnants of Lemuria. He never got to know how you got your hands on it but you told him it didn't matter, that binding your vows with something from the place of his birth was the only right way and that it would be eternal. But now, now it was lost Lemuria knows where and he has turned the whole studio upside down in search of it. You still had your ring on your finger which was a stab to Rafayel. The ring was the only thing you shared with Rafayel unlike the red flamulla, which was a terrible reminder that maybe eternity with Rafayel was not meant to be.

“Maybe you are not the one I was looking for all this time.”

Sylus

Sylus had a terrible temper despite his somewhat calm demeanor, which now resulted in the white diamond ring lying beside the bedside table. Hurtful words were exchanged which shouldn't have been and a lot of them being from Sylus himself. “You're insane, you think you know everything? I do it for you, for the both of us,” he never shouts, never raises his voice, but the fury in his eyes says everything. “No. No you don't! You do it for her!” That was the fire to the fuel and the next thing you see is his ring rolling on the ground. The ring you exchanged your vows with. Thrown away like it meant nothing. But the brooch with the precious red gem, he still proudly wears it. Your rings didn't have red, no. It was pure diamond white because he associated you with them. It was different. At least you thought it was. But the ruby still stands while the diamond falls.

Zayne

“She will always be more to you than I ever was.”

Zayne stops himself halfway, about to remove the ring and comes to senses with the horror of his actions. You weren't blind, you saw what he was about to do and it hurt you deeply. It's like for the first time you didn't understand him or worse, know him. The jasmine shaped stone on his finger is a pair to your snowflake. Two different bands. Yet they hold the same meaning. Maybe you were different after all, fleeting like a snowflake. Falling too easily on the ground, slowly. And maybe the jasmine bloomed somewhere else. Somewhere or someone you don't want to mention. And so you walk away from him before he could catch you. Maybe he should just let you fall like the countless snowflakes formed in his hands.

[egosketch]

bath fluff 🩵

[rosaelric]

ok, I'll just stop playing

[majestyeverlasting]

Hello! For your requests, can I suggest: (older) Jackson Joel x sweet/sunshine Reader (younger) where Joel notices Reader during something mundane like handling horses after patrol, cleaning after Ellie's mess or doing dishes, etc and he thinks it's the hottest most, attractive thing he's ever seen? He's hiding his affection for her for so long but can't resist her anymore? Thanks!! ✨

With some touches of soft dom, breeding, domestic love and babygirl used for Reader?

𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

This piece contains 18+ content

pairing joel miller x sunshine reader [friends → lovers] 

summary joel’s old enough to know what he wants, and man enough to finally admit it’s you [fluff, yearning, smut (p in v, teasy, soft, dash of overstim as well as the specifics requested above), wc 5.4k]

a/n thank you so much for this amazing request and your patience, anon! i really enjoyed writing this one cause it scratched an itch i didn’t know i had. i love these two so much!

⠂⠁⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂

The breezes have grown surer of themselves. Unabashed in their chill, though they make the trees sway all the same.

Swashes of vibrant colors now stretch amidst the evergreens. Leaves of red, orange, and yellow that don’t take much convincing to surrender from their branches. While out on afternoon patrol, Joel had appreciated the quiet beauty of it all. 

After returning Bandit to his stall, he spots you near the entrance of the stables feeding Dakota. When he first rode in, he’d seen other volunteers milling around but none of them were you. 

Much like the trees, your skirt catches the wind to reveal the boots you wear beneath. Joel’s cowboy hat shadows his eyes, but you feel the heavy weight of his gaze even before you cast your glance his way. You pass Dakota her last carrot as the gentle thunk of his footsteps quiets several feet away. He tips the brim of his hat when you look up. 

“Howdy,” he rumbles. “Figured you’d gone home early or somethin’.” 

“So you were looking for me, huh?” Your smile is teasing. 

You stroke Dakota’s neck when she presses towards you, though your attention remains on Joel. He clings to the grace of your movements. “How was it out there today?”

Your interest makes him straighten. “Good.” You nod for him to continue when he stops himself. “Looks real nice this time of year with the trees and all. Those forest routes are somethin’ else.”

“Oh, I bet.” There’s a wistfulness to your tone. 

