#( you just crossed a borderline || ooc ) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thepencilnerd · 2 months ago

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a series of firsts

When you ask Chishiya for a simple favor, neither of you are prepared for what follows. tldr: you ask Chishiya to teach you how to kiss.

genre/notes: fluff, borderline smut, ooc-ish!Chishiya x fem!reader

rating: mature (smut implied but not explicit)

word count: 2k

You weren't sure when you had worked up the courage to ask Chishiya such an outrageous favor. Maybe it was the late nights spent together, both of you perched on the worn-out couch, his arm thrown lazily along the backrest, fingers sometimes brushing against your shoulders in a way that sent shivers down your spine. Or maybe it was those fleeting moments when his gaze lingered on your lips, and you couldn’t help but think – wish, even – that he wanted this too.

It was a quiet evening, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest as you glanced up at him, his calm expression giving you just enough confidence to take a leap of faith.

“Chishiya,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper, as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “Can you teach me how to kiss?”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, the smallest lift of his brow the only sign of his surprise. For a long second, you thought he might laugh or brush it off as a joke. Instead, he tilted his head to the side, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You want me to be your first kiss?” he asked, his voice soft yet edged with curiosity.

You punched his shoulder playfully, trying to mask your nerves. “Maybe I just want more practice! What makes you think I haven't kissed anyone?”

Chishiya chuckled, the smile on his face growing. “I know you better than anyone,” he said, his tone teasing but laced with a warmth that made your heart flutter.

You nodded, a blush creeping up your cheeks, unable to meet his gaze for too long. It felt ridiculous, embarrassing, but this was Chishiya – the person you trusted most. There had always been something there between you two, something neither of you dared address until now.

You decided to distract yourself from the growing tension, a teasing smile forming on your lips. "Actually, I've kissed a few people, you know. There was Niragi..."

Chishiya's lips twitched, his response immediate. "Too boring."

You rolled your eyes, continuing, "And then there was Kanato."

"Too short," Chishiya replied dryly, his tone making it clear he wasn't impressed.

"Okay, but what about Yuki? She was—"

"Too much of a know-it-all," Chishiya cut in, shaking his head slightly.

You huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "You just have something to say about everyone, don't you?"

Chishiya gave you a small, amused smile, his gaze softening. "I just know you better than anyone." You pressed your lips together and averted your eyes.

As the tension hung between you, his gaze softened, and he slowly shifted closer.

“Okay,” he said, and that one word held so many layers. Your eyes widened at his answer, his expression colored with acceptance, understanding, and a promise that this moment would stay between the two of you.

You felt him move closer, his presence warm, the scent of him familiar and comforting. He paused, his eyes meeting yours, and his voice came out in a soft whisper, "Can I touch you?"

You nodded, your breath catching as his hand found its way to your cheek, gently tilting your head towards him. He studied you, his eyes soft, searching yours for hesitation. When he found none, he leaned in, and you closed your eyes, letting the world slip away until it was just him.

His lips met yours softly at first, a brush of warmth that sent a shiver down your spine. He was gentle, deliberate, as though he wanted you to savor every second. Your heart pounded, nerves giving way to an all-consuming warmth as your hands instinctively found the front of his shirt, clinging to him.

Chishiya was careful, patient – letting you find your rhythm. His lips moved against yours, slowly coaxing you to respond. It was sweet at first, like a promise, a reassurance that there was no rush. And then, slowly, you felt the shift. His other hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer, his fingers splayed against your back. The kiss deepened, and a soft sigh escaped you, surprising even yourself.

It was like a spark ignited, and suddenly the air between you two changed. What started out as slow and explorative quickly grew more intense, the hesitancy fading as you both gave in to the want that had simmered for so long.

You pulled away slightly, your breath shaky as you looked into his eyes. "Chishiya, what... what do I do?" you asked, breathless.

“You’re doing amazing,” he sighed with a gentle smile, his thumb brushing your cheek. "Put your hands here," he said, guiding your hands to rest on his shoulders. You followed his lead, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric, grounding yourself in the closeness. Slowly, your fingers began to drift, brushing against the side of his neck, feeling the soft skin beneath your touch. He shivered slightly at the sensation, and you hesitated for a moment before your hands came up to gently caress his face, your fingers tracing along his jawline, feeling every detail.

"And what about... my tongue?" you whispered, feeling the blush deepen on your cheeks.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours before he spoke. "Follow my lead," he murmured, his voice low and comforting. He tilted his head slightly, and then he demonstrated, his tongue gently parting your lips, coaxing yours to respond. His hand slipped behind your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he deepened the kiss, moving slowly to let you mirror him.

You hesitated for a moment, then tentatively moved your tongue against his, feeling a rush of warmth as he responded with a quiet hum of approval. His hand guided you closer, his lips moving more insistently now, urging you to follow his rhythm. Your fingers tightened around his shirt, the fabric bunching between your knuckles, and you felt him smile slightly against your lips, as if proud of how quickly you were catching on.

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, a gentle nip that made you gasp against his mouth, and his hand slipped lower, cupping your jaw tenderly as if grounding you in the moment. Your heart pounded, heat pooling in your chest as you clung to him, feeling the intensity build between you.

Chishiya’s breath was shaky as he pulled away for just a moment, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes still closed as he whispered, “Is this okay?”

You nodded, unable to find words, your cheeks flushed and your lips tingling. It was more than okay – it was everything you had imagined and more. You leaned in, capturing his lips again, and he responded immediately, a quiet groan escaping him as he pulled you impossibly closer, your bodies pressed together as though to make up for lost time.

His kisses became more urgent, his lips parting against yours, his tongue brushing yours in a way that sent sparks down your spine. You were lost in it, in him – his warmth, the way he held you as if you were the most important thing in his world. You could feel his heartbeat against yours, a steady reminder that this was real, that it was Chishiya who was here with you, giving in to what you both had kept hidden for so long.

And in that moment, you didn’t care about anything else. Not the nerves that had gnawed at you before, not the fear of what this could mean. All that mattered was the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the feeling of his heartbeat steady beneath your palms. The way his fingers threaded into your hair, his lips moving with a desperation that spoke of everything neither of you had ever said. He kissed you like you were the air he needed to breathe, like letting go was simply not an option. His hands began to wander, one sliding down your back, pressing you closer, while the other moved to your waist, his fingers slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, brushing against the bare skin of your side.

A shiver ran through you, the sensation of his touch both electrifying and comforting. He pulled back just slightly, his lips hovering over yours as he looked into your eyes, his gaze dark and filled with emotion. "Do you want to keep going?" he murmured, his voice barely audible, yet filled with a raw intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

You swallowed, nodding, your breath catching as you whispered, "Yes." His lips curved into a small smile, and he leaned in, capturing your lips once more, his kisses growing more heated, more insistent. His hand traveled up your side, fingers grazing your skin, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. You felt your own hands move, sliding up his neck, your fingers brushing through his hair, tugging him closer.

The world seemed to narrow to just this – his touch, his breath, his body against yours. The way his hand slipped under your shirt, his fingers splaying across your back, pulling you impossibly closer. You could feel his heart pounding against your chest, each beat echoing the intensity of the moment. His lips left yours, trailing along your jaw, down to the sensitive skin of your neck, and you tilted your head, giving him better access, a soft sigh escaping you.

His breath was hot against your skin, his lips gentle yet possessive as he pressed open-mouthed kisses along your neck, his teeth grazing just enough to send shivers down your spine. Your hands tightened in his hair, your body arching into his touch, the warmth between you growing, consuming.

He whispered your name, the sound sending a thrill through you, and then his voice came again, softer, more vulnerable. "You have no idea, do you?" he murmured, his lips brushing against your skin between words. "How long I've wanted this... wanted you."

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding at the confession. You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, and you saw it there – the emotion he'd kept hidden for so long. The walls he always put up were gone, leaving nothing but raw honesty. "Chishiya..." you whispered, your voice trembling.

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks. "I tried to pretend I didn't care, that I could just be your friend. But I can't. I need you... more than anything." His eyes searched yours, a mixture of fear and hope in his gaze. "Tell me you feel the same."

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes as you whispered, "I do. I've always felt the same." A smile broke across his face, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a kiss that was filled with everything he'd kept locked away – all the love, the longing, the need. It was intense, consuming, and you kissed him back with everything you had, your heart swelling with the overwhelming truth of it all: you loved him, and you always had.

His hands roamed down your body, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist before slipping beneath your shirt, the touch searing against your bare skin. You gasped into his mouth, the sensation both thrilling and comforting as he pulled you closer, as though trying to erase any distance between you. His lips left yours, trailing down your jaw to your neck, where he pressed kisses that were both gentle and possessive, each one drawing a soft moan from your lips.

Chishiya's breath was ragged against your skin, his voice a whisper. "I want you," he murmured, the words sending a shiver down your spine. His hands moved upwards, brushing against your ribs, his thumbs skimming the edge of your bra. He paused, his eyes meeting yours, seeking permission, and you nodded, your heart pounding.

He kissed you again, deeper this time, his hands exploring with a tenderness that made your heart ache. Your own hands moved over his chest, feeling the defined muscles beneath his shirt, before slipping it up, your fingers grazing the warmth of his skin. He broke the kiss just long enough to pull his shirt over his head, tossing it aside before his lips found yours again, more urgent now, more desperate.

You felt his skin against yours, the heat of him enveloping you as his hands moved to your back, unclasping your bra with practiced ease. He pulled away slightly, his forehead resting against yours as he whispered, "You're perfect," his eyes filled with adoration. He slipped your bra off, his gaze never leaving yours, and you could feel the intensity of his desire, the way he looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered.

His lips found yours once more, his hands now exploring every inch of your bare skin, his touch setting your nerves alight. You were lost in him, in the way he made you feel, every kiss, every caress pushing you further into a haze of warmth and need. His mouth moved down your neck, his teeth grazing your collarbone before he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your chest, his hands holding you as if you were something precious, something he never wanted to let go.

His hands moved lower, tracing every curve, his fingers brushing the waistband of your pants as his lips continued their journey down your body. You arched into him, a soft moan escaping as he paused, his gaze meeting yours again, his eyes filled with an unspoken question. You nodded, your breath coming in shallow gasps, and he gave a small, tender smile before continuing, his hands slipping beneath the fabric, sliding them off slowly, deliberately, his gaze never leaving yours.

His touch was everywhere, his lips following the path his hands traced, leaving you trembling beneath him. The intimacy of it all, the way he looked at you with so much care, made your heart swell, the love and desire blending into something overwhelming. He murmured your name, his voice thick with emotion, and you responded with a whisper of his, your fingers threading through his hair, pulling him closer, needing him in every possible way.

Chishiya's movements were slow, careful, his hands and lips guiding you through every sensation, until there was nothing else – just the two of you, together, everything else fading away. His breath mingled with yours, his body moving with yours as he brought you closer, each touch and kiss filled with a promise, an unspoken vow that this moment was yours, and he was yours, completely.

Afterward, as you both lay tangled together, breaths mingling and hearts still pounding, Chishiya looked at you with a smirk tugging at his lips. "I dropped so many hints, and you missed every single one," he teased, his voice soft but laced with amusement.

You let out a laugh, nudging his side playfully. "You were just as bad!"

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Elaborate?"

You rolled your eyes, a playful grin on your face as you propped yourself up on your elbows. "Like that time I kept asking you to help me study for that class I already had an A in, just because I wanted an excuse to spend time with you. Kuina walked in and saw us sitting way too close, and she said, 'If this is your idea of tutoring, Chishiya, you’re not even trying to be subtle.' And you just smirked like it was nothing!"

Chishiya's smile softened, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. "Maybe I was just waiting for you to say something first."

You shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. "And here I thought you were supposed to be the genius."

Chishiya smirked, tilting his head slightly. "What about when I made sure we ended up paired together for every group project? Or that time I walked you home in the rain and conveniently 'forgot' my umbrella so you'd have to share yours?"

A flush crept your cheeks. "You did that on purpose?"

"Of course," he said with a soft chuckle, his tone teasing but his gaze warm. Pulling your closer, his lips brushed your forehead. "I guess we were both pretty clueless." He paused, his gaze meeting yours, sincerity shining in his eyes. "But I'm glad we finally figured it out."

You smiled, your heart swelling with affection. "Me too."

And as you lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that whatever came next, you would face it together–no more doubts, no more hesitations, just the two of you.

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onceinablueberrymoon · 11 days ago

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made for this | husband!salesman x pregnant!reader

scenario: pregnant!reader has a doctor’s appointment and wants to help husband!salesman by recruiting some new players at the clinic. the salesman has a different idea in mind… setting: a couple months after the events of season 1; sequel to this but can be read as a stand-alone fic warnings: pregnant!reader; a bit of spice and a lot of fluff; both reader and salesman feel morally superior to others; no use of y/n; second person POV word count: 931 notes: thank you all for the love on the first part! i hope i didn’t make the salesman too ooc, i try to keep things as accurate to the show as possible! but i think he is somewhat capable of having soft moments, although very rarely. i have at least one more idea for this series (if it can even be called that), so be on the lookout for that ٩>ᴗ<)و (also if anyone has any ideas for this ship, send them my way!) please enjoy! borders by @strangergraphics-archive

“Hey, can I borrow some business cards? I have an appointment at the clinic today and thought I’d pass some out.”

At your call, your husband walked into the bedroom to find you standing in front of the mirror next to your shared bed, adjusting your outfit for the day. He crossed his arms.

“I don’t think so. Any public involvement with the Games could endanger you,” his gaze lingered on your swollen stomach. He sighed, “You can’t defend yourself in your condition, no matter how much you think you can.”

You just rolled your eyes and shot him a piercing look.

“My pregnancy doesn’t impact my job, though. I can take care of myself just fine.” You took a couple steps towards him. “Who’s the one who befriended Gi-hun again? You?” You looked around the room before you pointed at yourself.

“Me, that’s who,” you grinned proudly, only for your husband to cover his face with his hands, his patience clearly running thin.

“Besides,” you shrugged, “it’s not like I’ll be playing ddakji and smacking people. No, my dear husband, that’s your thing.” You brought a finger up to your lips.

“I have my own ways to play.” You flashed a wicked smile towards your husband, causing him to shiver.

Right there and then, you knew that you had won the battle.

…or so you thought.

In the blink of an eye, your husband swept you off your feet and pinned you on the bed with only one arm. Your startled expression pleased him judging by the wild look on his face. His unoccupied hand came to gently press on your growing stomach, adding to the tense situation. He brought his lips up to graze your ear.

“See how vulnerable you are? Just think,” he lightly bit at your helix, “others won’t be so nice.”

It was your turn to shiver.

When you didn’t respond, he continued nibbling at your ear with his hand still firmly planted on your belly.

Soon after, he lifted his head and asked, “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” He kissed you deeply, only breaking away to gasp for air. The most smug expression was plastered on his face.

“Oh wait, I do.”

How cheeky of him. And cheesy, too!

You huffed, “Wow, already starting with the dad jokes? And not even the good ones either.” His eyebrow quirked upwards before he bent down to press his nose against yours.

“Do you really want to play this game?” He whispered softly, causing you to shudder. “You know I always win.”

Turning your head to the right, you let out a small chuckle.

“Oh really?” You retorted, “Prove it.”

This sent him into a borderline frenzy as he started planting kisses down the side of your neck. You threw your arms around his neck, a smile on your face. Sometimes it was just too easy to manipulate him.

As he was about to leave a mark, a sharp movement stopped him in his tracks. He blinked, snapping out of his trance. You were both confused when there was another movement, although not as sharp as the first.

The two of you looked down at your rounded stomach, and your husband removed his hand. The baby’s kicks continued nearly every minute, while you both just watched, not moving a muscle. Then, your husband lifted himself up off of you, moving to sit on the bed beside you. You sat up and, taking one of his hands, gently laid it on your stomach. Your husband carefully wrapped an arm around you, now acting as if you were made of glass.

“They’re so active. Do you think,” he paused, then in a whisper, asked, “Do you think I hurt them?”

“No… I think they’re just making themselves known,” you kissed him on the cheek.

Both of you sat in comfortable silence for a while, only to soon realize that you were now running late for your appointment.

“Is there any chance I can still get those business cards?” You pleaded.

Your husband chuckled, “Absolutely not. In fact, I’ll accompany you.”

“I thought we weren’t allowed to be seen together in public?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

He let go of you and turned to open his briefcase at the foot of the bed. Pulling out some files, he nodded, “There’s quite a few prospective players residing at that hospital. You attend your appointment, I’ll recruit more players.” He flashed his signature smirk, putting the files back in his briefcase.

“Wow, I thought you wanted to come to my appointment with me!” You laughed, giving him a light shove.

Your husband gave you a knowing look, “I can’t do that. But I expect a copy of the sonogram.” He stood up, holding out a hand for you to take.

“What a gentleman.” You took his offer and stood up.

Placing a hand on your husband’s chest, you teased, “Try to take it easy at the hospital, hm? Most of the prospects there are already on the verge of cracking. We don’t want to break them before the Games – it wouldn’t make for a good show.”

Wrapping his arms around your waist, your husband pouted, “But where’s the fun in that?”

“Giving them a tiny sliver of hope, only to eventually rip it away…” You looked him straight in the eyes. “The suspense is so thrilling, don’t you think?”

“And here I was starting to think you weren’t cut out for the job,” he chuckled. He checked his watch, noting the time.

“We should get going – it’s rude to be late.”

a/n: by the way, i don’t think i have it in me to write full-on smut, the most i can probably do is a bit of lime lol

tags: @preppyfella

#the salesman x reader #the recruiter x reader #squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game x you #the salesman #the recruiter #squid game fanfic #gong yoo x reader #reader insert #the recruiter squid game #the salesman fluff #the salesman x you #pregnant reader

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rxreid · 1 month ago

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hi!!! would you be up for writing a soft dom bellamy x best friend reader fic/oneshot? maybe he gets jealous when he sees other guys flirting/talking about y/n in a sexual way. and bellamy being protective, pulled reader away and confesses his love to her?

realms of friendship - b.b

also requested: “hi gurll i didn’t know 100 writers were still active you’re feeding me bc no one writes bellamy smut anymore 😞 i just need porn with a plot please surprise me and keep em comin !” + “hi this is my first time asking but can u plsss write blake smut. like literally anything im so deprived of him im begging.”

warnings: SMUT! unprotected p in v, that’s pretty much it. brief mention of a gun?? but not kinky. technically takes place in s3 of the 100.

word count: 5.1k

characterisation: reader is described as AFAB and uses she/her pronouns & feminine terms.

comments: here u go anons!! i hope this is okay…it’s far from the best thing i’ve written, but i wanted to write a bellamy fic whilst i was sure i had some free time. it might be a little ooc, only because i’m not super used to writing for him yet. nevertheless, feel free to send in more request for blurbs/hcs/fics! the first two are more likely to be answered quickly <3. if you don’t wanna read the smut, there’s a divider before it gets spicy :)

“I just think if you popped a couple of buttons open, maybe let your hair loose once in a while, the guys in camp would be all over you,” Jasper shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans into the backseat of the rover, his lips carrying that same ‘carefree’ smirk he’s had since getting out of Mount Weather.

Murphy snorts, sitting opposite Jasper in the trunk. “As if,” he snickers, his nose crinkling in amusement. “The guys in camp are already all over her, she’s just too frigid to give them a try, ain’t that right?” he grins, leaning forward to rest his hands on the leather of her seat, placing his chin on the edge as he peeks into the front. She internally grimaces at his proximity, twisting in her spot to lean against the window, her brows slightly furrowed at the two boys.

“Shut up,” she grumbles quietly, mirroring Jasper’s position and folding her arms, the expression on her face betraying her distaste for the topic of conversation. She's aware that the two boys are purposely trying to rile her up, but that doesn’t make them any easier to deal with when they get like this.

In the backseat, Jasper kicks his feet up, somehow managing to stay upright despite the bumps in the track as Bellamy roughly drives the four of them back to camp. “Yeah, right. Like who? You?” he muses teasingly, raising a brow at Murphy, as if daring him to take their game further.

“Hell yeah, me,” Murphy retorts cockily, still flashing his borderline predatory grin to her. “With a face that pretty and an ass like that, I can’t understand why she’s not been snatched up,” he smirks, his words complimentary in his own mind yet being perceived entirely different by the recipient. He keeps his gaze on her as he talks to Jasper, briefly glancing over at Bellamy in the driver's seat. The older boy’s nose is turned up in disgust as he listens to the conversation, the veins in his hands becoming more prominent from his grip on the steering wheel.

She scrunches her nose up too, her cheeks heating up at Murphy’s words, feeling a wave of embarrassment pass through her body. She doesn’t give him the satisfaction of a reply, and he takes it upon himself to lean further over her seat, his chest fully pressed against the back. “What? Not even a thank you?” he taunts, his grin getting wider at the way she squirms under his stare. “Eh, whatever. You look better with your mouth shut. Plus, I can think of other ways to keep it occupied,” he snickers crudely, lifting his arm as he begins to reach his hand around her chair.

In an instant, Bellamy’s fingers are clasping Murphy’s wrist, his grip too tight to pass as merely playful. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, his voice stern as he pushes him into the back of the rover once more. “Back off, Murphy, you don’t need to be so close to her,” he mutters gruffly, his lips slightly pursed into a scowl.

A huff escapes Murphy’s lips as he’s roughly pushed back, thudding into the seat opposite Jasper again, who’s tickled by the entire situation. “Ow. Jeez, Blake, loosen up a little. She knows I’m just fuckin’ with her,” he grumbles, his thumb and pointer finger wrapping around his wrist to soothe the ache of Bellamy’s previous grip. “She’s dead weight, anyway. Dunno why we bring her on these trips if we can’t have some fun with her.”

