#All these distractions! No excuses! Go love now! Lol

[doll3scent]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧

John Price X Other woman! reader

Warnings- angst, age gap, marital problems, infidelity, arguments, jealousy, the other woman, manipulation, lying, dumb reader.

wc. 2k

a/n. i'd let him manipulate me idc, i've had this in my notes for a while lol

John's wife had grown increasingly distant and cold over the past few months, well not months. It's been a year since she'd let him touch her, leaving him feeling alone and uncertain. In search of comfort, he found himself turning to you, a pretty and young thing, who worked at the flower shop down the street.

He spent almost all his free time with you, showering you with gifts and paying for whatever you two were doing together. However, he would always be hesitant to introduce you to any of his friends or to go anywhere that could easily be connected to him.

You were oblivious, loving the attention he gave you, basking happily in his presence. Every gesture, every gift, made you feel special, like you were the center of his world. His charm and the way he seemed to dote on you filled the emptiness you hadn't fully realized was there. You didn't question his reluctance to go public or meet his friends; after all, his affection felt so genuine, and you reveled in the moments you shared, convinced that everything was perfect, unaware of the layers of complexity he was keeping hidden.

He loved the way you looked at him, the soft way you spoke to him, your innocence being so attractive to him. A perfect woman to distract him from his shitty marriage. You were always excited to do something with him, you never questioned the things he said and always believed him. You were like a cute little puppy, so loyal and eager to please. He almost felt bad for lying to you about being married. He did get a secret thrill out of being a married man with a young thing fawning over him. It was a power trip knowing you loved him.

You were so young and beautiful compared to his wife.

She was older and colder than you. He loved the way you were so willing to please him, unlike his wife who just nagged him at every turn. He felt an odd sense of pleasure when you would listen to him and take his instructions. It was so different from his wife, he had to fight everyday to get a word in. With you he had an eager little girl willing to listen always at the ready.

He used work as the perfect excuse to get away and see you. He told his wife he had an important work trip for a few days and she believed him. He would then get a room for the two of you somewhere, where he would spend as much time as possible with you before giving some bullshit excuse of being needed for longer than expected. He loved those little getaways with you. They were like little romantic vacations away from the world, away from his wife. To him, it was like a second honeymoon, where he got to go somewhere nice and spend time with such a young, sweet thing that loved him.

He was so used to the coldness of his own marriage. It was so refreshing to spend time with you instead, you loved him in a way that his wife didn't. He found himself wishing he could be with you all the time, instead of having to go back to his wife.

He was always careful not to let you mark him in any obvious places, knowing that any sign of you could give him away. He couldn't afford for his wife to find out about you. The few times you tried to leave your mark, he insisted it be somewhere easily concealed-on his chest, his upper arm, places that could be hidden under his clothes. His need for secrecy overshadowed his desire for the moments you shared.

Right now, you're in a hotel, and John is in the shower, the sound of water running filling the quiet space. You're curled up in his bed, wearing one of his button-up shirts that falls to your thighs. The top buttons are undone, letting the fabric slip off your shoulder, and your white stockings peek out from beneath the shirt, contrasting with the soft, intimate atmosphere.

John was in the shower, the sound of the water crashing against the tiles filling the room, muffling everything else. His phone, which he had specifically warned you not to answer, rang once more. He had told you it could be work, but the real reason was he didn't want you answering if his wife called. The phone buzzed insistently, the ringtone growing louder in the quiet of the room. You hesitated, the temptation tugging at you. You could ignore it, as he'd always asked.

You felt the strong urge to pick up the phone, your curiosity growing larger as it continued to ring. Yet John had specifically told you he didn't want you answering it. He had told you he was worried it would be his work calling and they would want something from him. You were still so innocent and naive, not knowing the real reason he was so worried about you picking the phone up.

You hesitated for only a moment before giving in, reaching over and grabbing the phone. As your fingers brushed across the screen, the name "Marie" flashed in bold letters. A sense of confusion and curiosity flooded you—who was Marie? Was it a colleague, a friend? You didn't know he had anyone else in his life, and you certainly hadn't imagined it could be someone so close.

You pick up the phone, answering the call. You hold the phone close to your ear, the other end silent for a moment before a woman's voice suddenly comes through. "Hello? John?"

You kept the phone held up to your ear, listening as a woman's voice cut through the silence, sharp and angry. "John! Where the hell have you been? You said you'd be back yesterday! What's your excuse this time? I've had enough of this!" Her tone was laced with frustration, every word dripping with annoyance. "You can't keep disappearing like this, John. I'm done with your games."

You gasp as the phone is suddenly snatched out of your hand, your eyes widening in shock as you look up to see John standing behind you, just a towel wrapped around his waist. His jaw is clenched, his expression furious as his gaze locks onto yours. He holds the phone tightly in his hand, his knuckles white. Without a word, he ends the call, his glare burning into you. His silence speaks volumes, and the weight of the moment presses down on you. His voice finally breaks through the tension, cold and steely: "I told you—no answering my phone." The anger in his tone makes your heart race, and you realize just how serious his one rule was.

"im sorry! it wouldn't stop ringing! i thought it might be important-*

"Important?" John's tone is sharp, his eyes locked onto yours. "You thought it was 'important'? You know the goddamn rule, don't touch my phone. You shouldn't have answered it. I told you not to for a reason." He steps closer, his jaw clenched. You re stunned by his harsh tone and the way he's yelling at you. In all the time you've been together, he's never spoken to you like this before, never raised his voice. Even when he was upset, he was always gentle and kind with you. This was a completely different side, a colder, more stern side you never knew he had. "I told you not to touch my phone, do you understand? Do you have any idea what you just did?" You stared at him so confused, why was he acting like this "what?...what did i do? who was that?"

"Who was that?" John's eyes narrow, his tone still harsh. "That was my wife. And you, with your god damn curiosity, answered her call." He clenches his jaw, his anger clearly evident on his face. "You couldn't just let it ring, could you? You had to pick it up and answer it! What the hell were you thinking?!"

The room seemed to freeze, your heart pounding in your chest as his words sank in. His wife? The truth hit you like a freight train. All this time, he'd been married…You felt the ground beneath you shift, the realization cutting through you like ice. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, the weight of the betrayal crashing down on you. You felt like you were dying, your entire world crumbling in a matter of seconds.

“you're wife?"

Your voice trembles as you utter the words, your eyes widening in shock at the revelation. "My wife, yes." John's voice is sharp as he confirms it. He can see the shock and confusion on your face as he says it. "Are you happy now? You know I'm married, and now you've had a conversation with my goddamn wife!"

"no- i didn't! i didn't say anything-“

"That's not the damn point!" John's voice raises again, his anger still burning. "You answered my phone, when I specifically told you not to! You have no idea what kind of problems you could've just caused!" He steps closer, his eyes locking onto yours. "Do you know how badly this could've turned out if you had actually talked to her? You're so damn lucky you didn't say a word to her!"

The silence stretched on, heavy and thick. John's breathing slowly steadied, his anger simmering down, but his eyes still held a flicker of intensity as he processed the moment. He knew you hadn't actually spoken to his wife, that she still didn't know about you.

The tension in the room felt suffocating. Finally, the quiet was broken by a small, fragile whimper escaping from your lips. “You're married?"

The words seemed to hang in the air, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had stopped. John takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he tries to calm down. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose before meeting your gaze again. He nods quietly, confirming your question. "Yes, I'm married." His voice is no longer filled with anger, but there's a hint of resignation. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this, but yes, I'm married." But the weight of it hit you like a brick, shattering whatever illusion had been there.

The realization of everything you didn't know, everything you'd been unknowingly part of, left you frozen, vulnerable, and sick to your stomach.

John's voice softened, and a sense of vulnerability crept into his tone as he began to speak. "You have to understand... she's been neglecting me. Ignoring me. I'm stuck in a marriage where she doesn't care about me like she used to. She's so distant, so cold. I've tried to talk to her, but it's like she doesn't even see me anymore." His eyes darkened, and he took a step closer, his posture almost pleading. "I feel so trapped. Alone. Every day it's the same-just silence. I haven't felt loved in so long, and that's why I turned to you."

The words flowed easily, as if he'd practiced them over and over. He painted a picture of himself as the victim, a lonely, neglected man who had no choice but to seek comfort elsewhere. The way he spoke about his wife, the way he justified everything. To anyone else, it would have been clear-John was playing the victim, manipulating the situation to make you feel sorry for him, to make you believe his story.

But you were different. You were so completely enamored with him, so swept up in his attention and the way he made you feel. Every word he said seemed to make sense, to fit perfectly into the narrative you had in your mind of a man misunderstood, alone, needing someone to care for him. You clung to his every word, believing him without question. He was hurt, he was suffering, and that made you want to help him even more. In that moment, nothing else mattered. The weight of his words, the raw emotion in his voice, wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. You wanted to be the one to fix things, to be the one who made him feel loved again. And so, you believed him, blindly, without hesitation. You believed his lies with ease.

[j0kers-light]

Hello light!

Could you cook us a submissive Joker oneshot???

His Lighthouse: Attention (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Attention- Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

I love being called Light omg! ☺️☺️ a total of 8 people have asked for sub!Joker. Eight!!! I did this but I need to do it again because the gurls are getting desperate.

I don’t want a rock through my window anon lol. I remember that. 🥴

Disclaimer: I suck at sub!Joker (dodges the tomatoes thrown at me) I am team dom!Joker but it’s not about me. It’s about us. Chef Chaos in the kitchen! Dinner is served. 👩🏾‍🍳👩🏽‍💻 please keep in mind I edited this while being sick so if there's mistakes.. no there isn't.

As always, If you wish to be a part of the His Lighthouse taglist, do let me know via comment, ask, or a quick direct message! 🖤✨

Any minute now and Joker was gonna lose what little sanity he had left. You were torturing him. You had to be! Why else would you deny him this long?

You were always doing something. Cooking, writing, reading, too sleepy, whatever! Joker really tried to be reasonable regarding your excuses. The first night he came home in a mood, he kissed up on you and earned a faint gasp— only to hear your sweet voice say, “J, it’s too early.”

You did have an early zoom meeting but that had nothing to do with him. It was four am and he was horny. You didn’t have to do a thing but lie there and feel good, but your whines convinced him otherwise.

“Yeah.. late. Early? Blah blah, time is a uhhh funny thing no?”

Joker reluctantly let you sleep, knowing he’d have all afternoon to have you. He kissed your hair and settled for holding you close as you fell back asleep. He was a patient man; he could wait for what he wanted.

But then your morning call dragged on well into the afternoon. By the time you logged off, you were mentally exhausted and only had the energy to fix something to eat and recharge for the next day. You crashed in bed, completely forgetting about Joker and missing his disappointed pout.

He brooded the entire night and yes, he killed innocent people because he was denied sex.

Again: Not. His. Problem.

Joker could wait until you were free to have your full undivided attention. Because he needed all of it for the things he wanted to do to you. Tomorrow was a new day—that is, until it became a trend for you to be too busy to spare J any time.

If you did have a spare moment, Joker always caught you at the wrong time like right before you were due for a meeting, or when you were nose deep writing a crucial scene. If he didn’t know any better, Joker would have thought you were brushing him off on purpose but your apologizes were genuine.

He made do calming his erections down or distracting himself to avoid arousal altogether but there was only so much a man could do. It was right there!

Sure, he could jerk off but where was the fun in that? His hand was nothing compared to yours or the warm vice that your pussy created. Man, he missed her. When was the last time he slid home or tasted all you had to offer? He couldn’t remember when.

Joker was not above begging (he’d done it once or twice since knowing you) but still. He wasn’t that hopeless.

Honestly, Joker didn’t know why he was lying to himself. He was that hopeless. Enough was enough.

Joker went an entire week and a half patiently waiting for you. It was torture to have you so close every day yet being unable to touch you. And the worst part? You were blissfully unaware that Joker was suffering.

He had to endure seeing your beautiful body walking around in the clothes you dare call loungewear. They were weapons of mass destruction in his eyes, no doubt about it.

Your plushy thighs barely contained by your shorts—what he’d do to have them in his hands; no. He wanted to leave bite marks on every inch and soothe them with his tongue. Thighs like yours were made to be worshipped. Squeezed. Devoured. Claimed. And he wanted to die being suffocated by them.

Joker was literally going through withdrawals he was so desperate!

Every time he closed his eyes; he saw you in his favorite position. Whenever his fingers brushed against something soft; he was reminded of your supple skin slick with sweat. He heard your innocent hums or sighs, and the sound shot to his dick, reminding him of times you made the same sounds in the throes of passion. He wanted your voice hoarse with tears streaming down your cheeks as he plowed..

Easy there. Down boy.. Down. Joker thought to himself.

You even haunted his random thoughts! You turned him to an addict waiting for the next high and as each day passed, he became more and more desperate to reach it. He was more than needy. Joker was deprived of his Light and feral. He would do anything for a sliver of your attention.

Two weeks going on three proved to be his breaking point. If you didn’t attend to his needs then he would take matters into his own hands and force you to.

Thankfully you gave him the perfect opportunity to plead his case. Joker came home and for once, you weren’t seated in front of your laptop.

You weren’t holding up a finger for him to be quiet. No headset on or handwritten notes scattered across your desk. No. You were in the kitchen chopping up some vegetables with music playing softly in the background.

It was neutral ground. Joker took hesitant steps until you acknowledged his presence with a smile. Okay... you didn’t look busy, nor did you tell him to leave. Was this his chance? You seemed to be in a good enough mood.

Just to be sure, Joker came up behind you and kissed your shoulder. It was bare due to the tank top you wore and f__k... you weren’t wearing a bra. This was torture indeed.

J buried his nose in the crook of your neck to block out the pungent smell of onions and instead soaked up the rich smell of you. You smelled divine as always. The strands of his hair tickled your skin the more he nuzzled in closer.

“Hm, that tickles.” Yet you didn’t stop your meal prep.

He was right there, why couldn’t you give him your attention?! He huffed and planted more kisses on the expanse of your neck and shoulders. You didn’t push him away so he took things to the next level by groping your breasts through the thin material of your top.

Now that got you to pause your music. “Joker. I’m cooking."

A rare whine escaped his throat, “’n I’m hungry.” He bit the spot where your neck met your jaw; your favorite erogenous zone.

“T-then let me cook. J.. quit it.” You shivered when his hands slipped under your shirt and finally touched you skin to skin. The initial contact sucked the air from your lungs, but you pressed forward. “This is my first time making this dish and I.. oh right there.. I don’t w-want to ruin it!”

Joker’s lips left your neck with a wet pop. Did he really had to beg for what he wanted? So be it then.

“But what about meeee, Bun? You’re ruining me. I.. I..” He groaned as he pinched your nipples into stiff peaks. Your body was responding to his needs, why couldn’t that pretty head of yours follow suit?

He whined again and started grinding his dick into your back, all but pining you to the kitchen counter. You weren't escaping this. Joker would not let you. “I... oh sweetheart, I um..”

You heard Joker stumbling over his words (and not his usual theatrical stumbles). Something was wrong. You turnt your head and barely caught J biting his lips. “Joker, are you okay?”

His green hair concealed his eyes from your view. He was a mess with his freckled face all rosy red with want but that’s not how you saw it. J looked in pain.

You dropped the chef knife and focused your attention on Joker. Finally. It’s all he wanted these past few weeks. Your attention. Undivided. Squarely on him.

He let you turn in his arms and he hummed when your hands cupped his scarred face. His cheeks were flushed and there was a glassy look in his eye that had you worried. “J? Are you catching a cold?”

What did he do to deserve this? Joker groaned and dropped his head to your chest. So soft. “Nuh uh. I just, mmm.” Why was it suddenly so hard to ask?

Maybe because you starved him for so long and now that he had your attention, it was just too much to take in. Your thumbs moved on autopilot and rubbed Joker’s scars, but you gasped when he caught one in his mouth and sucked.

Oh. Oh no.

You were speechless as Joker looked up through his long lashes. You knew that look. Granted you only seen it once, it was a state you could never forget. You thought it would be a one-time occurrence but as you took in the turbulent emerald waters in Joker’s eyes, you already knew what mindset he had slipped into.

“Can I have ya M-Mommy? I been verrrrry patient, so patient but I.. I need p-please? I need ya.”

Joker didn’t give you time to respond, he growled lowly and swept an arm across the countertop—sending food and other ingredients flying. You had a mind to scold him, but J already lifted you onto the counter before you could string a sentence together.

Your shrieked at the cold surface hitting your thighs but Joker’s hands parted them like a hot knife to butter. His lips were everywhere, telling you exactly what was on his mind.

You you you you you you you. Finally, he had you.

His hands were eager, pawing at your clothes—he needed them gone, he wanted access to your skin, your body, your warmth. There was so much to do, so little time. What if you denied him again before he had his way? No! Joker needed this. He needed you.

He latched onto your nipples over the cotton fabric and suckled. Your hands flew into his hair as a result. “Joker!”

He hummed, sending vibrations on your skin even as he grew inpatient and clawed at your waist hidden by your pesky shorts. The stupid thing could double as underwear it was so scandalous. Perhaps you underestimated just how desperate Joker truly was.

The fabric was like tissue paper in his hands although he didn’t dwell much on the loss nor on your startled gasp. He was one step closer to his goal.

His mind was flooded with the concept of you. The sounds you made, the way you responded to his touch. He was going insane(r).

You yelped feeling his hand snake in between your thighs and rub at your entrance. Joker groaned against your chest feeling the wetness coating his fingers. “Mm, soooo wet Mommy. Already? Are ya wet for meee? I knew it, you need this too.”

His words hit hard and caused more slick to pool into his palm. “Shhh, I know, I know.” J shushed your cries when he plunged his fingers inside your pussy and began to pump them nice and hard.

The stretch was unexpected; you forgotten the last time you and Joker were intimate. Work took a lot out of you these past few weeks. Sex was the last thing on your mind but Joker was so kind to reintroduce you to the concept.

The wet slick sound of your pussy was loud in your ears and Joker amplified it by moving his fingers faster. He truly was a man possessed.

He watched each emotion alter your face with every stroke of his fingers. Knuckles deep made your eyelashes flutter like wings.

Letting his thumb rub your clit with every retreat had your back arching beautifully. When he rubbed against your favorite spot thus earning a high-pitched yelp, he grinned and kissed anywhere he could. You’d have hickies all over, he didn’t care.

Gods, you were stunning. This is what he missed all those nights.

You in the throes of passion under him. Over him. It did not matter. His cock twitched in his pants the louder you moaned out your pleasure. You were close and he couldn’t wait to see you unravel.

Would you notice him grinding into the counter? Probably not with how your thighs were shaking.

You were clinging onto Joker’s shoulders, crying out for him and he heard every single word spill from your lips.

Your eyes found Joker’s the moment the white-hot coil in your belly snapped. He was right there to watch you come undone. And what a sight you were.

His moans echoed yours as you rode out your high. J didn’t stop the fast thrusts of his fingers in your cunt not even when you whimpered ‘too much,’ he just shook his head.

No, you deserved all his love, why run from it? If he could go weeks bottling up his desire then you could handle the tsunami wave of it crashing down on you. It only seemed fair in his twisted mind.

You did not know when Joker stopped fingering you. One minute your cunt was teetering on the edge of another orgasm, the next Joker was kissing you senseless.

Attempts at your name mixed in with his subby whines caught you off guard but nothing compared to hearing Joker’s still wet hand stroking his cock.

Your eyes shot open at the lewd sound. He had no shame. Joker stood before you jerking himself off with precum splattering on the tile kitchen floor.

Why did he look thicker, heavier, and you bit your lip catching a fleeing glimpse of his angry red head before it disappeared in his fist.

Yeah, J looked in pain alright. If he didn’t have you soon, he just might combust. His entire frame shook with the restraint he held. It sent a tingle of fear down your spine. You might not walk after this..

How long had it been since you and J had sex again? Your mind drew a blank.

And not like it mattered; Joker was tired of waiting. He rested his forehead against yours with a choppy sigh. “Mm, I need it. I need you. I’m sorry Mommy, I ahhh…”

Your mouth fell open in a silent scream as Joker bottomed out inside your pussy with one powerful thrust. Home at last. Why did he ever leave? Why did he wait so long?

He let out a guttural groan as he set his hands on the counter near your hips. “Yessss f-finally f__k yes! Oh, thank you Mommy. Thank you. Fuuu—”

Joker proceeded to pound into you and all logical thought was lost to time. Only his babbles of thank yous and sloppy kisses to your skin were deemed relevant.

Pieces of chopped vegetables and other ingredients clung to your back but none of that clicked inside your scrambled brain.

Your current thoughts were surrounded on breathing and not blacking out. Was Joker always this feral or did it have to do with the time apart? He was a completely different person plowing into your cunt, spaced out, and drooling onto your skin. If you got the chance, you would wager his eyes blown out by lust with no green therein.

It was hot to be desired to such a degree. To be thanked for spreading your legs while at the same time, being reduced to mere a fleshlight.

Nothing else mattered except the hard wet slap of Joker’s hips meeting your own.

He had a bruising grip on your waist to help guide you forward onto his invading length. You could feel every vein on Joker’s dick dragging against your walls, over and over without remorse, until another orgasm bubbled up to the surface. He had no plans of stopping but black dots were filling your vision.

“J....” you said with a shaky breath.

Your hands sought him out, requesting anything to help ground you to earth. You found hope clinging to Joker’s wrists although that triggered something in him.

Perhaps it was already there lying dormant, nevertheless, he yanked you up from the counter and into his arms. Once J knew you secure, he kissed your cheek and began bouncing you on his cock.

The new angle was deeper with the same brutal pace as before. It snatched a wanton moan right from your throat that Joker responded to with a sweet coo.