You weren’t a part of the patrol team, so it’d been two months since you ventured beyond the wall. Joel had been the one to take you, but the Clickers you encountered dissuaded your eagerness thereafter. He shot each one before they posed any real threat to your lives, but the prospect of what could’ve been was a blemish that lingered in the back of your mind. Only now, as Jackson creeps towards dormancy, had the desire to leave begun to bud anew. 

“I can take you.” Joel’s eyes flick across your features. “Whenever you’re ready to get back out there.” 

“I’d like that.”

Silence settles in the space between you as he nods. Laughter carries from the near distance. Horses shuffle through hay in their stalls, puff breaths from their noses. Joel lingers as you grant Dakota your undivided attention, petting her while cooing the whole while. He doesn’t realize he’s begun to smile until the pull in his cheeks has grown too great to ignore.

“You’re such a sweet girl, aren’t you?” you ask her. “My best girl.” 

The way you pitch your voice to be airy and saccharine stirs warmth in Joel’s stomach. He could stand around and watch you for hours, which is how he knows it’s time to go on about his way. If it wasn’t so easy to be around you, he’d be a more disciplined man. 

“Did Ellie mention I’m helping her out this evening?” you ask. 

Joel sets his hands on his hips. “With paint night for the kids?” He thinks a few extra seconds to ensure he doesn’t make a liar out of her. “No.” If she’d told him, he would’ve already planned to be in attendance as opposed to making the decision ten seconds ago. 

“That one hardly tells me anything these days.”

You hum in amusement, studying him. There’s a faint rosiness to his cheeks, flecks of gray in his beard. His hair is long enough to peek from beneath his cowboy hat like Tommy’s. He’s rugged. Handsome. Joel studies you in turn. There’s endless life in your eyes along with that discrete sparkle of mischief. 

“Guess I’ll see you this evening,” he says. 

“You’re coming? Yeah, no, great. Guess I will then,” you ramble. “Should be a lot of fun.”

A smile tugs at his lips. “Should be.” 

With a parting tip of his hat, he turns to leave. He figures he’s said all that’s left for him to say. If you two weren’t in different stages in your life and it wasn’t the end of the world, he likes to believe he would’ve been braver a long time ago. 

There’s a buzz beneath your skin as you dare to call out to him again, “Wanna see something cool before you go?” 

Once upon a time, you wished you knew Joel well enough to call him back to you. To enjoy more of his steady presence. To watch the way his lips moved when he spoke. To see those matured quirks of his up close. Time has granted you access you once dreamed of. Yet, every night when you go home to your uncle’s house and fall asleep alone, it still isn’t enough. These days you cling to every second with him. 

Joel starts back your way with that slow, easy stride you’d always rather see coming than going. Curiosity lifts the corners of his lips in a smile you never have to work hard to earn. 

When he’s close enough, you pluck his cowboy hat off his head and place it on your own, backpedaling a few paces away with a grin. 

Joel pokes his tongue into the inside of his cheek to tamp down his instantaneous smile. There’s magic etched into the crinkles by your eyes, the glint of your teeth. He takes a few steps in your direction before he’s decided whether or not he wants his hat back or wants to be closer to you. A squeal as giddy as they come breaks into the air. He stops then, not because he wants to, but because he can feel the curious eyes that have settled on the two of you. If he were a few decades younger, he wouldn’t mind an audience. 

“Ain’t gonna chase ya.”

“What if that’s the whole point?” 

When Joel starts your way again, you become all the more aware of how broad he is. How much longer his legs are. How many years he’s had to be torn down and strengthened by the world. There’s no chance you’re making it far, but the spark within you dares you to try. 

It’s snuffed seconds after it ignites. 

A misstep over an uneven plank sends you backwards. Air punches out of your lungs the moment your butt hits the ground. 

Joel’s above you in seconds. 

“Jesus,” he breathes, gaze filled with concern. “You okay?” 

He extends a helping hand, but all you can think to do is hold his hat secure to your head so he can’t snatch it back.

“Ain’t thinkin’ about that,” he says. “Here, c’mon.” He wiggles his fingers. 

Joel pulls you to your feet like you’re light as the air. Embarrassment rises to your cheeks with the warmth of a summer’s day. 

“Gotta be careful.” Then, softer, “Didn’t hurt anything, did you?” 