Bellamy glares at Murphy through the windscreen mirror, his protectiveness for the girl beside him flaring up. He knows he should probably tone it down to avoid suspicion of any deeper feelings for his best friend, but he can’t let her be mercilessly teased when he knows she won't stand up for herself. Plus, the insinuation of her friends bringing her on supply runs purely to sleep with her makes his skin crawl. “Stop being a fucking perv,” he snaps, his grip on the wheel tightening slightly as his hand returns to it.

Murphy furrows his brows, clearly displeased with Bellamy’s interruption of his fun. “I’m not bein’ a perv,” he retorts, his voice laced with offence, “I’m just lettin’ the lady know that she’s got options if she wants it,” he shrugs, rolling his eyes over dramatically, his ego bruised.

“Yeah, well, she doesn’t want that, and she sure as hell doesn’t want you,” Bellamy grits, pressing down on the gas a little harsher, his mood souring at the thought of spending any longer in the vehicle whilst Murphy shamelessly flirts with his friend. friend.

“Now shut up for the rest of the drive or I’m throwing you out and you’re walking back to camp. Both of you.”

Her eyes go slightly wide at Bellamy’s defence, raising her brows in surprise. She looks back at Jasper and Murphy, who are both staring at her incredulously, and shrugs her shoulders. The rest of the short drive is spent in silence, with nobody wanting to get onto Bellamy’s bad side again. Her gaze remains focused on the landscape flying by, thoughts wandering to the boy beside her, as they most often do.

Upon the group’s return to Arkadia, Bellamy pulls into the garage, the roaring of the rover dying in an instant as he shuts it off. “Out,” he orders gruffly, earning a grumble from both Murphy and Jasper as they hop out of the vehicle, slamming the doors behind them before heading away from the garage. She follows suit, watching Bellamy climb out too, and she instinctively starts heading away, not wanting to catch the brunt of his lingering moodiness.

“Not you.”

She stops in her tracks as his words echo through the empty garage, slowly turning around to face him. “Not…me?” she questions, her brows arched. She’s half expecting him to tell her she’s forgotten something, or that she needs to help him unload the rover, but the way his expression has softened tenfold from just minutes ago makes her slightly uneasy.

“Not you,” he repeats, his voice softer, taking a few steps towards her. “What was all that about? Why were you just sitting there letting Jasper and Murphy talk about you like that?”

A dry chuckle escapes her lips, and she fights the urge to roll her eyes at the memory. “Used to it by now,” she shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. “Murphy’s been that way since the dawn of time, and Jasper’s new emo phase has him acting like a dick 24/7. It’s whatever,” she huffs, puckering her lips as she stands awkwardly, her gaze shifting around.

“It’s just not ‘whatever’ though, is it?” he retorts sarcastically, narrowing his eyes at her as he steps closer once more. “You shouldn’t let them believe they can talk to you like that, it’ll just get worse if they think they can get away with it. I know what guys are like,” he says, the idea of her being so compliant with being objectified stirring a flame deep in his heart, his instincts screaming at him to shield her from such taunts.

She snorts at his sass, amused by how insistent he’s getting. “I really don’t care about what they have to say, Blake,” she says, shaking her head slightly and shrugging her shoulders. She’s speaking truthfully - the teasing she endures from other boys in camp is practically an everyday occurrence by now.

“Bellamy,” he corrects.

“What?”

“You’re my best friend. It’s Bellamy to you, not Blake. You know I don’t like that.”

“Okay…” she says, dragging her syllables out briefly. “I don’t really care, Bellamy,” she repeats.

“I do,” he shrugs simply, placing his hands onto his hips. She, too, narrows her eyes at that, scanning his features from any ulterior motive to his words. His lips are pressed into a thin line, his brows slightly furrowed as usual, but his eyes carry a hint of concern, and she’s trying to figure out why without straight up asking.

After a few seconds, she sighs softly, tilting her head backwards as she lets out a groan, a little embarrassed by the entire situation. She lets her head fall straight again, looking over at him. “Bell, I appreciate it, I really do, but I don’t want you barking at your friends for me. I can handle it.”

He chuckles at that, and she’s almost offended that the one thing to make him laugh is the thought of her defending herself. “Listen, you can tell me to back off, tell me whatever the hell you want, but you should know by now that I’m not the type of guy to stand by when you’re evidently uncomfortable, princess. If they pull that shit again when I’m around-,” he says, placing his hand on her shoulder and leaning down slightly, raising his brows, “-I’m gonna say something.”

“You’re really annoying,” she deadpans, her eyes still narrowed as he leans to be level with her.

“Not annoying, just protective of my friends,” he shrugs, his hand trailing down to lightly skim across her arm, stilling there. “And you happen to be my best one, so you get the brunt of it.”

Rolling her eyes, she lets out a huff, her gaze roaming the garage. “Gee, thanks, lucky me,” she grumbles, her brows softly furrowed together.

He hums, straightening up once more as he looks down at her. “Damn straight, lucky you,” he grins, a rare sight from the usual scowl adorning his lips. His gaze is downcast, a twinkle in his deep brown eyes always prominent when his focus is on the girl before him. “And stop that, you’ll get premature wrinkles,” he mutters teasingly, lifting his free hand to smooth out the dip between her brows with his thumb.

A faint blush dusts her cheeks as his thumb swipes across her skin, her gaze briefly dashing to his teeth poking behind his lips before back to his eyes. She’s used to him being somewhat touchy, always greeting her with a reunion hug or squeezing her shoulders when she needs reassurance, but something in the air feels different with him tonight.

“Why’d you really defend me against Jasper and Murphy, huh?” she murmurs, her eyes roaming his features skeptically.

He doesn’t answer her verbally, but his grin widens cheekily as he steps forward again, his thumb moving to swipe her jaw, silently signalling his next move.

“Don’t,” she mumbles, her eyes widening a smidge as she pieces together what he’s boldly getting at, her own mind running a thousand miles per hour. She finally uncrosses her arms, letting them fall slack at her sides, subtly opening herself up to him. If Bellamy Blake, her best friend, kisses her right here in this garage, she might just have to face a year's worth of pent up emotions, and she’s not sure she’s ready for that.

“Why not?” Bellamy whispers, his grin widening as he slowly leans in. At first he was teasing her, but the closer he gets, the more tempting it is to close the gap.

“It’ll change everything,” she retorts quietly, unable to stop herself from taking a peek at his plump lips, his cupids bow littered with stubble.

“No it won’t.”

“Liar.”

“We’ll see.”

With that, he leans in, closing the gap until his lips are ghosting over hers, their noses brushing together. He doesn’t take it any further, keeping their lips a mere few millimeters apart as he waits for her to make the final move, his own lips curved up in a smile so bright she thinks she might go blind.

She huffs at him, seeing what he’s playing at. “I hate you,” she grumbles, all prior thoughts ditching her brain as she presses her lips against his, feeling him chuckle into the kiss as they both close their eyes. He’s slightly chapped, but she hadn’t expected much different, so she’s not bothered. She has no room to complain when her best friend, likely the most sought after man in Arkadia, is kissing her so sweetly.

Sweetly doesn't last too long, his lips pressing against hers with more insistence as his hand gently squeezes her arm, his other cupping her cheek. He pokes his tongue out, swiping it across her bottom lip in a silent ask for entry to her mouth, wanting to deepen the kiss he’s so desperately been waiting for. When she keeps her lips firmly pressed together, he furrows his brows.

“Lemme in,” he mumbles against her lips, trying again with his tongue.

“No,” she retorts quietly, closing her lips up immediately to keep him out.

“Why not?” he groans gruffly, pressing his forehead against hers, a hint of a pout on his face.

She pulls back fully, her hands lingering in the air by his waist, not quite willing to place them yet. “Not until you tell me why you’re kissing me,” she whispers, her voice holding a vulnerability that wasn't there minutes ago.

Shaking his head in amusement, he drops his gaze briefly to quietly laugh at her question, before looking at her once more. “Are you seriously asking me that, princess?” he grins, his forehead creasing. “Why does anyone kiss another person?”

She looks up at him, her mind racing with possible answers. For love? For lust? For the hell of it? “I dunno,” she decides is the best answer, shrugging her shoulders.

“Are you really gonna make me say it?” he chuckles, his thumb moving to brush across her chin.

“Yeah. Say it,” she mutters.

Bellamy huffs, smirking at her obliviousness. “Okay, listen carefully, yeah? I…want to kiss you…because I like you, ‘kay? Romantically. R-O-M-A–”

She cuts him off with a smack to his chest at his sarcasm, her cheeks flaring up. “Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it!” she grumbles, letting her head fall down to his shoulder on instinct, wanting to shield herself from his teasing. His grin only widens as she hides her face from him, his hands going to her waist as he nudges his nose into her hair.

“Might even go as far as to say I love you,” he whispers, gently moving her hair out of his way to ghost his lips against her neck, his touch a lot softer than she ever would have anticipated.

“You don’t,” she retorts, lifting her head just an inch to open up her neck to him.

“I do,” a kiss to her pulse point.

“You don’t.”

“I do. Can’t stand hearing other guys talk about you like how they were earlier,” a kiss to her jaw.

“You don’t.”

“I do, princess, and you love me too,” a kiss just below her ear.

“I-” she cuts herself off with a groan, knowing she can’t in good conscience stand here and tell him she doesn’t love him.

Bellamy chuckles at her groan, tilting her head to make her look at him once more. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he mutters cockily. “You gonna let me in now?” he questions, his lips hovering above hers for the second time in a few minutes.

“Fine,” she scoffs.

The gap is closed once more in an instant as he presses his mouth to hers, wasting no time before slipping his tongue into her parted lips. He hums at the taste of her, living up to everything he’d ever imagined and more. Her world narrows down to just him and his mouth, her hands finally placing themselves on his waist, fingertips skimming beneath his tan shirt. She can’t help the small moan that passes her lips as he laps his tongue against hers, kissing her like a man starved.

He laughs against her lips again as she moans, hooking his hands under her thighs and hoisting her up, directing her to wrap her legs around his waist. She does so without hesitation, though she’s slightly stumped by his haste.

“Eager, much?” she mutters as she pulls away, the string of saliva between their mouths breaking as she talks.

A grin breaks onto his lips once more, and he looks over her shoulder as he quickly navigates out of the garage and down the hall, heading for his quarters. “You want me to slow down? You wanna drag this out any longer than we already have?” he grunts out, barely even straining under her weight in his arms as he walks through the remnants of the ark.

“No,” she replies quietly, tucking her head into the crook of his neck.

“Exactly.”

He finds his quarters relatively quickly, even with his vision slightly impaired by her hair. Nudging the door open, he takes them both into the room, ensuring it’s closed behind him before he gently lays her down against the pillows, his frame hovering above hers. She’s been in his quarters many times - they usually hang out in one another’s rooms - but she’s never been beneath him, and she has definitely never felt his growing arousal against the junction between her thighs. Yet, here she is. There’s a first for everything.

She can’t tear her gaze away when he sits up on his knees, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it somewhere in his room. She squeals as he roughly tugs her boots from her feet, followed by his own, their shoes additionally being tossed aside. Her eyes roam his now bare chest, and she audibly gulps. It’s not like she hasn’t seen him bare chested before, of course she has, but never this close, and never with the knowledge of what he’s about to do to her.

“Rude to stare,” he mutters, pressing himself between her legs as he dips his head to her neck, starting off with light, gentle kisses.

She rolls her eyes at that, her knees nudging his sides and her arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Well, apparently we’re more than friends now, so I think I’m allowed to,” she mumbles, tilting her neck to grant him better access.

A chuckle escapes him, and he can’t argue with it. “Fair enough,” he murmurs against her skin, biting down softly on her flesh before letting go. “Can’t tell you how many times you were here in my room,” he mumbles, rolling his hips slowly against hers. “Sittin’ pretty on my bed… or at my desk,” he grunts, his hands holding her waist, slipping beneath her shirt. “And I couldn’t stop imagining having you like this.”

At the roll of his hips she lets out a small gasp, her eyes fluttering closed. Her hand worms into his hair, tugging on his curls as he continues his assault on her neck. “And yet you called Murphy a perv?” she teases breathlessly, her head dropping back against his pillow.

He growls at the mention of Murphy, pulling away from the love bite he’d been curating to look down at her. “Who’s the one who actually got the girl, huh? Yeah. Me. Fuck him, the little freak,” he grumbles, his fingers tugging on the hem of her shirt. “Lift,” he instructs quietly, his tone immediately changing to a more delicate one with her.

She obliges, reaching to grab the hem of her shirt, sitting up slightly and lifting it over her head, tossing it into the forming pile. She reaches behind her back, fumbling with the clasp of her bra before finally getting it undone, leaving it covering her breasts.

He narrows her eyes at her as she teases him, not letting it last long before he grabs her bra straps, carefully tugging them down until she’s fully exposed, her bra joining the pile.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, his hands moving to knead her chest without hesitation, and he feels any remnants of blood running straight to his crotch. “Way better than I imagined. Perfect, even,” he mutters, hastily leaning his head down to capture one of her buds in his mouth, swirling his tongue as he groans around her.

Giggling at his haste, she keeps both hands tangled in his hair, her back arching slightly towards his mouth. “Mm, baby, you gonna stay there forever?” she breathlessly murmurs with a grin, watching as he spends at least a few minutes lavishing at her chest.

“God, I could get used to you calling me that,” Bellamy groans, finally letting his mouth leave her chest. “I’m coming back to you two. Mark my words,” he mutters, giving her a final squeeze before he sits back on his haunches. He fumbles around with his toolbelt, mindlessly throwing it - along with the gun nestled in it - somewhere in his bedroom, before his hands begin to work at his zipper.

She looks up at him, biting her lip at the obvious tent in his cargos. She decides to occupy herself whilst he’s busy, undoing her own zipper and lifting her hips, wiggling out of her pants. They both finish undressing at the same time, gazing at one another with massive grins as they take in the sights.

“Shit, I can’t fucking wait to be inside of you, princess,” Bellamy blurts out, his curls loosely falling across his forehead as he leans over her again, his hands roaming her hips with intent.

Her lips part at his words, a little shocked, but she's not sure what else she was expecting him to say. “You can’t just say things like that,” she whispers breathlessly, grinning up at him as she pushes back his curls.

“Yeah? Why can’t I?” he mutters, catching her wrist in his hand and pressing a lingering kiss to her palm. He looks down at the space between them, the sight of her in just her panties sending him borderline insane. “Any- fuck, any other time I would usually love a little foreplay, but I’ve literally been waiting a year for this, and I don’t think I can wait another second,” he huffs with a grin, looking down at her for approval.

She nods in agreement, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and tugging him down, sealing their lips together in another kiss. It’s much more desperate now, their shared hunger evident in the way their tongues bind together, a mess of pants and pent up longing. His fingers hook into the sides of her underwear, tapping her hips twice so she lifts them, before slowly pulling her panties down her legs, his lips never leaving hers.

Bellamy reaches his hand carefully between her legs, caressing her hip for a moment before finding the spot between her thighs, the tip of his middle finger sliding through her folds. He groans against her mouth, elated to be greeted by a slickness evidently just for him. “D’you always get this wet,” he mutters against her mouth, pressing sloppy kisses against her lips between his words.

She gasps quietly at the contact, shaking her head. She definitely is not usually this aroused, and she’s certain it’s because of how long her body has been waiting to feel this specific set of hands against her skin.

“Oh, yeah?” he grins cockily, moving his lips to her neck once more. “So this is all for me, princess? Just me?” he teases, his fingertip lightly caressing her now, teasingly moving around and avoiding where she needs him most.

“Yeah,” she whispers, her hand tugging on his hair, desperate for more contact. “Bell, I thought you said no foreplay,” she whines.

He beams at her whine, feeling a rush of pride at how quickly he can reduce her to a mess of desperation, even on their first time together. “Yeah, yeah, I got you,” he murmurs against her neck, reaching his hands down to free himself from the confines of his boxers. He groans as the cold air hits his skin, slowly positioning himself between her thighs. A quiet moan leaves her lips at the sensation of the head of his cock running between her folds before he slowly sheathes himself fully, having to bite down on her shoulder to muffle his moan.

She can’t help but whimper at the sheer size of him, her eyes widening as he eventually bottoms out. She hadn’t had the chance to actually see him before he conjoined their bodies, but god, she can feel every inch and crevice of him, pressed snugly against the wall of her cervix.

“Fucking hell, you’re tight,” he grunts, gritting his teeth as he pulls back from her neck, watching the space between their bodies. He slowly pulls all the way out, before pushing back in, his hands on her waist keeping her steady. “Couldn’t ever conjure up a dream this good,” he mutters, his voice strained.

A moan is all she can let out, her brows furrowed as he steadily begins to move. She’s on the same wavelength as him, trying to register that this is really happening, she’s not dreaming, and her best friend is definitely fucking her.

He moves to grip her thigh with one hand, pulling it up around his waist as he finds a rhythm, deepening himself within her. His strokes are steady and forceful, each one perfectly designed to elicit that sweet moan from her lips as he works, his thighs tensing with the exertion. “Mine,” he growls, punctuating his words with a particularly harsh thrust.

She whimpers sharply at his words, her legs curling around his waist, heels digging into his ass as he picks up the pace. She reaches for him again, one hand gripping his bicep as the other grasps his hair. “Oh my god,” she moans, her eyes slipping closed as her back arches up towards him. “Fuck, there’s perfect.”

Bellamy grins at her moans, a rush of satisfaction coursing through his veins. He angles his hips to replicate his previous thrust, driving into her from that same position. “Right here, princess?” he groans out, his other hand holding her hip with a bruising pressure, feeling her clench around him. “Oh, yeah, you liked that, huh? Lookin’ so gorgeous beneath me, fucking perfect, every inch of you.”

The room fills with the sounds of skin slapping against skin, her moans gradually increasing in octave as he learns his way around her body, figuring out what works best for her. His cock slides in and out with ease, twitching within her as his tip smacks against her womb, letting him know just how deep he is. She can barely think straight, her mind a whirlwind of Bellamy, Bellamy, Bellamy. Her eyes open once more, instantly met with his own warm brown ones looking back at her, his gaze unwavering as he studies her expression, committing every movement of her face to memory. He grins wolfishly at her as she looks at him, driving his hips into her with a newfound force, desperate to see her face contort with a release.

Unexpectedly, he sits back on his calves, bringing her with him. His hand moves to her lower back, looking up at her as he quickly encourages her to move with him. “There you go, princess,” he mutters, one hand holding her hip to guide her. She obeys, of course, her nails digging into his shoulder blades, imprinting crescent moons into his skin as she moves her hips on top of him, whining loudly whilst he drives up into her, meeting every thrust she makes. “Good girl, fuck, so pretty like this.”

The moan that escapes her is borderline deafening as he praises her, her head dropping into the crook of his neck. Her body moves sensually against his, her breasts bouncing against his cheeks with every movement she makes. He presses a kiss against the valley of her breasts, grunting as he feels the coil in his stomach tightening. “I love you,” he mutters against her skin, his tongue darting out to taste her. “So fucking much. Should’ve done this so long ago, baby, god, should’ve done this back at the dropship,” he moans, twitching inside of her as his release rapidly approaches.

She whimpers relentlessly against his neck, her hand bunching up his hair so tightly she’s worried she might rip it out. She would respond if she could, but she’s too focused on the pleasure he’s giving her, feeling drunk on every jolt of his cock within her.

Bellamy whines a little at the grip on his hair, his head tilting back as he uses all of his strength to pound up into her. He keeps one hand on her lower back, the other reaching down to find her clit, rubbing tight circles against her, needing to feel her come around him. “So close, princess,” he gasps, his free hand moving down to grip at her ass, kneading it between her fingers. “So fucking close. Gonna come and make you mine for good, yeah? Nobody’s gonna say shit about you anymore,” he moans, his head still thrown back.

Nodding rapidly, she pulls back too, her eyes roaming his exposed neck as she continues moving, despite the ache in her thighs. The sight of his Adam's apple bobbing, the small stubble gracing his chin and mouth, the way his lips are parted, it’s all too much. His tongue darts out to lick his upper lip, swiping across the scar there, and she can’t take much more, tugging his hair to smash her lips against his yet again.

He groans against her mouth, unable to keep himself upright as he falls fully against the bed, his back hitting the mattress. From here, he can angle his hips to drive up into her at a brutal force, her ass smacking against his thighs with every thrust. He can feel her walls tightening around him, knowing he’s just as close as she is.

“Come with me, princess. Let me make you feel good,” he whispers against her lips, her clit dragging against his pelvis with every harsh pound he delivers to her.

It's not long before he’s thrusting in harshly one final time, coming with a loud grunt of her name and spilling deep into her womb, painting her as his.

His orgasm spurs on her own, her body convulsing around him as she comes, his tongue swallowing her moans, along with a muffled screech of his name. She pants heavily, pulling away from his mouth and collapsing against him, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. “Holy fucking shit,” she whispers, pressing a soft kiss to his tanned skin.

He huffs out a laugh, his pupils wide with bliss, wrapping his arms around her as she collapses. “Yeah, holy fucking shit,” he repeats, his hand slowly running up and down her back, trying to soothe her trembling body. “You okay?” he whispers, pressing a kiss to her hair. “Was that okay?”

She grins against his chest, her eyes closing and her body relaxing. “That was more than okay,” she whispers, slowly lifting her hips so he slips out of her, softening now, the both of them able to get more comfortable. “You’re like…way better than I imagined,” she teases.