“Ooh, you like that Mommy? This big.. fat d-dick deep n’ hard in my pretty girl’s guts? Yea? Well it’s allllll for you, no one else. I always wanna be in ya Mommy.” He grunted when he slammed you down a bit harder than expected. “F__k, you’re sooo tight!!”

You clawed at his arms the same time J grimaced from your pussy squeezing him to death. He happened to be a certified masochist but this was the best pain he ever experienced.

That and the longest blue balls you subjected him to. He could not wait to empty inside you.

Which reminded him; that this was all your fault.

“Whydda make me wait huh? Ya g-got me.. ngh, goin’ crazy for this pussy. H-Hallucinating and s__t! Ya makin’ me crazier n’ I love ittttt!”

He bounced you harder on his cock during his mindless babbles and you almost missed what he said.

Make him wait? What nonsense was Joker on about? You lifted your head from J’s neck and eyed him sideways. Not once did he come to you this past month!

You thought he was too busy with all his crime and whatever he did at night to be bothered.

His accusations made you mad and before you knew it, your hands were wrapping around Joker’s throat.

You wanted him to just shut up and keep f__king you, however you weren’t expecting a dazed smile to bloom across J’s face nor hear the feminine moan that escaped him. He was ruined beyond measure.

Oh. Now that was unexpected.

“H-Harder.” He begged. Joker. Begged. The idea was unheard of. You blinked in shock but did as you were asked albeit hesitantly.

You used both hands to squeeze his airway. Joker made noises you’ve never heard before (all them sending liquid fire to your clit) as he picked back up his erratic thrusts into your cunt. He liked this?

His hazy smile confirmed it.

Without warning, J fell back onto the fridge, taking you with him. It was jarring at first, but his grip on you never faltered. In fact, he never missed a beat ramming into your sopping wet hole.

Apparently, J wasn’t the only one enjoying the newly discovered choking kink.

“Harder, baby. I-I can t-take it!” You were wary, Joker could tell, so he snapped his hips up to hit your g spot with a disturbing accuracy. It only took a few hits for you to crumble.

You cried out as your orgasm took you by surprise. Joker didn’t know which was tighter. Your hand around his neck or your pussy on his dick; either way, what bliss.

He just closed his eyes and flooded your cunt.

He felt each spurt of cum with the lack of oxygen making him hypersensitive. He had so much to give, he could feel it spilling out of you and down to his balls.

He didn’t want to leave your warmth; it felt too good. A perfect finale for weeks of denial.

Despite the room spinning, Joker was ever mindful of you in his arms as he slid further down the fridge and ultimately to the floor. The cold tiles were a shock to his sweaty skin and he rightfully shielded you from it with his body.

The two of you breathed in the hot, balmy air as time caught up to reality.

You were still seated on J’s cock, playing with the ends of his hair. You couldn’t get up even if your life depended on it.

You didn’t want to be the first to speak but J wasn’t planning on it. He was still on cloud nine, only allowing his thumb to rub mindlessly on your lower back.

Last time Joker did not want to acknowledge his unusual behavior so you had to walk on eggshells just in case he would have the same mentality today.

“Um, J? Are you okay?” You glanced at his neck which was already turning red, “I hope I didn’t squeeze too hard.”

His Light; always so sweet and pure. Joker smiled at your worrisomeness. You did choke him harder than he’d anticipated but he didn’t want you freaking out and not consider doing it again.

Again. He was already thinking about a repeat performance. He was truly messed up in the head. Joker shook his head and fussed over you.

His voice is hoarse when he finally replied. “I’m fine, Bun. That was…”

He shifted as if highlighting exactly what the two of you just did.

You blushed feeling the sticky mess pooling in between you and Joker’s legs. You grimaced at the thought of cleaning up later. Right now, you just sighed in relief. Sex with Joker was always an adventure.

Today however…

The elephant was still lingering in the room. “I thought you didn’t like being.. you know.” You bit your lip, looking away.

Joker tapped it lightly to make you stop. All his previous actions and statements done in the heat of the moment rushed back to him and oddly enough, he wasn’t embarrassed like last time.

He still didn’t know what to make of it these developments.. but you deserved an answer as his partner.

“I uh don’T? I just get so ahh, des-per-ate? Needy? Hm. I’m obsessed what can I say? Its errr.. your fault, for leaving me high n’ dry. Don’t. Do. It. Again.” He growled as he pinched your cheek.

Good to know he was back to his normal self. And in record time too.

You rubbed the sting away with a pout. You missed his submissiveness already. “Maybe Mommy should deny her pretty boy again. I kinda like you all pussy drunk and needy. Would you like that baby” you teased.

Joker’s cheeks flushed red, “Yes I.. ah ahem! Pft. Whatever ya want Bun.” He looked away, hoping you didn’t hear the first half of his sentence.

Unfortunately, you did. “Just admit you like it, J. There’s nothing wrong with a mommy kink.”

“I. Do. Not. Have. A..” you cut him off with a firm hand around his throat. His pathetic moan and the throb from his dick stirring up inside you was all the proof you needed.

You cooed and kissed his nose. “Aww, its okay J baby. Mommy knows the truth now and I’m gonna have, so much fun with you.”

[sysig]

Your Weekly TV Guide

On Monday you can expect:

2:30 PM: Ghostkinz concept/Showcase

And Tuesday:

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2:30 PM: Helix/RespectAWoman

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2:30 PM: Sona reacts to coding

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2:30 PM: Pokemon - Firebland

Sunday:

2:30 PM: Sona reacts to new erasers

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[dilf-docs]

It Always Leads To You

joel miller x younger fem!reader

summary: it's been a year; now you're back. how can joel be so sure of those old summer feelings in your eyes when there's a new hand holding yours?

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap, toxic relationship, cheating and infidelity themes, mutual pinning, kinda dark!joel, smut, p. in v., pussy pronouns, oral (f. receiving), fingering, manhandling, lowkey forced creampie, ANGST, the taylor swift evermore (2020) references go wild, happy ending cause y'all weak asses voted for it and i love to keep my citizens happy!

word count: 5,199 words

side note: my joel miller era is alive and breathing after this tlou re-watch i'm doing my brother swears it's for him but it's mostly me and my fic/womanly reasons, yes we love gaslight girlkeep girlbossing in here gotta say, finding inspiration for this amidst my wattpad duties and christmas movie marathon was harder than i thought lol. was it worth the wait? please like, comment and reblog to let me know! it's based on this request (they're still open btw!)

part: I / II

Holidays linger like bad perfume.

Your eyes wander through the streets: the roads you've got to call home, the ones where you grew up. They're familiar, but so foreign, it's hard to believe they're the same ones where you scrapped your knees at ten and kissed Joel just last winter. It's as if both timelines, your life, feels more like two separate lives, miles apart.

"Hey, you okay?" tender, from the driver's seat; you're still getting used to the soft.

There's a reassuring smile your way, his hand finding yours to give it a squeeze. You notice his palm is the same size as yours. It fits perfectly, but there's a ghost of what it feels like to have it all wrapped up, looming over your itchy palm like all the yearning's a joke.

You nod. "Just tired. That's all"

He sighs. "If I wanted you to lie to me, I would've just asked"

"I'm not lying" you defend yourself as his pickup truck parks on the sidewalk.

He makes a funny face, and you laugh.

"I'm serious, Nick" your lips purse, a thing you do when you lie, yet he still hadn't noticed, like Joel. "Don't worry"

He doesn't look that convinced, so you take off your seat belt and grab his hand.

"C'mon. Mom and dad must be waiting for us"

"Hey" Nick calls you out.

"Yeah?"

"Who lives there?" and he's pointing behind you.

It's his. Joel's house.

"A friend of my dad's" you answer, dryly.

It was last december when you stood there in his porch, begging. It feels like time has stopped ever since, and you're still right where he left you.

"So will he be here?" Nick asks. "You know, since he knows your dad"

"Don't think so" you shrug, "he's got better things to do anyway. Bitter old man" comes out, with more venom than intended.

"Oh! Alright, sorry for asking"

You come back to your senses, realizing you've shared more than you should.

"No, I'm sorry. It's not that important; let's just go inside"

Your mom and dad greet you as soon as you cross the door. Last year, you'd basically fled away before New Year's, with a poor excuse and a broken heart. They both greet you as if nothing happened, although you're sure they remember your tear streamed face coming back from Joel's house, where it all ended.

As your mom corners Nick with kisses and embarrassing questions, your dad whispers to you:

"Joel asked what happened" you quirk and eyebrow, "wanted to know why you left"

"Eh, it's not important" you try to dismiss. "Definitely not as important for a guy like Joel to know"

"What is that supposed to mean?" your dad inquires. You often wonder if they knew.

"Nothing" you laugh nervously. "Listen, why don't you go and meet Nick, yeah? Did you know he likes fishing too?"

The distraction works with your dad; the same can't be said about you.

There's conversation flowing, but through the snow covered window, your eyes keep glancing back to his own. The view is dark, and you ponder if he's fled as well, the town plagued with memories too painful to reminisce.

You can still feel his hands roaming your body, the lust filled gaze that hid warmth. Every time he touches you, you have to remind you he isn't there: that the lips that kiss you, don't taste like his, that the hands that hold you, aren't big as his, and that the face that looks at you like they'll never choose another, is one you haven't learned to love yet.

Joel's memory cuts like thorns: they sink their teeth into your heart, that bleeds with that blood-colored sadness you're all too familiar with. He's poisoned you. But-- isn't it his love also the antidote for this disease he's gave you?

You abruptly stand up, plate half eaten.

"I-I need some air"

It's cold outside, but you don't care. All you want to do is sit on the porch, and drop some tears, something you can do inside too, but the fear of your muffled cries being able to be heard stops you.

You walk towards the stairs, to sit there like you do on summer days, yet there's now a difference: the snow. So you end up slipping, falling with your butt on the floor.

You yelp, embarrased although no one can see you.

"Need help?"

That you're wrong, apparently.

You don't even need to raise your view to know who that voice belongs to: you know it like a record, spinning in circles on your head.

He offers his strong hand your way, and although the cold wind hits your face, you're back to spring on the cabin: wet feet, bright sun and beating heart.

"I can get up myself" you reject his help, pushing the hand out. You keep avoiding his gaze, so you don't see how he's reacted, yet you hope he feels bad about it.

You walk up to the front door, and it takes you a while to realize he hasn't left yet. On top of that, it seems like he's following you. Just what you needed.

"What are you doing here?" you question, but your tone sounds like you're offended.

"Your folks invited me over" Joel answers, "Says they got a special guest"

"Yeah" this time, you do look back, finding him to be much closer than you thought he'd be. Yet you stand tall, defiant even. "It's my boyfriend"

You savour the way his expression falters, before the stoic façade takes over again.

"Boyfriend?" Joel scoffs, as if you just told the funniest joke ever.

"Is that supposed to be funny?" you bite back. "What? Think a pretty girl can't get a new man?"

"Never said I'd doubt'it" he clicks his tongue. "Y'a could get any man you'd want, sugar"

Ironically, the only man you want stands before you.

"Right" you chuckle dryly, "I think it's kind of funny of you to say that"

Joel's eyes bore into yours, a clash of emotions circling in his chocolate orbs.

"Y/n-"

"Don't" you stop him. Then sigh, defeated. "Let's just go inside"

As soon as you both arrive on the dinning room, your parents both greet Joel. Then, they introduce him to their guest, just as promised.

"Joel, this is Nick, y/n's boyfriend" your father speaks. "Nick, this is Joel, a dear old friend of mine"

Nick, as the gentleman he is, offers his hand. Joel accepts, but you can see the barely desguised displease behind his eyes.

"Wow, strong grip" Nick comments before joking, "you can let go now, I'm not going anywhere"

The hidden meaning of his words, whether intentional or not, hit Joel in the face. It's obvious by the way he backtracks, letting go of Nick's hand.

As you sit again, Nick leans to your side and whispers.

"Is this the guy who lives in the house across the street?" you nod. "Thought you'd said he had better plans. But, see? I told you: no plan's more important than coming to your house"

He's always making jokes, trying to make you smile, but it's done the opposite now. The food has gone cold long ago, yet you cut through the meat with a violence so palpable, even your mom tells you to slow down.

The nerve of Joel, showing up to your house like it's nothing, talking to you like he's unaware of his spell on you, acting like Nick is some sort of competition when he pulled out of the race himself a winter ago.

"So, Nick. How did you two meet?" your mom adresses him, eager to know details.

"It was at a party, actually, through mutual friends. Not a very spectacular story, that I know. What's funny is, she asked me what hour it was. And what did I say?"

"He didn't answer my question. Instead, he said: For you, I'm available any hour" you answer.

Your parents laugh, but Joel remains quiet. You wonder what he's thinking.

"You know" looking at Nick while cutting the steamed vegetables a little too agressive, "y/n actually hates parties"

"Joel" you warn through gritted teeth.

"Really? I didn't know that!" Nick seems so genuine, Joel can't help but hate him. He looks at you, concerned "You didn't tell me"

You can't believe he would rat you out like that. The appropiate word isn't hate, and you don't know how to describe it, but parties aren't really your environment; if you can, you'd choose to be anywhere else.

He'll pay for that.

"Joel" you seethe, an ugly smile painted in your features, "did you know Nick knows how to fish?"

It's a direct jab at him. He feels stupid for letting you get to him. The inferiority complex towards some random guy he just met, years younger, is actually laughable.

"I like-" Nick wants to add on that.

"Well" Joel interrupts, looking at you. "You never taught me like ya' were s'pposed to"

"You never cared to learn" you reply, acidic.

He sips his drink, trying to hide the smirk that's formed on his lips. You can't shut up, and he loves you've stayed the same.

"That means I've got some classes to take" Joel leans back on his chair, relaxed like he's won this round. "Just tell me when"

The tension cuts like the storm that's just formed outside.

"You should stay over, Joel" your dad offers when he takes a peak at the climate, "it's too dangerous outside"

Joel seems indestructible, like not even a snow blizzard could pierce through the rough old man. But he agrees, much to your dismay.

It's probably midnight already, and all you've done is toss around the bed. Nick peacefully snores next to you, and you envy how easily he falls asleep. You've always find it hard to sleep, the nighttime plagued with too many loud thoughts that fill the silence.

You get up carefully, heading downstairs for some water. You sip with tranquility when a noise jolts you from your sit.

The wooden floor creaks, making you aware you're not alone anymore.

"Can't sleep?"

You don't answer, seeing his sturdy figure emerge from the shadows until the dim moonlight shines over his aging features. Silence settles in. Outside, the wind howls, bumping against the windows with violence, like your heart does now against your chest.

"Not much of a talker, are you?"

"There's nothing to talk" cuts your response through the thick tension, the air suddenly suffocating.

You take another sip, but the tremble of your hand doesn't go unnoticed by Miller.

"Right" Joel sits next to you, on the kitchen island. "Won't even look at me, sugar? You've got eyes" his voice drops, "use 'em"

"What are you doing, Joel?" you ask looking at him, tears threatening to spill, making your bright eyes shimmer with pain.

He gets up abruptly, like he's woken up from a trance. He's seen his own pain on your eyes, and he hates it.

"Joel?" you ask again, demanding but softly.

He can't answer. Instead, he leaves.

"Goodnight, y/n" voice raw, many emotions boiling, hidden on the inside. It hurts.

If you hadn't changed, Joel too stayed the same.

A goddamn coward.

Two days have passed since, and now it's Christmas Eve.

You kneel, putting the presents under the tree. Normally, your parents would have much more people around for the holidays, but thanks to the storm, it's just them, Nick, Joel and you.

"I'm gonna miss Mrs. Stone's cookies" you pout, "I wish she could be here"

"It's a big loss for tonight" your dad sighs. "Next time, yeah? Christmas will come again faster than you think"

You nod, still absent as he walks away.

"Hey" Joel pops up behind, seemingly from nowhere.

"Hey" you reply, voice laced with tiredness just at the sight of him. How will you manage to survive until New Year's? You have no idea, the task harder if he's staying in the same house as you are.

"Put this in there, will ya'?"

He hands you a box, neatly wrapped up. What stands out the most is the silver bow on top. Your stomach drops: it's your favorite color.

"Y-yeah" you stammer. When the present falls in your hands, you notice it looks like Joel did it himself.

"Didn't know you were capable of nice things" you whisper. There's no anger in your voice, only loss.

"I'm trying" is what he says, before leaving you alone. Until then, you realize he had been touching you, the skin where his hand was on your shoulder burning.

Dinner goes by swiftly, conversation flowing easily courtesy of Nick and your father, who both have in common the love for talking. It may be your brain messing with you, but his eyes never leave you, fixated on your every move, savoring when your lips open and take a bite; when you lick them afterwards, salt in your mouth he'd love to take off in a movement of his tongue. The ghost of your lips haunts him, cruelly playing with his yearning now that he's got you across the table. It's a few centimeters, really, but it feels like you're miles away: and it's his fault. You're no longer his, and he's reminded of it every time your boyfriend kisses what he once had.

Now it's time to open the presents, and you excitedly raise your hand to go first.

"Alright, sweetheart. You know I can't deny you anything" your father beams, "go ahead. Choose any present you'd like to open first"

Joel's eyes are on you, and you know he's desperately waiting for you to open his first. Maybe partly in courage, maybe partly in fear, but you choose Nick's first: something safe to start with.

"That's mine!" he chirps, and Joel mockingly imitates his kid-like joy under his breath.

You unwrap the present, finding a small box inside.

"Please, don't be another box" you joke, and he laughs.

"You think that low of me? Please"

You keep unwrapping and find a bag. The bag has a small tag that reads: Gotcha.

"Nick! God, you're so corny" you tease as you open the bag. Inside, there's a velvet box, and by the looks of it, you can tell it's jewelry. You gasp, pulling out a silver charm tied to a silver thin chain: it's a marlin fish. "Nick..."

"I know. Marlin isn't your favorite fish, but that's all I could find" you get up, wrapping him on a tight hug. Aware you've got an audience, he leans and whispers "I knew fishing was special to you, because of your dad and childhood. Maybe now" he takes it from your hands, carefully putting it around your neck, "it can also be our special thing"

Joel sees the scene unfold in front of him, his grip tight on the cloth of his jeans until it's white. His jaw clenches at the affection display; all he sees is red.

"What about that one?" your mom points out Joel's present. A pit of nerves forms in your stomach. "I don't remember seeing it there"

Before you can grab it, your dad moves faster, examining the box on his hands.

"It's Joel's" he makes a pause, "for y/n"

You pretend to be shocked, and you can tell Nick tenses at your side.

"You didn't tell me you were close"

"Used to" you correct quickly, despite the knot on your throat. "Not anymore"

"He still got you a present, though"

You don't get to answer because your dad leaves the box on your lap.

"Open it" it's soft but feels threathing for some reason, "I'm curious"

Joel's resting hands tremble as much as yours while you open the present. You reveal the simple white box under the wrap, opening it up.

Your voice comes out shaky as you call his name. And he can see it: the muffled laughters on the shed, the warmth of the cabin's fire, the fogged up windows of his car, the bruises on your tits and that voice, so vulnerable, he can see you on his porch, saying those three words that terrified him so much, his solution was breaking your heart.

"What is it?" your dad asks.

"It's a scarf" the fabric tickles your fingers that wander through the loose strands.

You remember it all too well.

"Oh, it's vintage!" your mom comments when she sees the worn-out aspect.

But just as your affair with Joel, you keep the secret of it's real owner.

"It's perfect" you mutter, remembering better times: ones where he'd wrap the scarf colored as the leaves on the ground around your neck, covering bruises he'd just made while you joked you'd steal it, and Joel would say he'd just let you, that it looked better on you anyway.

You've forgotten the good, so used to thinking of Joel at your worst, like a punishment to endure and sink your shipwreck even deeper. You felt lost, replaying memories that seemed stuck on a loop. Since last december, all you've known is pain; creeping up through the cracks in your fleeting happiness, one you've tried to find to no avail. One day, past the curses and cries, maybe there'll be happiness. But as for now, that day seems terribly far.

As he sees your teary gaze, Joel often wonders were it went wrong. When did hurt was all you had for him in that gaze of yours he can't bare to look that long, not before he's reliving all those seasons by your side, replaying his footsteps on the snow, grass, water and fallen leaves, trying to find the one where it all went wrong. The torture he now wears like a second skin, his agony painted words addressed to the fire of a house that feels so empty and alone.

"We should continue" your dad speaks over the silence, "there are still many presents left"

The night moves slowly, and the scarf you've chosen to wear is now suffocating around your neck. But you can't take it off. This is the closest you've been to Joel on a year; it still smells like him. As the presents run out, you excuse yourself early to bed, only to wake up again in the middle of the night. You want to pee, so you exit your room and walk to the bathroom, your bare feet against the cold wood sending shivers down your spine that only seem to augment when you walk past his door, next to the bathroom. After being done, you splash some water on your face, as if that would make some sense get to you.

"What are you doing?" you ask yourself in the mirror. Your tired reflection stares back at you, in silence.

You open the door, ready to go back to bed when a hand covers your mouth and shoves you inside.

"Don't scream" your cries go muffled against his hand, the calloused digits pressing against your soft skin, "wanna wake 'em up?"

You shake your head, so he lets your mouth free.

"Joel" you call out, but he's facing the door, his back all you see. No sound can be heard, aside from his uneven breaths.

"I'm sorry" he says, and then you hear the small click of the door's lock.

"What the hell?"

This time, he faces you, but his movements are so quick you don't register his lips on yours until it's too late. He kisses you like a starved man who hasn't had a meal in years, eating you out while your body acts up on it's own, the urgency embarrasing even.

"No" you pull back. Your mind screams in guilt at how much you want this, and that's all you can hear aside from his ragged breaths.

"No?"