“Yes.” Joel frowns at that. “My pride.” 

A gruff chuckle sneaks up on him. Even then, he looks you over for any signs of discomfort. You still aren’t convinced he can’t see straight down to your marrow. It’d be easier to feel less seen if his gaze wasn’t always so tender. 

Like everyone else in Jackson, there was a period when you only ever saw the intensity. Something had changed towards the end of last year, and you haven’t had the courage to acknowledge what. 

“If that’s the only thing, I reckon you’ll be okay,” he says. 

“I’ll take your word for it.” You place his hat back on his head, pushing it down to cover his eyes, “Cowboy.”

“Good.” Joel readjusts his hat. “Cause I’m gonna need you to be okay.”

He doesn’t backtrack or spin the sincerity of his statement into the fabric of a joke. Both of you are forced to stand there as it lingers in the air and cements into an invisible truth bound to endure. He eventually clears his throat and pushes his hands into his pockets. 

“Is that what you wanted to show me?” 

All there is to do is offer a shy nod that somehow remains unashamed. 

•••

The memory of the night lives in him after it passes. Joel can still hear the chatter, the laughter, paint being squeezed out of tubes, and brushes swirling in water. He can feel your thigh against his, and the sensation of your finger smearing a cool dab of white paint onto the tip of his nose. 

A little boy named Thane had dared you, and Joel would never shy away from your touch. Not when you were as delighted as the kids to mess with him without consequence. That’s what happens when you make people feel safe. 

Three knocks sound at his front door as he reaches the bottom of the staircase. 

It’s you. 

“Hi.” Your voice is small like you hadn’t just spent the evening by his side. “You left this masterpiece behind after clean up.” 

You hold up a small canvas that features the landscape painting you’d convinced him to do. It teeters towards abstraction, but nonetheless features the Teton Mountains and the colorful trees at their feet. 

“Ain’t nothing special.” He opens the door wider, closing it after you step inside. 

“It’s not bad.” 

“Ain’t good either.” 

“I don’t think any of us gave da Vinci a run for his money,” you amend. “I like it, though.” Your sincerity isn’t lost on Joel. “The kiddos loved it.” 

“Alright, alright.” Joel chuckles and scratches the back of his neck. 

You pass the canvas to him. “Gotta find a good place for it.” 

He walks it to the entryway table for now. The hardwood creaks beneath his feet. He’s already changed into his pajamas, plaid bottoms and a gray t-shirt. You’re in jeans and a cable-knit sweater. The stillness of his house washes over you. The refrigerator hums in the kitchen. 

As his back is turned, you say, “I’m really glad you came.” 

There’s a weight to his gaze when he faces you again. You had a habit of saying things that forced him away from the easy out of neutrality. 

Instead of overthinking, he opts for honesty. “Me too,” he decides. “Probably wouldn’t have if you weren’t gonna be there.”

“Guess a little incentive never hurt anybody.” Sparkles dance in your eyes. 

“No,” Joel agrees, glancing down to his feet. “Were you, uh, plannin’ on staying over a while?” 

You lift a shoulder. “If you’ll have me.”

“You’re always welcome.” It’s the most earnest he’s sounded all evening. “Could use the company.” He can’t read the look that flickers across your face. 

“Drink?” 

“Water’s fine.” Your small smile eases his nerves. 

Joel pours two glasses and joins you on the couch. Pictures of the great American West adorn the living room walls—Yellowstone, Yosemite, the Grand Canyon. A few faded Polaroid photos are also peppered around the space. 

“When was that one taken?” You point to a picture of him on the fireplace mantel. 

Joel wets his lips and squints because his vision isn’t the same these days. However, the sway of your hips is crystal clear as you spring up to retrieve it. 

You sit closer to him than before upon your return. He drapes an arm across the cushion behind you as you assess the photo in silence together. He looks tired and a bit disheveled in the light of the flash, but wears that signature closed-lipped smile packed with fondness. From what you can make of the background, he’s indoors. The dark walnut cabinets suggest a kitchen. 

“That was before Jackson. Before all of this.” Reminiscence is thick in his voice. “Had bought Sarah a camera for her thirteenth birthday.” He starts to smile. “Don’t think I’d ever heard her scream that loud.” You smile too. 