“Oh, you thought I’d be bad, huh? I don’t have a reputation for nothing,” he smirks, sitting up with her in his arms and shuffling them around so they're pressed against the pillows, her head on his chest. the slight sheen of sweat over the planes of his muscles isn’t a bother, an overwhelming sense of comfort washing over her.

“Mm, actually, you were totally shit,” she teases, snuggling closer to him, feeling the exhaustion begin to settle in.

“Liar,” he grins.

“We’ll see,” she mutters tiredly, echoing their previous words. “But, for the record, I love you, too.”

congrats if u made it this far <3 ty for reading i promise they’ll get better 😔

#blake.txt * ˚ ✦#xrated.txt * ˚ ✦#myfics.docx * ˚ ✦#bellamy blake fluff #bellamy blake smut #bellamy blake fanfiction #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake #the 100 #bellamy blake x female reader

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bisexualiteaa · 9 months ago

Note

DESPERATELY needing a sequel to the sex pollen! Fic,,, they keep the chems and cooper takes some either on purpose or by accident and poor vaultie is going to have to consider restraining him 👅 he's too feral (in the BEST sense)

A Flame in Your Heart Pt. 2

Cooper Howard x Fem Reader (SMUT!!)

CW: established relationship, cursing, NSFW MDNI, slight deviation from TV show, slight OOC Cooper, perverted thoughts, oral (fem recieving) drug use, alcohol use, dub-con (from drug use but consent is very clearly given!!) sex-chem usage! p in v, p0rn w/o plot, absolute filth, riding, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, multiple irradiated cream pies, fluffy ending, briefly proof read, possible spelling/grammar errors

AN: and just like our man Hancock needing love, had to make sure ol’ Coop got some love too. 😉 I’m glad this one has done so well! I hope I did your ask justice Anon! Thank you again for your request and I hope you enjoy the absolute FILTH that is this sequel. 👅

After your accidental discovery of the sex chem that led to your crazy sexcapade, Cooper decided to pocket the borderline heat inducing drug for a later use. He’d be a liar if he said the idea of *him* experimentally taking it hadn’t crossed his mind a plethora of times since the incident. Would it have any effect on him? Would it make him as sensitive and desperate as you were? Or would his body take it in stride like everything else? He figured there was really only one way to find out the answer to his curiosities. So one night, when you hadn’t any bounties the next day, were stocked on supplies and just had a chance to stay and hole up at the mini-mart, that’s exactly what he did. He popped it, chasing it with whatever liquor was on hand at the time in his flask hidden in his duster, waiting for it to start to take effect.

In the time that he had taken the pill without your knowing, you were running around cleaning the place up some, and then making dinner. Little did he know, you had snuck one for yourself just a little prior when he wasn’t looking, also thinking that tonight would be the perfect night to go all out like the last time. He smirked to himself as he watched you run around everywhere, watching your hips sway as you walked, paying close attention to your ass that was mostly covered in the shorts you were wearing, save for the bottom part of your ass cheeks that poked out some and the back of your bare thighs each time you’d bend over. It had been a while since the last time you two had a chance to do anything intimate other than a short quickie in fear of raiders catching you in, quite literally, a vulnerable position. It was as his eyes began to linger and follow you that he started feeling the unbearable heat you complained about, coupled with the way that he was now painfully hard in his pants in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. He contemplated walking up behind you and pressing himself against you to make it known, yanking your little ripped up shorts and panties down and taking you right then and there, but he resisted. Damn was he hard as fuck though. It was actually beginning to become a bit of a problem for him, he couldn’t move without it brushing against the fabric of his pants, or seem to find a way to sit comfortably unless he had his legs spread. Then he’d think about how pretty you’d look on your knees, not caring about the dirt on the floor as you’d sit between his legs with his fat cock in your mouth. He grunted softly to himself as he slid his hand into one of his pockets incase you would turn around to look at him and see the tent in his pants.

Little did he know that you were doing some of the teasing things on purpose, bending over in front of him when you didn’t need to, taking off your shirt when you complained about it being too hot. You were about ready to skip dinner to head straight for dessert, but you knew you had to play this out, and you needed to play it smart. Poor Cooper on the other hand wasn’t holding up as well as he thought he would, it was as if it got worse and worse in cruel phases. First is the absurdly high body temperature, higher than normal. Then came the perverted thoughts he couldn’t shake as he stared at you, then the throbbing to his dick, and it only intensified the longer he went without some form of relief.

“I ever tell you ya look damn good in them shorts, sugar?” He asked, practically staring holes into you as you’d bent over in front of him to pick up a few stray things off the floor. “Plenty of times, but I’ll always take some more compliments. They’re a hot commodity when they come from you” you said back a little too flirtatiously as you stood back up far too slowly for it not to be intentional, paired with a mischievous grin to match and his dick damn near jumped in his pants. “You bend over one more god damn time, I ain’t responsible for what happens next, little lady” he threatened, making you give a sound of intrigue at his threat before giggling as a heat coursed through your body from the thought. Being bent over the couch again as your legs were spread and his hand rested in your hair wasn’t a half bad spot to find yourself in. In fact you craved that, hoping the chem would help you release that inner whore he liked so much. “Don’t threaten me with a good time. Is it a “not making it through dinner” kinda night tonight then?” You asked teasingly before he did a “come hither” motion with his finger, urging you closer to him before patting his lap for you to take a seat on. “It’s a “not even making it to dinner” kinda night sweetheart. And I don’t think I’m the only one thinkin’ I’d rather have dessert first for a change” he said, making you grin even wider and god how he just wanted to make those pretty eyes of yours roll into the back of your head. You climbed onto his lap, straddling his legs as you sat down with a grin, your hands roaming his chest and beneath his duster to signal him to remove it as you leaned in close. “Well then take it if you want it so bad, honey” you challenged, making him give an amused hum in response before leaning up and pulling you into a needy, heated kiss. You smiled into it as you rolled your hips against his, earning a deep, guttural groan as his hands soon found purchase on your ass, roughly squeezing it in his large hands. He enjoyed the moans that left you from his rough treatment as he made your hips continue to roll against his as your hands traveled along his chest. “I see what left ya so needy for me, took one of them lil’ Date Nights you were trippin’ on a while back. Been achin’ to fuck you stupid” he said, making you giggle as his lips found the sensitive skin of your neck. “Mmm…well we’re certainly in for a treat. ‘Cause I took one too” you replied, making him chuckle.

It didn’t take long before Cooper found his way between your legs, what you hadn’t been expecting was the fact that he had you sat down on his face. Sure he’s eaten you out before, but for a man who needed to feel in control and dominant in just about every situation in life, it was nice to let that go for a little bit. “Fuck! Oh god, Cooper…” you moaned as his tongue violated you, sinking deep into your entrance, then working its way up to tease your clit. You sighed blissfully as your hips rolled against the wet muscle, making him groan as you used him. His hands gripped your thighs roughly, keeping you against him and allowing you to do what you needed to seek release as he devoured you like you were his last meal. “So good f’ me” he rasped out before going to suck on your clit, leaving you screaming for him as it brought you closer. You were embarrassed by how fast the knot in your stomach was already close to snapping, blaming the chem for the way it’d get you so worked up you’d be cumming quicker than you normally do. Or at least you would be if it didn’t feel so damn good. He moaned into you at the taste of you, watching all the faces you made from beneath you so he had the perfect view of you, listening to all your pretty sounds, it was all too much for him to handle with such a powerful chem in his system. You felt him groan into you as you came on his tongue, feeling his body move to buck his hips into the air as he reached his peak without a single touch. You sighed happily as you worked yourself down from cloud nine, bucking your hips against his tongue gently before finally letting up and letting him move. “Well ain’t that somethin’” he said as you both shifted lower to straddle his lap before seeing cum painting his lower stomach and still leaking from his cock that twitched with need.

You gave an intrigued chuckle at the sight, taking his heavy cock in your hands and working it up and down, using his cum as lube. He hissed at the sensitivity he normally never felt, he usually had a remarkably quick recovery time if he wanted to go multiple rounds, but it was apparent that this chem had all sorts of effects that made him feel human again. “Been a long time since I had that happen” he said, making you grin. “Kinda hot if you ask me” you replied, making him give a raspy laugh in response as he softly tapped your ass to get you to stop using your hand already and ride him. He watched as you sank down onto him, moaning as you felt him stretch your walls out before he cruelly slammed himself the rest of the way inside of you. Your body jolted from the sudden intrusion, white hot electricity climbing up your spine from it before he was moving you at his own brutal pace. “Ain’t got time for subtleties here, darlin’, certainly ain’t got the patience to go slow” he said, and judging by the loud moans and way your eyes were rolling to the back of your head already as his tip bullied the apex to your cervix, he figured that was alright by you. “Cooper! Holy shit…” you managed to say through your moans as your hands rested against his chest, doing all you could to hold on for dear life as he used you like a sex toy. “Fuck sugar, always squeezin’ me so damn tight, even after all the times I fuck you” he commented, enjoying the way your face would twist up in momentary pain each time he’d first slide in like he was too big for you to handle. He always loved that, enjoying the way you’d eagerly prove you could take it all, hungry to have him balls deep so that he could reach all those spots inside of you your fingers couldn’t reach. The sound of skin harshly slapping skin, the squelching of your pussy as he drilled into you from below you and your shared pants and moans filled the air like a symphony of pure, unadulterated sin. You just couldn’t get enough of it, and neither could Cooper.

He groaned as he looked down at the sight of his cock disappearing inside of your tight cunt, watching as a ring formed around the base of him from your excitement. He always wondered how a sweet thing like you managed to fall for such a depraved man like himself, but it was moments like this that reminded him that you weren’t as sweet as you lead on to be. He watched as you sat back on the haunches of your feet, your thighs jiggling, tits bouncing as your eyes clenched shut from bliss. “Huh-uh, eyes on me pretty lady” he said, pulling your attention down to him, your half lidded gaze falling upon him made him about ready to cum again if he wasn’t careful. Your mouth hung partially open as your brows furrowed from pleasure, and judging by the pitch of your moans and how close together they were getting, he could tell you were close. “Come on baby, cum for me. Wanna see that pretty face twist up and scream for me” he said, making you bite your lip as your mind clouded over, not a single thought in your head save for his name falling from your lips. “Cooper! Gonna cum, gonna cum!” You warned, your hands coming to you with your breasts to add some stimulation to send you over the edge. “That’s it, go ‘head. Let go f’ me” he responded, talking you through it as your legs clamped against the outsides of his thighs, your walls squeezing around him as you came with a scream of his name.

He wasn’t much farther behind, a few sloppy, uncoordinated thrusts later and your walls were painted with his seed, a groan leaving him as he throbbed inside of you, feeling you milk him for all he could give you. You looked at each other, gasping for air and sweat lightly collecting along your skin but it wasn’t enough to sate the beast inside you both. So rather than enjoying the after glow, you were being manhandled into a new position. This time you were on the couch, on your hands and knees as he lined himself up to your leaking hole from behind. His fingers collected his spend that was dripping from you and down the insides of your thighs, grinning as he pushed it back inside. “Bet you’d love if I fucked a cute little baby into you, wouldn’t ya?” He asked, and the thought sent a pleasant tingle straight to your core at the idea of being bred. You whimpered as he teased his tip up and down your slit, collecting your combined cum together as lube as he chuckled. “Too bad them days are gone” he said, soon lining himself up to your entrance finally and pushing in with little resistance. You moaned and arched your back as he sheathed himself in one thrust, your hands clenching the arm rest of the couch as support. “Don’t mean we can’t practice incase they ain’t” he said, starting his brutal pace once more, leaving you slack jawed as your head tilted back to moan from how he hit all sorts of spots inside of you that you loved. “Yes! Want that so bad” you moaned, making him chuckle. “I bet you do” he replied with a smirk, his hands gripping your hips once more as he fucked you, watching your ass and thighs jiggle from the force of his hips meeting yours. “Wanna be bred, have my babies?” He asked, making you whimper as your walls tightened around him at the thought. “Want that so bad, please!! Knock me up” you moaned, truly lost in a whole different world from the pleasure. He gave a dry chuckle, enjoying the way you were so honest and so carefree when it came to sex, it was like you were a whole different person when he was inside of you. “Bet you do, such a good little whore for me ain’tchya?” He asked, making you moan once more at the use of praise and degradation together for something so blissfully sinful. “Yes! All yours, Cooper” you replied through your pants and gasps as he angled his thrusts to press against that sweet bundle of nerves deep inside of you that drove you crazy.

He watched as you began to melt, lowering your upper body down and leaving your ass up to create the perfect arch for him to keep hitting it. “Yeah, ya like that spot, sweetheart?” He asked, as if the answer wasn’t obvious but he was a little lost himself in it all, never the type to ramble so much during sex but you both realized that chem could do some pretty interesting things. “Yes!! Don’t stop, don’t stop! I’m so fucking close!” You pleaded, and who was he to deny you when you looked this good for him? He gave a devious grin as his hand reached down into your hair, pushing your face into the couch cushions. Not enough to suffocate you, but enough to establish just who was in charge this time. Despite your face being held into the couch, your moans were still loud as ever, not that he’d ever complain. “Cooper!!” You cried as you came powerfully around his dick, your walls squeezing him tight as your release gushed and covered his cock, sending him tumbling over the edge himself as he spilled inside of you once more. “Fuck…I love it when you do that” he said, tapping your outer thigh as a signal to move positions, lazily flipping yourself on your back as he kicked your legs apart once more, already ready to go at it again. “Can gimme one more, yeah sugar?” He asked you, and he knew like this, you’d give him anything he ever asked for. So it was no surprise that your legs locked around his hips as he slipped inside of you for the third time that evening.

As an hour or two soon came to pass, you weren’t exactly sure how long it’d been, time was completely lost on you at this point, you both were just happy to have found yourselves finally sated from the powerful effects of the chem. You both panted, looking at each other with grins at the fact that the most memorable night of your relationship had just occurred once again. “That will never NOT be fun” you replied, making him laugh dryly as he took a swig from his flask before offering it to you once he was finished. You happily accepted as you took a few sips from it, unsure whether it eased or burned your tired throat even more but you didn’t care, it was something at least. “Been thinkin’ whether it’d actually work for me like it did for you, guess we got that answer” he said as he got up to find something to clean yourselves up with, making you laugh in response. “Well, was certainly my kinda date night” you said, watching him walk back over with a wet rag in hand to clean you up then himself before slipping his briefs back on and his shirt. “Too bad dinner’s cold now” you said, making him shrug nonchalantly, earning an eye roll from you as you slipped your underwear and a shirt back on, then dished out two bowls of your famous stew he loved so much. “If it’s made by you, ain’t nothin’ out there that could possibly ruin it” he said, kissing your head sweetly as you handed him his bowl, both of you sitting back on the couch together.

You leaned your head against his shoulder with a soft, happy smile while you watched some of the tapes left behind to play in the TV, having something akin to the wasteland version of movie night. His arm draped around you to pull you into his side, keeping you close to him as he smiled softly down at you. He couldn’t believe that he managed to snag one hell of a woman out here in the wastes, but one thing was for sure, he certainly wasn’t letting you go now or ever.

#cooper howard #fallout #cooper howard x reader #fallout x reader #cooper howard smut #the ghoul #asks #fallout smut #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul smut

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jaynahh · 1 year ago

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# you confessed to kabukimono, scaramouche, and wanderer

(seperated)

# scaramouche

# kabukimono

"love?"

his doe eyes were blown wide at your confession, though it didn't take long for a smile to take over his expression.

"aw, you're so sweet. i wouldn't choose anyone else to be my companion!"

oblivious.

before you could explain yourself, he took your hand in his and lead you near a tree. he suddenly bent down and picked a flower. once he stood up, he held the flower with both hands, offering it to you.

"ah, i love you too..."

his mouth hung open, thinking of other words to say, but nothing came out. he clearly had no experience. after a moment, he spoke.

"i've heard that when two people love each other, they give each other flowers. oh, speaking of flowers, i've recently tried this one tea flavor made with this one flower–i should make it for you sometime."

um, he's quite innocent.

in conclusion, kabukimono does in fact love you too. he just doesn't have a full grasp of what love means yet.

(ooc, he is soft for u)

you did it. you finally admitted your feelings for him. not gonna lie, it was scary. in fact, you were borderline hyperventilating as you awaited his response, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

you two were next to each other. so close, yet so far. you couldn't see his expression from the way you stared at the ground in anticipation. the silence was eating you up inside, and you couldn't handle much longer.

"look at me."

his voice snapped you out of your thoughts, taking a moment to register his request.

"...just for a moment," he spoke.

though his voice was quieter than usual, it didn't help with your racing heartbeat and uneven breathing. you fidgeted with your hands, weighing your options, hesitating before lifting your gaze from the ground to his face. your body tenses subconsciously, preparing for his wrath and uncaring behavior.

his eyes widen upon seeing your expression. you were crying. why are you crying? he wants to ask, yet he stops himself. he notices you tense up. were you scared of him? he instead takes a different approach.

"keep looking, please."

he knew how you would always avoid eye contact. he hated it. it always irritated him how he'd never get to see your face, how you'd always hide when he wanted to see your expression the most.

"i'm not mad. i... i won't yell at you."

without much thought, his hand went up to your face–his heart broke at the sight of you flinching, regret filled his mind thinking of the times he'd been harsh towards you–his thumb brushing your tears away.

"i might," he stammered, "i might feel the same."

in conclusion, scaramouche never knew about his feelings towards you until he saw the tears on your face. he needs time to process his newfound feelings.

# wanderer

he wants to make sure that you know what you'd be getting yourself into. him, out of all people? are you out of your mind?

he pursed his lips, analyzing your expression and body language. inside, he really doesn't know how to respond. he doesn't really believe it.

"are you sure?" he asked.

"why wouldn't i be?" you respond.

his mind was racing with so many questions. "but, you know how i'm like." it's true, you two have hung out on multiple occasions. he had never put up a front with you–or with anyone, for that matter. you know his true self well. so, why?

deep, deep down, he may be a tad bit insecure. just a little. okay, he feels like he doesn't deserve love–he doesn't deserve you.

"do you really want to live with my annoying remarks for the rest of your life?" he crosses his arms and tilted his head, making him seem judgemental in a negative way–but he's worried. just a little worried about you.

he's not sure if he's able to trust someone to that extent, but with you... of course he loves you. he's just scared.

scared for one, that you'd get sick of him and hate his attitude, and two, you'd get taken away from him too.

he's warning you, but he's secretly hoping you'd ignore all his warnings. he needs a hug.

in conclusion, he always had an interest in you, though he hid it quite well. he never acted on those feelings in fear that you'd leave him.

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receedingdawn · 5 months ago

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Cookies And Acrylic

Pairing: Logan x Reader

Summary: When anxiety keeps the art teacher awake at night, she comforts herself with late-night shenanigans and a surprise guest.

Warnings: OOC for Logan (Sorry he can be IMPOSSIBLE to write for but I love him dearly, fluff, pining

Word Count: 2k+

A/N: I'm so sorry I wrote this at like 1 am because I could not sleep, very fitting for this one shot though... Also unedited because I didn't feel like it!

Read on AO3

Groaning as you twisted and turned in bed, you rolled over to check the time. It was one of those nights where no matter how hard you tried to lift into that blissful rest you so desperately craved, it never came. A pitiful sound escaped you as the clock read two in the morning, too late to have a good night's rest, yet too early to be up. Rolling back over, you contemplated your next actions for a few seconds. Sleep never came easy, especially during the nights that you were kept up with anxiety.

When asked to help out at Charles’ school for the gifted, you instantly agreed. You knew how the rest treated mutants of the world, you practically leaped at the opportunity to help out. It was a harsh world they were born into, and you made it your goal to help as many out as you could. How much stress the job would give didn’t dawn on you when you started. Nights like this where you lay awake, your mind stuck on the endless probabilities of the children being hurt while in your care. You knew the rest of the team would be there to help if anything happened, but anxiety doesn’t always need a reason to happen. It just does.

Deciding to walk around the building to calm yourself, you got out of bed with a sigh. You changed your sleep shorts into flannel pajama pants in fear of a student discovering you wandering around the school in the middle of the night. The last thing you wanted to do was accidentally traumatize a student with their half-naked teacher roaming the halls in the early hours of the morning. Sliding your feet into a pair of slippers, you made your way out of the room to begin your adventure around the perimeters.

It was incredibly calm with the habitants of the house fast asleep, keeping the building at an eerily quiet tone as you wandered the rooms. You padded to the kitchen, in search of a glass of water and maybe a late-night snack. At this point, would it be considered an early morning snack? You didn’t care enough, all you knew was that a secret tin of baked goods was calling your name. Ororo had been into town a few days before, stopping at a bakery on the way home. She had selflessly bought a pack of assorted goods for her fellow teachers on the way home, hiding them in the back of the pantry as to ward off sneaky students.

Taking a simple chocolate chip cookie out, you decided that instead of water, of course, you needed milk with it. Even though you were well into adulthood, no single person could be too old for the comforting taste. You grabbed a random mug from the cabinet, pouring yourself a glass before sitting down at the kitchen table in silence.

Holy shit.

Ororo wasn’t lying when she said the bakery was the best she had ever been too. It had been a few days since she brought them home, yet the taste could still bring tears to your eyes. You had no idea such a regular-looking cookie could be borderline orgasmic.

“Am I interrupting something?” The rough voice awoke you from the temporary trance the heavenly treat had you in. Your eyes snapped to the dark doorway of the kitchen, noticing the gruff man. Logan was leaning on the side of the frame, his arms crossed while his eyebrow was cocked playfully. You chuckled to yourself for a moment, realizing the absurd position the man had caught you in.