"It isn't fair"

"To lover boy out there?" he teases, "I know he ain't treating you right, or ya' wouldn't look me the way ya' do"

"Don't, Joel" your tone is icy, "Nick treats me better than you ever could"

He laughs, darkly. "You know I ain't meant that" he corners you against the sink, the material cold against your bare legs; you don't sleep with nothing but an oversized t-shirt, despite the weather.

"Riddle me this, sugar: if he treats you so well, why are you so fucking wet?"

Your heart beats so fast you fear you'll die. He gets closer, his hot breathe prickling against your ear.

"It takes a man to please a woman" he tucks a loose strand behind your ear, "and I ain't leaving my baby displeased"

His fingers pull down the panties until your clit is exposed.

"Look at 'er" he traces a teasing finger over the puffy skin, coated on your slick "missed me, didn't she? Gonna treat 'er so good, she won't ever feel lonely again"

He softly kisses your neck, the trepidation and regret tying your stomach in knots.

Joel teases your needy core with his finger.

"Tell you somethin', sugar" Joel finds it hard to hide his adoration, "I missed 'er too"

He stares into your eyes while pushing two rough fingers inside your cunt. You bite your lip, holding back your moans.

"Need summ help?" he kisses you roughly, smirking when he feels your shaky breath against his lips. He pushes them in and out faster, making your walls squeeze tightly around his fingers.

"Did he ever have you comin' this fast? I'ont think so" he whispers against your neck. You whisper his name through labored breaths, making a smug smile adorn his features. "Good girl"

He proceeds to kneel down, despite the creak of his bones. You see him leave a trail of kisses down your thighs, your legs opening wider in response. His tongue gives rapid flickers against your sensitive bud, aware of the lack of time. He slurps the pulsing cunt, his head moving back and forth while he sucks, coating his moustache on your juices. Joel goes back to the quick movements, tongue knowing your spots and twisting fingers as aid, causing your back to arch.

"Fuck" you curse as you come, gripping the sink a bit too tight.

Joel then pulls away and places his fingers coated in your arousal in his mouth and licks them. He sees the obscene display in the fogged mirror, satisfied.

"Goodnight, sugar" Joel bids goodbye like it's nothing, kissing your lips that taste like you. "Still as sweet as ever"

It's New Year's Eve.

"You're leaving?" you sound so sad, Joel can't help but scoff. In the end, he'd stayed long after the storm had passed, your father arguing holidays weren't meant to be spent alone. So he stayed.

And now, Nick is leaving.

"I'm sorry" he apologizes for the millionth time, "but granny is sick. I don't know if she'll make it another year, so say the doctors. I would love to stay, really, but I have to be with her"

You understand, having lost your grandad years ago. But that doesn't mean you're okay with it: Nick leaving means a clear path for Joel, who didn't stop with him sleeping next room, and certainly won't now, despite not having interacted with you since he ate you out on the bathroom.

He pulls you into a long hug and a kiss that doesn't feel the same anymore. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah" you nod, "I'll miss you though"

"Well, I'll be all yours when you get back"

You smile but it doesn't reach your eyes.

"See you, y/n. I love you"

Your lips purse after you utter those three words back.

Later at night, the house is filled with guests. The lively environment is restored, and you feel less confined to Joel's claws, so many faces to speak and distract yourself with, compared to Christmas and the past couple of days. You clutch the marlin charm tightly, mind busy wandering to places it shouldn't. Joel stares at you from across the room, eyes trained on you as he sips his drink calmly, like he's won; you don't know why he's keeping score if he already knows it. You wander off to the kitchen, and Joel follows you.

"You have to stop" you speak as soon as he enters, aware he would follow you.

"I ain't do shit"

You turn around, facing him. "Bullshit, Joel"

"Tell me, what'd I do?" he comes closer, and despite your erratic heart and fear, you stay still; challenging.

"You did this, Joel" his expression falters for a second, the weight of last december's crimes dawning on him. "Don't try to make me feel guilty"

"I ain't. That wasn't your fault" he sighs, breath dragging long like a cigarrette. "But this" he motions with his hands the reduced distance, "this it is"

Your breath hitches.

"We can't keep doing this, Joel. Nick doesn't deserve it"

He pins you against the counter with force, gripping the skin of your wrists until you're sure you'll get a bruise. Joel's eyes darken at the thought of your frail and soft body under his rough figure and belly, his strength and your weakness making the job of putting you under his will, so much easier.

"Don't say his name" he whispers, his breath laced with alcohol, "he ain't here anymore. Ain't nothing to stop me now, right, sugar?" Joel purrs as he steps towards you, taking your face in his hands before starting a heated kiss, making you stumble.

This was so wrong, but it felt so right, the missing pieces falling like dominoes.

He was your pain divine: you needed his hurt to bleed and feel alive again. Maybe the red of the blood and the blue of your sadness could paint your darkest grey skies with a happiness you've craved since you lost him.

"Tell me to stop" Joel whispers, tempting like a devil as he kisses down your neck, littering it with hickeys.

"Don't"

Next thing you know, you're excusing yourself upstairs and then Joel goes missing too, both inside of your bedroom.

Your dress was the first thing to go.

"Wear it for me?" you're about to answer, lips pursing, but he cuts you off, "and don't lie, sugar. Don't get too used to the bad girl schtick"

"I only wore this dress so you could take it off"

He kisses you desperately, legs wrapped around his waist while he carries you to bed, and the memories of your first flood you as he drops you down to your back, watching the way you bounce. He has you just like he wanted: moaning his name while he leaves tender kisses on the soft bare flesh.

"Joel-" you gasp. Despite the chatter downstairs and music, you try to remain low as he wraps his lips around your nipples. He then moves to your breasts, covering them with his kisses and hickeys. He hadn't touched a woman ever since you left, the feeling of the rosy innocent skin on his rough teeth making him loose all common sense, the real thing even better than what he would try to conjure when he fucked himself in the bathroom at the memory of you.

He groans when he feels your hands roaming over his back, nails digging on the scarred skin.

"Someone's eager" he teases, seeing your damp underwear. "Is this 'cause of me?" you don't answer, too busy removing the cloth, only for his strong fingers to grab you and stop you. "Don't be shy, answer baby. We got a whole new year, yeah?"

"I need you Joel" you whine, not laughing at the joke "cut the crap"

He pushes you gently back down to the bed. "So needy sugar, want me to help ya'?"

You eagerly nod, making him laugh. But there's no mock, only love behind the sound.

"Will you let this old man take care of ya', pretty baby? Just use your words, and I'll be all y'rs"

"Do it, Joel. Just do it"

You gasp as your folds begin to be prodded open by the fat head of Joel's cock. You curse, feeling him push in just the tip, the sweet burn of your walls welcoming his size making you grab his arms that stand at the sides of your body, caging you in.

His tummy pushes against your stomach as he adjusts himself, his weight sinking your body on the creaking matress.

"'S just the tip, ready for the whole thing?"

You needed him, all of him.

"Yes, Joel. I want you" You say and he pushes in slowly, feeling his cock fill up every empty space that craved for him.

You squeeze your eyes shut as his hips roll back pulling out about halfway before rocking back in. His sloppy thrusts pick up a familiar pace that makes you moan and beg for more, head falling against the sheets as his pace speds up until he's fucking you senseless.

Joel's brain goes blank at the sight of you creaming on his dick and the obscene sounds leaving your pretty mouth. Did he really give this up? He'd definitely go back in time and slap the fuck out of his past self, because there is simply nothing better than having you under him, screaming his name like that's all you can ever say.

"Does he fuck you like this, huh?" Joel angles his hips, resuming his brutal pace. Your body jolts with each snap. "Is he enough for you?"

"Yes" his stomach drops, dark eyes now hesitant, "but he isn't you"

He pushes himself back in, your eyes fluttering shut almost immediately.

"Tell me you'll leave him, y/n. Look me in the eyes and tell me who ya' really belong to"

Your eyes snap open at the possesiveness clashed with jealousy that drips from his sweat-soaked lips.

The confession falls easily, as meant to be. "Yours, Joel. Always was and will be"

He could cum just at the sight of your loving doe eyes.

Downstairs, the countdown begins, but in your room, all you can hear are his soft groans and your pathetic whimpers, and if the people would stop shouting, you could probably hear the squelch of your dripping cunt sucking in his girth with each thrust.

After a few more erratic thrusts, you feel his warm cum fill you up. Joel was always obsessed with how his cum seeped out of you and around his cock. Without thinking, his rough fingers push deep in you, making you yelp as he makes sure he isn't wasting a drop behind.

The countdown ends, and fireworks erupt outside as your head rests on the crook of his sweat covered neck.

"I love ya', sugar" those words you thought you imagined that one time, now real, so goddamn real his voice quivers and eyes get tearful with grief, "'S okay if ya' don't say it. I just wanted you to hear 'em. 'M just tired of wastin' my time"

He wraps your lips with his with tenderness you had only dreamed of. There is still a lot to talk and heal, but this time, his arms hold you like a promise. And you let yourself believe it.

Y/n's New Years' purposes: 1. Break up with Nick 2. Try to explain this seasonal mess to mom and dad 3. At last, try to be happy

[thebutchersbitch]

Sorry if this goes against what you write I couldn't find like a request dos and don't thingy lol but I would love if you wrote about a reader who has to get chained up or locked up every night before they go to sleep because cooper cant trust you won't run away, but one day the restraints are loose or not locked (maybe he does it on purpose to test you) and you decide to stay put because you love him and then he rewards you 🫣

This story can be read alone or as Part Two of this one!! 😊

18+ only

Daddy kink/DDLG | Stockholm Syndrome | Breeding kink | Reader was kidnapped by Cooper months ago, taken from her home and husband, but has forgotten her former life entirely while under Cooper’s manipulation and control

Cooper’s jaw was tense as he pulled out of the driveway. He’d made a decision he hoped he wouldn’t regret. The consequences of the test he was currently giving you could be lethal to his entire world…and yet, he needed to test your loyalty to him. It wasn’t enough for Cooper to hear you profess with words your love for him. Words alone meant nothing; as a skilled liar, Cooper knew this all too well. He needed real, irrefutable proof that even when given the choice of escape, you’d still be waiting for him when he returned to the safe house.

It’s why he’d left the keys to your cuffs on the table at your side of the bed, where you could easily reach them. If he returned to the house that afternoon on his lunch break and you were still there…then at last, Cooper would have his answer. If however, you’d used the opportunity to escape, then his entire life would be in your hands. Either way, Cooper had to know what would happen if he tested you. He sighed deeply through his nose, lips pressed into a stern, flat line. He looked back at the house one last time before leaving, hoping his instincts about his little girl’s loyalty to him would prove correct…

The hours at the fire station passed by easily enough. When lunch time arrived, Cooper made an excuse to the men working under him about needing an extended break. Family stuff, he lied explained. Really, he needed to go check on his girl.

He packed up his lunch and brought it to the car with him. Cooper drove the few miles from the station to the safe house he kept you in, listening to a local news and weather report on the radio, taking a few distracted bites of his sandwich on the way.

When you heard Cooper’s car come to a stop outside the house, your heart rate kicked up a notch. The handcuffs he’d left you in were now sitting with the keys on your nightstand beside you. Unaware that you were being tested, you’d taken advantage of Cooper’s ‘mistake,’ in leaving the keys within your reach. This will finally prove it to him, you thought. Cooper would see that even with the ability to leave him, you’d choose to stay.

Cooper entered the house downstairs, listening. It was quiet…too quiet. Perhaps you were sleeping, Cooper wondered. Apprehension built within him as his fears you’d escaped multiplied. He passed the stairs quickly, his steps heavy down the carpeted hall that led to the bedroom. You smiled when Cooper’s boots became visible in the crack under the door. He seemed to pause, inhaling a deep breath before pulling back the door. Met with the sight of you sitting on the bed, Cooper felt a sense of peace sink over him. He swallowed the lump of nerves that had been building in his throat, leaning inside the doorway, smiling at his girl. “Hi baby,” he said, and in spite of hearing Cooper’s voice nearly every day for the past ten months, your cheeks still warmed bashfully.

He looked so goddamn handsome, so big, illuminated in the doorway with the hallway light behind him.

Cooper looked at the table beside you, and then your wrist. His test had been successful. You’d proven yourself just as beautifully broken as Cooper hoped you were. He’d never been more proud of his little girl.

“I took the cuffs off,” you said, a little worried. “I hope you’re not mad at me, Daddy.” Cooper shook his head.

“Far from it,” he replied softly. Cooper didn’t hesitate a second longer before taking three quick strides to the bed, and climbing on top of you. Your legs parted instinctively for him, the soft outline of your pussy puffy and warm as Cooper rubbed himself against you.

His kisses on your neck were tender, grateful. He needed this, even more than he’d thought. The knowledge that you were truly his had Cooper’s mind spinning in the best way, his body flooded with adrenaline and happiness. His cock was already stiff against your cunt; he reached between your bodies and undid his jeans, relieving some of the pressure. Cooper’s kisses traveled lower, between your breasts and down your belly. When his tongue traced the outline of your bellybutton, a little giggle shivered out of you. The giggle was quickly silenced and exchanged for a whimper when Cooper’s mouth latched over your pussy.

Any remaining tension in his mind melted away into the moist heat of your cunt. Cooper couldn’t think straight when his face was between your legs, your fingers tugging at his hair, his tongue buried in the soft folds of your pussy. All he could focus on was your sweet taste, the slick smearing across his cheeks as he nuzzled your folds. You rotated your hips side to side, seeking the end of Cooper’s nose to rub your clit against. He sucked fat, wet kisses onto your pussy, a filthy squelch following each.

His shoulders were nestled between your thighs, his chest and belly against the bed as he ate you. Cooper’s arms hooked around your upper legs, his fingers laced together on top of your belly, holding you in place so you couldn’t squirm away from him no matter how hard you came. Pearly liquid oozed from your pussy in between Cooper’s lips, his mouth sealing over your cunt and lightly sucking. The pulsing pressure made your legs twitch, prompting Cooper to lock his arms even tighter across your belly, a proud smirk finding his lips as he realized how close you were.

“So good for me, baby,” Cooper hummed against your pussy, his words interspersed with little kisses and sucks. “Such a good little pussy…all pretty and puffy, just begging for Daddy to kiss it…” He spanked his palm lightly against your cunt, watching your pussy flinch and your tiny hole pucker.

Making you come was what Cooper lived for in this moment. Any time his face was between your legs, your pleasure was all that mattered to him, now more than ever. You’d done so well, proved yourself loyal to him in the most definitive way possible. You needed to be rewarded, to be shown exactly how much Cooper appreciated knowing that his little girl was truly, unquestionably his. Nothing existed beyond the space where Cooper’s face was nestled, his eyes closed in a drug-like satisfaction, your warm thighs acting as earmuffs to seal away the world around him.

Cooper ate you for an hour straight, without a single pause to rest his jaw or tongue. Your ass was sitting in a little puddle of your own juices by the time he was finished. He reached for his phone, pulling it from his pocket with slippery fingers. He cursed when he saw the time. “Have to get back,” he murmured, returning his phone to his pocket, popping his fingers in his mouth to clean them off. Cooper kissed your belly and lifted himself off the bed, stuffing his cock back in his jeans.

He slicked back his hair, wiping his wet chin on his sleeve. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” you told him in a small voice. Cooper nodded as he gently pulled your panties back up. “I know angel,” he said. “But I’ll be back tomorrow.” He winked up at you. “Promise.” Cooper reminded you to eat the lunch he’d brought you from the station, and to get plenty of rest while he was gone. You’d need it for tomorrow, he said. “Because tomorrow,” Cooper explained. “When Daddy gets home, he’s gonna put his dick where his tongue was for the past hour.” Cooper’s tone was darker, a sincerity in his voice that was thick with lust. “And I’m not gonna stop,” he continued. “Till I’ve put a baby inside you.”

Your lips parted in surprise. “Yeah,” Cooper nodded, sensing your confusion. “You’re going to make me a real daddy again, angel.” He leaned closer and cupped your cheek tenderly. “I know that I can trust you now,” Cooper said, an affectionate grin on his lips. “You won’t leave me. That means I can trust you to carry my children.” He sat down on the bed beside you. “Rachel is…” Cooper paused. “She won’t give me anymore kids. It’s fine, it’s her choice, but-.” Cooper sighed. “I want more. You’ll give them to me.” You felt a little dizzy, not just from coming so hard for an hour straight. Cooper’s plans for you had caught you off guard.

“Isn’t that right honey?” Cooper asked, but he wasn’t really asking at all. “You’ll make me a daddy as many times as I want, won’t you?” You nodded slowly, absorbing Cooper’s words. “We’ll deliver the babies here,” Cooper continued, matter-of-factly. “Don’t worry about safety-I’ll make sure it’s safe. I have the training. I can deliver our babies right here-.” Cooper patted the bed, a confident smile on his face. “Firefighters are trained to deliver babies on the job if necessary.” His voice was cheerful. “Did you know that, sweetheart?”

You shook your head ‘no,’ still processing Cooper’s plans for you. He rose from the bed once again, sighing contentedly as he headed for the door. “You’ll make an excellent mother,” Cooper told you. “Much better than mine. I know it.” He patted the doorframe on his way out. “See you tomorrow, sweetheart.”

[ki-yomii]

down on you | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, hair pulling, standing missionary, rough sex, porn w/ plot, mafia!jk, detective!reader, established relationship, mild angst, mild violence ➥ summary | It’s true, he owns you: blood, bones, and all. ➥ notes | the mafia!jk au no one asked for aka an excuse to write smut w/ feeling lol.

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On his knees staring down the barrel of a loaded gun with a mouthful of blood, he knows this is the end of the line. He’s going to die like a rat in the gutter - no mercy to be found, loopholes to exploit or bribes to be made.

This is the real deal, and there’s no coming back.

Judgement Day comes in the form of a man with dark eyes and a dangerous smirk: Golden, the deadliest guard dog of the underground.

Credited with dozens of hits, you won’t know he’s there until it’s too late. Trying to keep him pinned is like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands, or a whisper on the wind.

And you won’t know he’s coming until you feel the breath on the back of your neck, hear the crack of a bullet ringing in your ears.

Belonging to one of the most powerful men in the world: Kim Namjoon, he’s more war machine than man.

“Go ahead, do it!” He spits at Golden’s feet, a mess of blood and drool staining the crisp leather of his combat boots. “Killing me won’t change a goddamn thing.”

A coy smile tugs at Golden’s mouth, his grin all sharp teeth and violence. He stays where he stands, his silhouette haloed by distant streetlights.

Water laps at the docks, the tang of salt heavy in the mid-summer Seoul air. There’s no rush; they both know he’ll be dead and dumped just like all the rest of the garbage in this rotting city.

“Come on, you prick! Pull the fucking trigger already.”

Golden cocks his head, and hums in the back of his throat. 

“Tch! I hope you’ve got a lot of bullets - we’re gonna knock the crown off Kim’s head one way or another.”

Golden thumbs at the safety of his gun, the barrel glinting through the shadows. “Ahh, is that what you think?” He shrugs, a lazy ripple of muscle. “Well, I have to say: I’d love to see you try.”

The night is shattered by the resounding crack of a gunshot and an echoing splash of something heavy dropping into the water below.

You climb out of the nondescript government-issue car. The faintest tremble of your fingers nearly gives you away but you’re able to reign in the impulse to smooth your hands over your clothes at the last second.

Showing weakness is the last thing you need to be doing right now.

Especially here.

Right in front of where you’ve parked - shoved between two looming apartment complexes - sits a quaint, vintage building. The rough brick face is at odds with the sleek surroundings, but tinted windows keep prying eyes at bay while the classy signing hanging above the door reads The Red Bullet written in caps.

If you didn’t know better, it would be hard to believe this otherwise mundane storefront is a cover for one of the most dangerous international organizations based out of South Korea.

Not only do they hold the keys to the kingdom, but their success is largely in part because they spearhead operations from government espionage all the way to simple blackmail.

Even though it’s been several months since you darkened its doorstep, the familiar sight is enough to steal the breath from your lungs. Send your heart galloping into a tailspin as your stomach swoops.

While time away helped clear your head of stolen kisses and promises whispered in dark rooms, it also drove the longing bone deep.

In those quiet moments to yourself, when you have nothing else to distract from how lonely you are, you miss this place like one misses a limb.

You didn’t realize how attached you were to these four walls until it was too late: the hazy air filled with whorls of smoke, the overhead lights that bathe everything in red, the plush chairs you spent many nights sprawled across, the glossy black stages.

You don’t know how, you don’t know when but at some point it (he) started feeling like home. A luxury you can’t afford. Not again. After all, if you give in, any progress you made outside of his gravitational pull will be for naught.

Which puts you in a dangerous position as you find yourself back where it began; feelings at war with duty, mind vs heart. Because even if it leads you to a place you could go a million years without ever seeing again, you have to follow the trail of bodies.

A bouncer grants you access, the heavy door slamming shut behind you like a death knell as he herds you towards the back of the club.

It’s outside of official operating hours but it’s no less busy inside, men and women alike in scattered conversation as you pass through.

“It’s nice to see you again,” the bouncer murmurs, chancing a quick glance at your profile. “Been a while.”

You swallow, gaze darting down to your shoes. “Ah - yeah… Got busy with work. It’s - it’s nice to see you too.”

The small talk fizzles out, a snuffed candle as you arrive at a cordoned off room, “Here we are. Mr Kim is already expecting you.”

Any further pleasantries grow stale on your tongue as you enter the private booth, fighting against the lump in your throat to manage a hoarse ‘thank you’.

And then you find yourself left alone with the man himself, Kim Namjoon. He’s as intimidating as you remember, lounging back into the leather booth with his ankles crossed.