“She was so over the moon, I thought I’d never be able to outdo myself again.” 

Drawn in by the warmth of Joel’s voice, you begin to trace absentminded shapes on his thigh. 

“Never did like bein’ in front of the lens, but those puppy eyes got me every time.” A host of other memories ride palpably on his words. 

You share a hushed laugh that wanes into a comfortable silence. Joel’s focus drifts to your hand when your palm stills on his thigh to deliver a soft squeeze. He can feel you everywhere. In his head, beneath his skin, consuming him whole. On New Years Day, you’d hugged him for the first time—properly—and there was only ever after that moment. It’d been a freefall since then. 

“You still look the same,” you murmur after a while. 

Time has etched its passing in some of his features, but it hadn’t completely erased the man he used to be. 

“Think so?” 

Joel holds his breath when you reach out to run a gentle finger along his hairline, then venture down to follow the curve of his jawline. Your touch is so featherlight, it tickles. His lashes flutter when you trace a finger down the bridge of his nose. When it slides off the tip and lands in the divot of his Cupid’s bow, you proceed to line his lips. Then you pull away. 

“A little different,” you amend. “But the same.” 

His cheeks are flushed now. 

“Think I might’ve been a bit braver back then.” His voice comes out thick. 

“I’m sure a few gray hairs haven’t changed much.” 

“Think it’s a bit more than a few.” 

You shrug. “I don’t mind.”

Months worth of tension expels out of him in the only way his body knows how. A laugh. Even though you join in, he’s convinced he’s the only one who feels laid bare and wanting. He was done for the moment he asked if you intended to stay. You, with all your heart, warmth, and charm. Another hush falls over the room. 

For the first time in his life, he can no longer hold your gaze. 

“Y’should probably head back home before it gets too late.” Joel’s posture doesn’t match his words. Nor does the warmth in his gut or the pressure in his pants. He forces himself to look at you. “Can walk you, if you’d like.” 

 “Did I say something wrong?—” 

“Listen, sweetheart.” Joel looks sorry for interrupting, but his dark eyes are nevertheless imploring. Even after he has your attention, he takes a few extra seconds to gather himself. 

“I’ve taken a liking towards you.”

Time stills. You blink at him. 

“I keep tellin’ myself it’ll pass.” He continues when the ghost of a furrow forms between your brows, “But I can’t shake you.”

Your voice comes out quiet but sure, “I feel the same way.” 

Joel doesn’t let himself accept your words quite yet. 

“You’ve got your whole life ahead of you,” he says. “I promise you don’t wanna get wrapped up in whatever the hell I’ve got going on.” 

“Is that your decision to make?” It’s a soft question with a hard punch. 

“‘Course not, s’just,” he straightens up and runs a heavy hand down his beard. “You being here like this, touchin’ me… it’s makin’ it difficult for me to keep minding my manners.”  

“And that’s my fault?” 

That stumps Joel long enough for the corners of your lips to lift just so. Maybe it is a bit funny, all this dancing between the lines when the whole ballroom lies open. He gives you a helpless look that makes him appear years younger, less like a man with all the answers. 

“Jus’ don’t wanna ruin a good thing,” he finally says. 

You stand to your feet. 

“Is me walking out that door the solution?” 

His heart sinks like it’s attached to a millstone. Fear, longing, regret, and hope flicker across his face like changing seasons. 

“Don’t want it to be,” he murmurs hoarsely. 

He peers up at you when you move to stand between his legs. As you run your fingers through his graying curls, his brows furrow and his eyes close like it pains him. It’d been too many moons since someone paid him this much mind. He stops himself from reaching for your hips. 

“You can touch me.” 

Joel tells himself it’s your permission that drives him to place his heavy hands on your waist. That makes him guide you down to straddle his lap. That makes him press a steady palm to your back so you’re forced to lean forward into his kiss. The permission. Surely not the undercurrent of need in your voice that made him realize he couldn’t let you go without. Surely not his own reservations being thrown to the wayside. 

All that exists is his lips, the brush of his beard against your skin, his grip on your waist that you’re certain is the only thing holding you together. Not God or science, just a man. There’s nothing hurried about the way your lips tease and taste, heavy breaths passing between you. Joel kisses with the same steadiness he’s known for everywhere else in his life. 