“You might be, I was having some sweet alone time with the newfound love of my life,” you giggled, pointing to the half-eaten cookie. Logan rolled his eyes as he sauntered into the kitchen, making his way to the pantry. He opened up that tin you had just been in, grabbing himself a helping. Shooting a look in your direction, he held up the cookie as if wordlessly saying “It better be good” before taking a bite.

“Holy fuck, what the hell did they put in here?” The man let out in the middle of chewing, his voice muffled by the crumbs. You stared at him for a second before bursting out into laughter at his unusual response. Logan was always one for seriousness, you had never seen this side of him before. The severe nature of the man never bothered you, it drew you in. He fascinated you with his witty remarks and lack of social interaction with the others. Logan was an outcast in a place where no such thing existed, and you had always wanted to figure him out. Jean would call you out on those thoughts, saying it was a crush, but the word made you feel like a school girl following around her boy of the week.

“I think Ororo said there was a sign in the shop that said Made with EXTRA love, but I honestly think it might be drugs.” You said after finally getting a hold of your laughter, causing the man to crack a slight grin. God, if you could take a picture there and frame it, you would. He never smiled, he smirked, but never a true smile.

“Definitely drugs,” Logan remarked, finishing the last of his cookie. He wiped the excess crumbs off his hands and rolled up his sleeves to wash his hands in the kitchen sink. You did your best to not make it obvious you were staring at the veins in his arms as he lathered them up.

“What are you doing up?” You asked him, forcing yourself to think about something other than his well-built body. The man quickly dried his hands before facing you again, “Couldn’t sleep.” There was the Logan you knew best, the one who gave short answers with little to no context. You cocked a brow at him, telling him that answer wasn’t good enough.

“Nightmares,” He let up after a few moments, finally giving you an answer. Shooting him an understanding look, you got up to clean your mug and throw away the napkin your snack had been on.

“I get it, between my nightmares and anxiety I rarely ever sleep.” You responded, voice low with the admittance. The man nodded in understanding, knowing exactly what you meant. He was well acquainted with the nightly battles one who had been through the events either of you had been though fought every night. Logan was surprised to feel he felt bad for you, even though the admission wasn’t a surprise to him. Most who lived at the mansion had some sort of trauma to get through and lived with the reminders of it each day. He was more surprised that it didn’t cross his mind you struggled with it. You were a light in the mansion, both students and other teachers adoring you. It was completely understandable, in a world of chaos and unknowns you were a beacon to everyone. Your kindness and warmth radiated to all those who were in your vicinity, and they did not take it for granted.

“I’m in the same boat princess,” Logan said, moving himself away from the sink to give you room to clean the dirty dish. You both sat there while you scrubbed, the sound of the faucet filling up the silence. He just stood there, watching you as you worked. It wasn’t an uncomfortable feeling, it almost felt as if he was studying you.

“Are you going back to bed?” You asked after putting the now clean and dry mug back into the cabinet. Shaking his head no, Logan made his way to the hallway to go back to whatever he was doing before interrupting you. You called out after him before he left, causing him to turn around.

“Have you ever painted?”

In the over a millennium he had been alive, Logan Howlett never thought he would be caught dead with a paintbrush in his hand. He had no idea why he agreed to a painting lesson in the early hours of the morning. Logan knew everyone at the school was equally obsessed with you, which resulted in him usually keeping his distance. He knew you were a gorgeous and kind individual, but he never caved to his urge to get to know you.

“You’re psyching yourself out, it’s written all over your face, Lo.” His gaze snapped from the small tool to you in an instant. You had never called him by a nickname before, and the way it rolled off your tongue sounded like music to him. He gripped the paintbrush with such a force you had never seen before, causing you to almost let out a giggle. Sitting on your bed, cross-legged, with a brush in his hand, he looked extremely out of place. A man with hands the size of his had no business being even close to a paintbrush, let alone using one. The jeans and white tank top he practically had glued onto his body at all times had no business being on your bed, but he had no complaints if it meant he got to spend a few moments with you.

“Just follow my lead, okay?” How could he follow your lead when you worked so meticulously? The man just stared at you as you worked, your talented hand shaping out a small tree on the canvas. He stared for a few moments, coming to the realization he could watch you for hours and not get bored. Didn’t people say watching paint dry was excruciatingly dull?

“You’re worse than my students,” you joked, noticing the lack of paint on his canvas.

“None of your students have metal for bones, it makes it harder,” You both knew Logan was just coming up with excuses to get away with his little creative talent.

“I have a boy in one of my classes who had feet for hands, you’re pulling things out of your ass Logan.” He was caught there.

“Enough, just help me.” His hazel eyes shined playfully, holding out his hand to help him again. You rolled yours back in response, leaning over to help him. Taking a hold of his hand, you guided his movements on the canvas. Your breath caught as you felt how strong Logan felt under you, despite him letting you be in control.

You couldn’t help but feel that it was almost domestic, the two of you sitting on your bed in silence while participating in your favorite activity. No answer as to why he would agree to this came into your head, but you weren’t mad.

“Alright Edward Scissorhands, your turn to try by yourself. You can be a big boy and do it yourself, can’t you?” Teasing him, you went back to your work. It was a simple scene of the courtyard out back, showing off the gorgeous greens of the trees. Logan couldn’t help himself but watch you, continuously messing up his own work in the meantime. After finishing yours, you looked up, noticing the mess left on the man's canvas.

“I tried,” He shrugged his shoulders in embarrassment.

“I know you did,” Your genuine response took him by surprise. Logan assumed you were going to have some cute quip to respond with, but this one was different. Not everyone was cut out for making art, but he had tried. Never in a million years would anyone who knew Logan would think he would even think about partaking in a hobby. Yet here he was, getting out of his comfort zone (while multitasking and checking you out).

You helped him finish his painting to the best of your ability, yet it came out comparable to Charlie Brown’s old Christmas Tree. Logan knew he had no creative bone in his body, but boy did he try his best. You joked that his finished product was similar to Charles’ old burnt tree in the courtyard, and he chuckled in response. He signed his initials at the bottom and dated it as well. You started to pack up the supplies while Logan helped clean off brushes.

“I’m keeping this,” You held up his work while grinning, He groaned in embarrassment at the thought of others coming into your room and wondering what the abomination was.

“Jesus Christ,” Running his hand through his hair, Logan gave you a pointed look. There was no way in hell you wanted to keep his god-awful creation to yourself.

“Listen, in fifty or so years I can sell this for crazy money. A painting made by The Wolverine himself, you could make me rich Lo!” There was that nickname again, and it suddenly made him okay with you taking it.

“So you’re just using me,” He muttered sarcastically, causing you to giggle in response. You handed him your painting as a consolation for your gold digger behavior. Logan would not admit how taken away he was by the action, instead he just stared at you again. You looked back at him curiously, wondering where his words went. He genuinely had no words, it had been a while since someone gave him a gift, even if you wouldn’t consider it.

“Thanks for hanging out with me,” you had just given Logan a masterpiece and that was all you had to say about it? It annoyed him how sweet you were, and he knew this was going to become a problem for him.

“Despite the looks of it, I did have fun. Thanks for making the night bearable, princess.” You both got up, giving each other one last look. In a moment of courage, you stood up on your toes and kissed him on the cheek.

“Thank you, I needed this,” you responded after lowering yourself back down. Logan noticed you blushing at the peck, which almost made him chuckle. Closing the door behind him, you made your way back to bed, hoping you could get at least a few hours before the next day came.

Logan made his way back to his room, studying every paint stroke of yours as he did so. He had never been interested in the arts before and was now obsessing over what he thought to be the second most beautiful thing he had seen in his life. The man concluded that you were the first. He decided to place it on the small table next to his bed, the piece standing out in his sparsely decorated room. Before setting it down, Logan looked at the back of the painting to see the words To: Lo written on it.

Let me know if you guys liked this or not, I don't know how I feel about the ending tbh... To my friend that I admitted to in a Canes that I was writing fanfic again, I love you.

#wolverine x reader #wolverine #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett x you #logan james howlett #hugh jackman #im so sorry i haven't written fanfic in years #i need him so bad

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temis-de-leon · 9 months ago

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Day 20 - Kiss on the hand

Characters: Satan x gn!MC

25 kisses challenge Masterlist

Main Masterlist

CW: emotional intelligence chases Satan, but he's way too fast. Sudden and kind of inappropriate discussion of marriage, established relationship, Satan implied to be taller

A/N: I think this is ooc, but my brain decided to ✨stop✨, so here it is. I still like it, tho

“Is everything okay?”

“Hm?”

MC usually liked when Satan fixed his eyes on them. His stare almost had an academic feeling to it, like he was actually observing and trying to answer questions only he knew, but MC never found themselves being scrutinized. He still looked at them with care and fascination and the glint his eyes wore whenever they shared a moment of comfortable silence reminded them of the human sea and the sunrays bouncing on the water surface.

It was a feeling of being home that only he could bring and MC was far too happy indulging in it.

But this time was different.

He was blushing, distracted by a thought in his mind that, judging by his face, was a rather embarrassing one. He mumbled, shook his head and blushed even more. Was he… arguing with himself?

They had to admit, Satan had been acting strange the whole night. Keeping them close, but not engaging in conversation, holding their chin and staring at their lips, but not kissing them. Showing off their relationship before his peers, flaunting MC’s accomplishments with pride without looking at them.

It wasn’t anger, no, Mc would’ve known had that been the case.

Satan was embarrassed about something. Something involving them.

But what?

“What do you mean?” he asked, interrupting their thoughts.

A horrible liar, he was, cheeks tainted in a deep red and voice strained.

“You haven’t looked at me for hours and now you can’t stop staring”

“Why, can’t I appreciate my partner’s beauty?”

A faint flash of aggravation crossed his features and MC was quick to smile and cup his face.

“Something’s been on your mind” they said gently, enjoying the softness of his skin “What is it?”

The song suddenly changed to an ever slower one and he made sure to discretely move them to the farthest corner of the venue. The bride and the groom, both friends of Satan, walked to the centre of the dancefloor amongst cheers and applauses, the very few lights of the room soon focusing on the newlywed couple and leaving the guests surrounded by darkness. Even though it was a warm summer night, MC hugged Satan’s waist and swayed to the music, smiling when he brought them closer and rested his cheek on their head.

“So?”

MC felt him sigh against their chest.

“Yeah, yeah, I haven’t forgot. It’s just… them”

He slightly turned his face, probably looking at his friends, and MC felt their heart give a violent jump. What was he actually talking about?

“Relax, MC” he said when he senses their tensed body, but that didn’t calm their nerves. Their fingers were tingling, cold sweat running down their back and the uneasiness making them tremble.

Please, please, tell them Satan wasn’t going to propose to them during his friends’ wedding.

“I hope your reaction doesn’t mean you reject the idea of marrying me”

They moved away just enough to be able to look at each other, his breath still reaching them. It had a faint smell of alcohol and MC deeply hoped his words weren’t being fuelled by the influence, though he’d been acting weird since the beginning of the night, before they started drinking.

His apprehensive gaze reminded them he had implied a very important question.

“This is the first time you’ve even mentioned marriage” they said, immediately clarifying themselves to not give the wrong impression “Not that I’m saying no, but this is… this is something!”

Despite talking in whispers, the sincerity and borderline ridiculousness of the conversation brought the attention of a couple of guests. Thankfully, it wasn’t enough to catch the wedding party’s eye, but MC still looked at their boyfriend in panic.

“Yes, I agree, this isn’t the best moment, but I couldn’t get it out of my head”

The seriousness in his voice dried MC’s mouth. They wanted to be mad at him for bringing up such a serious topic in the worst possible scenario, but a part of them jumped in joy at the prospect of being with him forever. Of an official paper signed by Lord Diavolo making it clear to the rest of the world.

“Forgive me, MC, I shouldn’t have talked about it here and now”

He sighed once more, lifting their hand to his lips and kissing the back softly. His eyes stopped at their ring finger for a brief moment and MC’s breath hitched once more.

They didn’t talk much more for the rest of the party, too tired from all the dancing and the socializing and the discussing about potentially spending the rest of their lives together.

But they held each other and they kissed each other and, once they finally got home, they sat down on his bed and talked, not stopping until both of their faces hurt from smiling.

Taglist: @ourfinalisation @owlisbuffering @chizukimp4 @ravenredwine @darkflowerav @craftysclown @mehkers

#obey me #obey me! shall we date?#om! shall we date #om! swd #obey me x reader #obey me x gender neutral reader #obey me x gn!reader #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #satan x reader #obey me fluff #obey me writing #obey me drabble #25 kisses challenge

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s4mu-k41d3n · 9 months ago

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“𝐁𝐔𝐖𝐀𝐍”

by juan karlos

TYPE 2 <> YAN!CHUUYA X GN!READER〰️sypnosis: he’s a lunatic for you. you, only you under the glamour of the yellow moon, under the white light that flicks each breezing step he took, so just only he will love you, yet did you hear his screams? your beauty, reaching the moon lurking at the dark soaring above.

𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 〰️disclaimer: obsessive behavior, stalking, violence, blood, mentions of guns, stalking, bad writing, ooc!chuuya?, sexual themes, not proofread.

౨ৎ₊ ⊹ 〰️notes: I still like have 1 drafts but i have no idea how to start with well ermmm. by the way the song is in a different language/in filipino, i apologize if you don’t understand the lyrics but i can’t think of any more songsD:

He’s yours, you’re his.

You look pretty to his bored sight, the blank eyes deceiving his filthy intentions he discreetly covers your eyes, blinding the rational truth he keeps dead end in his pockets. Are not you his precious little doll? Small words may be spoken, simple acts may be acted, yet it treasures a deeper meaning when he’s along with your bittersweet accompany. Something tingling in his rumbling stomach each time you’re close beside, before, after him. There’s no meaningless difference, merely how his eyes dilate and shape into a beating heart whenever he catches you in his borderline—is a golden routine for every single arise of light and dark. When the moon sets above from the abyss, wherein the sun reflects its glow to light.

He surely adores this part of the day, it never goes out missing in his crumpled calendar. Punctured to his cracked wall. Whether it be the clouds wail, the sun burns, the moon turns to dust—it’s a cycle he would never get tired of despite how many times it repeats in a two’s arrival nor leaving. Who was he to stop loving you? He’ll be the one to chase after you in a zigzag pathway even if led to the below. He’ll sacrifice the world for you, he’ll sacrifice himself just for you. He’d banish from existence just for you and he snaps from delusions.

The moon glamoured your beauty, painting him a canvas of elegance. Chuuya’s eyes shot towards your figure, how alluring you are to trap his heart in your lively aura. An unknown gaze observes, the way your blouse plays with your movements. The way your eyes glimmer in excitement, he watches from afar. He noticed a man in a suit, before you he stands. As if like he’d take you away from his presence, no, no he won’t accept that. Chuuya’s hands slip into his pocket as the glint dies down into envy. Jealousy, arises from his heat. He gritted his teeth, “I’ll break that man’s fucking spine.” His hands clenched, fist forming as he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

The ceremony was along to finally cease, yet Chuuya remained vigilant. He pries to search for that man, who’d be the one receive you first before his? How dare he, he’ll acknowledge his efforts once he sees you again. Softening as he captures you sitting from a distance away. The ceremony came to a halt as guests exited the building, Chuuya leaned against the wall as he only bargained his upcoming plan to murder that disgusting man. He was an executive after all, it’d be an easy job. Won’t it? He excused himself in the crowds of passers as he pinpoints his target, silent as he followed the man’s tracks. Drawing a gun he pockets, lurking in the shadows. Blood spewed out of the victim’s head, falling to the ground as red spills the pavements. Chuuya withdraws his gun as he eyed the dead body lying on the ground as he flees from the scene.

Luckily, he’ll move on to the main part of the day. He strode over to your house as he peeks by the window. He saw you, pupils dilate as you sat on the couch. Removing your shoes you stood up, “Fuck…” Chuuya mumbles under his breath as you went into your bedroom. He knew what was about to come as he trailed towards the room, he’s entertained by your show. Breathing heavily as his hands trembled in anticipation. Your fingers pulling your blouse up as Chuuya’s eyes widened. Cloth dropping to the floor as he saw your semi-naked body. Your skin seemed so flawless, your curves displayed so beautifully. Your pants being slid off only to be in your undergarment as you fold your clothes. Little did you know, a shadow piques to stalk your prints. You let out a breathy sigh, stretching.

“You’re really mine, aren’t you…” Chuuya mutters as he looks at you up and down. So bad, his gloved hands desires to claw on your skin—fangs to bite on your flesh to claim you as his. You dressed a loose shirt and simple shorts, too bad now covering your body his thrill wore down. Your features, he just imagines his hands traveling all over your warmth, his lips pressed up yours as he savors your sweet taste. Tongue exploring your mouth as his sight closed, to just run his tongue along your skin, teeth biting into your delicate neck to be filled with his markings. Yet his time was up, he has to get back to the headquarters—now isn’t this fun? He groans in annoyance as he spared you one last glance of lust and obsession.

He’ll be back for tomorrow, he’s sure.

—

#bsd x reader #bsd x you #bungou stray dogs x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya x you

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mayaree-darling · 2 years ago

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Kissing Bleeding Mouths// Blade

Pairing: Blade x StellaronHunter!Reader Synopsis: He’d call you his associate, but you’re way past the formalities. That’s not the right word for the both of you, anyway, he doesn’t want that to be you and him. You really don’t know what you do to him, do you? Warnings: OOC Blade because I know almost nothing about him and his lore except that I want him to come home (he’s gonna come home I know it it’s a canon event); Can’t do full spicy because I don’t do that stuff so I did a “different” kinda spicy. Not exactly fluffy (I’d say borderline obsessive, if anything, this relationship is toxic y’all) Fic Length: 2.1k~ (Unedited (because I’m tired)) From Aree: Hey, everyone, it’s been a while! Happy to be back. Always wanted to write for gaming fandoms, too, so we’re starting with Honkai Star Rail (I have a Genshin SAGAU fic that’s been in the works for so long now and it’s still a work in progress). I got inspired by a POV playlist I came across on YouTube by greatdain, and this is just a POV under that song that I ended up extending lmao. Anyways, enjoy!

A part of him wishes you knew what you did to him.

Soft smiles and softer laughter only he witnessed in peaceful moments spared during a mission. A joke here and there he thought annoying at first, but found himself thinking about the longer he’s in your absence (he plans on taking it to his grave that he found them all well crafted. Hell would have to freeze over before he let you know it helped him sleep to think of how you made each joke at the spur of the moment). Even gone, you’d still annoy him. So stupid. Stupid and naive you. How did you end up in their group, anyway, so sweet and innocent as you were? How did he end up wrapped around your little finger? A part of him wishes you knew what you did to him. But the logical side of him - the one that only knew the taste of blood and the draw of a sword - it forced him into silence.

Because he didn’t know what you would do with that kind of information.

What would you do had you seen him battle with himself for hours after returning to HQ if he should go and see you? How he all but paced around his room, thinking of a reason to enter yours? And now, here he was, his best effort of holding himself back was trying to walk slower (he wasn’t one for holding himself back in the first place, but the effort is there all the same). But surely you knew, right? Surely you felt his eyes on you as you made your way around a party or sat across him at a meeting, almost desperately trying to catch your eyes and… and what? What was he hoping for? What was he hoping for you to do?

“What do you think you’re doing, Blade?” the question is a whisper, almost a breath you don’t want others to hear, but there was no one to listen but the man himself, and Blade would cut down anything that dared interrupt now.

“Figure it out yourself.” If he had any ounce of honesty and softness in him, he’d admit he wasn’t quite sure himself, but that was just what effect you had on him. Blade remembered looking for you after you left the ballroom to get some air, finding you in a deserted hallway. He doesn’t quite remember how he ended up pinning your wrists to the nearest wall, lips ghosting over the spot where your shoulder meets your neck, waiting. For what specifically, he’s not sure either. You keep making him second-guess himself. He knows he can take you in a fight - your wrists feel so fragile under his fingers - he knows he can take you - you haven’t exactly been trying to fight him off all this time - but still, he hesitates. If he lets himself press his mouth to exposed skin, have a taste of what he’d been denied of for so long in your presence, well, it felt like crossing a line he could never come back from.

“Hmm, if I was going to take a guess, it almost feels like you’re about to eat me.” You’re trying to make light of the situation, as you’ve always done. Yet he does not scoff, or ignore you, or move on from the conversation. Instead, he feels your laughter come to a stop when he sighs into your skin. He agreed, it certainly did feel like he was going to eat you. What would happen if he sunk his teeth into you, nipped at your skin - what else would he break between the two of you besides your flesh?

“What would you do if I did?” He closes his eyes, trying to reel himself in. Maybe he can still control himself. Breathe in, breathe out. He curses silently through gritted teeth. Blade should have known better than to do that. Now he’s enveloped in your scent, the only thing he can feel under his touch is your warmth, it was all you, you, you.

Blades feel you shift in position and instinctively tightens his hold on your wrists. It must’ve hurt - he’s barely aware of how much strength he’s using - but you don’t make a peep. He can’t risk letting you walk out now, even if he still doesn’t know what he’s doing - what happens after you leave him in this hallway? Will he enter HQ tomorrow to find out you’d requested another partner without so much as another word to him? Not that he’d just let things end there - he’d probably make sure you end up his partner again. But he would still prefer to see this conversation through.

He’s pulled back when he feels your breath on his ear. You let out a puff of air - a small laugh - that has him more aware of the situation you’re in. You’re so, so close - and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It wouldn’t be fun if I just answered that, now, won’t it? So let me ask, since you’re the one in control right now, yeah?” Blade’s not sure if you meant to brush your lips to the shell of his ear, but you’re speaking again before he can think of a proper reaction. “What do you want me to do?”