A lukewarm smile stretches across his lips, the slightest hint of a dimple peeking out from the valley of his cheek. Standing at attention on either side of his reposing form are two massive bodyguards. Their hands rest on the butts of their guns, daring any who enter to try and make a move.

“It’s good to see you again. But I gotta ask - what’s the occasion, Detective?” Namjoon hums. “I thought we were past all this.” He waves a nebulous hand between your bodies. “After all, you’re practically family.”

You ignore the hidden barb with a wince. “Mr Kim, you know why I’m here.”

“I used to know why a long time ago.” A well-groomed brow raises, his gaze glacial as it spears you in place. “But now I’m not so sure.”

“Please, Mr Kim. I don’t want to make this more difficult than it is. I just need to know about the man they fished out of the harbor, and then I’ll be on my way. So… who was he?”

Namjoon scoffs. “What makes you think I know more than the police?”

There’s a flash of a smirk, barely noticed, before his face returns to its neutral expression. As calm and cool as a placid river. “A john’s a john. What I do want to know is why you care so much?”

The underlying question is clear; why are you really here?

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss such matters with civillians.”

“Oh? So I’m a civilian now.” His expression is not unlike the cat that caught the canary: vicious and delighting in the discomfort his evasions are causing. “Gotta say that’s a new one for me.”

Sighing in defeat, you say, “Alright, enough. I get it. I’m wasting my time with you. Let me ask this instead: where is he?” 

“He doesn’t know any more about this than I do,” he says, waving a blase hand towards a door off to the left, “But if you insist, you can find him in the office. Oh, and Detective?”

“...Yes?”

“Take your time, I’ll be out on business all afternoon.”

With a curt nod, you flee the room amid low-throated chuckles and enter the office. Standing near the desk, his broad back turned towards the door, you find the man you simultaneously want to see the most and run from the fastest.

He turns around, the muscles of his back rippling with the movement. Your breath stutters in your chest, and you nearly swallow your tongue as your eyes trace over the cut of his body.

The moment your eyes meet, those many months spent cultivating time and distance turn to ash. You forgot how even the mere sight of him affects you, any resistance to his many charms virtually nonexistent as the world falls away.

Rich, coffee dark; his gaze sucks you in until it’s all you can do not to reach out, to brush your fingers over his edges and feel them soften beneath your palms.

Rocking back on your heels, you clear your throat and glance to the side as you remain standing in the entryway, more than a little off-kilter.

Coming back after so long apart, only to find him the same as the day you left… How do you reconcile everything that’s changed with everything that was?

“Well, hello there.” Jungkook croons, leaning his hip against the corner of the desk with a roll of his shoulders. His arms cross over the trunk of his chest, accentuating the bulk of his chest, the flex of inked bicep. “Long time no see.”

Shifting, you gulp. “Ah - yeah…”

The burn of his gaze - a palpable sensation prickling across your skin - tracks a path from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes as he gives you a thorough once-over.

“You’re looking good,” Jungkook hums in approval, “real good. I’ve missed those pretty eyes of yours.”

“You - you too.”

Your attention doesn’t know where to settle: drifting from the curve of his shoulders to the jut of his bloody knuckles, the tuck of his trim hips to the thick-soled combat boots.

Tiny hairs at the back of your neck stand on end, and your palms slick with sweat.

“I mean, you look… y’know, uh, good too.”

A flash of a crooked smirk, the raising of a pierced brow gets your blood pumping, your heart tattooing a rhythm against your ribs. Emboldens you to reach back with shaky fingers to turn the lock. The sound grates down your spine, bolts of anticipation slicing through you.

It was dumb to think coming here, seeing him again, would end any other way than his taste on your tongue and his cock in your cunt. Hope makes fools of us all.

Should’ve known better but you’d been hopeful those days were long behind you. Now you realize it was inevitable.

After all, Jungkook is magnetic.

The black hole at the center of your universe, consuming everything in its path until he’s what remains in your head, your heart. You’re helpless, ceaselessly drawn to him like a moth to flame.

And try as you might, you can’t say no to a face like that.

Never could, in fact.

Failure to extract yourself from his orbit during your not-relationship is nothing new. That doesn’t mean you can’t make it difficult.

After all, you still have some dignity intact.

So try, try, try again.

“Ahem.” You try to banish the heat from your cheeks, guiding the conversation into the correct territory. “I’m not here on a-a social call, Jeon. I need to know: were you the one that killed and dumped the john in the harbor?”

Stalking closer, a lazy jungle cat on the prowl, Jungkook crosses the distance between you. He only stops once your bodies brush with every labored inhale. Heat radiates from him, and you’re achingly aware of every point of contact.

The light scent of his cologne teases your nose, and his eyes - god, his eyes. They’re shaded and hungry, devouring your expression with single-minded possessiveness. 

“What makes you think I know anything about that?”

“Jeon -- Jungkook.”

He hums.

Your heart thrums, pulse rushing hard through your head until you feel faint, blood surging the longer you stay in close contact. The shameful clench of your cunt makes your cheeks burn all the brighter.

The last time you were looking up at him like this, his hand was on your jaw while his cock thrust balls deep.

“C’mon, you know that isn’t going to work. This is me you’re talking to, not some rookie.”

“Mm,” he purrs, “it is you I’m talking to, isn’t it?”

You manage to bite back the groan but can’t stop your eyes from rolling even if there’s the slightest hint of a stutter when you reply, “Please, I just need to know if you killed him.”

Jungkook looms tall and proud, crowding closer. “And if I did, baby?” he asks.

Instinctively you back up, only to be followed step by step. A game of cat and mouse that finds you pinned against the wall before long. With nowhere to run, you watch, heart in your throat, as Jungkook dips his dark head.

His nose runs along the length of your neck, breath puffing across your sensitive skin as he inhales the pleasant scent of your perfume.

“I - I…”

“Would you see me in handcuffs?” His lips caress the underside of your jaw, a soft groan escaping him. “… C’mon, answer me. Would you?”

“I would - if I had to.”

As much as you wish that was true, you know in your heart of heart's you would do everything in your power to make sure that never happens.

No matter how much you like to think you’d do the right thing when push comes to shove, you’d choose him a thousand times over.

His eyes dance playfully. “Careful, I might like it.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” you say with a snort.

Jungkook chuckles low and warm, using the arm around your waist to tug you into the safety of his body. The softness of your breasts presses into the hard planes of his chest, your nipples pebbling through the thin cotton shirt you wear.

With a deep-throated groan, his hands encircle the curves of your hips as a thickly muscled thigh slots between yours.

An answering quiet sigh gets his blood pumping and his cock twitching.

“Mm, something tells me you’d enjoy it just as much, Detective.”

The use of your title is a rude awakening.

“Jungkook,” You warn, moving to push him away. Only once you start touching him, you can’t stop. His muscles flex beneath your curious fingertips. “We really shouldn’t.”

You’re sure if he could, Jungkook would spend days worshipping between your thighs, velvet heat wrapped around his tongue and hands in his hair as he brings you to peak again and again until you’re a sobbing, sopping, boneless mess beneath him.

“Come on, I know you want me - that you’ve missed me. I can see it in your eyes.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, tongue flickering out for a brief taste before a rough thumb skates across your bottom lip, tugging down to expose your teeth, the glitter of your tongue as it darts out to flick over the pad of his finger..

“I’ve certainly missed you, baby. Want me to show you?”

Even though you refuse to admit anything out loud, you can’t help but angle your throat back and grind into his hips pressed against yours.

Jungkook tsks, “That’s alright. I’ll get that pretty mouth open one way or another.”

Before you can retort, a mouth swoops down to fuse with yours in a fierce, all-consuming kiss. A low, broken moan punches from your chest.

Reaching up, your fingers sink into the mane of dark hair that brushes the cut of Jungkook’s jaw. Soft, thick, and wavy in your grip; you tug at the roots.

Jungkook hisses. 

Teeth nip at your lip, kittenish licks soothing away the string as blood bursts across your tongues. The thigh shoved between yours grinds up with every wet, sloppy pass of your lips.

Thick muscle spreads your pussy open through the thin slacks of your work uniform. Sparks of pleasure dance down your spine with every rock against your swollen clit.

“S-Shit!” Your shoulders curl in, a shudder jerking through you. “K-Kook, I… !”

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me.” Jungkook growls, rutting his cock against the jut of your hip. The wet patch you’re making on his jeans grows larger with every filthy grind. “You’ve been gone too fucking long. Never again, you hear me?”

You claw at his shoulders, stuttering out, “there’s noth-ing you can do t’stop me.”

“If you don’t come back to me,” his eyes are dark and stormy, voice whiskey rough, “I’ll find you.”

It’s not a threat - it’s a promise.

“Then make sure I never want to leave,” you challenge breathlessly, staring into his blown out pupils, “Make me want to stay.”

Above all else, you think.

The words are barely past your lips when Jungkook accepts your challenge with gusto (just like you knew he would). Without delay, he thumbs open the button on your pants.

Refusing to let you look away, Jungkook yanks them to your feet and swings you up into his arms one-handed. They hang from your ankle like a chain.

Your surprised squeak is quickly swallowed up by a moan when he settles you over the bulge in his pants, your cunt hovering over his erection.

The heat of his skin sinks through the thin cotton of your panties, so, so close to where you need him. Slick soaks into the fabric, and clings to your inner thighs.

Every shift is a smooth, sticky glide of folds that stirs, and stokes the ember of desire smoldering behind your navel.

“Kook,” you breathe. “Please.”

Your head rolls back, and you sag into his chest. Your hips twitch in pathetic little attempts, trying to get pressure where you need it. Having him hot and hard and all for you; any distance between you is suddenly unbearable.

He needs to spread you wide and stuff you full with every inch of his thick cock until he’s so deep you won’t be able to walk for days.

“Shh baby, I’ll give you what you want,” he says, gaze heavy and possessive. “I’m gonna ruin you so good, you’ll have no choice but to come back. You’re mine.”

“Says who?”

“Hmm. You don’t think you are?”

Nibbling on your ear, Jungkook slips a finger under the hem of your panties. He smirks when you keen, rubbing his knuckle up and down your sloppy folds with teasing pressure.

“How about I show you what your body already knows?”

Wasting no time, he lifts you off his cock, the scrap of cloth fluttering to the ground. His free hand dives between your bodies. Then comes the clink of a belt, the sound of a zipper pulling down.

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, your body coiled with anticipation as your stomach swoops at the brush of his fingers along the underside of your thigh.

“Look so pretty like this, baby.” Jungkook twists his wrist, hips arching back. “And it’s all for me. Fuck, I can’t wait to get inside this pretty pussy.”

Any response dies on your tongue, brain short-circuiting as the slick, fat cockhead rubs along your slit. Pressing against your entrance the slightest bit before slipping up to nudge at your clit - coating himself up in your sticky juices.

The ultimate tease - something Jungkook’s always been overly fond of doing until you’re out of your mind with desperation.

“Please, please, please,” you chant, cheeks on fire and eyes half-lidded as you circle your hips. “Stop playing around. I want it - want you, Kook.”

“Oh, baby,” he smiles, ducking down to kiss your forehead. “You’ll take whatever I give you.”

You can’t stifle the broken sob, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. Liquid fire surges through your veins, a thousand bolts of lightening crackling beneath the surface of your skin. Your pussy is tender, swollen. Walls fluttering in time with your heartbeat. 

“Ha, you’re so needy for me.”

Jungkook’s lips brush away the moisture around your eyes, his thumb drawing soothing circles into the base of your spine. All the while, his torturous grinding never ceases.

“Aren’t you?”

You croak, “I can’t – Kook, please. Anything, I’ll do anything you want just fuck me.”

The flash of his eyes is your only warning before he’s right there, your walls embracing the girth of his erection inch by inch. Every ridge, every jerk as he seats himself as deep inside your silken heat as he can is absolute heaven.

The stretch as you take him to the hilt sends you careening towards the edge, eyes rolling back and toes curling in your shoes.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” you whimper.

“Shit!” Jungkook grits his teeth, squeezing the base of his cock as you tighten  around him. With every deep inhale, his pelvis brushes your swollen, needy clit. “Forgot how good you feel wrapped around my dick, baby.”

“Me too,” You gasp, tightening your legs around Jungkook’s hips.”Me too, Kook.”

Dropping his forehead to yours, he says gruffly, “‘m not gonna last long.”

Making a noise of acknowledgement, you wiggle your hips. Sinking your teeth into the side of Jungkook’s jaw, you bite and suck at his skin, wanting to leave a mark to remember you by. His reaction is instantaneous, releasing the grip on his shaft to grab a fist full of hair.

He yanks back.

The long, elegant line of your throat is exposed to his butterfly kisses and scolding love bites.

“Now you’ve really asked for it,” Jungkook huffs out with a dirty chuckle.

“Then give it to me.” You lick your puffy lips, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. “Show me who I belong to.”  

The brewing hurricane in his eyes is unleashed. Wide palms and strong fingers grip your hips so tight you feel bones grind together. His stance widens, his unwavering gaze locking onto your face, brow pinched, and mouth slack.

His lip piercing glints in the light, his tongue sliding out to wet his bottom lip. Dark curls tussle about his head, a wild halo that sweeps down into the burning umber of his eyes.

Helpless, you succumb - enchanted by the darkness peering at you from behind those dangerous eyes. He’s ethereal; a siren song that threatens to drown you, swallow you whole.

You’d happily let him, you realize with a shiver.

It’s true, he owns you: blood, bones, and all.

“Hold on tight,” Jungkook says, hooking his hands under your bottom. 

And then, he’s jackhammering into your cunt so hard and fast all you can do is hold on for the ride. Punch drunk and moaning as he manhandles you how he likes, spreads you wide and stuffs you full until you’re panting for breath and clinging to sanity by your fingernails.

“Fuck yes, that’s it. Look how well your pretty pussy always takes my fat cock.”

His low voice whispering filthy praises in your ear makes you whimper, whine, and writhe as the band of pleasure coiling tight in your belly comes close to snapping. It’s the fastest he’s ever fucked an orgasm out of you, and it feels so good you don’t even care.

The pace is brutal, slamming into you so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips come morning. But it’ll be so fucking worth it. You’re going to cum hard and long, you just know it.

About to melt as Jungkook fucks the slick out of you, groaning as you drip down the base of his cock, his balls - his very own pretty little mess.

“Yeah, you gonna cum, baby?” he laughs, pressing a sweaty kiss to the side of your face. “Can feel how - haaah shit - how tight you’re squeezing me.”

“Uh-huh,” you cry, holding onto the tops of his wide shoulders. Every thrust has his cockhead dragging over the spongy patch of your g-spot, sending fissions of pleasure rocketing through your nervous system. “So - so close, baby. Just a little more, I--”

Balancing yourself, you lift up only to slam back down, meeting Jungkook’s thrust with all the force of gravity. “Oh fuck, oh fuck!”

Crashing over you like a tsunami, your orgasm shoots through your limbs and zips down your spine. A warm rush of cum soaks Jungkook’s shaft, the wet and messy sound of your squirt splashing against the floor secondary to the cry that claws its way out of your throat.

“K-Kook!”

Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he helps you keep bouncing up and down on his erection. “Yeah, that’s it - keep going, baby. Wanna feel you keep cumming all over this cock.”

Aftershocks slice through you like lightning, tiny jolts of electricity. As you come down from your high, your gummy walls pulse, milking at Jungkook’s thick shaft.

He groans softly whenever your muscles tense, release; your body a worn-out rubber band as your breath stutters from you.

Then a hand pets down your flank, your skin shivering with hypersensitivity at the tender touch. “S’okay. Just breathe, baby.”

Peeling open your heavy eyes, you look up at his face. Take in the crinkle of his brow and the ravenous expression. Even floating on a sea of bliss, white noise fills your ears, you want more.

You slur, determined, “Kook, baby, please. Cum in me, want you s’bad.”

“Fuck! Can’t just say shit like that to me or I…” Jungkook bites down onto the tender crook of your neck, muffling his grunts in your flesh. “Shit - ’m so --”

You cry out, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders, “A-haah, K-Kook!”

Snapping his hips forward one last time, Jungkook grinds as deep as he can get and lets go. The fat head of his cock kisses your cervix, his length throbbing in time with his heartbeat as a rush of cum floods your insides.

“Yeah, just like that,” he grunts, rutting once - twice into the cradle of your body, “take it like a good girl.”

He croons when you whine at the press of his pelvis against your oversensitive clit. Thready sparks of pain shoot down your legs that hang limply over his forearms. Every breath stutters from your lungs, slow and deep.

“No more, can’t - can’t…” Shifting, you arch your spine and burrow your head into his chest, nearly catatonic in his arms. “S’too much.”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Fingers brush over your closed eyelids, smoothing over the arch of your brow. With every kiss dropped to the top of your head, he mumbles in dulcet tones, “I really have missed you, you know.”

You mewl in response as strong fingers knead the backs of your thighs.

“You’re not allowed to go anywhere.”

“Oh,” you can’t muster up enough energy to say anything more, body tender and trembling with little aftershocks, “s’that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He chuckles. “You’re staying here - right where I want you.”

In lieu of a response, you pick your head up off the pillow of his chest and seek out his gaze. Liquid soft; he’s looking at you like you hung the world on a string.

“I’ve missed you too, Kook,” you say with a gentle smile.

You’ll allow yourself this moment of weakness when there’s no space between your bodies or hearts. Titles don’t matter much when he’s cradling you to his chest like a piece of precious china.

Between the two of us, you’re the one who hung the moon and stars, you think while combing back his sweaty bangs.

And I think I love you, you whisper voiceless against his lips.

[qvrcll]

summary: with your subsequent marriages, you assumed that whatever friendship, and within it, desire and longing, you had with aemond in childhood had long since dissolved. but a dragon rarely ever yields.

warnings: EXPLICIT CONTENT AHEAD, childhood friend, non-targ reader, young betrothals, forced marriage mentioned, targcest marriage (a/h), possessive themes, dark aemond, (kinda) exhibitionism, finger in p, p in v, breeding kink, infidelity, cursing, slight dub-con but not really, aegon is a sorta decent friend if not a present and worthy husband, no dance of dragons

wc: 6.2K

author’s note: just watched ep 5 and i still stand by my slightly psychotic, slightly convoluted, wholly ambitious princess, but he’s on thin ice – aegon has suffered enough! you’ve made your point as king regent. this lowkey came to me in a melatonin-induced dream so excuse the errors if there are any, i haven’t written for this man since 2022! also, i’m so sorry aegon lol but then again, there is nothing more than friendship between him and reader – it’s just the principle that stings. oops :,) / dividers by strangergraphics

Carriage rides were always a handful.

More-so now, that you were a mother, cupping the back of your child’s head and bouncing him eagerly on your lap to keep him from fright, whilst your husband sat beside you, sticking his finger between the ridge of the little boy’s top lip and nose in a manner of teasing.

Rhaekar was a name that both you and Aegon had agreed upon. A fine name for a fine baby boy.

Fresh out of the womb and nursed delicately against your breast, Aegon’s usually frivolous and disengaged habits had quelled at the low cries that left the tiny bundle of cloth at your breast. He had uncharacteristically poked his head up and down, trying to catch a glimpse of the little wrinkled flesh, slick with blood and fluid.

He is tinier than I expected, he had said in a hushed tone, his ringed finger delicately tracing the fat of the newborn’s cheek, as if afraid to hurt it.

Most babies are, if not smaller, you had smiled.

It really was no secret. Your marriage with Aegon was not bourne out of love, nor willingness. He had detested duty, and you had grown cold at the thought of a loveless marriage. Even as you stood at the Sept steps, clothed head to toe in white that mirrored the marble of fresh-tasting cream frosting, cloaked in the regal cream of the Targaryen colours, the two of you had been too young to absolve or deny such a proposition.

But the years passed to prove that friendship could sprout in the absence of love. Aegon did not love you in a way you had hoped to be loved by someone, anyone. But he loved his son, and the friendship you held with him was near enough.

“He’s going to drool all over you,” you fuss gently, watching as your son takes his father’s finger into his two hands and grasps it like rope. A laugh is pulled out of Aegon – adoration is clear in his light irises.

“Do not worry, my dear boy,” Aegon drawls, broad and toothy smile catching the lines on his face, “Your father doesn’t mind.”

“He has grown.”

The third voice is a surprise, if anything. Yet it strikes a deep cord within you, familiarity bubbling in your chest at the age-old smooth voice, curved syllables.

Aemond.

You had been mildly conscious of his presence, and with him, Helaena, sitting across from you in the carriage. It wasn’t customary to be lodged in a single carriage like so, but with the destination being the annual hunt and Rhaekar’s name day, the family would need to be close. Well-knit as they walked out of the carriage for appearances.

Yet, you cannot help but hold Aemond’s one-eyed gaze for one second too necessary, to notice how he watches the three of you like a hawk.

Aegon breathes in softly, clearly distracted by the little babbling boy as he hauls him out of your lap at the arms and takes to playing with him more efficiently. You’re left to answer his brother’s question with a simple smile.

“The Maesters say he is growing up strong and fast,” your hands come to lay across each other on your lap, the action not being missed by the younger Prince’s steely, unreadable gaze. You almost burn under it, but you chalk it up to the closed space.

He doesn’t respond, but simply tilts his head forward in a single nod. When you look back to Rhaekar upon Aegon’s lap, he rips his gaze from your face to the youngling’s.

In his mind, he is barely hanging on. Stuffed in a carriage with a brother he would rather wrangle than humour, a lady wife he is bound to duty alone and the sight of his childhood companion – love, friend, half of his heart, whatever that constitutes – wed and mothering a son with not only another man, but his own debauched brother. He would sooner die than stomach that.