His body is solid beneath you like he’s a new creation who’d never known doubt a day in his life. You’re soft, and warm, and still smell of the fresh mountain air. A small groan catches in the back of his throat when you roll your hips. 

Joel hasn’t run this hot in a long time. 

He takes the opportunity to catch his breath when you pull away to press kisses along his jawline. Then down his neck where his pulse point flutters with life. He feels like an exposed wire. Left to do nothing but spark and crackle as you scoot to the floor between his legs. 

When the smoke clears, the sight before him robs him of his breath again: you on your knees, lips curled upwards in the coyest smile. Him with his legs spread wide, desire proving itself in the bulge at the juncture of his thighs. 

To reclaim a semblance of modesty, he adjusts himself and rests a hand over his crotch as a shield. You don’t let him get away with it, grasping his hand to kiss over his scarred knuckles. Joel huffs a flustered sound, caught. 

“Lemme take you upstairs,” he insists. 

You nuzzle the inside of his knee in feigned objection. 

“Upstairs, babygirl,” he doubles down. “I’ll take real good care of ya.” Then he grows even more forthcoming, “Won’t last if you get those hands or that pretty mouth on me.” 

“You won’t?” You palm him and he shudders. 

You clench around nothing when he cups your cheek. There’s hopefulness in his big, brown eyes. You turn your head to lazily kiss the meat of his thumb. It feels like an act of mercy when you stand, extending your hand to him so he can get up and lead the way. 

•••

Dim lamplight fills the bedroom. Moonlight peeks through the curtains. Joel’s lips are even gentler when they find yours after stripping you bare and bracing himself overtop of you on the matress. One calloused palm slides up your ribcage to gently cup your breasts, thumbing over your pebbled nipples. You keen into the warmth of his bare chest because there’s nowhere else to go. Joel strains into the confines of his briefs. 

At your whimper, he parts from your lips with a final peck before he begins his descent. Your chest rises and falls with deep breaths as he kisses down your throat. Across your collarbones. Down the valley of your breasts, and to your midsection. Arousal pools between your legs as he bypasses where you need him most. 

It’s him who now lowers himself to the floor. He grunts as his knees pop, but he gets there in the end. The muscles of your inner thigh twitch at the plushness of kiss paired with the scratch of his beard. His breath fans over your core and, for a brief moment, that’s enough. Patience is a virtue. Then he stops. On weak arms, you push yourself to sit upright, peering down at him with fawn eyes. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” he rumbles. 

Your cheeks grow warm. “I feel that way when you look at me.” 

“You are.” He tugs you closer to the edge of the bed. “Every part of you.”

More hot kisses are dotted along your inner thighs. Closer and closer to where you need him until he parts you open with a careful finger. For a moment, he observes. You’re already a mess. 

“Mind if I have a taste?” His question leaves him bashful. It’s been a while. For all his confidence, you still knock him off his feet and he wants to make you feel good. 

“You can have whatever you want,” you lilt.  

A shaky exhale escapes you when he leans forward to run his tongue alongside either side of your seam. Then straight up the middle as you clench. Each time, his tongue stops shy of your clit. 

“Joel,” you whine. 

Your fingers don’t know what to do when you place your hands on his head. 

He kisses and licks through your slick with a languid, exploratory sort of ease, aquiline nose just barely bumping the swollen bud that aches for his attention. That whisper of contact makes you writhe. Joel soothes his hands over your thighs. You tug his hair. 

His mouth and chin are wet with you when he lifts his head to meet your pleading gaze. 

“What’s wrong?” The tenderness of his voice makes your stomach flip. “You needin’ me somewhere, is that it?” 

At last, he presses a light kiss to your clit. Then another, suckling it between his lips on the tail end. It’s enough to make your walls contract. As he begins to lap through your folds again, he nurses that swollen part of you after every few drags of his tongue. 

You don’t realize he’s suspended you on the edge until you notice how heavily you’ve begun to breathe, how much you’ve begun to squirm, how quivery your thighs have grown. It’s enthralling, the helplessness and desperation he’s invoked in a matter of minutes. And he hasn’t uttered a single word, just hummed along to your pretty sounds.

“I-I’m close.” 

“You close, sweetheart?” he echoes.  