Why would he know what you’d do? All he’s been able to think about is what he’d do to you. A part of him wants to strangle you until you hated him. What have you done to him? Wants to crush you in an embrace so tight he’d permanently feel you in his arms long after you’re gone. Kiss you until he could drown in your bleeding mouth. What did you do? Why is he like this, all because of you?

And all too soon the answer comes to him clearly.Blade’s hands leave your wrists in an instant, instead coming to grab your face, forcing you to meet his eyes. He doesn’t have to see his own expression to know he looks beyond deranged - he can feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth upward into a lopsided grin, eyes blown wide. His thumbs try to gently caress your cheeks, and yet you can both feel him tremble with barely restrained excitement.

“I want you to break,” he ghosts his lips over yours. Where should he bite first? “But I want to be the one to break you.”

It would be so easy to do, too. You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. To make you submit to his every beck and call, have you running to do his very bidding, his words more than gospel the moment they reached you. By the end of this little game of sorts, he’d have you kneeling.

And yet, and yet, and yet.

The automatic doors slide open to let him in and Blade locks it behind him without much thought, like it was second nature, as he has already done time and time before.

You sit on the edge of your bed with your back facing him, one leg spread to the floor and your other knee pulled to your chest, phone in hand, softly humming a tune as you scroll through your messages (was it those damned crew members of the train again?) He can’t help but be aware of every little thing you do, every little thing related to you. He knows that song you’re singing.

He’s heard it played on the streets of Belobog the first time you sang along and he hears it again as you lay next to him the first night you spent together. You may have thought him asleep with his eyes closed and even breathing, but that was your mistake. He listened to you sing that song in the dark, so very aware of your proximity, each small breath you took, an intake of air longer than the rest as you hummed, and every time you made the slightest alteration to your position under the sheets, trying not to “wake” him.

To him, to Blade, it felt like he never truly left that moment in time. Each time he lays down for the night, if he can fool himself enough, he can hear you humming. You’re in bed with him, surely. Just an inch away from touching the tips of your fingers or the edge of your face. He’d kill to even graze at your skin, but he’s not dumb enough to try - he knows the moment he does, the illusion would end, the spell would break, and you and your voice with it.

Blade relishes the sound of your singing now, in the flesh, unhindered by his own imagination. He’s so close now. A few steps and you’re in arms reach. He can just hold his hands out and then… and then…

You raise your head the longer he doesn’t say anything, most likely wondering why he hadn’t made his presence known. Normally he’d stand in your line of sight and stare at you until you finally decide to give him your full attention, be it to go over the mission plans or just to provide him entertainment. The Blade in front of you right now, however… He doesn’t know what face he’s making. Is it carefully blank, or do you see the desperation he’s trying so hard to keep in check?

“Blade? What can I do for you?” you maneuver your body so you’re facing him, but you don’t stand and come closer. You don’t try to close the distance in any way. You stay where you are, on the bed, with him by the door.

And that was the problem.

In few quick and agitated strides, he reaches for your wrist.

“That’s something I don’t hear very often, especially when it’s directed at me,” you laugh like there was nothing wrong with your predicament. Like he didn’t just say he’d rather have you broken than hopelessly in love like he really wanted, like he really craved. “However, you don’t expect me to just accept that without a fight, yes?”

“Of course not,” his thumb grazes at your lip, imagining a cut right straight in the middle. Imagining swiping the blood across your face. Imagining the clean-up afterward. “The process is more than half the fun. I look forward to it already. Do you?”

“I suppose, to an extent, but that’s not what I meant,” you smile tenderly, eyes soft, gently caressing his cheeks. Blade can’t help the feeling that you’re treating him like he’s the only one who’s not in on the joke, the one who just can’t seem to get it. “What makes you think you won’t break first?”

“Blade?”

He looks at your wrist in his hand. So easy to break. Just a quick twist of his own wrist and he’d hear it snap under his fingers, have you crying in his arms. Would he try to soften your crying with murmurs of assurance, or would he tell you to scream louder? He doesn’t get to know the answer.

He holds your wrist like a feather, you must have noticed how lenient he’s being. Tight enough to know its unmistakable presence, but not enough to crush. When was the last time he was aware of how fragile something was?

“Blade? What’s wrong?”

He raises his eyes to meet yours. You don’t flinch, or try to move away. You stare at him, watching his face for anything that might give way to what was going on. Instead of letting you find out anything for yourself, he slowly kneels down until he’s eye level with you.

He all but barks out a laugh. He puts pressure on the tips of his fingers, almost trying to crack into your skull. “Do you really think I’d let myself break first? You’re out of your mind, darling.”

His throat burns at the very idea, bile rising up from his stomach, but he either said it now or lived in secret for the rest of your time together. He thought of marking you in other ways, but this would have to suffice for now.

“I yield.”

He watches as your eyes widen ever so slightly before you smile, ever so slightly, eyes ever so soft. You cup his cheek with your free hand and he all but melts into the attention you’re so willingly giving him. When you lean in, he’s already meeting you halfway, but just before your lips touch, you hold him in place with your hand on his face, mouths just barely grazing the other. He finds himself staring at your eyes which seem to gleam something dark.

He feels your hand slowly creep from his cheek to his hair, softly brushing at strands before tugging - once, twice - at the ends. “Oh, I don’t just think so, Blade.”

You smile like you know a secret he doesn’t, a joke he can’t quite get.

“I know.”

youtube

✨ Masterlist ✨

Taglist: 💛@anime-allover 💛@faeriessky 💛 @prksolon 💛 @dai-tsukki-desu

Disclaimer: Characters are not mine and belong to their respective creators. Their portrayal is merely my own interpretation of them and may not be accurate to their intended characterization. I stake no claim to the original works, only to the ideas and plot of the fictitious stories I’ve written them into.

#Youtube #kissing bleeding mouths #blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #star rail x reader #star rail blade x reader #hsr blade x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x you #reader insert #x reader #honkai star rail blade x reader

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hopeandharmonizing · 2 years ago

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☆ Put this star into the inbox of your favorite blogs. It's time to spread positivity!

:3c Thank you, friend!!!!!! Back at you!!! Do we even have a thread going here? I don't think we do. That should change if you're feeling up to it!!!

#( you just crossed a borderline || ooc )#( screaming like a siren || answered )

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prncssie · 1 year ago

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LEMON TART!

caution! mdni! 11k wrdz, bie is a little bit obsessed with you, he is also a bit ooc :3, black reader <3, fem reader, someone tries to steal your car, pet names, sexual themes, fingering, oral ( f receiving ), overstimulation but barely, you get spanked like once, use of the word cunt, cunny, pussy, i mention you having something pink like eleven billion times bc i luv pink, yes i do add links for outfits but you can totes ignore them, think that’s all lmk if i missed smthing pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

The day he first laid eyes on you, he knew he wanted you.

You’re on your way home from your pilates class, blissfully unaware of the interested eyes on you. Dressed in a baby pink athletic set and glistening with the sheen of sweat, you take a swig of water from the matching pink bottle. The keys to your gray Jaguar convertible dangle at your fingertips.

Truthfully, Hobie doesn’t visit that area much. He’s only there to cure his boredom, in search of a quick fix. When there isn’t a lot of crime to stop or he decides that day he simply doesn’t care enough, he sits in shopping centers. He likes to play this little game and see how many kids he could keep from running into the street without their parents’ watchful eyes.

He has just gotten comfy on his perch after “saving” his third child when he spots you walking out the glass doors of some overpriced gym. The way the sun bounces off your melanated skin almost makes you seem saintly. He swears he even hears angelic singing in the background. Hobie can’t seem to keep his eyes off you while you prance into your car. His chest tugs when you disappear from his sight, seated behind tinted windows. He almost chases after you when you drive off, disappearing into the crowd of other civilians living their mundane lives.

Hobie finds himself having to restrain himself, gripping the ledge of the building. He is already hated in the public eye. No one appreciates his borderline heroic acts, although he wouldn’t call it that himself. They don’t even appreciate the riots he starts in the name of a better world. He couldn’t count the amount of times he’s saved the public from disastrous events but they didn’t care and he didn’t mind. Hobie actually prefers to deviate from what was accepted but he fells this would be too far. To follow an innocent woman on her way home? He would never cross that line, in costume or not.

Instead, he opts for visiting this location every Wednesday at 10:27 AM. Just ten minutes before your class would be released and you’d walk out wearing some cute color that made you look tempting. Each time, you’d be glowing with the aftereffects of a workout and each time he’d have to restrain himself from tailing you. It was his routine. He’d always be in his spot and you’d always be in yours, lives never intersecting.

Until.

Wednesday at 10:24 AM, Hobie sits in his spot. Sometimes he’d look off in the distance and daydream about your future together, sometimes he’d stare at the glass windows and hope to catch a glimpse of you on your way out. It’s just as sunshiney as any other day, the birds accompanying his thoughts of euphoria to spend forever with you.

He kicks his feet over the side of the ledge and swings them aimlessly. Time couldn’t pass any slower, could it? Keeping you from each other, from maybe possibly crossing paths just this once. The thought made him smile. As if you’d ever cross paths. Too many risks with that one.

His eyes land on a man wandering in the parking lot. There is nothing particularly interesting about him but Hobie still feels that itch in his palms, the tickle on the back of his neck. He tilts his head to the side and observes the man slowly making his way through the parking lot. He seems to take a particular interest in the cars across the street. The man never actually touches the cars. He just takes a peak at the back of them, maybe the rear window. It can easily be mistaken for searching for his car in the lot but there isn’t that much traffic. Not to mention, Hobie has enough practice to know better.

He watches the man take one final peak at a familiar gray convertible. So familiar he could spout the license plate off the top of his head or point out the Hello Kitty sticker on the bumper in a room full of them.

Sure Hobie would have swung over even if it wasn’t your car but he couldn’t ignore the intense tug at his heart. He fwips his web over to a light pole and jumps off the building without a second thought. To be honest, he didn’t truly have a plan. The only sound he can hear is the rushing blood in his head and the alarm bells ringing at the back of his brain. Hobie knows he has to stop him and that’s all he has going for him.

“What’cha up to here, man.” He lands on the pavement behind the man, hands on his hips and gesturing to the scene. “Anything I can help with?”

The man’s head snaps up to meet Spider Punk's eyes. He licks his lips and his hand drops hesitantly to his back pocket. “I can’t find the keys to my car and I wanted to see if the doors were unlocked, you know? New technology and this whole push to start thing.”

“Mmm.” Hobie leans forward and peers inside the windows. While he already knew the small details you allowed him indirect access to, he didn’t need everyone else knowing Spider-punk has an infatuation. “You drive a car with a pink steering wheel cover and princess sticker on the dashboard? No judgment.”

The man only huffs. He bucks up to Hobie, nearly shoving him out the way to get to the door handle. “Listen man, I’m just trying to get in my car. What’s it to you? It’s not yours.”

“No but it’s mine.”

Both heads turn to spot you, standing a safe distance away. Your eyebrows are knit together and you're gripping your similarly pink gym bag. You’re wearing a gray set today, hair slicked back and tied down with a matching gray scarf. “What is going on here?”

You feel a burning feeling in your heart, accompanied with the bubbling anxiousness prickling your skin and causing you to sweat a bit more. “What are you doing to my car?”

“Fucking hell.” The man grumbles distastefully. He doesn’t get a chance to run away, already being blasted against the neighboring car and restrained by thick webs. His body is sure to leave a small dent on the door but everyone knows Spider Punk isn’t exactly neat with his approach.

You look accusingly between Hobie and the perpetrator. Of course the one in the getup wasn’t trying to commit grand theft auto but that doesn’t mean he couldn’t have hurt your baby. You paid a pretty penny for her and it isn’t like he has the best track record. “What are you doing?” You restate from your safe spot.

Hobie’s mouth goes dry. Absolutely dry. If he tries to say anything right now the only thing that will leave his lips will be embarrassing squeaks. He is usually so much more composed than this. It isn’t like he doesn’t have women flocking to him constantly and occasionally, he does entertain them. He has enough life experience to run a brothel and here he is, getting cotton mouthed at the pretty girl he’s been watching for the last few weeks.

A breeze blows by and he gets a whiff of vanilla.

“Well?”

“I . . . uh . . . I caught him trying to break in so I intercepted. I didn’t know it was yours. You might want to call the police.”

“Oh my gosh, of course.” You reach into the front pocket to pull out your phone. How fitting to have a bedazzled case, pink and silver in a gleaming heart. “Did he get in or take anything or break anything? I don’t know what to do. I’ve never had anyone steal my car before. Do I need to call my lawyer? Are we going to court or something?” You’re rambling and rushing, messily punching in the numbers. Your heartbeat is finally starting to dull but the warm rushing has yet to cease.

“You have a lawyer?” He supposes it makes sense. Although most people he knows don't have a lawyer on call, you would be someone who would. You must come from an affluent family with the whole driving Jaguars and having lawyers thing.

You pause, sniffing a bit. “Yeah…?” You sideways glance to nothing before meeting his eyes again.

There is a beat of silence between you both.

“Right. Anyway, no. He didn’t take anything. I’ve been patrolling the area and caught him before he did. Just, uh, finish up calling the police and report this guy.” Hobie felt kind of naked. He may have been fully dressed but he is itching to find somewhere to put his hands. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have his jacket to hide them in so he crosses his arms instead.

“No, yeah. I will. Thank you so much. Is there something I can do to repay you? I feel a bit stupid and I left my car unlocked. I could, like, give you cash or something? You could get lunch.”

Oh, you’re just as sweet up close. The slight concern and guilt in your eyes. The way they sparkle and dance across his mask. Maybe you are trying to figure out who he is or engrave this moment in your memory like he is.

“Nah, don’t worry about it. I don’t need your money. I don’t take people’s money anyway.” He’s not quite sure if it conveys through the mask but he smiles. Gentle and honest. “Jus’ stay out of trouble and lock your doors, yeah?”

You dip your head sheepishly. How humiliating it is to have a crimestopper tell you something so obvious. It makes your stomach churn with embarrassment and your cheeks flush with warmth but you acknowledge his warning. It’s hard not to when he said it in such a buttery voice. You wonder if he looks as good as he sounds.

Hobie takes this opportunity to make a smooth exit, swinging away into the distance with his heart in his ears and a ridiculous grin on his face. He feels like a kid in the candy shop all over again. Except instead of being presented with a bunch of different options, he is presented with his favorite option.

It’s unbelievable that the previous parallel life lines finally crossed. Sure, it’s due to circumstances Hobie prefer you never experienced but they crossed nevertheless. He saved the girl of his dreams from the big bad monster and saw her smile mere steps away. Got to see the radiant aura you emit and the brilliant warmth that just has to have an effect on everyone around you.

That must be the reason you were targeted today. Even the worst people can’t ignore the huge target on your back. They are drawn in by the invisible tiara on your head and the glow of your cheeks. They can feel there was a princess in their presence and feel desperate to tear that innocence apart. That just won’t do. Hobie has to protect you from their rotten doings. You are untouchable, too perfect to be tainted. He can’t risk their dirt and grime coming near you. Sure, he feels somewhat obligated to protect everyone but there is no one at greater risk than you. No one as flawless, as pure.

You are clearly too silly to take care of yourself and you should be. The world should bend at your will and do what you want. It is foolish to expect you to look over your shoulder or lift a finger for your wellbeing. Someone should do that for you and that someone should be him.

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖

You appear to be completely oblivious to the outside world, too busy aiding your stumbling friend out of the club and into the Uber with one hand on her back and the other holding her hand. Her heels are long gone and in the hands of your other friend. All of your attention is completely devoted to her wellbeing but you can’t ignore the nagging feeling on the back of your neck.

It’s been there the past few days and only makes you feel more paranoid. There has been a sudden spike in Spider Punk appearances near you, a sudden spike in dangerous situations you have found yourself in. It’s as if you can’t take five steps out of your apartment without Spider Punk swinging through to save civilians from dangers you weren’t previously aware of. In some situations, it’s you.

Once again, you give the world behind you a fleeting look over your shoulder. As usual, you are only greeted with traffic and the night sky, full of glistening stars. See? You’re just being ludicrous. There’s no crazed monster trailing you and there is no need to feel so paranoid.

“☆,” your friend is whining in your ear. Her head is slumped over and rolling, accompanied by her groans. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Oh, please don’t.” You let go of her hand to lift her head. Your eyes met hers, glazed from tears and bloodshot. “It would be so much better if you waited until we got you home.” You pat her cheek in hopes the feeling will distract her drunken mind from the sloshing alcohol in her stomach. It’s a weak attempt however it’s still an attempt. “If you throw up, they won’t let you in the car.”

Lottie can only cry out in irritation. “I am never going to drink alcohol ever again. It feels like Satan’s ass is in my stomach.” Her head lolls onto your shoulder. Her blonde locs are draped all over you and you indulge in the small amount of warmth provided.

“Don’t worry about it, ☆. I can get her home by myself. You live in the other direction and I’m staying over there tonight, anyway.” Rico has to look over Lottie’s shriveled form to meet your eyes. She looks apologetic about her girlfriend’s condition but you shrug it off and shake your head.

“No, it’s okay. I want to make sure you guys get home safe and Lottie is gone. I don’t mind, really.” You’re almost insistent when you tell her. As concerned as you sound, deep down you know it is truly because you don’t want to go home on your own. You can’t shake the feeling that someone has their eyes on you from a distance and the last thing you want was to walk home on a busy night, alone.

Rico pulls the black Honda’s door open and ushers Lottie inside as smoothly as she can. “You’re such a sweetheart but you really don’t have to. We live thirty minutes in the opposite direction and these prices are obnoxious at this time of night. Just go home and call me as soon as you get there.”

You purse your lips. You have no intention of spending any money tonight to get home. You already spent the last of what you could to get in the club. You are just waiting for your dad to send you your weekly allowance. You can admit, you are a bit dumb with your money and your rules but can you really be to blame? You were born with a gold spoon in your month and no conception of how money works. Between lavish parties with socialites and getting anything you’ve ever asked for, you don’t have the best idea of what the world is like. However, your allowance is for fun and your paychecks are for household expenses. Is it your fault that you make much more in your allowance and could blow through it in a week if you wanted? Not at all.

“Okay,” you provide Rico with a less than satisfying tight smile. “Text me when you get home, Ri. I’ll drop your stuff off tomorrow. And let me know how Lottie is doing. Her hangover is gonna be insane.”

Rico is barely concerned with responding back. She’s both trying to wriggle her way into the car without disturbing the drunken girl and get them both safely buckled and situated. “M’kay. I’ll call you.”

“Bye, ☆! I love you so much!” The producer of the shriek is leaning against the coolness of the opposite window, reaching out symbolically to grab you. “You’re one of my best friends in the entire world and I don’t know what I would do withou –”

“Okay, bye!” Rico glances at you apologetically for the last time. Then, the door is slammed. The last you see is her hand comfortingly patting against her girlfriend’s thigh.

You watch the car drive away and sigh as a chill settles under your skin. Of course you don’t realize how truly cold it was outside until the warmth of your night has disappeared down the street. Not to mention what shots you did consume wore off the moment Lottie went off the rails. No longer could you enjoy your buzz. Instead, you have to get her home.

It ‘s a bit comical. Being marginally afraid of getting home alone on Halloween night. To be honest, this isn’t really how you planned your night to go. You were supposed to go out tonight with your friends and return back home with a guy. You were the tightest top you had with the smallest skirt you could find on purpose but now you are regretting it, standing on the sidewalk in fifty degree weather. And still, that sick, creeping feeling is nestled on the nape of your neck.

You scrunch your face in displeasure before starting your trek home. Fortunately, your luxury apartment was only fifteen minutes away and the city was still very much active. The only reason you feel an inkling of nervousness is due to the unusual feeling.

Your arms are tightly wrapped around yourself and you brush it off. It has to be nothing. There is no way you have such a persistent stalker who follows you everywhere. Sure, that is the definition of a stalker but it can’t happen to you, can it? It can’t. You simply won’t allow it.

You mumble about your irritation and tilt your gaze to the sky. The stars were beautiful but there was just something off about tonight. Maybe not in the sky but it feels like something is going to happen. As if you’re waiting to be a piece in a climatic story.

You grunt when someone brushes against you a bit too hard and meet the eyes of someone caught just as off guard as you.

“Sorry,” you speak in passing. Immediately after you find yourself cursing at yourself for being so careless. Pay attention when you walk. It’s a rule as old as time and naturally, you have a hard time following it.

You stop to take a break, maybe get out of your head. You’re leaning against the brick wall and pull out your phone. Perhaps it would be better to walk with some music. Keep you distracted from losing your mind over nothing. Or maybe not. Walking with noise in your ears while being paranoid, post robbery? Probably not a good idea.

Your fingers are fumbling across your phone screen. At this point, you’re ready to drop an extra band just to get an Uber. Already, you’re shivering from lack of physical activity. Occasionally, you can feel the weird glances from passing men, spotting a nearly vulnerable girl on the edge of sidewalk.

You’re just about to confirm your ride when a familiar tattered suit begins a slow stride towards you. Like a stunned idiot, anxious out of her mind, you squint at him. Not that you need particular aid seeing such a detailed and colorful suit, but it is a bit difficult to tell if that was the true Spider Punk or if a superfan decided to spend their entire savings on a high quality costume.

Fortunately for you, you got your confirmation.

“Yo? Aren’t you the girl with the car? The really nice one?”

“Huh?”

His voice is velvet in your ears, almost melting away your nervousness. Is it because he’s saved you in the past or because you just found yourself especially enamored by the richness of it all?

“Like, two weeks ago. Didn’t I help you out with your car and that guy?” As if you were longtime friends, Spider Punk strolls up to you. His hands are snug comfortably in the pockets in his fashionably tattered vest and for the first time, it truly registers just how tall he is.