But Aemond holds more restraint than most mortal men. At least, he thinks he does. His single eye traces over the soft of your son’s cheeks and the ovals of his eyes – all traces of Aegon. All traces of you. His hands clench against the thick leather of his pants, trying to seem indifferent, as his eye trains back to your face.

Your gaze floats back to his. Only the two of you understand that there is a tension floating between you, but you alone do not understand it. He is hard to read now, more than ever. The event at Drift-mark had shut you out from all his previous behaviours, his usual antics and juvenile tendencies. Now, a hardened and roughened man remained, whatever trace of friendship conjured in your childhood being a mere floating memory now.

At least, it seemed like it.

“Ah, here we are,” Aegon chimes blandly, pointing to the carriage window to ascertain which Lords were which, and which camps held best.

The moment breaks as the footman hurries to the door, and with it, you step outside beside Aegon and clutch Rhaekar at your chest with a smile. Beside you, Helaena and Aemond step awkwardly together. The sight of cheerful men and ardent cheers overwhelm you, and you push back the feeling arising in your chest with a lost sense of conviction.

The maids are gentle with your son, and it is all that you need to quell your thoughts and feeling heart.

You are able to catch a moment of reprieve amongst the tent that was erected for the likes of you and Aegon. Being the first born son, the tent served to reflect exactly that. It lay amongst the middle of the camp, green silks draped over wooden posts in different shades, like thick vines draping from the ceiling. Where there had been thick ground outside, had now been replaced by a verdant carpet, embroidered by gold all throughout. An extravagant faux-throne stood at a few steps to the right, and a swath of low cushions to your left – toys lay upon those cushions, with your son teething at a toy that a maid had gently placed at his feet.

Lords and Ladies flitted from here and there, passing like blurring bodies in your vision. A few stopped to greet you, and engage in conversation is pressing their advantage, though you were polite. There wasn’t much to look forward to – the small array of ladies gathered around chairs and carpets would surely do more to discomfort you than engage you in something meaningful.

At the back of the tent, a low serving table lay with refreshments. For all your knowledge, Aegon never really did reign in his inhibitions – there was already a pitcher half-full, and a goblet half-drunk on it. Aegon was somewhere, possibly entertaining some few of his many Lordly friends.

The ache of love could not be quelled by friendship.

You sip your wine slowly. In times like these, left alone to your own devices and given the option to drink, engage or settle with some ladies, your mind tended to wander instead. You tilt your cup to your lips, the sight of the fruitful wine giving way to a faint image in your mind.

It was his twelfth name day. You remember it so clearly – waking up before the maids and selecting your frilliest, prettiest gown for the occasion, frowning and whining when they insisted different colours and styles, fashioned with embroidery or gems.

You had wanted it to be special for Aemond.

Being one of his most beloved childhood companions, you wanted every intention to count. You knew it mattered when you stepped into the gardens, dressed in a delicate green gown, with red-dotted jewellery to dot your neck and fingers. He had been standing there, waiting anxiously, and nearly fell face front when he approached you.

You look… really pretty, he had stuttered.

Thank you, Aemond, you had giggled, enjoying the way his tongue had turned liquid in his mouth at the sight of you.

The plans had been made that day – whatever he wished for. When breaking fast, he couldn’t keep a hold of his tongue as he clutched your palm and led you hastily down the halls of the Red Keep. He knew that the day would entail later; extravagance and little time. Little time for you, and the thought soured his mind.

First, there was the clearing near the woods. He didn’t mind the presence of the knights trailing behind much, and neither did you. All he cared for was the feeling of perching his head nervously against your lap, fighting a smile as you braided flowers within his hair. It had been a sweet, long affair. Next, it had been the banquet dinner, and he had saved a space in the chair beside his own. His smiles never left you, his eyes always chasing your own, smiling bashfully when he did something worthy of impression to you.

And then, at the end of the day, past the pesky guards and the prying eyes of your parents – came the Dragon-pit escapade.

What if we get caught? Someone could see us, you voiced in worry, despite your eyes betraying the excitement broiling in your gut. Aemond had merely tugged at your wrist, boyish grip a little too tight for comfort, yet neither of you cared much.

No one will catch us, he smiled nervously, as though unsure of himself.

When the two of you tentatively descended the rocky steps of the massive crypt, you had held closer to him. Aemond tried to calm the jump in his pulse when your palm squeezed around his, or the way your shoulder bumped softly against the ridge of his back when the dark got too frightening.

Just stay close to me, he murmured. Though only a few centimetres taller than you, he was speaking with more confidence than what lay in him.

You had stayed close with a tight nod, your soft breath against his nape. He was scouring the darkness – the smell of Dragon-spit and smoke marred the air heavily, and the mechanical groans of a few of the pit’s creatures emboldened the darkness a little more. You clung to him even tighter, the silk of your dress pressing against his leathers. When the first dragon, however unrecognisable, had grown weary of your intrusion and lit its flame, you covered your eyes and ears. He had ducked you behind him, though he quivered just as much, and had covered you with both arms in an embrace.

Look, he had breathed.

And what a sight it had been.

Yellow climbed atop orange as dragon-fire spilled forth from a gargantuan throat of an unnamed dragon. It raised across the dark rock of the ceiling, lighting the space like a well-lit room, the heat bearing down against you like the summer season of the realm. Where there was fear, now there was also awe, as you and Aemond clung to one another. When the room dimmed, the two of you ran hand in hand above ground, falling atop each other in a hurry to rid of the pit’s darkness.

The added weight of you above him was barely registered, with your childish laughter filling the air in cacophonies, his hands a welcome weight against your hips. However that night ended, you do not remember. Did the two of you trek to the Red Keep in barely concealed laughter? Or did you peek at the stars when the guise of friendship had moved on to a tenderer feeling?

“My Lady?”

You blink like a fish out of water. Your wine is long gone, and you find yourself staring at the maid in front of you, who views you with the same sort of concentration, just a tinge of concern in her eyes.

It appears your thoughts might have drifted – Rhaekar had been fussing for you from the carpeted floor, barely able to sit still against the silk drapery and consoling maids.

“Forgive me—“ you begin, setting down your goblet and lifting yourself off the chair you had unknowingly seated yourself upon, approaching the child with a twinkling smile, “My sweet boy. Do you miss me?”

The boy babbles happily at your voice, recognising the soft tone of his mother’s voice. He clings to the collar of your blue silks, the embroidery against your collar being fisted in his little hands. You smile, entertaining the small boy as the maids watch with an affectionate smile.

From the corner of the room, Aemond watched. He always did – and he had been, especially now. His eye had lingered when you were day-dreaming. How twisted it was for an unreadable man of his station to desperately want to know the inner workings of another. He supposed he was this sort of man now – barred and unaffectionate, cruel by practice.

His duty to Helaena was just that. There wasn’t love, but a deep-seated admiration and bond with the quiet girl. He had been close with his sister, but he had never seen her as more – they had hardly sired heirs of their own. Targaryen customs had never repulsed him; he was no stranger to the much exercised practices of his house. But there was no deeper reason to feel more for her and the act of intimacy was hidden deep in his chest, unwilling to be made known to anyone but you. And she felt the very same with her own duty, seated in the far corner of the room, taken to her maid, who watches as she palms a spider carefully.

But you – God’s, you were different.

His childhood companion of when he was much too young to know of the atrocities of loss and shame, the one he chased with his eye alone and caught in a full room. He could abandon all feeling and you would still be in his chest, thudding place of his heart.

He could hardly tear his one, assessing eye off of you. Those silks, that draped off your form, curving against you in the places he wished he could memorise. Your hair wasn’t the silver of his Targaryen own, but a colour of your own – he had always admired it closely in childhood, perhaps another outlet of his devotion of you.

But now, watching you tend to your child, a child that he could easily confuse as his own, he felt something… in his gut.

He was that sort of man now – the sort of man who knew long ago of what he truly wanted.

“Trouble?” he asks smoothly, without much hesitation or emotion, as he crosses the room to stand beside you. His arms are folded behind his back, a habit he had developed with his roguishness, as he looks down at you.

You’re hardly surprised. You knew he would seek you out somehow – perhaps for conversation. It felt nice, for a moment, regarding him without looking into his eye and seeing the tension that lay within it, raw and confusing. You were forced to bury whatever you felt beneath lines of formality.

“He always is,” you smile at Aemond, dusting the front of your gown as you straighten to your full height, “Are you having a good time?”

“I suppose,” he hums. Brisk and short – you do not mind. You have grown used to that. But what makes your hair stand on edge is the look he gives you. Like he is studying you, trying to figure you out. His eye blinks towards the room, uncharacteristically relieved to find Aegon nowhere near, before he offers his arm.

“Walk with me.”

More demand than request, but his tone is not at all harsh and soft in his own way. Watered down and guarded but not forced, like it was nature to be with you so. Your heart flutters in your chest. There is no reason to deny.

“Lead the way,” you answer with a familiar smirk, which leaves a ghost of a smirk on his own lips. You leave the tent, arm warmly wrapped against Aemond’s own, after ensuring Rhaekar was satisfied with the stuffed renditions of dragons and the maids that coo at him when the drapery slides into place with your exit.

If the men assembled around the camp were surprised by your company, they made no show of it.

No protest rang as you and Aemond made for a thin path in the woods, mind anywhere but within the moment. The heat of your skin was warming his rib and arm, and the presence of him was making a familiarity dawn upon you.

Where there had been easy conversation in the past, there were silences and the light crunch of boot upon leaf. You didn’t blame him much – the change does not repulse you. He had always been a thoughtful boy in the past, and the silence had only grown. He tended to think more now, second guessing his words and choosing which words to best fit with you. He didn’t know where the two of you stood – was it fit to feel greedy even now?

The sounds of the creaking woods and crackling leaves are finally broken by his speech, “How are you?”

You look at him with mild surprise, a soft smile on your face as you regard him. His one eye is genuine as it looks upon you.

“Do you want the truth or something soft-sounding?” you jest, but he merely breathes softly.

“You know what I want,” he states with not so much as a smile, but his tone is light. Did you know what he truly wanted? Perhaps not. It would frighten you, surely.

“I am well. Rhaekar left me a little exhausted and sore, but the recovery has come along well,” you answer, “Truly, I am well.”

He pushes his luck, “And your marriage?”

It should surprise you, but it doesn’t. He’s always been eager at his hand, no matter how much restraint he had learnt over the years.

You sigh through your nose, “My duty, you mean. It is… not as horrible as it ought to be. Aegon is… well, Aegon. We perform what we must. He is a friend to me, in a way. No lover. But… it is good, I suppose.”

Something about the mention of a satisfactory marriage with his leech of a brother had his mind boiling with anger. He didn’t expect – much less hope – for you to be miserable. No, he was never that cruel to you. Perhaps to others, but not you. But the smell of friendship unnerved him. It was how he was taken to you – would Aegon follow that same path, find himself infatuated and easily claim your heart as it was already done legally through marriage? Would he standing by the sides when time would run out?

“Hm,” he repeats, monotone. He was clenching his fists, you notice, and visibly stiff against you. Something had angered him, and you wouldn’t just sit around to find out.

“What is it?” you ask, a frown on your face.

He takes note of it, almost wanting to press his index finger against the middle of your brows, to see the frown dissipate. But he held his hands back – that greed would get the better of him.

He steels himself, stopping by a large tree. It looms above the two of you, like a sledge-hammer, the roots taking place underneath your feet in bumps and ridges. The leaves are speckled across the vast amounts of branches, green and white in the cold sunlight. But the gaze he gives you is enough to warm your insides for good.

“It irks me,” he speaks truthfully for the first time in years, and for once, it feels freeing. His conscience is still heavy, “Your marriage with the… likes of him.”

You pause. This was traversing some grounds, this stupefying discovery and suspicion. Your vows and your duty flit through your head like the numerous scrolls in the Sept, the weight of the realm atop your shoulders. You had seen him in similar lights, but the truth almost made him vulnerable, angry. Fear griped at your chest, as you look at him like he was strange for saying such a thing.

“Well, it shouldn’t,” your voice is wary, a swallow diminishing the flurry in your belly, “We have a duty to uphold. Me, to Aegon. You to Helaena.”

He comes to a halt beneath one of the branches, disgruntled in a way that you cannot see. Aemond feels his tongue slacken in his mouth, the weight of another man’s anger resting in his body – or was it his? Hidden and barely known, even to himself? Was it the anger, the bitterness, that he held as young child, now refusing to be shown?

You notice his stiffness, but make no move to coax him out of him. He had to snap out of it.

“You have Helaena,” you repeat, softer if only it would soothe whatever line he was transgressing, “She is your lady wife.”

He scoffs. It is a sound that catches you off guard. In the past, he would have conceded and offered a hasty apology. Or perhaps in reluctance. But he was brash now, bolder. His shoulders squared, as his head moved an inch to look back at you, silver tresses spilling over the jerkin he wore.

“Helaena. She is my dear sister,” his voice is blank, “There was never any sort of love there. You know that.”

Your eyes widen. He was being truthful, more than usual. He was unravelling, surely, and the coldness of the forest sears away to be replaced with a warmth that nips at your heel. His eye only holds some light of anger and truth, never fear – but that is within him, refusing to be shown.

You look at your feet, distractedly picking your gown up from an edge of a root, “She is your wife, nonetheless.”

The words work more to anger him – you know this because a piece of his jaw sets in place, and he fully turns to face you. He had always been a head taller, but now, he was towering above you. Looming. The tree barely intimidated you as such – regal beauty closing in on you like Valyrian smoke.

“She is my wife,” he begins again, voice low. He approaches you, and you move backwards on cue. He stops upon notice, a sharp breath breaking the silence, “But you—“

“But me?” your voice is incredulous, “What about me? What am I to you but a friend from childhood—”

He moved closer, and you lose some semblance of control as he crowds your space. Your back presses against the bark of the large tree, uncomfortable and poking against the soft length of your gown. But you do not care, and neither does he. His fingers almost reach up to touch your arm, but he doesn’t dare. Not yet.

“Do not fool yourself,” he sneers, one eye looking down at you in a way that burns your skin once again, “You are more. You might have not known, but I did – you’ve always been more.”

His fingers finally concede, tracing the gooseflesh on your elbow as you twitch under him. Your eyes are wide and shocked, but you do not make a move to stop him, nor his words. He knows you are a proud lady by nature – you could easily make quick of this conversation and never return to him. But your eyes hold the truth. You’re half curious, as you are fearful and just as selfish as him, though you think of yourself better at hiding it. He smirks slightly.

“You should have been mine,” his eye searches your face, his finger trailing up to touch the side of your chin, a touch too soft.

If the bottom of your stomach hadn’t dropped before, it definitely had in this very moment. The leaves rustle softly as you feel your back scratch against the bark, your face warming where he touches you. The two of you are crossing a line, the both of you, because you make no move to leave. You lean into his touch ever so slightly, seeking for the warmth that lies there. Targaryens and their heat.

“We mustn’t,” your voice is weak, barely a deterrence, but you try anyhow. You know better than to give into the urges, the fears and hopes that belonged to a whole different time. A time where the two of you were much younger, and ignorant in a sweet sense, making light of the weight on your heart. But now, festering all throughout your adolescence, it had begun to take root, “We belong to others—“

Aemond makes a sound between a grunt and a scoff, as he traps you against the bark. His hands loop around your waist, the touch dangerous and a tell-tale warning of yourself and him, too, in a sense. But he doesn’t losen his hold, and you sigh shakily as he hauls you closer, chest to chest.

“We belonged to each other long before we belonged to others,” he manages in a ragged tone. In a tone that suggests that you knew better, just like he did, and that it was no better playing the fool. You supposed he was right – it was out in the open, and the two of you were chest to chest, like he’d tear your gown open and make love to you in the solace of the forest alone. Not much to hide now. Not much to disguise.

But still, you try. You pretended to not know better.

“That was in childhood—“ you struggle against his arms, heavy breaths stifling your lungs like sea-smoke as he comes so close, too close. His lips are at the corners of your own, his one eye so close as to depict the many different etches in his eyepatch, “I am your brother’s lady wife now.”

He tightens his hold around the small of your back, and you fail to ignore the warmth that builds all over. You are beginning to feel fuzzy, to let go of all your inhibitions, your restraint. And he was too.

“The laws of matrimony were forged by men,” he speaks smoothly against your lips, “They mean nothing to me—not when it comes to you.”

Your last ditch effort to deny crossing the line is futile – you sharply move your face away from him, the sight of his face ripping away from your line of vision. It proves to be a poor effort, because he merely grunts, grabbing your cheeks with his calloused digits and shifting it back to where it was before. It is almost violent in a way, if it weren’t for the tenderness in which he looked at you.

Every breath feels heavy, and your hands come to rest against his chest, not knowing whether to push or pull. Your restraint was slipping, and there was little to stop you now. You could barely deny yourself, let alone him.

“Look at me.”

The order is so simple and you curse at how your eyes float to his. It was such an easy thing – finding his eyes in the harrowing darkness of the Dragon-pit, peering into his good eye and trying to ignore the blood and gore that marred his other, trying to discern his thoughts with a look alone. You had looked so easily.

And he knew. God’s, Aemond knew it.

The truth lay in them, as they had all along. Even with one eye, he was left blinded. How could he have let the pretence of your duties hold him back, when you were there for the taking?

You knew it too – the lack of such a burn was abysmal in your own marriage. The presence of it now left you cloudy brained, hazy, and you couldn’t navigate the barest of thoughts. Before, caution would have been exercised. Now, there was an utter lack of it. A lack of patience, a lack of restraint, and a lack of all of which made you and Aemond.

With a slow pace, you let slide your hand against the nape of his neck, slowly trailing up and feeling the long strands that lay there, pale and silver against your fingers. You had once told him that it reminded you of star light. The truth stood now, even in the barely concealed brevity of your fingers. Not that you cared.

All restraint that the Prince had once retained in childhood snaps like a string and he surges forward. His lips are rough and a clatter of teeth, gum and tongue. He is not a patient man – so when he angles your head and licks against your lips, you keep your lips sealed for the thrill of it. Nevertheless, he wrenches your mouth open with his tongue alone, wrapping around your own like a muscle well-trained, noting every sigh and moan that escapes you.

His hands are all over you. There is surprise in the way it trails from your neck to your nape, to the back of your head and down your hip, his fingers thumbing your breast in the decline. You shudder against him, and he swallows your groan in earnest.

“So eager,” he drawls, though the need is thick in his voice, “I thought your vows meant more to you than this?”

“Fuck you,” you bite back, a strangled moan leaving you seconds later, as his fingers dive beneath your skirts and thumb your slit in a slow swipe. The words of retort die in your throat as you clutch fiercely to his shoulders, his pressing weight being the only source of support.

He smiled, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue, “You’ve always had a filthy mouth on you. A lady no less.”

No amount of breath could have braced you for the way in which his fingers dipped beneath the smooth fabric of your underwear, slipping past the pubic hair that lay there and catching your pearl in a tight-rounded flick. You moan in a way he hadn’t yet heard before, and his heart clenches uncomfortably. He had only ever felt such exhilaration when atop Vhagar, mapping the expanse of King’s Landing below. But he is greedy now – he knows that he can be.

He mouths a quiet ‘fuck’, as he positions his fingers in a way that breeches you so barely, before burying a long, lithe finger within you. He is not prepared for the way you buck against him, the broken syllables of his name leaving your lips – almost desperate. Did Aegon know that he was claiming his own wife so, with his fingers alone?

When his fingers ease you open enough, one too many to wrench just sighs out of you, he retreats his hand from your small-clothes. You whine at the loss of his warmth, the absence of the ball of his palm against your clit that warmed the wet flesh just right. He simply smiles, taking your earlobe into his mouth.

“Patience, ñuha jorrāeliarzy,” he purrs against the expanse of your throat. The odd, old language blends into his usual use of the common tongue, and you do not know how it excites you so. Perhaps the premise itself is so debauched – your childhood companion and the brother of your own husband dragging your own slick back and forth across your cunny, in the solace of a forest.

It only clicks after that he called you his love.

You can barely digest that thought when he barely steps back. His fingers hook against your small-clothes and yanks them down harshly, the fabric lying wet and soaked slightly between your legs. You feel no shame – you wish you did, because some clarity would do you some good. Instead, you hurriedly help him unlace the buckles of his leather, laces of his breeches. They lower enough to let his cock to spring free, sinful and dangerous as he presses the weight of him against you, dragging it across like a damn tease.

“Please,” you plead, breaths ragged and poor. He smirks, arms hooking under your shoulders to pull you closer against his chest.

“Your words, sweet girl,” he coos. The smirk that tears his face is devilish – you almost cower, if not for the lust clouding your system, the decade long affair boiling between you both.

“I need you to—“ you struggle at a swipe of his cock-head against your slick entrance, “I need you to—to fuck me.”

“Is that so?” he asks, amused, as he begins to press into you. So, so close, yet not enough.

You nod tearfully, “I need you—I’ve always needed you, and you’ve always known. I wish it was you. I wish we would have wed—“

The moan that rips through you is entirely his fault. The sharp way he breeches you, in one harsh moment – his fault. But who could blame him? The thought of you so desperate to change the course of fate, to be bound to him by matrimonial vows, makes his stomach burn. He knew he was a hypocrite – he had just sullied and mocked them, but if you were his by law, he would have made it count.

“Wanted you forever,” he grunts against your ear, cock spearing through you and splitting you in half against the bark of the tree. The bark bites into your back, and your hips begin to burn. He smells of Dragon-scale and fire. He must have ridden Vhagar sometime this week – it makes you clench tightly around him, as he stutters, pushing in deeper, “I would’ve wed you in a heartbeat, if not for those fucking duties.”

You aren’t faring any better than him, moaning and whining as he ploughs into you, holding you up with his strength alone as he batters you endlessly. He speaks again, pleasured at the sight of you so wordless, “Don’t care much for that. You’re mine. You’ve always been mine. My insolent brother would do good to remember that—fuck.”