You hum a frantic sound of agreement. 

Devastation strikes when he stands. Your dazed eyes sweep over his bare chest, the pudge of his belly, down his strong legs. His body is a canvas, bearing scars, and moles, and the lot. You swallow when Joel tucks his fingers into the waistband of his underwear and pushes them down. His flushed cock bobs upwards as it’s set free. 

The air of the room is cool where it meets the pearly bead along his slit. Veins ribbon along his shaft. The line of hair beneath his navel leads to the wiry curls surrounding the base. Just below, his balls hang with a heavy fullness. 

He has the nerve to blush, but doesn’t subject himself to your gaze for long. “Scoot back.”

You shakily scramble up the bed. The mattress dips as Joel joins you. Broad-shouldered and longing, he crowds into your space to prop himself overtop of you with care. Electricity buzzes through you as he reaches between your legs to gather your arousal, using the moisture to stroke himself a few relaxed times. 

You’re so turned on, a breath of laughter escapes you. Joel’s cock twitches at the sweet sound, the way it makes your chest shake. 

“What?” He smiles. 

“I really need you,” you murmur.

 Joel runs himself through your folds. Each methodical pass taps your puffy clit. Already, he’s worked you back up to the cliff he left you on. 

To your dismay, he trades his cock with his fingers. They slip through your slick with ease. There’s no resistance when he pushes one into your warmth, humming when your mouth falls open. After a few steady pumps, he adds another, both curling into you with skillful reverence. 

“Feeling good?” he asks, eyes warm. 

“I still—” your breath catches he rubs firm, steady circles over your bundle of nerves. “Still need you.” 

Joel’s stomach flutters. “M’right here.”

Your face prickles with the beginnings of frustration. “Please?” 

He eases his fingers out of you. “Said I was gonna take care of you, right?” 

“Yes,” you croak. 

“So let me.”

Joel grabs his base and returns to your folds. Tears prick in your eyes. You’re frayed around the edges, every nerve at alert.

“Know you’re aching,” he purrs. “I’m achin’ too.”

With a steady push, he eases into the warmth of your cunt. 

“Thank you,” you sigh in relief. 

The ridge of his plump mushroom tip is as far as he gets before your climax catches you by surprise. Joel groans as you whimper, fluttering around the head of his cock. 

“You’re welcome,” he manages, pressing in further. 

There’s hardly any distinction between the pleasure of your release and the pleasure of him filling you. It’s a continuous swell that you tremble through. You close your eyes to find solace in the dark.

“That’s it.” 

“Almost there.” 

“There you go, babygirl.”

Joel’s reassurances sound unreal and far away. When your eyes reopen, he’s fully sheathed. He swipes your tears away as you adjust. 

“You’re okay,” he whispers.

You nod. 

“You trust me?” 

You shake your head, but a wobbly smile pulls at your lips. 

Joel’s chest shakes with a low chuckle. “Yes you do.” He slips a hand between your bodies to rub a few chastising circles where you’re most sensitive. 

Your gasp is cut off with a slow kiss. When you shift your hips to encourage him to move, Joel stills you with a strong hand and sets his own rhythm. It’s better than whatever you were attempting to spur. There’s no helping the way your back arches, how your hands grip along his arms like they’re your tether to Earth. 

One of your hands strays to his chest, fingertips brushing through the sparse hair. Then your palm flattens against it like you’re debating pushing him away. 

“You can take it,” Joel assures. Then his voice softens, “Know it feels good.” 

There’s so much of him. Everything about him is so much, you knew that before tonight. Heads turn towards him in every room he enters. When he speaks, people listen and things change. 

“So good,” you sigh.

The squelch of your bodies fills the room. Joel makes the mistake of looking to the place where you’re joined, and curses himself a million times over. He glimmers in you. Even though you’re tender and swollen, there’s a greed to the way you continue to suck him in. Stars shine in your eyes when he meets your gaze. Sweet, and gone, and bright. 

Maybe this is what the stories of old warned of when they spoke of flying too close to the sun. Here he was in the midst of the flames, enveloped in your warmth so wholly that the two of you were one. After tonight, everyone in Jackson would see the mark you left behind. It was haughty to think he ever stood a chance.  

“M’close,” he groans.