You have to tilt your head up to view him, almost completely and it makes you feel particularly shy. Your words get caught in your throat, although you’re aware of the increasing time ticking between his question and your delayed response.

Spider Punk doesn’t fill the silence, however. He simply stands there with his head cocked to the side. His patience doesn’t help your fragile grasp on your sanity.

“Oh, uh yeah. Probably. I decided to press charges n’ stuff.” You wet your lips and turn your head away. At this rate, you are going to explode. This is overwhelming, stressful. You should be home right now. “What are you doing walking around? I thought superheroes weren’t supposed to be in public, like that.”

“Ah,” you see him turn his face to the sky and a chuckle leaves his lips. Even if you can’t see his face, you know he’s smiling. It’s obvious in how his mask pulls. “I never said I was a superhero, sweetheart. I just like protecting the people I care about.”

Your eyes meet again but instead of feeling flustered, you’re facing him with confusion. Was there an undertone or did he happen to be in the right place at the right time? “Oh. Okay. That’s cool.”

He doesn’t allow for a second of silence, springing the next question onto you almost immediately. “What are you doing here? It’s getting a bit late and pretty girls like you should be at home out of harm's way.”

“I . . . what?”

There’s another patience silence. Clearly, he isn’t interested in your stumbling and stuttering. You’re getting the point, now.

“I’m on my way home but I’m a bit shaken up. I’ve never been in that type of confrontation before.” Admittedly, you haven’t experienced any confrontation. Rich girl living in a bubble and assuming she is untouchable. Pretty typical. It isn’t something you would admit to most people. Had it been anyone else, anyone who hasn’t seen some pretty crazy crimes, you would have just chalked it up to anxiety due to lack of sleep.

“Mmm,” Spider Punk takes a glance over his shoulder. Considering the night, no one is paying any attention to him. Like you, they assume he put a ton of hard work into that costume. “Would you like me to escort you back home? I’m just patrolling, anyway.”

“I thought you do this for people you care about.” Your smile is slow growing, both from the reassurance that he’ll be able to work as your bodyguard for the passing moments and to lighten the mood.

“I do.”

“Oh.” It wavered just as slowly as it developed.

“I can do both. Like I said, I’m just patrolling.” He shrugs. His hands are drawn from his pockets and gently guide you to begin your journey to your apartment. Although you can’t see it, you can feel the size on the small of your back. If he truly wanted, he could probably crush your skull. The thought itself isn’t all that attractive but when it leads to other suggestions on where he could put them or what he could do with them is where the real fun begins.

The walk back is voiceless. Sounds of the city fill the space where a conversation would be. You feel twitchy, hyper aware of the situation. There’s probably a serious conflict happening somewhere, and here you are hogging safety all to yourself.

“You really don’t have to do this. I can make it home myself or get a ride or something.” You twirl a passion twist around your finger, narrowing in on the loose ends slowly unraveling. That nagging feeling is gone with him by your side.

He nods and you miss his eyes lingering on the top of your head, slowly raking over your form and drinking in the details. “You probably can. I’ve been swinging through, though and you’ve been in the same spot for five minutes.” The pale green color of your top looks alluring on your skin, along with the pink flowers decorating the hem. Oh, how angelic you are. “What are you supposed to be?”

Your refusal to look and acknowledge him doesn’t go unnoticed but he doesn’t press about it. In his eyes, this is a rare opportunity to burn you and your absoluteness into his memory. He’s only been able to hear the sweetness of your voice twice now, directed to him. Stolen conversations and hidden glances weren’t truly enough.

“Nothing special. A sprite or an elf or something. I haven’t decided yet.” You’re looking at your own Halloween costume now. A bit silly to not know what you were after parading around in it but it’s cute and that’s all that matters. The night is over, any and it’s not like anyone is truly that curious. “What are you doing walking around? I know you said you’re patrolling but aren’t you concerned about being followed?”

“Eh,” the thought really rolls off his shoulders, “look around. There’s dozens of me everywhere. They’d have to go and target every single one and no one wants to do that. Too busy celebrating with their families or being miserable they don’t have one.”

The conversation kind of dies there. It gets a bit awkward, walking side by side with someone you barely met. Little do you know, Spider Punk knows you like the back of his hand. He’s practically vibrating with excitement. Of course, he planned to insert himself into your life eventually but tonight was not the way he thought it would go. However, it’s better than he imagined. Walking his favorite girl to the safety of her living space, although he already knew where you live.

He’s been there almost every night, perched on the ledge of the roof of the building across the street. He knows he said he wouldn’t but that’s where you are most vulnerable. There, he would sit, watching you walk here and there, dilly dally through your night routine. Finally, when you would get comfortable under the plush duvet and set your phone down on your nightstand is when he’d consider leaving. He’d make his departure only when you are sound asleep, drifting off into your dreamspace.

But tonight, tonight he gets to walk with you. Would it be too much to hope you invite him in? He could fake a cough for a glass of water and take a mental picture of your space from a first person view, only to go home and completely map it out on paper. How would he protect you if he didn’t know every miniscule detail about your life? He is the only thing standing between you and the evilness in this world.

The silence grows oddly comfortable. Spider Punk is too deep in thought but only he knows what about. You’re relishing in the fact that you truly haven’t felt comfort like this in a while. No longer does it feel like someone is watching you from a distance. After a while, you’re both approaching the bright lights in the lobby.

“This is my stop.” You stand with your arms clasped behind your back. It’s evident you need your keycard to get in but digging into your chest to pull it out wasn’t too appealing, right now. “I can make my way in so you can leave now. Thank you so much for walking me home.”

Hobie tilts his head. Under his mask, he’s awfully disappointed. As if he’d let you dance your way out of this. “I’ll walk you to your door. Gotta finish my job completely, ☆.”

You don’t remember telling him your name but he probably got it the last time you saw each other. Maybe superheroes just know that kind of stuff.

“You don’t have to do that!” You only tighten your grip behind your back. “I’m fine and our security is really good. I’m home now so it’s okay.” You shift under his stare and his silence. Is he always like this? Stubborn and refusing to argue back? “So you can go now…”

“Or you can open the door.” He crosses his arms and shifts his weight to his side. You are certain if he didn’t have that mask on, he would be glaring at you right now. This has to be the sassiest man you know. He’s doing quite a bit just to walk you to your door.

You grumble some complaints and turn away, angling your body away from him and the glass doors. Your focus is the doors, though. The chances of you running into the residents are significantly higher than running into Spider Punk, again. You didn’t want your poor neighbors to be scarred with the image of you digging in between your boobs for your keycard. You turn back around to catch him just barely averting his gaze. At his height, it wasn’t too hard to peek over your shoulder and the temptation was just undeniable.

Your lips are pressed into a pout while you swipe the plastic square. The excitement bubbling in your stomach from attention is impossible to ignore but you lie to yourself and insist you’re so deeply bothered, you can feel it.

Like the gentleman he is, Spider Punk takes the door from you. He holds it open, following behind closely through the doorway. “Damn, this is nice.” He lets out a low whistle. His head draws a slow circle at the high ceilings and the floor to ceiling windows. “You really live like this, princess?”

You pout harder at his question. The amazement is normal, of course, but still. Somehow it all makes you feel alien, especially with the pet name attached. “Obviously.” You make a beeline to the elevator in an attempt to avoid the curious gazes directed your way.

With his long legs and therefore long stride, he doesn’t have to put in any effort to maintain your speed. “What’s the attitude for? Didn’t know I was offending you.” It’s difficult to tell whether or not he’s taunting you. It sounds sincere but somehow you doubt it.

“There is no attitude.” You retaliate back. You’re relentlessly jamming your finger on the elevator button. “You asked if I live here, I said obviously. That’s it.” Truthfully, not even you are sure what the bite back is for. First, you didn’t appreciate how he asked about your building. Then, you just found yourself stuck here. Really, this is all his fault.

Spider Punk leans against the wall beside you. His big boots scuff the floor beneath him but otherwise, he seems unphased. “Mmm,” he hums. His head lolls to the side. Your side. You’re ignoring the intense stare he’s giving you and you regret rushing the elevator now.

The door opens with a ding. Both fortunately and unfortunately, there are people already in it. While that means you don’t have to face whatever thoughts he has brewing to your response, you do have to deal with the awkwardness in front of a group of people, some of whom are too nosey for their own good.

As a result, the ride up is quiet. All the up to the fifty-second floor, neither of you speak a word. The door opens and you step out, noting that even in his brooding silence, Spider Punk lets you go first. Had it been any other man, a normal man, you would have ditched him at the front door but a “hero” wouldn’t come in and bombard you in your own space.

He follows you to your door, trailing on your heels. It’s unnerving how silent he is. He doesn’t look bothered but he merely watches you move. Watch you use your keycard to open your door, watch you turn the handle, and watch you turn your head back to his. “Okay. I’m home now.”

“Yeah. Obviously.” He retorts with a hint of a mocking tone. Clearly, he still feels a bit dishonored by your previous choice in tone. “I’m waiting for you to walk in. Like I said, gotta finish my job completely.”

“Oh. Right. You definitely said that before.” You sheepishly smile. The door to your apartment is pushed open, giving him a wide view of the pinked out living room. Not surprisingly enough, there are plenty of pastel colors, sanrio memorabilia, and flowers all over the place.

Shiny, white heated floors, stuffed animals strewn about. Plenty of comforting blankets and a flower shaped floor cushion in the corner. Looks just like you.

“I’d tell you how nice your place is but I don’t want you to bite my head off.”

Your shoulders drop, followed by an exasperated sigh. There is no way to explain he’s the reason you’re snappy and flustered. Him and his deep voice and calming nature. Him and his chivalry and big hands. “I’m sorry for how I spoke to you. Thank you for your compliment.”

Spider Punk turns his head up as if he’s miffed but the corners of his mask pull into a small smile. “It’s fine. Couldn’t stay too mad at ya, anyway. Could I come in? You know, to use your bathroom. I’ll leave right after but night patrolling is a pretty big job and I have needs, too.”

You’re hesitant, glancing over your shoulder. You really shouldn’t. Your better judgment is screaming at you for allowing this to continue this far. Despite his supposed nobility, he is a man and you live alone. Still, he walked you all the way home and saved your baby the other day.

“Um, sure.” You push your door open farther. The much taller man saunters right in as if he’s all too familiar with the place.

He stops in the entryway. Once again, his hands have found their way into his pockets. “Which way am I going, sweetheart?” He’s got a pretty rough guideline of the direction but he couldn’t tell you that. You’d never speak to him again.

“It’s just down the hall, that way. It’ll be on your left.” You’re still undoing the straps of your heels, one hand on the wall to maintain your balance. The last time you checked, the guest bathroom is in perfect order. How fortunate all your friends gather in your room and use your bathroom, instead. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be right back.”

You linger around just to watch him enter the bathroom before escaping to your room. In an ideal world, you’d be home alone and jump right into the shower. However, with a stranger within your property, you would much rather stick around to ensure he promptly makes his exit.

Once your feet touch the plush rug by your vanity, you begin un-readying yourself. Your butt-length twists are going up haphazardly into a bun. You’re pulling the hoops out your ears and the strip lashes off your eyes. The makeup remained, however. You were never the biggest fan of makeup wipes. They’re wasteful and never really get into your skin the way you want. Your skincare routine is much more thorough than that.

You pad your way over to your closet and pull out one of your pullover robes. With a quick glance casted at the door to safeguard your privacy, you begin peeling your clothes off you. Your top is tossed in the direction of your hamper before you’re moving onto the flowy brown skirt.

That’s when you see him.

You’re bent over, skirt halfway down your legs. Shirtless, braless, tits all out on display. You feel like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide and frozen. You know he’s looking at you. His mask is pointed directly at you and even though you can’t see his expression, he has to be just as frozen as you are.

You snap back up, skirt coming up with you. You’re refusing to turn around, hands cupping your breasts while you reach for the robe. Your cheeks are burning and you have no idea if he’s still there or not. You didn’t hear any heavy footsteps, any boots smacking against the floor.

“You didn’t have to stop the show, ☆. I wasn’t expecting a strip tease but can’t say I don’t like it.”

You’re bumbling to pull the robe over your head. The fabric rolls and gets caught on itself but you’re persistent, tugging and pulling in all kinds of directions. “What are you doing here? This is the complete opposite direction of the bathroom.” You don’t turn around, not now, not ever. Instead, you tug on your hair next until the bun is loose and misshapen enough to mold and fit under the hood of the robe.

“You told me to tell you if I needed anything. I’m done and I’m leaving. Just happened to hear you make noise and rustling in here.”

You can hear him closing the space between you. Can feel the weight of his boots though the floor and his presence when he is eventually standing behind you. “Don’t gotta be shy about it. I’ve seen plenty in my life.” He knows it doesn’t sound the best or come out as comforting but his thoughts are a bit fogged over.

Sure, sometimes he gets glimpses of your body through your window but it’s nothing like this. You are always sure to change out of view or close your curtains, opening them when you’re finished. Sometimes he’d see the bottom of your ass peeking through your shorts. Sometimes he was lucky enough to see you parading around in tiny tops. Definitely didn’t compare to seeing your body up close.

“Gee, thanks. Is that supposed to make me feel better?” You scowling and muttering under your breath. You turn, finally, ignoring the burn of your cheeks and the rush of blood throughout your body. You’re ready to give him some sort of spiel about respecting your space and guiding him out the door but your voice is caught in your throat.

“Getting tired of the attitude, darlin’. You’re usually so sweet.” He’s so statuesque, towering over you. With his close proximity, to actually look you in the eyes, his chin is grazing his chest.

You encase your bottom lip between your teeth. If you were an idiot, which you might be for pushing this, you would have noticed the change in the air. Tensions, probably, growing much thicker than they should. “Usually?”

He doesn’t further explain. Instead, his eyes drift over to your discarded top in the corner. “What is with you tonight, ☆? You’re always so sweet. Did something happen while you were at the club? Or was it on the way back before I got you?”

“What? How did you know where I was?” Your eyes grow wide and your stomach churns. That feeling that someone was observing you from a distance, was that him? Who did you just invite in?

He ignores your question. Instead, he has a seat on the ottoman behind him with a sigh. He’s way too comfortable in your home. “Close the curtains, would you?”

You blink slowly. Nothing about this makes sense. His comfortability is unnerving and you hate the way he’s giving you requests in your own apartment you pay for. “I’m sorry? You want me to close my curtains?”

Spider Punk runs his hand down the front of his face. Your constant putting up a fight is exhausting him. He only has but so much unwavering patience, especially when he’s been anticipating this moment. “Yes, love. It would be really helpful if you could close the curtains so I can take my mask off.” He’s resorting to speaking to you like a child, slow and pitchy.

“Wait, what?” His confession to want to unmask right here, right now distracted you completely. You may not know much about his profession but you know that he is never to do. Doing right here in your apartment? That doesn’t sound quite right. “Why?”

“Oh my days!” He groans and in one swift motion, ejects his web to pull the white, blackout curtains shut. “I ask you to do one thing. One simple thing. Had you closed the curtains, I would have told you.” Spider Punk pulls his mask just as quickly as he closes the curtains. Beneath it, he reveals to you the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

Dark chocolate skin as glowy as ever and equally dark eyes. His face is adorned with methodically placed piercings. A spider bite, a nose ring, a couple of ear and eyebrow piercings. Despite the laws of physics, his mask completely hid the length of the bulk of his locs. They fell all around, framing his face and between his eyes. Your knees buckle when he looks at you.

“Come here and please do it without the mouth. I’m doing my best and you’re really getting in the way of that.”

You feel like your body moves on it’s own. What’s possessed you to be so pliant, you have no idea. You know this is wrong, know that there is something unbalanced about this. There’s such a pretty man looking at you though, with the expectation that you can do no wrong. Who are you to deny yourself of indulging in the moment, especially when your earlier plans to get dicked down were foiled when you prioritized the health of your inebriated friend. You’ll deal with the consequences later.

You’re suddenly standing in front of him before you realize and his hands fly up to your hips. Gently, he’s pushing you to the ground, only stopping when you’re kneeling in front of him. “I’m going to ask you once. What’s bothering you, pretty girl? You had a weird temperament all night and I know it’s something. You’ve never been this way before.”

You tilt your head, unintentionally pushing your cheek father into his hand. He runs his thumb over the chub of it and you can feel the rough calluses graze against your skin. “I don’t understand. You only met me twice.” Your eyelashes brush against his fingers.

“Mhm. We’ve only officially met twice. That’s not the answer to my question, though.” His hands leave your cheeks and snake around your waist, rubbing the expansion of your back, down to your hips.

You’re awfully unsatisfied with his reply and nearly push him for more until you feel the harsh squeeze on your ass. You can feel your pussy lips separating and the thin cloth of your panties is quick to stick to the thin layer of slick between your legs. The discomfort makes you squirm and though it doesn’t go unnoticed, it is ignored.

“Nothing is wrong,” you finally say. “I’m fine. Just anxious, I guess.” Your eyes are downcast to hide the lie in your eyes. You’re sure he knows the real reason and will try to drag it out of you but that’s a risk you’re willing to take.

SLAP! His hand rains down on your left cheek. He grins when you whimper and lean forward in an attempt to evade his grasp. “Don’t lie to me. You’re not talking to me like this because you're anxious. What is it?”

Your head hangs low in anticipation. You don’t know how to find the words to say but you’re very aware the time is ticking. “I . . . It’s because . . .” Your following explanation is nothing but a mumble, too embarrassed to say it confidently.

“Didn’t hear you, pretty girl. Gotta speak up.” From behind, his hand yanks down the hood and gives a correctional tug to your hair until you’re facing him again. “Tell Hobie what’s botherin’ you.”

You want to pout and whine. Your stance is uncomfortable but the pull on your scalp is delicious. You can’t decide if you’re angry with him for putting you in the position or enjoying it so much you want to play your role. “It’s ‘cause I don’t know what to do around you. You make me nervous.”

At this, he perks up. It has the opposite effect on you. His grip tightens and the pull increases. He leans forward, his lips ghost over the space between your neck. “Do I? That’s not nice though, is it? Haven’t done anything to you. Didn’t put you in danger. Walked you home, made sure you’re safe and sound. I don’t deserve that, do I?”

“No,” Your speech is shaky when he attaches his lips to your skin. Your hands are on his thighs, holding on to what little sanity you have left. It is entirely too easy to get lost in this, in him. Even when he’s doing little to nothing, you can feel him and his warmth everywhere. You press your thighs together to alleviate the gentle throb of your clit.

“Didn’t think so.”

It comes as a surprise to you when you’re suddenly bare. The cloth previously on your body is tugged off without a second thought. Your brain is spinning in an attempt to catch up. The breeze of the air entices your nipples to slowly erect. They’re budding enough to catch Hobie’s attention. He gently rolls them between his fingers, using this as an opportunity to monitor your expression. “When’s the last time someone touched you, pretty? The last time someone had you creamin’ on their shit.”

Your face is contorting in poorly hidden pleasure. You’re doing your best to maintain solid ground, occasionally pressing your legs into each other and rubbing them back and forth. He’s teasing, playing with you slowly and you hated it but you weren’t one to voice your opinion. “Mm, I- I just lost my virginity a few months ago so...”

“You poor little thing.” His voice is dripping with content. Hobie tenderly kisses your forehead. He removes his hands from your body. “Stand up, why don’t you? Let me help you out, doll.”

To no one’s surprise, there is no hesitation or lip service with this request. You’re quick to stand up, disregarding your eagerness and mostly naked body in front of his calmness and fully dressed self. You’re almost beaming when Hobie’s hands find purchase at you again. He’s tugging down both your skirt and black mesh panties. He doesn’t even have to ask you to aid him in removing them. You step out of the materials accordingly and kick them across the room.

He moves you around himself, pulling your body against his. Your hands are moved to rest against his shoulders and your leg is lifted onto the space beside him. “Stay just how I put you.” Hobie looks at you through his eyelashes. He kisses the inside of your thigh. really taking his time to draw out the soft gasps as he made his way closer to your core. Hobie nips and bites at your skin on the way there. Occasionally, he leaves teeth marks behind. It’s only proper to leave something to remember him by in case he doesn’t get this opportunity again.

He has a grip with your thigh but the other hand wanders. It brushes up your leg and your stomach. It glides behind your back and fondles with the globes of your ass, pushing and kneading. It comes back around and slips between your legs. They softly run through against your folds and collect your wetness on the pads of his fingers.

You hum, almost ready to push against him. He’s taking this entirely too slow and it’s driving you crazy. “Hobie, please.” You whine. If you didn’t know any better, you’d push his hand in yourself.

He chuckles and pats your cunny. He can hear the moisture smacking and sloshing around under his fingertips. “Patience, angel. I’m gonna take care of her, promise.” Just as he promises, he pushes a finger deep inside you. You’re moan matches, slightly drawn out and slightly wobbly. Just as you suspected, his hands are huge. His fingers are thick and long. One hand could probably cover the majority of your torso. Having them sink so deeply into you is making you delirious.

“Well shit,” he massages your hip. His eyes are trained on your pussy. He’s entranced with the act of it, with his fingers drawing out more and more juices, with your pleas and pleasurable noises above his head. “You’re soaked.” It doesn’t take long for him to work you up to two fingers, slotting it next to the other.

You’re practically dripping down herself, grip tightening on his shoulders. You’re appreciative of his continuous grip on your leg because if it were your way, you wouldn’t be able to stand still. Not when he was constantly brushing against that spot you could barely reach yourself. “Oh my god, ‘Bie. There!” Your body falls forward, barely being held up when he continues to drill into you.