You clench against him again, “Aemond—“

“Could spill my come in you now,” he pants, angling your hips to reach further into you, like he was taking the good parts of you and sullying them, just so he could lay his claim on you, “That fool would never know—you’d be round and swollen with my babe and he’d never fucking know—”

Excitement and fear gripes at your heart, as you look up at him in slight alarm. But you cannot help but entertain the thought – the mere thought of him laying claim on you so viciously, a formidable dragon in his own right, not caring for whatever that kept you apart. Gone was the boy that feared overstepping, that feared distance. Here was a man that would make space if he wished for it, lay claim on you because he craved you so.

With a strangled call of his name, you bite his shoulder firmly – not enough to cause hurt, but enough to have him grunt – as you near your release. A creamy ring forms around the base of his cock when he looks below, and he knows the sight is his undoing. He is close – so close.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he taunts, yet spears in harder, “You’d like that so much.”

You can only nod helplessly, lost to the sensations swimming in your veins. He grunts through a wrangled moan, aroused by the way you let him.

It isn’t a surprise when you come first. It is a goal of his – as a man, to bring you ecstasy, before his own. But when he does come, it is deep within, a warmth that fills your body as he spills his seed deep inside your cunny. The two of you struggle against each other with ragged breaths, and his hand settles against the small of your back again, the touch leaving an impression.

“You’re insatiable,” you groan, though playfully, as you watch the product of his come drip from beneath you. He barely gives you any words, as his fingers collect the slick and quickly stuff the escaping wetness back in, ignoring the way your hips twitch away from him. Sensitivity. It makes him smile cruelly.

“Don’t you waste a bit of it,” he speaks, voice a drawl, thick with want. The weight of the truth lay between you two, but there was no need to navigate such a thing. You had known long, long before, even buried it underneath lays of flesh and bone.

He helps you dress again, and then himself, quick and expertly, your small-clothes containing the eager spill of his seed between your thighs. You do not miss the way his one eye glitters with some dangerous sense of pride, how he kisses your neck only so slightly. You smile, laughing softly, as he curls into the side of you, claiming a part of you and aiming for more – until you smell of nothing but Dragon-smoke and sweat.

“Let’s head back, before the others grow suspicious. For good reason,” you tug at his arm, your smile a balm against the ruined convictions of his past.

He offers a rare smile, letting himself be led away by you, just like in childhood, “Let’s.”

There was no need to fret the words – the two of you have always known, in some sense. Perhaps you’ll figure the future out sooner than you had before, with the added weight of him against your body.

© 2024 qvrcll. Do not repost any of my works on any platform.

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 6 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: the third year of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly concerning staying

warnings (TW): swearing, alcohol consumption, nicotine use (gross! but perhaps…sexy?), illegal activities, piercings, gore, panic attack/panic-inducing situation, slight sexual themes

tags: fluff, affection, mutual-pining, miscommunication but like with body language?

notes: the end of an era rip stan’s mullet circa 1985 (according to me and me alone). also like i 100% believe Stan plays in the pool mmk, like def rough housing when yall go swimming i just didn’t wanna write it. But in the back of your mind okay- just know deep down that yall had fun

thanks again for the notes and the comments and the reblogs omg i love reading anything yall leave fr lol- ahhh thanks again <3

word count: 6.8k (yo what howd i manage this)

| masterlist | part vii |

February, 1985 

They had decided to go out that night, making excuses about missing the new year. 

They hadn’t noticed the clock ticking by from December into January, consumed with new wiring in the basement connected to the user panel for the portal. 

She had been ranting and raving again, like he had hated in the beginning of it all, but slowly began to crave in the end of it. He had begun to slowly understand those rants in the coming months too, thanks to her hurried chalkboard drawings of random continuous circuits. He closed his eyes now and could identify different AC and DC currents in the lines of the darkness in his dreams. 

Work would consume them at random, and he had begun to find her downstairs late into the night after having dragged her to bed. She’d creep out into the hallway, lingering in his bedroom doorway. Tucking blankets around his broad shoulders, only to find her way downstairs to the last remnants of Stanford. 

He saw his brother in her at every turn as of late, found his last visage in her shaking hands and deep-seated eyes. He’d tie her to the bed if he had to, no matter how the image shook something deep in him. She’d sleep tonight, and he knew of a way to do it. 

Distract her.

So he took her out to the bar singing to her about the new year that had already come and gone, dragged her up the stairs to change into something that wasn’t covered in oil and dirt, and got her out the door within an hour. 

She looked better now, her eyes less clouded and her smile more radiant than he’d seen in days. She had felt cold for months, and he believed it his own fault because he had pushed her away. 

He had had another dream, more vivid than the previous, and it had shocked him awake so fast in the dead of the night that he actually stumbled to her open doorway, making sure she was where he had left her in his dream. The dream where he had touched her where she had never actually allowed, where he had begged her for words and for more and she permitted it. Allowed him to creep into her bed and make her his, but it had been sickening this time, the sweetness he felt for her, and he woke believing it to be an absolution. He didn’t deserve to think of her like that, because she had never allowed it. So he would never allow it. 

That sickening ache he has felt refused to let up though. And it only twisted into something deeper when he thought of her, thought of her as his wife. The only allowance he had of her, in only words. 

The shake of his hands when he reaches for her now is hard to hide, as hard to hide as his racing heart from himself. His subconscious screamed something anxious when he looked at her now, screamed something of promise and something sickeningly sweet like adoration. 

He wouldn’t use the bigger more unexplainable word. She didn’t feel the same, he reasoned, so it couldn’t be that. 

So he ignored his heart, his shaking hands, and the ache in his chest. How his stomach twisted when she laughed and how he forgot about it all when he had a drink in his hand. 

He had been cold to her recently, and she had retraced all the steps in her mind on how it consequently was all her fault. All her fault that he pulled his hand from the back of the couch now, how he twisted weirdly in his car seat when she sang on the way home. How he wouldn’t look at her anymore, peering through her when she talked to him now across the kitchen table. 

It was all her fault, she reasoned, that he was no longer warm.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, it whispered dark things sometimes. Her lack of intelligence weighed on her. She wanted to prove she could do what they had both set out to do together. Wanted to prove she could bring his brother home, in hopes his warmth would return. So she had slaved away these past months, in hopes he could look at her again. 

But she had forgotten that for now, drink in her hand and eyes already blurry. Laughing at his usual gag of making fun of people around them, creating fake stories about passerbyers, and twisting tall tales about their mundane lives. He hadn’t dragged his eyes from her all night. 

She had interrupted their usual cadence, a sudden drunk contemplative look in her eyes. 

“Ya know.” She sloshed her drink around, the ice almost being the only thing left. “I still sometimes feel as young as I did when I first left home. When I left for college.” She hums, turning her eyes to him. “Do you ever feel like that?” 

“Ah sometimes.” He answers, finishing off his drink and looking to the bar to get them both another, straying his eyes from her for the first time in hours. “But then I remember how my back feels in the morning.” She laughs. 

“No! I mean like, do you feel just as stupid as you did when you were eighteen?” Taking her eyes off of him, a blush bloomed across her face. 

He feels stupid around her, mostly. But a different weird kind of stupid. So he agrees. “Ya, doll. I get what you mean.” 

“Hey…” she’s giggling now, a smirk creeping around the corners of her mouth. “You can still have my bed, Stan.” She said, referring to his stiff back courtesy of Sixer. 

His dream flashes behind his eyes again, of creeping into her bed at her insistence. How she had peeled the covers back and waved him into her. The swell of her hips and the quirk of her brow. He flees, suddenly feeling sober in the face of her. She didn’t mean it like that anyway. 

“How about another drink, hun?” She perks at that, at the name. But nods her head, moving her glass back to his waiting hand as he makes for the bar. 

Tonight had been good, more peaceful. And the most she’s been able to talk to him in a while without the abrupt interruption of guilt that came with living above his brother's graveyard now. Three years, each one more daunting than the last. That and the usual tirade of her self-conscious mind was dimmed in the wake of her numerous mixed drinks. 

But his company was distracting, was always distracting. So she fell into it with ease tonight. The easy cadence between them, his carefree affection he gave when he was hazy, even the rhythm of the music in the bar was enchanting tonight. She was drunk, she knew that for sure. It made her lips loose and her shoes shuffle weird. 

She wanted to dance, to move across the floor. But she only wanted to if he followed in her shadow. Something she usually wouldn’t ask of him, but the drink had absolved her of her usual anxieties. It made the aching heartfelt feelings for him intensified, the thought of him so close to her. She liked that, that feeling. Craved it most days now, especially in his continued absence. 

He came back to her, bar lights lit the back of his head much like they had when she first laid eyes on him that December day more than three years ago. He had a rugged handsomeness to him, sporting new short hair. Something she had teased him about, fake crying at the loss of his long grown-out mullet. She didn’t linger on the feeling of having missed out on running her fingers through his long tousled curls. 

He was his usual charming self, achingly so. His smirk lit his face as he passed back over her drink to her, but she reached across for it in his haste to give it to her. Meeting him on the rim of the cup as her fingers curled around his big ones. 

“Staaannnnnnnn!” She said, a smile blooming across her face. “We should dance!” Perking up in her seat, twisting her fingers around his own. Tracing her thumb across his large palm. 

He flushes like he always does when she touches him. He's much like her though, buzzed off the atmosphere and her presence. It isn’t completely out of the ordinary that he would say yes to anything she suggests, especially when she looks at him like that. 

Her smile tilted, they leave their new drinks behind. Something that normally would concern him if he didn’t know almost everyone in the room at the moment, having seen almost every local come through his tour in the following years. That and he had evenly glared at every man in town in passing, specifically when he was following in her wake. 

The lights in this part of the bar were different. Dimmer in this corner in particular, only lit up by the continuously changing old jukebox in the corner. The lights reflected off her face made him stumble forward. 

The song was nothing recognizable to him, but she seemed to enjoy the rhythm anyway. Twirling her hands up and unconsciously moving her hips. She laughed at his stiff posture, reaching for his hand and pulling him into her. 

“You gotta move Stan.” She had said between them. “Like this.” Picking up his arm, and curling it around her. 

She’d admit to herself later that she isn’t the best dancer, but she had dreamed of his touch for months since he had pulled away this past October. And she was too much of a craven to do it sober. 

So she placed his hands on her waist without much thought, and she dug her hands into his broad shoulders- just because it felt right. He hadn’t hugged her for a while, the memory of their first embrace, down in the basement rang around her head. He had hummed a certain way that day, her ear in the junction of his shoulder as he tried to soothe her for the first time. 

She would be the death of him. He had swore it up and down. The way she looked in the changing jukebox light was riveting, made him stutter over words, and made his hands wander. She was warm and laughing against him, the song drowned out by the entirety of her. 

Suddenly the song shifts, and her smile gets impossibly brighter. She swings out of his embrace, still holding onto his large hand. Moving with the beat of a familiar song. 

She’s utterly hypnotizing like this, the beat of the song drowning out the sound of his racing heart. He couldn’t tell if it was the song that convinced him of this or her, but she captures a small part of his mind as she drags him around giggling on the dance floor. He doesn’t care much for what his limbs do anymore, pulling her back to his chest and letting her muffle her laughter into his shoulder again. He finds himself laughing with her, eyes drifting up and down her form in his arms now. 

She revels in the proximity. She had longed for his warmth in the past months, aching to have him look at her like he is right now. He was finally looking at her, not through her. It didn’t feel like the normal disjointed affections tonight, he felt whole against her for the first time in months. And she couldn’t help but laugh at how much she pitied her past self for having thought she had to beg for his presence. He gave his attention readily tonight, and it was a balm on her anxious mind and made her drowsy in comfort. 

The song came to an end, but his hold did not waver. His hand reaching from her back to her loose hair, moving it away from her flushed exerted face to see the crook of her smile. Her eyes drooping now, her heart steady against his own. 

“Ready to go, doll?” 

She nods, but stops, dizzy at the movement, and giggles to herself. Burrowing into the palm that rests near her face now. She points to the back of the bar, in the far corner. 

“Restroom, doll?” 

She nods pulling away from his warmth and his palm. She would be back. 

“Mmmk, I’m gonna close the tab and I’ll meet you outside alright?” 

She nods again, moving to the much-needed restroom. He wanted to go outside, she figured so he could have a smoke. Something she had chastised in the very beginning all those years ago, but he had a good habit of at least wondering outside to do it on the porch. Sometimes she would follow him out when they were holding those kind of conversations that would follow you from room to room. It had made her stop and stare that first time, finding the way the smoke curled and left his mouth to be captivating. The way he would talk around it, cigarette resting in the corner of his mouth. Something so life-altering shouldn't be alluring, but he had a habit of doing that to her. 

She makes her way back out of the bathroom, their booth empty except for his winter jacket he had left behind for her. Their drinks were long gone and cleared from the table despite them never having touched them. He didn’t even give her shit about not finishing a drink tonight. 

She slips his big red coat on, running her hands along the corner patch like she always does. The coat smells more like him in the colder months for some reason.

She turns back to the bar, an older woman waving her over and vying for her attention. She swears she has seen her before, her red hair catching in the barlight. Probably in the giftshop at some point, looking for cheap merchandise for the holidays to give to family. 

“You both are just so cute!” The older woman remarks as she gets closer to her, her smile inviting.

“Ah, why thank you.” She smiles, thinking of Stan waiting for her outside.

“How long have you been married?” 

“Just had a two-year anniversary.” She hums, thinking about their usual December diner date that had come and gone. He hadn’t drawn with her that year, though. Something that had become a bit of a tradition between them both. 

It struck her then. That they hadn’t been acting much different in regards to the revelation they had just two years ago when she spilled that she had tied herself to him indefinitely. That they had never accommodated themselves to act more “married” for the sake of illusions. That everything they did had come naturally to them both. This woman in front of her proved it, they hadn’t acted any differently than they usually would have tonight.

For a split guilty second, she wonders if it’s a lie for Stanley if he's just that good of a conman and she’s too achingly sweet on him to notice it all. She shakes the visage off like a bad dream, remembering his glassy eyes that December day all those years ago when he had leaned into her side swearing up and down that he wasn’t any good for her. Stanley never lies about anything that could hurt her. He’d never hurt her. 

She sighs, but he's been so cold. Wrapping his red jacket around her, feeling the warmth and smelling the scent he had left behind in it. They’d be okay though, with time. 

“Basically newlyweds then, dear.” The nice older woman comments. The woman looks her up and down, a contemplative smile on her face. She knew she looked weary. “Bit of advice dear?” 

“Hmmm?” 

“Having you around is enough.” She hums. “Just gotta be there for him, stay close dear. Always stay.” The woman reached forward, wrapping her hand around her shoulder. 

Contemplative she nods at the woman, thanking her. Making her way outside and taking the statement to heart. Perhaps she didn’t need to overthink what was wanted and act on what was needed. He must need her, must need her close. She had thought to work herself to the bone to bring back his warmth, but maybe all that was needed was her constant. To be a constant for him. 

She thinks about the way he used to melt into her side on the couch, how he would lean into her palm on his cheek. How he had just reached for her, moments ago. Encasing her in his arms. She didn’t need to find words to soothe him. She never did. 

He was leaning on her passenger side door. A lit cigarette lighting his face. Handsome as all hell like that, his big hand dragging through his stubbly cheek. Dark eyes followed her from the door to the car. Wouldn’t be hard to be a constant for a man like that. And he stole all her words anyway, looking like that. 

He nods, bending to open her door with a quick flourish of his hand, dramatically bowing to her as she ducks into the passenger seat, giggling at his antics. 

He follows suit, bending and folding into the drivers side. Cranking his window down so the cigarette smoke wouldn’t linger in the car. 

His legs bent and parted, his hand nursing his smoke. She moves to him almost unconsciously, still at a loss for words in his simple presence. Thinking about what the older woman had said to her in the bar, jumbled up in her mind. Stay close, right?

She settles into the middle part of the long bench, reaching for the radio and ignoring his imploring gaze. 

“Hun?” He implores. “You gonna move?” 

She shakes her head, moving her eyes back to his again before straying her gaze to the cigarette stuck between his lips now. 

“No baby.” She slurs, giggling at him as she plucks his smoke from his mouth, moving it to hers. 

She had never called him that before, and it makes him need to readjust in his seat, suddenly hot in the cool February air. She’d be the death of him, he swears. Especially with her eyes tilted like that, and the way the smoke curls up around her face and hair. It’d be burnt into his mind for a while, this image of her. It’d be enough to sate him for months he figures. 

He does not correct her, nor make her move. Just reaches past her, buckling her securely into the middle spot without leaving her tilted gaze. His heart in his throat. His hands begin to shake again. 

That damn song rings out from the radio, pulling her eyes from his as she giggles at the contraption. The song's rhythm almost seems to match his heart, stuttering at her form folded into the middle of the front seat. The cigarette balanced in her mouth.

She leans over him, hand finding his chest as she reaches out the open window. Flicking their now shared cigarette into the winter snow. Her palm is warm on his chest, and she drags it to his shoulder as she returns to her seat in the middle of the long bench. A long searing path it leaves across him, she’s warm beside him in his fucking jacket. She’s gonna kill him. 

Something deep in him can’t reason with his stupid logic anymore though, not when she’s like this. So much more carefree than she’s been in months, and something rings around the back of his mind reminding him that it is his own goddamn fault that he can’t control himself. Never hers. Nothing really was ever her fault in his eyes. So if this is what she needed tonight, to feel some semblance like herself for the first time in months, then he wouldn’t flinch away from it. Because it’s all his fault anyway, that rotten part of himselfs fault. That bad part of him, that wanted her for more than this. He wanted to use her, he reasoned. That bad part of him wanted to use her, but she needed him like this. But she had allowed it, so he would do as she needed.

So he lets her curl up into his side in the car on the way home. His hand runs through her hair as she hums the lyrics to that goddamn song into his ear. It’s hypnotizing he thinks, but not the song no, it’s all her. She was that hypnotizing thing, and he had fallen back into her with an ease that would be embarrassing if he gave a shit tonight. But he only has one thing on his mind, and that’s getting her back home. She’d sleep well tonight, he thought. 

July, 1985

“Stan, why didn’t we think of this years ago?” 

“Why didn’t I think of this years ago you mean,” he hums, one arm hung out the open window of the car. “And it’s because I am stupid.” 

She scoffs, reaching across the middle of the front seat to shove his broad shoulder. He laughs, his head thrown back as she grumbles next to him. She hates when he says that shit. She had made a note on the fridge, etched out in her scrawling handwriting that the word “stupid” was forbidden in their house. Mainly because she had found it appalling how used to calling himself sstupid he was. He had joked, reaching for the note on the fridge on occasion. Tearing it down just to say the word, and laughing as she would chase him in and out of the living room to the kitchen. It wasn't allowed, he would joke, but only because it was on the fridge. She’d fume, making a new note, and hanging it up where the old one had resided. He just did it to get a reaction really, when she was annoyed at him it was adorable.

Which was why she was huffing in the passenger seat, and it only made it better when he pulled the note he had plucked off the fridge when they left, from the back pocket of his swimming trunks. 

“Stan!” She whined, reaching across to him again, unbuckling herself to get at him. 

“Ah Ah!” He waved the sign. “It doesn’t count!” Mocking her rule, and watching her squirm over to him to reach across his chest to grab at the sheet of paper she had remade for the fourth time not even a week ago. 

“Stop it!” She said, leaning over him now, her chest to his as she begged him. Was she pouting? 

He can smell her now, so he relents. Kind of all he wanted, he reasoned in his mind, that sickeningly aching part of him that is. 

“Okay okay!” He almost hands her back the sign, but quickly swipes it from her almost-grasp just to tease her. “But only if you get us some ice cream.” 

She hums, nodding along and reaching for the paper again. “Ah ah!” He protests. “You gotta say it.” 

“Yes, I will get us some ice cream, Stan.” She rolls her eyes, hands out and waiting. 

He gives it back, and she successfully puts it back into her beach bag to later hang it back up on the fridge. 

They had both become exhausted by the summer July heat. The AC window unit they had put up to alleviate some of the swelling heat only operated on the second floor of the house. They had been lying around, miserable together, when he had remembered that this tiny town actually had public accommodations in the form of a pool. She had jumped up from the living room ground in joy and had raced upstairs to change so fast he had barely finished explaining how he’d subsequently had forgotten about said pool. 

It was a smaller pool for sure, but this was a small town to begin with. They just needed to be in the water, stat. 

They made their way inside the enclosed pool, finding a seat by the poolside to share that day as the pool was obviously busy in the heat of July. He had grumbled about the lack of shade and trees, thinking about the usual sunburn he and Ford would get when on Glass Shard beach. 

She had found a spot though, setting her bag and towel down, and beginning to take off her shorts and shirt cover. 

He didn’t look, thinking the act to be too intimate to witness anyway. He sat on the edge of the seat, slipping off his shoes and beginning to take off his own shirt, his back to her. 

Of course, she was wearing a bikini. 

The color complimented her well, and although he couldn’t name details on the suit he’d have the image forever encapsulated in his mind. Especially her bent over like that, as she reached down to remove her shoes. 

She made her way in front of him and his slack jaw, her hands on her hips and her head tilted in question. 

“Are you coming?” 

“No.” He said automatically, sounding defensive. Rethinking, he shakes his head. “I mean, yes.” 

He moves his eyes down, noticing something catching the July sun on her swimsuit. No not her swimsuit, on her. 

He squints, reaching forward to grab at her hips, bringing her closer to him so he can see what he thinks he sees in the shade she now provides. 

“Is that… is that a piercing?” 

He had never seen her belly button before. Something that may have shaken a normal husband, but considering she wasn’t actually his he tried to reel in his subconscious insistence that he should have known about this. 