You look directly into his eyes and say, “Fill me up.” 

Your voice sounds too caught up in the clouds for you to have realized the gravity of your request. Yet, with his hand to God, he can’t deny the surge of eagerness that courses through him. 

He gives you a second chance, “Where do you want me?” 

You hold his gaze because you’ve already supplied your answer. Dizziness strikes him. It starts in his head and works its way down to his gut. Joel makes to pull out before he does something unwise, but you hook your legs around the backs of his thighs to keep him near. 

Sweat dots his hairline, glistens in the divot of his sternum. “Can’t say stuff like that, babygirl.” 

A lopsided smile stretches across your face. “I hope it’s a girl.”

Every rational inclination in Joel’s body dilutes to a whisper. Then he sees it. Rogue flashes. His hands cradling your rounded belly. A baby girl with your eyes, your smile, your joy. A family. More laughter within these lonely four walls. He loses himself to the fantasy.

“Goddammit.” He touches his forehead to yours. “Me too—fuck. Me too.”

Joel’s thrusts deepen like he’s taken your words to heart. An unashamed moan falls past your lips. You guide him in for a clumsy, loving kiss. His thumb works clit until you arch beneath him, falling into the thralls of another release. One clamp after another, you pulse around him as he sees you through the relentless waves of pleasure. 

“Christ, I’m comin’.” 

The fantasy begins to fade. 

Your legs have fallen from around him, lax with pleasure, so there’s no resistance as he slips from your warmth like he was never really there. 

All that’s left to attest that he was is your swollen folds, the shine of his cock. He strokes himself with a firm fist until his stomach tenses. Until his balls draw upwards, and he surrenders to the inexplicable tug of outward-rushing pleasure. A restrained grunt accompanies each strong rope of his release onto your skin. Low on your tummy, the top of your mound. You admire the scrunch of his face as he shudders through the aftershocks. 

The soreness in his biceps registers as he comes down. He kisses your forehead, your cheek, then rolls to collapse alongside you. Trembling when you reach over to take him in your hand, stroking him a few knowing times before you move to massage his balls. 

“I’m all done, sweetheart,” he rasps, tucking his nose into your shoulder, kissing you there. 

You pull away, but not without letting a lone finger sneakily grace along his shaft one last time.  

“Wanted you to come inside,” you murmur after a few quiet moments. 

And you truly did, a two minutes ago when having his baby didn’t seem like as big of a deal. You repeat it now as a temperature check more than anything. 

“You think you did,” he corrects. 

“I did.”

He believes you a little more this time. 

“‘Member what I said about not wanting to ruin a good thing?” 

“A baby wouldn’t—”

“That ain’t what I’m suggestin’.” Joel props himself on his forearm and tenderly traces along the underside of your breast. The furrow between his brows lets you know he’s deep in thought. 

“Let’s get to know each other. Truly.” His fingers move to the other side of your chest. “No more of this dancing between the lines.” 

He pauses to make sure you’re still with him. “Lemme take you to dinner—hell, all the things. Start over and do this right.” 

Joel’s fingertips brush down to your tummy, avoiding where his spend is gathered. “Then I’ll come wherever you want me to.” 

A shiver runs down your spine at his touch, his words.  

He finally lets his fingers pass through his sticky spend, running them down between your thighs. Your legs startle closed as they bump over the swell of your clit and brush through your folds.

“Joel.” Your hips shift, oversensitive but his touch still feels good. “Okay, okay, okay.”

He pulls away and kisses your temple. “That was just payback,” he murmurs, a smile in his voice. “You alright?” The question is much kinder. 

You nod, entirely too satisfied. Entirely spent. 

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” You watch as he stands on shaky legs to head to the bathroom. 

“Joel?” 

He stops, faces the bed again. 

“Everything you said,” you start, taking all his nakedness in. “I’d like that too.” 

To begin again; what a lovely gift to come about in the night. 

-

Thanks so much for reading! All likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated. I promise I see them all!

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST 

ALL MASTERLISTS

[rosaelric]

No debí cambiar mi outfit en la mañana, escogí pura porquería y ahora tengo que soportar un mal outfit todo el día

[rosaelric]

Me terminé Bioshock 2 en 8 horas vete a la verga como lo hice tan rápido????