“Yeah? Feels good?” He doesn’t give you a chance to reply. Rather, he’s slouching underneath your body, tongue latching onto your clit. His eyes are barely lidded at the first taste. He swears you taste like a summer day, of strawberries and whip cream. He could spend all night here, drinking you in. It’s like his ears are stuffed with cotton. He can’t hear you. He can’t even hear himself moaning against your skin.

Hobie pulls his fingers out of you, ignoring your dissatisfied whines. In his right mind, he would have shushed you with gentle kisses and reassurance but he couldn’t form the words to. One taste got him pussydrunk and now he couldn’t stop.

Hobie scoots back onto your bed, clawing at your body to maintain the proximity. His eyes are wild and he doesn’t say a single thing. It’s obvious what he wants, though, when he lays back and yanks you on top of him. You shriek in surprise, nearly falling over his body. He has you situated, facing the growing tent in his pants.

“A warning would have been a little helpful.” You speak as if trying to lighten the mood, not realizing just how far gone Hobie really was. He only grunts in response and relocates your hips back over his face. One small taste is not enough. He was determined to get more out of you, as much as he wants. His arms hook you into places before he absolutely dives in.

And he was messy with it.

Hobie didn’t care if there was spit everywhere. He didn’t care if he drowns in it. In fact, he would love to. His tongue licks a fat stripe on your cunt. He can cum in his pants from the taste and your own moans. This is where he is meant to be, he’s sure of it. He’s only been here for a few minutes, seconds maybe, but he’s never felt more right.

He tongue probs around your entrance, experimentally. You gasp with a shaky breath, clenching the sheets. It encourages him to follow through, slurping and tongue fucking you. His vice grip keeps you settled. With how much you were squirming, you would have moved off or too far by now.

“Fucking- gonna-!” You can’t form your mouth around your words. Your brain is fuzzy with the intense bliss building in your core. You’re nearly ready to burst when Hobie begins rapid small circles on your bundle of nerves. You throw your head back, hair whipping free and falling all in his face but that’s the least of his worries. Not when you unintentionally push your hips down, allowing his tongue to push deeper and his fingers to pull more.

With one final nudge of his tongue and jerk of his fingers, you’re creaming all over his face. He’s grateful to lap it up, allowing you to ride through your high. He removes his fingers from what he’s sure is your now sensitive clit and his hands take their place on your hips. You shudder, and despite his wishes, eventually pry his hands off you. “I can’t.” You drag your body off his. Your chest heaves as you get comfortable on your back. You can still feel your cunny throbbing but she’s in no shape to be touched right now. “Too sensitive.”

If Hobie’s face says one thing, it’s that he’s displeased. He rolls over and looms over you, staring you down. His locs fall in his face but he doesn’t look bothered by it. He’s too busy hooking an arm under yours and moving you closer to the headboard. “Nah. I think you got a few more in you.”

Your eyes flash as he lifts you with ease. “Yeah, in a second.” You’re already ready to push him back, glare on deck. Before he even lets go of your side, he’s forced your hands to the headboard and webbed them in place.

“Can’t trust you to sit still and let me work.” Hobie hurriedly pecks your lips. “Won’t be too long so don’t be too mad at me.” He flashes you a smile as he retreats. You think he’s going to leave you until he begins his dance of removing his spidersuit. The stretchy material peels right off him and he’s back between your legs, resting on his shoulders.

Hobie doesn’t bother looking at you. He’s smiling at your cunny, just as glistening as when he left him. “Can’t believe you tried to keep me away from her. Just look at how much she missed me?” He plunges his finger inside you again, only to scoop up some of your cum and drag it out. “Breaking my heart, ☆.”

Your legs nearly close, leg’s drawing together at the knees. He draws out a mewl out of you, your body contorting in all different directions. “You’re so mean to me.” You whine, jerking even more so when Hobie delivers a slap on your pussy.

He feigns an apologetic expression, forcing your legs apart again. “I’m so mean to you? I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you.” He lowers his head against your skin. Like the previous time, he’s pacifying on your clit again but it’s stronger. He’s determined, gaining momentum and pumping his tongue in your slit. You can’t help but tighten around his tongue, back arching against the wood. Was his tongue extra long or were you unable to maintain your composure?

Hobie is understanding, though. He takes it upon himself to keep you where he wants you. Despite your squirming and pushing, he pushes down on your stomach. With full access, he slurps and suckles. It’s an endless stream coming from your heavenly pussy and that’s just how he likes it. Hobie drinks it all in as if he was a starved man.

He pushes your legs wider, farther, curling and compacting your body. He folds you until your knees are nearly touching your ears. You swear you can feel your heartbeat ricocheting through your toes at this point. You’re tugging at the makeshift restraints. “Ohhh my god,” your eyes squeeze shut. Your breath catches in your throat when he strikes just the right spot, still spongy from your last orgasm.

Hobie peeks up at you, smirking into your folds. You’re just as pretty as he imagined. Prettier. Even with your eyes screwed closed and your skin glossed over with a thin layer of sweat.

You tug your hands again, straining to touch him. “Don’t stop! Please, please, please,” you chant. Your own nails dig into your skin, acrylics scratching the surface. The burn is a distant thought. “Let me touch you. I need – I need to touch you.”

Hobie messily kisses your slit when your essence leaks out and smears across your thighs. “Cum and I’ll think about it.”

His bruising grip on your hip keeps your lower body still. Despite his somewhat lanky frame, he’s still adorned with the basic spider-man muscles. Not to mention his habits kept him fit with all the swinging through the city and climbing on walls he does.

Your only surface to find purchase in is your headboard. Your nails scratch the wood and you’re sure you’ll regret it later but it’s the last thing in your mind. Not when hobie is alternating between his tongue and his fingers. He’s bumping against your clit strategically. Your body is fighting against his strength, wanting to arch and wriggle.

You press your head harder into the hard surface behind you, grateful for your hair acting as a pillow. Your toes begin to curl and once again, your legs are attempting to force their way together.

Hobie only forces them open farther. He displays his displeasure by wrapping his lips around your clit. He’s watching you through his eyelashes, growing more irritated with each squirm. You’re moving too much and it’s making it harder for him.

You don’t notice, not when you’re gasping for air. You draw in one big breath, the release prompting the synchronized release of your cum. Your chest is heaving, brushing against tbe tops go your thighs. Your body shakes and shudders at his relentless to fuck you through it.

“You’re makin’ this more difficult than it needs to be,” Hobie rises from his position between your legs. He kneels in front of your and languidly strokes his fingers inside you. It’s not enough pressure or movement to draw anything out of you but he can’t help it, can’t stop. “Sit still.”

The waterline of your eyes are just barely teary. You sniff, twisting your wrists under the webs. “I can’t. Tried to tell you. You didn’t listen.” You resist a pout by pressing your lips together. “Can you let my hands out now?”

It’s as if he didn’t hear you when he leans forward and kisses the corner of your lips. Hobie’s weight shifts underneath you and your question goes unanswered. You’re committing to your pout, eyes narrowing. “Hello? Are you gonna or what?”

Hobie pauses. His eyes are locked onto yours with his head tilted as if to say are you sure about that? “You makin’ demands now?” He pulls his raging dick out of his boxers. Too nervous to, you don’t let your gaze wander downwards. Still, you can tell his mushroom tip is puffy and leaking down his shaft. He may not have the girthiest dick but it’s long and swollen, craving your tight little cunt.

Your mouth slightly drops open when he rubs it through your folds. You’re silent and pliant, maybe out of nervousness for the situation you found yourself in. Of course he takes advantage of this.

“Hm? You tellin’ me what to do?” He reiterates his question, just barely pushing his tip back inside you, only to slip it out when you mewl. He isn’t surprised when you don’t answer. He’s already moving your legs farther down. He’s hungrily watching the way your pussy envelopes and welcomes him in. “Fuck, baby. You’re tighter than I imagined.” Even after him working you soft, you’re still just as flesh against him.

He can feel your walls spasm when he give an experimentally shallow thrust. You reel, falling nearly limp just from how deep he is. The position, the mating press he has you in gives him direct access to the deepest parts of you. Hobie doesn’t have to try too hard to reach your g-spot, just shy of hitting your cervix.

He massages the backs of your thighs, smugly taking in this vulnerable side about you. “How can I let you out if you can’t even take this. Can’t have you fighting me.”

Even in his best dreams, he didn’t think you’d feel this good. Didn’t think he’d be balls deep in his favorite girl Halloween night. Hr breathes sharply, eyes closing to truly focus on his pleasure. The small amount of sanity and restraint he’s been holding on to all night is slipping out of his reach, especially when he begins slow thrusts into you. You can’t move, not even if you wanted to. Not when he has you caged in, limiting your movement.

His hips stutter the first time you clock around him. “Fuck,” Hobie clenches his teeth. His tidy nails create little crescents in your skin. If he could push you into the mattress more, he would have. He needed to be so deep inside you that your bodies had no choice but to fuse together. He wants your body to remember his, to remember the shape of his cock, to maintain is so he can come back to soften you into putty again.

“Stop tryin’ to push me away.” Hobie spits out. He can feel your legs pushing against his hands and he hates it. It only makes him tighten his grip until he’s sure you’ll forever has his handprints there.

“Too much!” You hiccup. Tears fall over your cheeks as his pace picks up. He’s nonstop nudging your cervix, going way deeper than your last fuck months ago. You could just explode, pulling and pushing to find a position to alleviate the pressure but no matter where you go, Hobie is everywhere.

He doesn’t know where to focus. Your face, your tits, the spot where you were connected. His senses are overwhelmed. “Can’t be. I’m barely doing anything.” He’s vigorously plowing into you. The slap of skin between your bodies is an absolute symphony to him.

Your moans beg to differ, booming in the air of your room. The possibility of your neighbors hearing you is a distant thought. You couldn’t give a shit about them and their discomfort. They haven’t had the sexiest man alive fuck them into insanity.

You also don’t have to tell him you’re on the brink of release, not when you’re damn near cutting his dick in half. He’s forced to still, much to his displeasure. “Poor little thing.” Hobie fakes his pity. He hooks one of your legs over his shoulder. “Look at me when I make you cum.” He demands, waiting until he’s certain your eyes are trained on him to dribble spit on your soaking cunt.

His thumb follows, easily gliding rapid ministrations across it. It’s all over the place, his thighs and yours. The smell of your sex feels the air. He’s intoxicated.

Your eyes are barely open but you’re doing your best. Your heartbeat races as you wind up tighter. Your mouth drops open but you can’t speak. Can’t say a thing. It’s all too paralyzing. The only sound you can make are hums of encouragement until one final thrust pushes you over the edge.

You convulse, a water stream comes flushing out your cunny. The webs over your wrist are the only thing that keeps you from clinging onto his chest when you jerk forward.

It comes so quickly, Hobie is yanking his cock out of you. He hovers over your body, furiously fisting it until ropes of his own cum flies out and decorates your chest. He’s out of breath, expectantly. It took all of his efforts to devour you as he really wanted.

You’re just as exhausted, lying limp and silent. At some point, your legs are softly placed back on the mattress and he removes the sticky web keeping you in place.

In an ideal world, he’d do it again but there’s no way you can handle it. He reckons he’s already pushed you past your limit.

“Come back to me, pretty girl.” He massages your side. In contrast to his previous behavior, his hands are gentle. They soothe the dim ache settling into your muscles. “There you go. Come back to me.”

Hobie waits until you’re settled, waits until you’re smiling weakly. “Where’s your towels at?” His limited view from your window never showed him your linen closet. All he knows is that it’s somewhere in the hallway.

You shake your head and push yourself into seating. “I’d rather just shower.” You say. Your face contorts for a second at the feelings of your legs recovering from that punishing stretch. You don’t even have a moment to react before Hobie is grabbing at you again.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything? Should I help you?” His hands are at your waist again. You quizzically stare at him while he fusses over your frame. It’s not like it changes anything. He know what he did to you.

“No, no I’m just but . . . how do you know my name. Or where I was today?” Flashbacks of your conversation play through your head. You suddenly feel gross with the possibility that you just fucked a creep despite said creep being extremely attractive.

Hobie pressed his lips together. He tilts his head away while his eyes bounce off your white walls. He pushes his locs out of his eyes, seeming to weigh his words. “Well, mm, ever since we met that one time, you’re just everywhere I go.” He’s totally lying and he knows that but you don’t need to. If he told you the truth, you’d probably beat his ass in.

“What?”

He peeks over at you before becoming super interested in the fabric of your pink sheets. “Yeah. You don’t notice but I run into you a lot and your friends are kinda loud, y’know?” He picks off a piece of lint. “So I just caught it one day, I guess. ‘Nd like I said, I was patrolling the area. Saw you come out.” His story sounds bad, oddly strung together. He knows. But he also knows you’re a bit dumb, a bit too trusting. You let him in your apartment to pee, for christ’s sake.

“Oh,” you nod. Just as expected, you believe him. At least enough to let it go and ignore what concern you may feel. “And you did this because? I mean, you don’t do this with everyone you just meet do you?”

In your defense, you are just a civilian. You live a somewhat normal life. This sounds like a completely reasonable explanation, although you are hyper aware of the fact that you were are it naked. It bothers you that Hobie doesn’t care.

He’s lax, rubbing the silk cloth between his fingers. The corners of his mouth are upturned and you have to fight the urge to ask him what’s funny. “No. Just you. I wouldn’t wanna do this with anyone else. Thought that was pretty obvious.”

You suppose it could be, though it doesn’t make sense to you. Maybe you aren’t sure how to wrap your head around the situation. So you don’t say anything in return. You just hum and nod because what were you supposed to say? This isn’t an everyday occurrence and you certainly weren’t expecting Spider Punk himself, tonight.

“Listen,” Hobie starts, “this is a lot, I know. Weren’t expecting it or whatever but at some point, you’re gonna miss me.” He grins all wide and smug. He is smug. He knows the impression he left behind. He knows what you like, what gets you going. You’ll miss him. “All I’m going to do is leave my number here, ‘kay? It’s completely up to you.”

You don’t like his arrogance. You don’t like it even more when he stands and strides right up to your nightstand. As he scribbles his number on your stack of sticky notes, you swear to yourself that you’re gonna throw it away. He’s too confident your your liking, too sure of himself. It’s almost as if he knows you’re not gonna get the memory of him plowing into you in a few weeks.

Not to his surprise, you don’t. It only takes him a few days before he’s hearing from you again, all hesitant and precious when you invite him over. And of course, he goes. Who was he to deny your right? Especially when the day he first laid eyes on you, he knew he wanted you.

#ִ ࣪✮🕷✮⋆˙#partially edited #didn’t edit the smut bc i can’t read my own smut #it makes me CRINGE #but it’s done c:#may come back and edit it laterrr #astv hobie #hobie brown #hobie smut #hobie x black!reader #hobie x reader #hobie x y/n #x black fem reader #x black reader #x reader

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projectionistwrites · 2 years ago

Text

GESTALT | 2003

YEAR FIVE (the final year).

pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x afab!babysitter!reader (5.5k+)

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+, mdni) WARNINGS: age gap, angst, slow burn, strained parental relationships, SMUT (dubcon, thigh-riding, dry-humping, oral (m!receiving), dirty talk), potentially ooc!joel NOTES: this one is genuinely fucking sad, no happy endings in sight :)

← previous part | SEQUEL →

MAY 10, 2003

A smile split your face as the sun beamed down on you among the crowd of students, a barrage of graduation caps raining down upon you after being tossed haphazardly into the sky. The joy in the air was contagious—laughter, tears, hugs, and shouts were possessing the crowd, and as the graduates dispersed, you pressed your diploma to your chest, beginning to weave through the masses of people.

Bleachers on the top right. That’s where you’d spotted them at the beginning of the ceremony—Sarah waving frantically in hope of catching your attention; Tommy, on her left, making ridiculous and borderline obscene faces to try to make you laugh; and Joel, to the right, arms crossed tightly over his chest, stoic as ever. You saw straight through him. Even from several hundred feet away, there was a gleam of pride in his eyes—for you.

Just as you finally reached the base of the bleachers, a body leapt into you, arms wrapping around your shoulders as you nearly fell backwards. It didn’t take you long to realize it was Sarah, your arms enveloping her tightly in an embrace as her feet dangled above the ground. The smell of her floral shampoo made you smile, and she squealed against your ear before pulling away.

“Oh my God! You did it!”

Sarah was practically bursting with excitement, bouncing on the balls of her feet. You cheeks burned from smiling so widely.

A brief flash blinded you for a moment, and you looked over to see Tommy grinning at you, a digital camera held in his hands. You rolled your eyes at him.

“Tommy, come on.”

You groaned, but you were laughing. The man lowered the camera, coming up to you and giving you a big bear hug. His hands patted warmly against your back.

“Gotta commemorate the big day! First Miller with a college degree!”

Tears pricked your eyes at his comment—first Miller. You smiled at him gratefully as he clapped you on the bicep.

Your gaze shifted over his left shoulder—Joel was leaning against the railing, hands buried in his pockets, watching you. Tommy took a step back, removing the barrier between the two of you. You took a few cautious steps forward, smiling shyly at the ground.

“Hey, cowboy.”

You breathed, shifting your weight from side to side.

“Thanks for coming.”

Joel regarded you carefully, a barely-there smile on his lips. He nodded.

“I’m—we’re real proud ’a you, Y/N.”

You looked up at him thoughtfully, gently tugging your lip between your teeth.

“Thanks.”

The air was thick, and you stumbled when someone nudged you from behind, forcing you closer to the man. Sarah. The little schemer.

Now closer in proximity, he pulled you against him, one hand cupping the back of your head and the other resting on the small of your back. You wrapped your arms around his middle, breathing him in—another flash from the camera, but you hardly noticed, your soul finding peace in this brief moment.

Too quickly, he pulled away, but his arm stayed tightly wrapped around your waist. Sarah joined you, rushing to your other side, leaning into your shoulder with a wide grin. You pulled her closer to you, ready to pose for the photo, before glancing back up at Joel once more. He was already watching you, a proud smile on his face.

FLASH! Tommy could probably moonlight as a professional photographer as he snapped an extensive amount of photos, repositioning you to his liking and trying to find the best angles. After awhile, you all grew restless, Sarah chasing after him to try and snatch the camera away. You watched on, amused, as Joel came to your side.

“I, uh—was keepin’ an eye out for your old man, but I didn’t see him. He make it out here okay?”

You smile faltered a bit, and you shook your head.

“Actually, something came up at work last minute, so he—he wasn’t able to make it.”

You could practically feel the anger rolling off of Joel’s shoulders, but you turned to face him, hand reaching up to grip his bicep. He gazed down at you.

“Hey, s’not a big deal, really.”

You assured him, squeezing his arm with a smile. Your hand brushed over his shoulder before moving to cup the side of his face.

“Besides, I’ve got my three favorite people in the world here with me. That’s all I really care about.”

Maybe you imagined it, but you swore you could feel Joel leaning into your touch before he reached up to pull your hand away from his face.

“Wouldn’t have missed it for anythin’.”

He offered, and your heart soared in your chest.

“Celebratory dinner time?”

Tommy rejoined the two of you, Sarah following behind him triumphantly with the camera in her hands. You turned to Joel.

“Whaddya think, cowboy? You gonna treat me to a nice meal?”

The man scoffed, but his answer was clear.

“Oh, oh, where do you wanna go?”

Sarah asked excitedly, eyes wide with elation. You pursed your lips, pretending to consider her question carefully.

“Hmm, I’ve got a place in mind, but... what do you think it is, Smiles?”

She immediately responded with her favorite restaurant, and you feigned surprise.

“How did you know?”

She jumped up and down with a squeal, racing off in the direction of the parking lot, Tommy smirking at you before following after. You and Joel lagged a bit behind.

“She falls for that every god damn time.”

Joel muttered, and you laughed good-naturedly, strides falling in line with his.

“You ever gonna tell her that you don’t even like that place?”

You glared at him teasingly, mouth downturned in a scowl.

“Never in a million years. S’long as she’s happy, I’m happy.”

You concluded, and Joel shook his head, but he was smiling.

There was a warmth festering deep within the pit of your stomach, a feeling that was foreign to you.

Home. Belonging. Family.

“So,”

Joel interrupted your train of thought.

“What now?”

Good fucking question. Four years had passed, and your degree was in hand. What the fuck came next?

You breathed out a short laugh, nudging him playfully.

“Can’t we just enjoy the moment, cowboy?”

SEPTEMBER 25, 2003

You were sat beside Sarah at the kitchen table as she chewed on the eraser on her pencil, brows furrowed as she studied the worksheet in front of her. Your forehead was resting on your hand, fingers massaging at the headache that was forming.

“I don’t remember freshman algebra being so fucking hard.”

You grumbled, reading the math problems over her shoulder.

“Hey. Language.”

Joel reentered the room, swinging the refrigerator door open to retrieve a beer. It was late evening, dinner had already been eaten, and the sun was beginning to set.

“My bad.”

You corrected yourself, leaning into Sarah conspiratorially.

“Don’t remember freshman algebra being so fucking difficult.”

Sarah snickered, hiding her laughter behind the palm of her hand. Joel turned to look at you, eyes narrowed in disapproval. You rolled your eyes.

“Loosen up, cowboy. She’s fourteen. Hears worse from you practically every day.”

“Does not.”

Joel quipped with a glare.

“Uh huh!”

Sarah interjected, successfully outnumbering Joel. The man sighed as you and Sarah giggled together—even if you two pissed him off more than anyone in the world, he couldn’t deny how much he loved seeing you get along.

“Hey.”

He prodded, suddenly seriously. Your eyes flickered to him.

“You make any calls today?”

You frowned, the change in mood drastic and stifling.