“Yes?” She says, laughing down at him. 

He removes a hand from her hip, moving to touch the belly button piercing himself. It was completely healed, not in any way brand new. Ignoring how soft her skin was, he looked back up at her. 

“When you get this doll?” 

She shrugs. “When I was in college. Someone dared me $50 I wouldn’t do it.” 

Fuck. He leans his head forward, unintentionally nestling into her soft stomach. She did it for money. 

She was almost too much, too good to be true. She fit into him like a puzzle piece sometimes, and he was still continuously amazed by her for some reason. 

Trying to tame some odd part of him he looks back up at her. She’s gorgeous, the sun framing her smiling face. She’s laughing at his reaction, a flush to her cheeks at his casual affection for her. 

She leans forward, putting her hands on his shoulders and tilting his head back. She moves to put her hand under his scruffy chin, asking him again if he was coming along into the pool with her. 

He nods, following in her wake. They eat their ice cream in shared amusement all the way home after a hectic day in the pool. 

*******, ****

“I can’t believe he had it this whole time.” He says, leaning back into the rolling chair stationed in the front of the portal's control panel. 

She hums, peering over his shoulder as he moves back and forth over controls. Flipping and turning things she nudges him in indication to move. The two journals rested on the workbench, the third picture they had taken from the third journal most recently, which had rather unsurprisingly been in the young boy’s possession. 

“You know Dipper. He’s too curious for his own good.” She hums, looking back over his broad shoulder to the portal beyond the protection glass. They had successfully gotten a reaction out of it just the following night, and it had shocked to life, throwing gravity off normal equilibrium for a few moments. She had taken that into consideration, floating around potential reasons for the anomaly in gravity and the correspondence to the potential space-time hole they had punched into their basement wall. 

He leans back in the chair, turning to look at her fully now. Weathered and handsome now, gray hair curling around his ears and his glasses. Just as whole and broad and goofy as he usually was. His wedding band glints on his finger as he reaches for her, a smile growing on his face. 

“You knew didn’t ya?” He says, laughing at it all. “You knew he’d find the stupid thing?” 

“I had an inkling that he may have found it.” She sighs, leaning forward, exhausted, as he runs his large hand up and down her back in a soothing motion. 

He huffs. She’s always one step ahead of everyone. Not that she would tell anyone but him, her husband. He found it amusing when everyone was surprised by her intelligence. It wasn’t a secret to him in the slightest, that she overthought and rewrote a hundred different ways to handle situations in her head. She was weirdly graceful like that, but subsequently also filled with an edge of constant anxiety. 

She had been anxious about the little things today, he could tell. She woke up earlier than normal today but hadn’t moved from his arms. Eyes open and staring at him endearingly in the early morning sun. Usually, it was the other way around. But she had been like that since the kids, really. 

She was also worried about the party, and the townsfolk visiting so close to an active portal. But she had quickly become distracted by making snacks for the celebration tonight, and coloring posters with the girl about their “karaoke family group”. Something with a stupid name he couldn’t remember, but something he figured she helped the girl come up with. 

“You’re too soft on him.” He says, pulling her closer to him, lifting his head to rest on her chest as she stands in front of him. Her brow twists, a contemplative frown on her face. The argument they’ve been having silently for the past few weeks arising once again between them. 

“No.” She sighs, running her hand over his scruffy warm cheek. “You’re too hard on him.” 

He hums. “You know why though.” 

She nods. “I know, dear.” 

Her hands fall to his shoulders, pulling him away from his usual place along the front of her. Pulling his scruffy chin up with the tip of her finger, all the while smiling at him. Tonight had been good, she thought. The kids were happy, and the girl was excited to entertain the town and her friends. The boy had been upset at the reprimand he had received earlier, but she doubted that really deterred him from his mission to uncover the oddities in that journal he carried around religiously now. He’d be over the reprimand by tomorrow, she figured. She worried he may get himself into trouble one day though. 

But her husband had been right in his assessment. Between the two of them, they had agreed there was too much Ford in the young boy than they could manage between the two of them. She was constantly worried about him, worried his curiosity may lead him to unexplainable and more dangerous situations than they could pull him out of him. But his twin, the girl, just as easily wrangled him in. The young girl was a balm on her conscious, constantly reminding her that being so young had been a true pleasure. She just hoped the girl could also remind her brother of this too. There was a lot of her husband in the young girl, she was just as charming. 

Stan was looking at her though, his typical flirtatious smirk on his face. It had been a good night. The portal whirled behind them both, and the music upstairs spoke of the fun the kids were having. She leaned into him, wanting to meet his lips halfway. 

An alarm blared throughout the basement. The security alarm breach that they had put on the upstairs shack door in case of burglary, but more for the warning in case the government came knocking. 

Their faces turn to the giftshop's security camera, the image of the boarded-up front door settling unevenly in her stomach. The kids. 

Something was bursting, punching in and rattling the front door. The children were moving furniture and chairs in front of the entrance. Speaking and screaming between themselves as they made a barricade. 

She runs, removing herself from his warmth. They both make for the elevator, hastily hitting the button to go up a story so they could go from the sub-basement to their actual basement. He was breathing heavily next to her, his large hand folded into her own smaller one. His hair a mess from pulling at it in anxiety. 

The stairs came to view in dim light, and she raced ahead without a thought. Taking the stairs two at a time as she dragged him up to the back of the vending machine that led to the stairwell. 

She let go of his hand, making to move the vending machine out of place to enter the gift shop. To get to the scrambling, scared kids. But it wouldn’t budge under the weight of what lay in front of it. What had amassed in front of the front entrance, they hadn’t caught a glimpse of. But she could smell it, the stench of rotten flesh and the mellowing bellow of the whining undead. Fear ripped through her, but she kept shoving because the fucking kids were in there. 

She yells at him, frightened as she advances her shoulders away and back into the door. Shoving her whole body to move the entrance. “Stanley!” She yells, anxiety running through her. 

But he’s already shoving too. Already has his arms flush to the door, digging his feet into the step for traction as he pushes his whole weight against it. He’s almost caged her in, dwarfing her in his effort to put his own momentum to the door too. His eyes frantic and his breathing hasty. The kids were all alone in there. 

Desperate, she beats her hands against the door, calling for the children in hopes they would seek them out in safety. “Mabel!” She gasps, fists bloody against the wood. “Mason!” 

He drags her back, taking her fists in his hands as he begs her to stop. He takes a lunging step back, pushing her against the stairwell railing. He shoves his whole body against the door, his broad shoulder first, and his suit ripped due to the movement and the force. His own hands and fists bloody from the abrasive door and his haste to get to the twins. 

The door breaks under his weight, and he uses the leverage of the new material to work against the amount of dead bodies that had amassed in front of the vending machine. She follows him out, not thinking twice about the undead surrounding them. Her heart in her throat, her hand wrapped around his bicep as he reached for the bat they kept near the entrance to the Mystery Shack from their home. She screams their names again, clawing to get through the crowd of undead.

“Babies!” 

She gasps, spotting them in the sea of bodies. The young girl's sweater ripped and torn under the hands of all the undead. The boy’s hat missing, his usual jacket she had tucked over his shoulders that morning also torn to shreds, covered in inky black blood. Their eye’s lifeless. 

Stanley turns to her, his eyes hasty and clouded, and his breaths loud. He looks down at her, his shoulders shaking from pent-up tears. His hands meet the sides of her face, and he chokes out something that could be a question. 

“Honey?” 

“Honey!” 

He leaned over her, his hands still on the sides of her damp face.  

He had rushed from Stanford’s room to her open doorway. The cool October air leaking in from his open window, leading him to her room. She had called for him, called for Stanley, and it had shaken him awake so suddenly he had tripped in the hallway to make it to her side. 

She had been dead asleep, and sweating heavily despite the crisp air. Curled into her multiple blankets and tucked into a sweatshirt he had sworn he had misplaced, but she had laughed at in secret. Tucking away the sweatshirt that held his imprint to wear to bed and fold herself into. 

It was drenched now, and her eyes were blurry when she woke to his call. She was breathing erratically, heart stuttering in her chest and mouth dry from her calls. Her eyes searched his for what felt like hours, as he reassured her that it had all been a dream. 

“Hun? Hun, it was a dream. It was just a dream.” He reasoned, his large hands running through her tangled messy hair. Finding their way to the back of her neck so he could hold the entirety of her upper half in his palms. Breathing easy in her presence to show her how to slow her heart. 

She didn’t say anything until he moved from her, beginning to reach around to her dresser to pull out a new shirt for her to wear. 

“No.” She mumbled. “No.” 

“I ain’t leaving, just getting you something new hun.” He reassures but doesn’t let his hand leave hers as he steps towards the dresser in her small room. Pulling open the top drawer, as she sat up in bed behind him. His hand still clutched in hers. Her eyes were still far away, searching dark corners of the room for children. 

He turns back to her, handing her another one of his large shirts. She had all but stolen his wardrobe in the past three years. Sometimes he would wander to her dresser to find some of his clothes that had made a home in her dresser. Something he wishes he could have done himself, by choice. Put his clothes next to hers. 

She takes the shirt, releasing his hand to undress herself from the sweatshirt. He turns around, thinking to step back through the doorway to go back to Stanford’s bed. 

“No.” She says again, pulling at his own loose shirt, stopping him in his move. So he stops, back still turned as he listens to her change. She tugs the end of his shirt again, and he turns to look at her in the dark room. 

She pulls his forearm, her small hand grasping at his large arm as she tries to strongarm him closer. He moves to her, sitting on the edge of her bed, searching her far-away eyes for something. She brings his large palm to her face, resting her now cooling cheek in his grasp. 

“Stay.” She commands. 

He would do anything she asked. He had been so rattled by the call of his name, the rip of her voice, how scared she sounded. He doubted he’d leave her side for a while, until she asked him to go. Then he would leave again. So he crawls into bed with her, shuffling her to the other side, to the wall. He takes the side she used to reside in, her warmth leaking into him. The imprint she left behind encased him. He’s closest to the door, reasoning in his mind that the dark shadows of the hallway would just frighten her more. 

She shuffles over, still sitting up as she rearranges blankets up to his shoulders, tucking him in, in an odd way. He doesn’t say anything but chuckles at the sentiment. She then lays next to him, facing him in the middle. Her blankets shuffled up to her own shoulders. 

She sighs deeply, soothed by his presence after waking up in shock. It had been so real. Like she couldn’t tell the difference between them, between wakefulness and dream state. Like she had dipped her toes into another reality entirely. 

Her heart races again, and she reaches for his hand, bringing it back to her face. His heavy presence was a balm on her weary heart. He smiles slightly at her, humming under his breath as he scoots a little closer to her. Whispering between them as he fades back into a dream, hoping his company brings her enough peace to let her rest for a little while longer until the sun rises. 

“Goodnight hun.” Grumbling in his deep voice, she hums against his hand, burrowing deeper into his palm against her cheek. Her eyes can’t help but drift to corners in her room, again subconsciously looking for scared children in crowds of bodies.

She turns from the darkness in her room, triangles of shadows creeping in from the dark doorway into the hallway. She looks back to him, slumbering next to her now. His head dug deep into her pillow, his breaths shallow and his brow unfurred. 

The dream. In the dream, were they her’s? She can’t remember, looking at him now, it’s like it’s fading into the background. The vivid dream seeping from her mind. 

“Were they ours?” She whispers between them. Asking it out loud, just so she could remember that one part of the nightmare. The one part that made her ache, and wish for something far off that she’d never really had. Were the children ours?

[rninies]

✮ silly love

౨ৎ scaramouche x reader. fluff, gn!reader, scara's a tease here lol, modern!au — wc: 647

notes. scara fic for my bday :3

“so, what's going on between you and scaramouche recently? you guys seem to have gotten close all of a sudden.” one of your friends suddenly asks and you choked on the french fry you were eating, quickly drinking some water.

“what?”

“you heard me.” your friend gives you a knowing smile. “what’s going on between you and scaramouche? last i heard, he hates talking with people and now he’s all sweet and cute with you.”

your face turns red. “i-i don’t know what you’re talking about. besides, he’s opening up to more people! it’s not just me he’s talking with.”

your friend hums. “mm, then why is he walking this way with a scowl on his face?”

“what-?” you turned your head and they were right. scaramouche is indeed walking here with a scowl on his face. “scara? what’s wrong-”

“i thought you promised we were going to eat lunch together.” scaramouche cuts you off swiftly, sitting down next to you and placing his tray on the table. your friends could only watch in amusement as you tried to find an excuse to calm scaramouche down.

“w-well, i couldn’t find you when class ended! i didn’t want to sit alone like a loser waiting for you to come.” you said with a nervous laugh at the end. “besides, aren’t you bored eating with me every single day?”

“who said i would get bored of you?” scaramouche replies, grabbing a french fry and eats it. he looks at you with a confused look on his face. “why would i get bored of you?”

“you’re saying that as if you have a crush on me.” you let out a laugh, doubling over, smacking your hand on the table as if you said the funniest thing in the world. when you don’t hear a snarky remark from scaramouche, you stop laughing. your friends whispered to each other and quietly left the table, leaving you and scaramouche alone. “you-”

“i’m going to need you to stop for one second because i just find it so incredibly rude that you think i’m not head over heels in love with your stupid, oblivious ass.” scaramouche glares at you, obviously upset. “are you a brick? because you’re dense as fuck.”

your mouth hangs open, still clearly shocked from the sudden confession. “you- what?! when did you start having a crush on me?”

“do i have to explain in detail why i’m in love with you?” he asks, pushing his tray forward. he places his elbow on the table, his hand supporting his head. “well? are you just going to continue to gape at me or are you going to say anything else?” you instantly snap back into reality, clearing your throat.

“ahem,” you fiddled with your thumbs, nervous. “i thought you were the type to not fall in love with anyone.” you avoided eye contact, looking at everything except scaramouche.

scaramouche raises his eyebrows, obviously amused by your nervousness. “what, am i not allowed to have feelings? am i just a puppet to you?”

“okay who said-” you lift your head only to bump your nose against scaramouche’s. you stopped what you were saying, eyes meeting his. scaramouche’s lips slowly turns into a smile and he eventually lets out a laugh, quickly snapping you back to reality. “stop distracting me!”

“what do you mean?” scaramouche asks in a teasing tone. “i have no idea what you’re talking about. me? distracting you? doesn't sound like me at all!”

“haha fuck you.” you glared at scaramouche, picking up your tray, preparing to leave. “i’m leaving. have fun eating alone.”

“wha-” scaramouche quickly gets up, following you. “hey you haven’t replied whether you like me back or not!”

you turned back, giving him a cheeky smile. “you think?” you winked and turned your back to him, not giving scaramouche a chance to reply.

he scoffs. “this brat.”

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Baby number two’s gender reveal (Baby Daddy Au: Husband Miguel sequels)

Baby daddy Masterlist

Little fyi, this is a time jump till after they got back together. Also it’s implied that reader is of Latino origin but it doesn’t outright say it so take that as you will. I’m being VERY self-indulgent with this one lol.

Not proofread.

Word count: 700

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!!

—

“Wow, Gabriel really went all out…” You mumbled to your husband as you finally found your way back to him after greeting some more family from your side, your hand subconsciously going to rest on the now noticeable baby bump that was sticking out from your dress.

Almost all of both yours and Miguel’s family crammed into his younger brother’s backyard. Children running around, tios drinking, tias gossiping, banda playing while your mother helped Conchata serve the food, and both your siblings running around trying to keep everything running. (Uncles, aunts)

“You know how my brother is. He’s just excited to have another nephew or niece running around when he visits.” Miguel joked, handing you a cup of agua Fresca, pineapple to be more specifical, his arm going around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“Have you seen Gabriella?” You asked as you waved over to your sister, watching as she and her brother in law went up to the banda they hired for the party.

“She’s with Peter and Mj, she wanted to play with Mayday.” He replied, to which you only let out a hum and a nod, feeling your nerves start to bubble as you saw Gabriel motion to your sister, who had a white bag in her hand. Miguel must have noticed the way you tensed up a bit, because he turned you to face him instead. “What do you think it to be, amor?” (Love)

“I’m okay with whatever. You?” You raise a brow up to your husband, bring your cup up to finish your drink before pressing your lips together in a thin line in a half-ass attempt to fix your lipgloss.

“Same here, although I wouldn’t be upset to see another little girl as beautiful as her mother.” Voice dropping as his tone shifts to a bit of a mix with a tease and a flirt, making your cheeks flesh as you lightly hit his chest.

“Stop it, we’re in front of family.” You faux annoyance and he pulled you closer, knowing you were enjoying the teasing as much as he was. He knew too, by the way your hands went to hug his waist. The way his lips came up in a smirk before he placed gentle kisses on your cheek made your heart flutter.

“Con permiso, con permiso.” The air that was once filled with music was now taken over with Gabriel’s voice as he held one of the microphones in his hands. Everyone’s chattering quickly died down as they turned towards the younger O’Hara brother, excitement oozing from all the guests as he cleared his throat before continuing. “It's almost the time we’re all here for, my dear brother and sister-in-law, finally welcoming a new O’Hara in the world after twelve long years.” Some laughs and some whistles blew out as Gabriel motioned for you both and your daughter to go join him up in front next to the band. Your cheeks started to hurt from smiling so much, but you couldn’t bring yourself to stop. (Excuse me everyone/attention please)

“Are you excited to find out what your little sibling is gonna be?” Gabriel asked his niece as he put the microphone back on its stand, trying to help distract the buzzing preteen as she tried to peek around her uncle to see if she could get a peak under the drummer cymbal’s to see if she could see the color of the powder underneath it.

“Mhm! I can’t wait!”

It’s as if with perfect timing to her words, the Banda starts to play. Your hand grips Miguel’s tightly in anticipation, he gives you a reassuring squeeze of the hand and a quick forehand kiss before pulling Gabriella closer to him. The three of you silently wait for the cymbals to raise and crash together.

After a few more seconds, you finally see the drummer's arm raise up, and with a dramatic crash, pink dust begins to fill the air. Yells of excitement over took the music as the band kept playing, Miguel taking you and Gabriella in his arms as you felt tears begin to form.

“I’m gonna have a baby sister!”

“It’s a girl! Mig, It’s a girl!”

“Thank you so much baby, I’m gonna have another angel thanks to you.”

—

TAGLIST IS CLOSED!!

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @mcmiracles @mangoslushcrush @queerponcho @yournextbimbogf @tinybirdhideout @reader-1290 @laysmt @migueloharasoulmate @fruityfucker @pigeonmama @scaryplanetdestroyer @migueloharastruelove @krentkova19 @genny1019 @maiyart @stressed-cherry @scaleniusrm @ginnysculture @mishaglass @wusyanmee @bunnibitez @miguelzslvtz @dahehow @sinners-98-world @othersideoftheparadise @toyfortoji @yeshajane @yvesbi @hanjisgf @deljojeisbackagain @safixiovi @emmalandry @maxinemus3 @lauraolar14 @aaaaslaaaan @kenz-ee @esmedelacroix @whattheshock @syler-griffin @comeonatmebruh @xwonderlandresidentx @m4dyy @the-pan-liquid @lilbrababe99 @jxstanemo @badbitchhour @freehentai @sillysillygoofygoose @nj452896 @jadeloverxd @faretheeoscar @ce3stvu @scorpihoooe @blossomofbismuths @nxxav3rs3 @ilovespiderverseeee @ghost-lantern @saaaaaaaaaaaamiiiiiiiiiiiira @lavenderslemonade @rinnako @reirain @nommingonfood

[circeyoru]

Hello you beautiful and amazeing writer!! I'm here to make a request that is more on the funny side (btw, I love ur stories. Unwanted soul being one of my favorites, lol)

That cursed cat Alastor is EVERYWERE!! And u know what? I give in... Could you write something funny where yan!Alastor is jelous of the cat? Like, he would be like:

"Me or the cat!?" And reader, with no hesetation, "The cat *takes cursed cat Alastor and leaves*". Then someome comes in "Damm, they didn't even think about it" (please tell me someome gets the reference😭)

That cat can have my fricking soul, I love it so much and it makes me laugh so bad udgdihdudhe. ANYWAYS!! Hope u have a good day/night!!! Heudhsudhjdgdhs

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}.

Hi hi! Thanks for your love!! I agree that cursed cat Alastor is everywhere. More request and ask on him in my inbox!!

Okay, here is short part on Cursed Cat Alastor VS Yandere!Alastor. For easy distinction, I'm calling the cat Bambi.

Alastor's eyes twitched as he glared at the lookalike in your arms; that was his place when he came to you after working so hard for the little interest project you sent him to. The creature, Bambi as you named it, narrowed its eyes as it felt Alastor's death glare towards it, its smile widened as it felt the jealous aura radiating off of the demon.

"Darling, can't we have a meal without that inferno creature in your arms?" Alastor tried to ignore the thing and his ever-growing jealousy. Meal time was a time when you weren't absorbed into your artistic worlds, now your attention was on that damn cat! That looked like him! Smiles and all!

"Then where do I put it?" You continued to eat, ignoring how Bambi clawed some of the smaller pieces of meat to eat from your plate.

"Out the window." Alastor passed more meat onto your plate when he saw Bambi taking yours and you didn't react to it. "And on the streets of Hell where it belongs."

You chuckled, eating up the slice that Alastor passed to you first, "That's too mean, Alastor. I won't have the heart to do it because it looks and acts so much like you!"

Alastor's radio glitched and scratched, his eye twitching, "Me or the cat!?"

"The cat." You spoke and picked it up, ignoring Alastor's shock look and left the dining room.

Vaggie shifted to the side, as did Charlie, to let you passby. They looked over to Alastor, who was still sitting there, shocked and frozen. Angel poked his head in, taunting, "Woah, harsh. Your 'darling' didn't even hesitate."