“No. But I have until the end of the day tomorrow.”

Joel harrumphed at your vague response, but thankfully didn’t press you any further.

You’d been accepted into two big residency programs at different teaching hospitals—the local state facility, there in Austin; and the hospital your father worked at, all the way in California.

You’d been putting off the decision for months, now—every time you felt like you’d made up your mind, something made you think twice. Your father had to request a deadline extension on four separate occasions on your behalf. The semester had already started, so you’d be entering late at this point. Joel was pushing you to choose, which you appreciated, but this somehow felt like the most important decision of your entire life.

A few hours later, after her homework was completed, Sarah was headed up to bed. Joel went to follow her up the stairs, but you stopped him at the banister.

“Hey.”

You called softly, voice quiet. Joel turned to you, his body practically dwarfing you from his position on the first step. You looked up at him carefully.

“After Sarah gets to bed... can you stop by my place? I have a surprise for you.”

Joel’s skin prickled. His eyes flitted from yours briefly, obviously hesitant, but after a brief pause, he nodded slowly.

“Thanks, cowboy.”

You whispered with a smile, turning away to head home for the night.

Joel stared at your closed front door, hands buried in his pockets, shivering slightly from the breeze. He wasn’t sure what to expect—and wasn’t sure why his heart wouldn’t stop pounding. His palms were clammy, his mouth felt dry—he felt like a damn teenager on a first date.

With great reluctance, he raised his fist and rapped it against the wood. He heard your footsteps echo from somewhere inside, gradually getting louder as you approached. Joel took a step back in anticipation as the door swung inward. You smiled at him, dazzling, your hair in messy curls framing your face—you looked disheveled, but in a way that was practically hypnotizing.

“Hi. Sorry, I was—getting ready.”

You explained, gesturing to your slightly frazzled appearance. You had changed clothes—tight gray camisole with black spandex shorts. Short black spandex shorts. They must be your pajamas, Joel rationalized. That’s all it was.

“Come in, come in.”

You took a step back, allowing space for him to squeeze in past you. Joel had only been inside your home a handful of times—helped clear your mom’s stuff out, moved furniture, etcetera. The walls were relatively barren, save for a few specks of greenery here and there, but it was tidy and well-kept. As Joel passed through the threshold and into the living space, he froze in his tracks.

There was kitschy pop music bouncing off the walls with bass boosted to the max, the lights dimmed just slightly. On your dining room table was a beer pong setup—complete with red solo cups in formation on either end.

“What in the hell...”

Joel muttered under his breath, and you came to stand beside him sheepishly.

“I figured Sarah would wanna monopolize your time for your actual birthday, so it’s kind of an early present. I know this is so fucking stupid, but, I remember Tommy’d said something about you never having been to a college party before. And, well, obviously this isn’t really the same, but—figured I could at least help you experience the basics.”

Joel felt lightheaded. He felt a smirk creep onto his face, chuckling quietly to himself. Yeah, it was fucking stupid. It was also fucking thoughtful.

You took his silence as disapproval.

“Fuck, is it that bad? I’m sorry, Joel, I was just trying—I don’t know, I wanted to—”

“S’perfect.”

Joel interrupted, head twisting to glance at you. Your round eyes flickered over his face, analyzing for signs of deception.

“…Really?”

“Really.”

He assured, smiling kindly. You felt a blush creep onto your face.

“I know drinking on a random Thursday night probably isn’t the best idea, so—s’just Root Beer.”

You gestured to the cups on the table, reaching for one in the middle and taking a long swig. The bitter soda burned your nose with heavy carbonation.

“So, cowboy—you up for a round of the greatest drinking game of all time?”

The look of appreciation in Joel’s hazel eyes was evident, and he nodded with a soft chuckle.

“Challenge accepted.”

Several rounds of (root) beer pong later, Joel’s stiff muscles were loosening up, laughter from his belly coming more easily.

“I know I said no booze, but this is your actual gift.”

The man stared at you in question as you reached up into your cabinet, sliding a large bottle of amber liquid across the counter towards him. Jack Daniels.

The man threw his head back with a laugh.

“Jesus, you’re spoilin’ me, darlin’.”

You leaned back against the counter, watching as he read over the label on the bottle.

“You want a glass?”

You questioned, and Joel looked up at you with a shrug.

“Fuck it. Might as well.”

You laughed at that, turning back around to retrieve two crystal liquor glasses from behind you. You slid them over to him, one by one, watching intently as he poured them with practiced precision. Of course, he gave himself a much more generous pour, but you figured you’d let it slide just this once.

He picked up his glass and you followed suit, both walking towards the leather sofa in your lounge area. He plopped down on one end with a grunt and you took your place on the opposite end, curling your legs underneath yourself.

You glanced at Joel out of the corner of your eye, who was staring into his cup of whiskey with an involuntary grin on his lips.

You looked at the clock on the wall. 12:03.

“So. Officially your birthday.”

You laughed, and Joel followed your gaze to the clock, offering a hum in acknowledgement. You turned to him, lifting your glass up in his direction.

“Cheers, cowboy.”

You smiled, and Joel graciously clinked the rim of his glass against yours.

“Happy birthday.”

You downed the bit of liquor in one swallow, the harsh burn of alcohol souring the back of your palette and stinging at your eyes. Joel threw his head back in amusement, watching your face pucker in displeasure. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, and all you could think about was how badly you wanted to bite at the skin.

He caught you staring. He met your eyes, the humor quickly melting away into something stronger. Something lighter. Adoration, perhaps, or maybe even infatuation. He watched as your tongue swiped across the swell of your plump lower lip, licking at the remnants of the whiskey.

Your head was feeling fuzzy. Not tipsy, and definitely not drunk, but—pleasantly buzzed. Relaxed. Comfortable. And, as the nickname of liquid courage would suggest—confident.

“Got one more surprise for you.”

You whispered coyly, eyelashes fluttering. Joel let out a breathy incredulous laugh, gaze breaking from yours briefly as he shook his head.

“C’mon, now, Y/N, don’t—”

“Close your eyes, Joel.”

There was a sort of domineering edge to your tone, something Joel had never heard from you before. He parted his lips, as if to respond, regarding you with careful calculation. You were smirking at him, sweetly, innocently. He hesitated.

“Do it.”

With a sigh, Joel leaned his head back against the cushion, eyes squeezing shut as per your command. He heard you shuffling—a dip in the other side of the couch, the clinking of a glass, a shaky exhale, and—

He startled at the feeling of you throwing your leg over his waist, knees on either side of his lap to straddle him. His eyes were wide open in an instant, a look of panic on his face. His hands, resting at his sides, clenched into fists. You were gazing at him through your lashes, doe-eyed, lips parted and breathing shallow.

“Y/N...”

He warned, voice low and sharp. He watched you intently, waiting for your next move, the hammering of his chest starting to fill his ears. He felt his half-hard cock twitch in his jeans when you gradually lowered your body weight onto his thighs, his gaze flickering to your pouted lips.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.”

You words were genuine, sincere, a momentary break from your seduction. You froze in place, searching within his eyes, scanning for anything close to discomfort or apprehension.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, and you had half the mind to scramble off of him and pretend this whole thing never happened. But when you offered a slow, experimental roll of your hips, you could feel the growing bulge beneath your core and a low groan escaped from the back of Joel’s throat.

Your eyes never left his as you hesitantly placed your hands on his chest, sliding them upwards to his shoulders, along his collarbone, before finally slipping around the back of his neck. You threaded your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck as you grinded against him once more, and this time, his hips jolted up to meet yours, almost of their own accord. Joel’s lips were parted and his eyes were hooded, head tilted back slightly to watch you beneath his half-lidded gaze.

“Joel.”

You murmured, breathless and desperate. Impulsively, Joel grabbed the back of your head and slammed his mouth against yours, swallowing the moan that escaped you. The kiss was feverish, carnal, his tongue invading your mouth and suffocating you with his lust.

You pulled away with a harsh gasp, starting to slide your hips again, pace more steady this time, and finally, finally felt Joel’s hands creep forward to grip at your waist. His hold was bruising, fingers slipping beneath the fabric of your top to dig into the soft, bare flesh of your hips as he began to guide your movements, pulling you back and forth over the hardness of his clothed cock.

A wanton moan escaped your lips as you gazed up at him through your lashes, the seam of his jeans finding its way between your pussy lips and rubbing perfectly up against your neglected clit. The noise spurred Joel on and his hips began to thrust upwards to meet your pace as you humped into him faster.

“You fuckin’ like that, huh, baby? You like ridin’ my thighs?”

You whimpered in response to his growled words, your forehead coming to rest against his firm shoulder as his lips pressed against your ear. He knew you loved the sound of his voice. Knew just what to say to rile you up. It was absolutely sinful.

“Such a fuckin’ slut, getting off without me even having to touch you. Soakin’ through those fuckin’ shorts of yours.”

A punched-out sound erupted from your chest and Joel relentlessly guided your hips up and down his lap, his breathing heavy and teeth bared.

“This is what you wanted, huh, sweet thing? Wanted for all these years? Thought you’d wear those slutty fuckin' shorts, no panties underneath, so I’d see you and just have to fuck you?”

“Shit, Joel, fuck, I can’t—God, I’m gonna—”

He shoved two fingers into your mouth, immediately silencing your whimpers and cries. You instinctively suckled against his thick digits, swirling your tongue around them.

“Oh, fuck, you like suckin’ on my fingers, huh? You wanna suck my cock so bad? Such a dirty fuckin’ slut.”

His words only spurred you on more, your brows furrowed in complete bliss and your pace quickening yet again. The knot in your lower belly was tightening, winding you up more and more.

“Yeah, you gonna cum for me, baby? Gonna cum all over my lap?”

You felt your muscles tighten in anticipation, head tilting back and eyes squeezing shut. Joel ripped his fingers from your mouth and grabbed your chin, yanking you down to look at him.

“You fuckin’ look at me when you cum, you hear?”

“Joel, fuck—”

The dam within you broke and your lips parted in a silent scream of pleasure, shockwaves coursing from your drenched pussy through your entire body as Joel continued guiding over his lap through your high.

“Fuck yeah, that’s a good fuckin’ girl, fuuuck…”

Small whimpers escaped your lips as you came down from your paralyzing orgasm, hips slowing to a stop as you tried to catch your breath. Joel’s fingers carded through your hair, cradling the back of your head with his large hand.

“That’s it, good girl. Good girl.”

He whispered, watching your flushed face as you regained your bearings, eyes shut tightly. When they opened again, he was already looking at you, his gaze searching within yours carefully. You became acutely aware of his cock, still rock hard within his now slick-coated jeans, and your fingers reached down to dance across the skin of his lower abdomen beneath his shirt before going to pop open the button his jeans.

“Wanted this for so long.”

You whimpered, tugging at the fabric of his pants as he let out a pained groan at your confession. He lifted his hips to allow you to slide them off, and you pulled his boxers with them, feeling impatient. His length sprang free from the confines of his clothing, slapping against his stomach, red and weeping. You let out a whimper—a fucking whimper—at the sight.

“Fuck, you’ve got a pretty cock, Joel.”

You whispered, fingers skimming over the soft skin of his shaft. His hips bucked, his head sinking back into the couch with a groan.

“So fucking thick. Knew you’d be big.”

“Yeah?”

He grunted, preening at your praise. Your fingers slowly wrapped around his length, offering a few experimental pumps. He shuddered.

“Mmhmm. Pictured this so many times, Joel. S’even better than I imagined.”

Your wet tongue licked a long stripe from between his balls all the way up to his swollen head, and his eyes squeezed shut at the sensation, overwhelmed with pleasure.

“Fuck yeah, baby. Fuck.”

You let a string of your saliva drip from your lips and onto the tip of his cock, watching it trickle down the sides and pool atop his pubic bone. You slickened your hand with the spit before gliding it up and down his shaft, slowly at first, before picking up the pace. Joel squirmed.

“Jesus fuck, Y/N, just like that—”

You leaned forward to capture his head between your lips. You suckled at the swollen tip, tongue flicking at his frenulum as your hand maintained a steady speed. Your other head reached to cup at his balls, and Joel saw stars.

“Fuck yes, yes, yes, shit—suck on my balls, baby, oh please, please...”

Never in your wildest dreams (okay, maybe your wildest) did you think you’d have Joel Miller writhing beneath your mouth, fists clenched at his sides, begging for you. You released his cock from your lips before bending to pull one of his heavy balls into your mouth, tongue swirling around the bulb. Joel moaned pathetically, his hips thrusting to meet with the relentless pace of your fist. You traded one ball for the other, lavishing it with as much attention as the first. The taste was raw, and earthy, and something so distinctly Joel, you couldn’t help but moan around his sack. The vibrations pulsed through him.

“Jesus, you’re fuckin’ gettin’ off on this, ain’tcha? Fuckin’ filthy.”

Your face retreated with a gasp, allowing yourself a few gulps of fresh air before your hand quickened its pace just slightly. You looked up at Joel, who looked almost incoherent because he was so fucked-out. Just seeing the state of your face, spit-soaked chin and dripping mascara, was enough to make him blow his load, but then you fucking spoke.

“Will you fuck my face, Joel?”

The sound that escaped him was almost inhuman, a deep, animalistic growl that rumbled lowly within his chest. He wrapped your hair around the fingers of his left hand, the other one white-knuckling the armrest.

“Fuck, baby, yes, yes...”

You lowered your mouth down to his awaiting manhood, his cock twitching against your lips as you pushed your face down further. You were barely halfway down his length, and Joel was practically howling.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl—fuck.”

He was desperately trying to hold himself back, his arm twitching with the strain, but then he felt your fingers reach up behind your head and grab at his wrist, gesturing for him to apply pressure to the back of your head—to use you however he liked, take whatever he wanted.

With a jolt, he forced you to swallow his cock down, sliding to the back of your throat unexpectedly. You gagged reflexively, and Joel grunted.

“Fuck, look at you. Takin’ my cock so well, huh, baby? You want me to fuck your throat?”

You garbled in response, and assumingly he understood your agreement, because his hips thrusted upwards and you felt the head of his dick press against your throat. A choked sound escaped you, and Joel repeated the action, again and again and again, bobbing your head up and down on his cock as tears leaked from your eyes. He pushed your face down harder, forcing you to take it as far as you could, and soon, your mouth was flush against his pubic bone, the wiry hairs tickling against your nose.

“Fuck, Y/N, yes—gonna make me cum, baby, fuck—”

He released your head, and you recoiled sharply, gasping for air and relishing in your ability to breathe. However, you quickly resumed your assault, your head bobbing up and down on the head of his cock and your hand pumping at the lower half. Joel’s face was scrunched up in pleasure, his legs spasming from the intensity.

“Fuck, don’ stop, please—God, fuck, baby, I’m gonna cum—oh, yes, yes, yes, Y/N, gonna cum for you, baby—shit, I’m cummin’, fu—”

Joel practically jumped from the couch as the stimulation on his cock abruptly ceased, his rapidly impending orgasm dying down instantaneously. He let out a yelp of shock, but then you were on him, your clothed pussy grinding down on his length and your lips feverishly attacking the skin of his neck and jaw.

“Damnit, sweetheart, what the—”

“Need you inside me.”

You practically cried, your desperation overwhelming you as you felt the hot drag of his slick cock against the crotch of your shorts.

“Need you inside me, right now.”

His head was spinning, clouded over with lust, the feeling of your teeth nipping at the column of his neck intoxicating. He reached for your hips, trying to slow the pace of your rocking hips.

“Woah, okay, sweetheart—you got a condom?”

You didn’t hear him, couldn’t hear him over the roaring of blood pumping in your ears.

“Please, Joel, please, please—”

“Wait, baby girl, jus’—hold on—condoms, Y/N. Where?”

You squeezed your eyes shut, panting, pressing yourself into him fervently, feeling almost faint as your desire suffocated you.

“Don’t care, don’t—don’t need one, just—please, Joel, please, give it to me, please—”

This woke Joel from his lust-induced haze, the almost nonsensical blabbering that escaped you—you were fucking wrecked, absolutely cockdrunk, inhibitions completely tossed out the window. This was so unlike you—Joel wanted to oblige, wanted to give you everything you needed, wanted to split you open and never stop, but—he cared about you. He needed to look out for you, and right now, your thinking was impaired.

“I know, baby, I know, but—you gotta slow down, sweetheart, jus—”

“You wanna know a secret?”

You interrupted his gentle coaxing, nipping at his earlobe as you spoke hotly against his neck. He grunted in protest, but the feeling of the seam of your shorts sliding over his shaft was threatening to ruin him.

“Bought a toy, just for this. Been opening myself up for you, Joel—wanted to be ready to take you my first time, wanted to be ready—”

“Y/N, stop.”

His tone was suddenly stern, and you jolted, the word stop breaking you free from your spell, your craving quickly shifting to concern.

“What?”

You sat back on his lap, leaning away from him, searching his face for any indication of discomfort.

“Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?”

Joel’s brows were furrowed, and you could practically see the gears turning in his brain.

“Was that—s’that true? This—this’s your first time?”

You interpreted his confusion as something that excited him. You grinned at him eagerly, leaning forward to peck his lips.

“Yes, Joel—been saving myself, just for you—wanted you forever, you ruined me for anyone else—”

“No.”

Joel shifted you off of him, setting you on the cushion beside him and he pushed to stand, lifting his pants from his ankles and pulling them back up over himself. Panic flooded your veins—you wanted to scream.

“No, Joel, stop, what’re you—I need you, please, just—”

Joel shook his head fervently, pressing fingers against his forehead as if to quell a growing headache. His world was spinning.

“This—you don’t want this to be your first, Y/N. Not with me, not—not like this.”

Your breathing was labored, tears filling your eyes. You shakily got to your feet, wobbling, keeping your distance from him. His back was to you, muscles rippling.

“Why—that’s not true, I—”

“You need to be with someone who cares about you, Y/N—someone who loves you, who can give you everything.”

A punch to the gut. You physically recoiled, a squeaking sound of pain coming from your throat. Joel turned, the gleam of agony in your gaze was devastating.

“You—you’re saying you don’t care about me?”

Your words were soft, your incredulity palpable.

“No, no, that’s not—Y/N, this—you don’t want this, I promise you, this isn’t—this isn’t what you want.”

“This is exactly what I want.”

Your nose twitched in frustration, sadness quickly replaced with rage.

“I want you, Joel. Wanted you since the day I met you. Always—always wanted to be with you, to be yours, to—”

“Stop.”

He warned lowly, shaking his head.

“Stop, right now. You don’t know what you’re sayin’, you—we can’t be together, Y/N.”

Your bottom lip quivered, studying him, eyes flooded with tears.

“Why are you saying this?”

Joel looked down, shame and guilt weighing heavy in his gut.

“I never should’ve let this happen. Let you think—I just thought this was some wild taboo fantasy for you, I never thought—you don’t actually wanna be with me—”

“A fantasy?”

You were growing loud, now, near a scream. Your voice cracked.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Is that what that is for you? Some forbidden fuck-the-babysitter wet dream?”

“No, no, you’re not—you’re not listenin’ to me. This—”

He gestured between the two of you.

“—can’t happen. It’s—”

“I’m fucking in love with you, Joel.”

Silence filled the room. The man before you staggered back, like he’d been stabbed in the chest. His face was pained.

“Did Sarah tell you what happened the other day? She accidentally called me Mom, Joel.”

He stared at you, eyes glistening.

“Felt so bad about it, but—I liked it. She said I do all the things moms are s’posed to do. We spend time together, I take care of her, I cook for you, I clean for you—Hell, we’re practically married already, Joel. I want—I want to be a family.”

You stood before him, waiting for a response—something, anything. Moments later, when he finally spoke, you felt your heart begin to crack open.

“You need to go to California.”

His voice was low, but he spoke with conviction. Tears streamed down your face.

“No, Joel, no—that’s not—I want to stay here, I want to be here, with you, with Sarah, with—”

“You’re so young, Y/N. Got your whole life ahead of you. This ain’t your future—you don’t want it to be, trust me, you—”

“I’m sorry, Joel, okay? I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—we can just forget tonight ever happened, okay? We never have to talk about this ever again. We can just pretend, and—and things can just go back to the way they were.”

“But they can’t, can they?”

A tear slipped from his eye, and you felt your lungs start to shrink.

“As long as you’re here, as long as—as long as I’m a part of your life, you’ll never move on.”

You were practically sobbing now, arms wrapped around yourself tightly. You wanted to punch him, scream at him, but you also wanted him to hold you and never let you go. The distance between you seemed to be widening.

“Don’t you understand? I don’t want to move on. I’ll never move on, Joel, I want—I just want you.”

He shook his head again, a deep frown etched in his tired face. You could feel your hold on him slipping, pulling from your grasp and out of reach.

“You need to go to California.”

He reiterated.

“I want to stay here.”

“There’s nothing for you here, anymore.”

Silence.

“What are you saying?”

You knew what he was saying, but you needed to hear it for yourself.

He steeled himself.

“This—we’re done. All of this. You can’t—you can’t see Sarah anymore, or me, or Tommy, or—this is over, Y/N. It has to be. For your sake. You—there’s a whole world out there for you to see. I can’t be the reason you never had the chance."

A sob punched through you and you collapsed to your knees, unable to support your weight anymore. It hurt so, so bad, you were completely grief-stricken, choking, suffocating. Joel turned to leave.

“Don’t walk out that door, Joel, please, I am begging you, don’t do this, I love you, please—”

You clutched at your chest, watching him through bleary eyes.

He regarded you one last time, his face scrunched up in pain. He gave you a sad smile.

“Just want what’s best for you, Y/N. And—and if me being out of your life is the only way for you to move on, hell, then—then I hope I never see you again.”

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