Angel was immediately thrown somewhere by Alastor's tendril, making Vaggie rush to check up on him. Charlie came over and comforted him, "You know, we're having a fun movie night later, maybe you can—"

"Ha ha ha! Never will I watch those noise picture box!" Alastor declined quickly slapping off the hand she was going to put on his shoulder. "If you'll excuse me."

"Where you going?" You questioned as you re-entered the dining room.

Alastor double-checked to see if he was mistaken. His lips moved before his mind fully processed it, "Where's the cat?"

You took your plate and utensils, then went over to Alastor's side, nudging him to sit back down with your elbow before placing it down next to his. He pulled out the chair and pushed it in while you sat, then he too sat down. His eyes staring at the empty spot that would always have that creature and his ears listening to your honey words. "I left Bambi with Husk to take care while we have our meal. What? Now you want Bambi back?"

Alastor's mood brightened, "Of course not, My Love!" He took your hand and kissed it, "Let me cherish you without any distractions."

You giggled, using your free hand to pick up a piece of meat and feed it to Alastor, who ate it happily. "Right..."

"Oh, now it's even more delicious!" Alastor's eyes drooped as he smiled at you, "You should do this more often, Love."

BONUS:

Husk stares at the cat on his bar table; it growled at him with its fur all bristled like a porcupine. Husk inched away slowly to create distance from the creature that you gave him to take care in your absence. Angel came in, laughing out, "Oh! So you were the one! Ha! AHHHHH!!!!!"

Bambi pounced at Angel, biting at him with every opportunity given. Husk yelped and immediately came to help, "Uh, good cursed kitten?"

Angel screamed, "GET THIS THING OFF ME!"

Back in the dining room, you hummed as you cut another piece of meat and feed it to Alastor. He grinned darkly at the screams he heard, "My Dear, you're quite cruel."

You smirked back, "Well, Angel was being a loudmouth."

[shockercoco]

There We Go

Farleigh Start x reader

Warnings - 18+, fingering, overstimulation, drinking, farleigh being dominant when we all know he's not

Word count - 2366

a/n - this is my first time writing smut I wanted to give it a try, and it was hard for me idk how y'all do this lol. enjoy :)

Last night, you had your hands in between your legs scrolling through videos trying to find the perfect one, while Farleigh was outside smoking with Felix. You and Farleigh have never had intimacy problems, it’s just you having a hard time asking for or initiating the intimacy – even Farleigh has told you several times before that he’s always willing.  You hadn’t gotten too far in your journey when you started hearing those familiar footsteps outside the bedroom door getting closer. You hurriedly took your hand out of your pajama shorts, switched apps, and readjusted yourself like you had been lying like that the whole time. Farleigh opens and closes the bedroom door, kicks off his slippers, and crawls under the covers next to you.

“Can’t sleep?” he asks as he lays his head on your stomach and you just hum in response.

So now here you were sitting in a pool chair underneath the hot Summer sun watching Farleigh, Venetia, and Felix messing around in the pool, and you can’t seem to control your thoughts – mainly because you never got to finish last night. You throw your sunglasses on and try to distract yourself with the book in your hands and hope you weren’t making yourself obvious to him,  even though you could care less what Jane Austen has to say at the moment. You take a peak over the edge of your book and notice Venetia is talking to Felix, Felix is leaning against the edge of the pool with his head towards the sky not seeming to be really listening, and Farleigh is now swimming towards you.

You cross your ankles as if he could sense or see the arousal growing between your legs while he pulls himself out of the pool leaving the bottom of his legs to dangle in the water. Water drips off of him onto the concrete surrounding the pool and also forms into droplets on his chest and arms. Your sunglasses are pretty dark so you’re pretty sure he can’t see you checking him out.

“Are you okay over here?” Farleigh finally looks at you with his own sunglasses covering his eyes, and places a hand on your ankle. He always randomly does this, but at the moment you’re not a fan. You clear your throat before answering.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” you ask looking up from your book as if you had been reading it the whole time.

“Just asking since you normally start complaining about it being too hot if you’re outside too long,” he jokes with a shrug of his shoulders. “As if we’re not all hot.” He now starts caressing your ankle, which any other time you would love it, but now all you want to do is push his hand off.

“Excuse you, you complain more than me. Plus it’s not too bad right now, as long as we get to go inside soon,” you say, looking back down at your book and start pretending you're reading again. You hear him let out a laugh.

“We’re going out into town for drinks later, do you want to come?”

“You guys are driving all the way out there just to drink?” you raise an eyebrow at him.

“That’s what they suggested,” he tells you, referring to the two siblings still floating in the pool. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

“That’s the book I told you about, how is it?” he asks, still rubbing your ankle.

“It’s pretty good,” you answer not knowing what else to say and wishing the conversation would just be over.

“Where are you at in it?”

Oh my god.

You skim through a paragraph on the page and quickly paraphrase it for him. He gives you a look with a smirk on his lips, but with his eyes also covered in dark tint you can’t tell what he’s thinking. Or maybe he’s not thinking anything and you’re just overthinking. Once he eventually leaves you alone and goes back to swimming with Felix and Venetia, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding.

Later that night when you all are at the pub, including Oliver who decided to come at the last minute, you’re no longer feeling like your head is going to explode. Well, you do, but that’s just because of how packed it is inside the pub. Everyone in the bar has to raise their voice to communicate with one another, but no one seems to care. The group is several drinks in and are talking about the most pointless things, especially Venetia who is asking Oliver what color she should dye her already fried hair next, but you’re still enjoying yourself. Not Felix though, since he declared himself the designated driver because he doesn’t trust anyone else driving his truck. You’ve only had a couple drinks since you were never a huge fan of drinking to the point of getting drunk. 

Farleigh, on the other hand, is on his way there along with the rest of them, and is constant with his nagging towards Oliver. You nudge him every now and then as a warning and he gives you an innocent look every time. Thankfully Oliver doesn’t seem to mind – or doesn’t make it obvious – that he cares about what Farleigh has to say.

When everyone has decided they’ve had enough, you guys make the drive back and blast music loud enough to sober up an alcoholic. Felix, Farleigh, and Oliver don’t seem to have any problem screaming their lungs out to it. Venetia complains about the music being too loud, probably because the music is ruining her buzz,  and you just shake your head in amusement.

Once you guys arrive back at the estate, and do a terrible job sneaking into the house, everyone goes their separate ways. Felix helps Venetia to her room, Oliver stumbles to his, and you and Farleigh make your way to your shared bedroom. You tell Farleigh you’re going to take a bath to which he asks to join, and you decline. He whines in response and plops down on the bed as you head into the bathroom with a laugh to start running the bath water. 

After undressing and climbing into the tub, you lean back and close your eyes until you hear familiar footsteps enter the bathroom. You open your eyes and turn your head to see Farleigh starting to undress himself. Someone’s obviously sobering up.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” you sit up, obviously knowing the answer.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he responds. 

“I thought I told you no,” you tell him as he gets down to his underwear and shimmies them off. 

“Yeah, but this way we’re saving water,” he smiles like it’s the best idea he’s ever had, even though he uses this trick every time, and for some reason you fall for it everytime. Plus it’s obvious the Cattons would never worry about something like water.

Farleigh makes his way over to the tub, all the while you’re trying to avoid eye contact with his slightly hard length causing him to smirk. You roll your eyes at him as you make room for him, and he climbs in behind you making the water level slightly rise. Once he’s comfortable, you lean your back against his chest, and he loosely wraps his hands around your waist.

His fingertips tickle your lower stomach, reawakening that familiar ache you had earlier at the pool and last night that you didn’t finish satisfying. You hope he doesn’t notice your breath catching in your throat. Feeling him against your back doesn’t help much either. 

“See, this isn’t so bad,” you hear him say in that playful tone of his. You elbow him in his stomach, and you hear him let out a small grunt. “Hey, did you notice Venetia flirting with Oliver the whole time tonight?”

“It was kind of hard not too, I feel like she gets hornier when she’s drunk,” you say as you start to gently move one of your feet around in the water.

“Well, duh, doesn’t everyone? I’m just surprised she did that in front of Felix,” he laughs and starts to lightly rub your lower stomach..

“Speaking of Oliver, wh-,” you start, but Farleigh cuts you off.

“We’re not.”

“Speaking of Oliver,” you try again, “why do you give him such a hard time?”

“Because he’s weird.”

“You’re weird, Farleigh,” you angle your body and turn your head back to look up at him. He gives your side a little pinch making you jump and let out a giggle.

“You know what I mean. Don’t tell me you’re growing a soft spot for him just because of those big blue eyes,” Farleigh lets out a scoff.

“No, I’m just saying to ease up on him a bit. You can be a little mean sometimes.”

“Well, I don’t trust him,” he shrugs.

“Farleigh-.”

“Can we talk about something else,” he cuts you off once again letting out a dramatic groan and throwing his head back.

“Of course. When we’re done with this conversation though,” you give him a forced smile. He looks down at you and gives you a little glare. “Just say you’ll be nicer, and we’ll be done.”

All of a sudden you feel the hand that was grazing your lower stomach dip lower, and you feel a finger start to lightly rub up and down your slit causing you to tense. You widen your eyes once you realize what he’s doing, your jaw falling slightly open.

“Are you trying to shut me up?” you furrow your eyebrows at him, and he gives you a smirk. “The audacity.”

“Whatever helps.”

“Farleigh, I’m serio-,” you try to get out, but he starts to rub circles into clit. You hold back a moan that threatens to spill out from the sudden touch, refusing to let him win, even if this is how you wanted your night to end in the long run.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“Farleigh-,” you try again, but this time he dips a finger in you causing you to let out a gasp at the intrusion, your eyes closing on instinct.

“Hmm?” 

You reach a hand down to wrap around his wrist as he curls his finger and starts to slowly pump in and out, but he uses his other hand to take it away and hold it. He adds another finger, still going the same deliberate pace along your walls on purpose to tease you. You bite your lip enjoying the stretch that his fingers bring, but still wanting to hold the noises in your throat back. Farleigh notices this and pushes his long fingers deeper into you, and then uses the hand holding yours to wrap around your waist holding you close to him. 

“If you want me to go faster, all you have to do is let some of those little noises come out for me,” he leans down and whispers into your ear. You love it when he does that, and he knows that, but you still didn’t want to break. “You know I saw you staring me down at the pool earlier.”

You knew it.

You feel his breath on your neck before he starts his trail of kisses making you clench your teeth. You make the mistake of looking down at his hand between your legs right as he finds his favorite spot on your neck, forcing a moan to accidentally slip out. You feel a smile form on his lips while they still attack your neck, and at the moment there’s a part of you that wants to strangle him, but you just give in to him.

“There we go,” he murmurs, and you finally feel his fingers speed up inside of you, causing your face to contort and lean your head back against his chest. He lets go of your waist using that hand to start rubbing your clit again, but this time rougher. This causes you to arch your back into him. If your body wasn’t submerged underwater, you guarantee you both would be able to hear your wetness with every movement.

Eventually, you feel your pleasure come to a powerful end, and Farleigh helps you ride it out as long as possible. You roll your hips into his hand until you’ve had enough, and just when you're about to motion for him to stop, Farleigh picks up a rapid pace forcing the water to start sloshing around. Your eyes widen and you let out a small squeal as you reach both of your hands for his wrist.

“Let go,” he says strongly.

“Farleigh,” you whimper, and it’s all you’re able to get out.

“Let go,” he says again, and this time you do. Instead you put one hand on his thigh and the other on the edge of the tub.

He continues his vigorous torture inside your cunt with you squirming and litterally gasping for air until you can both feel yourself gushing. But, of course he doesn’t stop there, not letting a beat pass. You bring your legs up to your chest with his hand still between, and he pushes them both back down. You let out a cry as he puts his legs over yours pinning your body to the bottom of the tub. It doesn’t take long for your third orgasm to come with a wail, and this time Farleigh stops.

Your heavy panting bounces off the bathroom walls as you finally have a chance to collect yourself, and Farleigh just chuckles from behind you. He slowly slides his fingers out and out of the water, but not before giving your clit a light tap, making you practically jump out of your skin.

“How are you doing down there?” he asks, as he wraps his arms around your waist. You can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or genuine with your eyes closed, but at the moment you don’t care.

“Honestly, Farleigh, just stop talking,” you tell him, and he lets out a loud laugh that makes your body move against his chest.

[umbrella-show]

https://www.tumblr.com/umbrella-show/766905601979727872/httpswwwtumblrcomumbrella-show76562826466233?source=share

Ooooooooh I love it! Great now i wanna send this in as a genuine request of your requests are open...y/n can be timid or not depending on what you wanna do but still want twist where y/n was only crowned ruler so there is an excuse for y/n to stay in the castle and be cared for/watched over by all the cookies...like to expand and explain more...cookies claimed y/n is their ruler when in reality, the cookies are the ones making up laws/creating rules, doing all the stuff rulers do and y/n's job is just to sit there with their little crown, that the cookies made sure was very comfy for y/n, and accept affection and attention from the cookies lmao!

(Also now I can't help but imagine in a funny scenario like this...to give an example of what I had in mind lol...

Some bad guy cookie...maybe DE or shadow milk...will call em bad cookie as place holder:

Bad cookie: MWAHAHAHAHA!

*all the cookies panic!*

Gingerbrave: OH NO! IT'S (insert name!)

Bad cookie: IM HERE TO TAKE OVER THE KINGDOM-

*cookies still panic...some readying to fight and others running for their lives and others just having zero clue what to do!*

Bad cookie: -AND TAKE Y/N FOR MYSELF!

*Suddenly, all the cookies froze...and slowly turn to the bad cookie, all going dead quiet. The kingdom became so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.*

Bad cookie: what the-?

*suddenly, all the cookies whip out various weapons...either their signature weapons or torches and pitchforks.*

Gingerbrave: you messed up the moment y/n's name left your mouth....CHARGE!

*all the cookies of the kingdom absolutely SWARM the bad cookie.*

Bad cookie, not expecting all the cookies to share a braincell: SON OF A- OH DEAR WITCHES! AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!

*Bad cookie screams in terror as they are now in the middle of a giant horde of angry cookies.*

Meanwhile...

Y/n: *was gaming...suddenly heard a little noise.* what was that?

Strawberry, who was sent to y/n earlier to distract them from the chaos outside: that was probably just the wind...say, how about we do this level next?)

And late reply is ok! I know life gets busy sometimes lol!

Kay i love this idea it made me laugh a little-

Have a short fic!

As you placed down another card on the table from your deck, you couldn't help but wonder. Is this all a ruler does? All the stories you’ve read about kings and queens usually had them attend to important affairs or run their kingdom. After becoming a ruler yourself, you found out that there wasn’t much you needed to do in the first place. All you really did was sit there and look pretty. Your friends, the Ancient cookies, who ruled their own kingdom, did more than you. They were more involved with actually running their kingdom. And you did practically nothing.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Pure Vanilla cookie said it was your turn again. Looking up at him, you saw him smiling at you with his deck of cards in his hands. He had an excellent poker face when it came to these sorts of games, you had learned. He always kept a gentle smile no matter what. You didn’t know whether it was an intimidation tactic or because he genuinely enjoyed playing these types of games.

You placed a card from your deck down on the table and took a few seconds to glance out of the window right in front of both you and Pure Vanilla cookie. It was a beautiful day. The vibrant blue sky, clear of any clouds, caused the sunlight to shine onto you and Pure Vanilla cookies from the window. You could hear birds chirping and leaves gently rustling from the light breeze.

As Pure Vanilla cookie had just placed down his card a sound made you perk up. It was quiet at first, but it grew louder as the source seemed to come closer to where you were. It almost sounded like..screaming? You looked out the window, searching for the noise. You were worried and confused. Was everything okay? Did something happen? Were people in danger? It wasn’t long until you saw what was happening.

Licorice cookie, with Bat-Cat and Choco Werehound Brute close behind, were all screaming and running from something. They just ran by, screaming their lungs out. A horde of cookies followed, yelling and brandishing their weapons. As they chased, you noticed and recognized them as almost all of the cookies in your kingdom, with Gingerbrave and his friends leading the charge. Heck, even some of the children such as Pancake and Cherry cookie were trailing along in the very back, but were determined to catch up.

As the horde passed, you could only sit in a state of shock with Pure Vanilla cookie, looking out the window with raised eyebrows while you attempted to process what you had just seen.

“Oh my. Seems as if that cookie caused quite the stir.”

Pure Vanilla said after a few seconds of stunned silence from the sight both he and you had just witnessed. However, his voice was as soft and tranquil as it always was.

“Well, Gingerbrave and the rest seem to have the situation under control.”

Pure Vanilla cookie then placed down a new card on the table, smiling at you with closed eyes as if nothing happened.

“Why don’t we continue from where we left off.”

BONUS

Licorice cookie scowled, muttering complaints as he brushed the leaves off of his robes. Bat-Cat and Choco Werehound Brute followed him, looking shaken up from their previous experience. Licorice cookie and his companions had narrowly escaped the insane cookies' anger. They had ran into the nearby forest on the outskirts of the kingdom, losing the horde in the trees. Now, they all trudged, defeated and shaken, back to the castle. Dark Enchantress cookie won’t be pleased, and Licorice was sure Pomegranate cookie would rub his loss in his face once he got back. The thought made him grip his bone scythe tighter in anger.

He may have failed to indoctrinate you into the Cookies of Darkness this time, but he promised he would get to you before Pomegranate cookie.

[meracyn]

aaaahahhhj ur already one of my fav writers ur so funny 😭 reading ur work makes my dau sm better

if u dont mind can u write hcs of kaito being shuichis wingman? shuichi tells kaito he has feelings for the reader but is too nervous to ask them out, so kaito decides to take matters into his own hands and help him plan moments where shuichi can confess his feelings

also can I be mochi anon?

༊ matchmaker ! ༘

synopsis turns out other than being the ultimate astronaut, kaito ends up as shuichi's wingman to help ask you out. warnings cursing, kaito (platonic!) x reader, no love triangle lol author’s notes THIS MADE ME SO HAPPY TYSM I CANT STOP RUNNING LAPS AROUND MY HOUS TY ANON AND YES YOU CAN 🙏 btw this request is so CUTE UGH

off topic but i was about to post this accidentally lmao

ok sorry giys back on topic

when kaito hears shuichi tell him he has feelings for you, he immediately whacks him on the back, congratulating him

“congrats shuichi! you’re becoming a real man!”

cue shuichi debating whether or not he regrets ever telling kaito about his lil crush

now when they both see you around, kaito tells him to go up to you and just confess

“oh look there’s y/n! go ahead and tell ‘em how you feel!” like some dad or something

shuichi refuses, feeling too nervous to even go up to you, so he tries to avoid you and kaito’s pressure to just confess already

which might give you the wrong idea that he doesn’t want to talk to you :(( he’s just so overwhelmed with his feelings that being around you makes his heart want to burst

its ok though kaito motivates him by giving him long pep talks and support, thinking about ways shuichi can get your attention and like him back

although they both dont know you already do lmao

it does help shuichi but his confidence goes away the moment he sees you

“okay i think i got this now, im nervous but im sure i can tell them how i feel”

kaito feels so proud and pushes shuichi further as soon as they spot you nearby

“you got this! remember what i taught you!” kaito says to him before going to hide somewhere to watch the scene unfold

shuichi nervously walked over to you and took a deep breath, closing his eyes

“hey shuichi, do you need something?” you asked with a smile

as soon as he opened his eyes it all went away

poof

just freezes entirely not saying anything

“are you okay?” you asked after a solid minute

“i....have to go” ran off lmao

kaito is so disappointed 😔

“you almost had it man! it was your chance! what would y/n think about you now?” kaito sighs

so now they have to think of another plan

kaito probably turns into a secret detective, watching you from afar to see what your likes and dislikes are

has to be careful or he’ll be called out as a stalker 😭

as soon as he knows enough he gives ‘hints’ to shuichi

“oh wow, looks like something y/n would like” trying to be all sneaky about it

kaito would also “arrange” hangouts between the three of you and suddenly give some shitty excuse to leave you both alone

“you have to learn my son”

“kaito what the fu–”

jk that wouldnt happen

imagining shuichi saying that though is so funny for some reason

sorry i got distracted

back on topic

scolds shuichi for chickening out at the last moment, saying how he had a lot of work to do and stuff

eventually gets tired of shuichi’s bullshit

“alright shuichi do you want to earn y/n’s love? then man up! you aren’t some little kid anymore to run away from your feelings, today is the day you’ll confess, got it? i’ll help you out”

kaito makes shuichi write you a note and leave it in your locker, about meeting each other at the school’s rooftop

before you arrive kaito supports him by telling him what to say, and act towards you

“listen shuichi, this has to be perfect, ya hear me!? it’s now or never! if you don’t man up now, someone else will steal them, do you want that?” kaito got stressed too 😭 mans wants this to be over with already

as you got there, shuichi was standing there mentally preparing himself

“the view is so pretty from up here” you said, trying to make conversation

shuichi took a deep breath, “yeah..um, y/n, i invited you here because...well...uh...i need to tell you something” shuichi starts, trembling slightly

this guy is sweating bullets and his face feels so hot

you, on the other hand was patiently waiting for what he had to say

“..i admire you a lot. there’s so much to admire about you, really–” taking a deep breath he continued, “from your strength, to courage and kindness.. and..because of that.. i developed feelings for you...what i mean to say is i like you y/n, more than a friend”

silence

he did it

HE DID IT‼️‼️‼️

kaito can barely contain his excitement as he silently cheered, he just has a sense that told him shuichi did it

you may imagine what your response is lol

shuichis so happy now

RELIEVED ASF

‘i finally did it, they like me back what do i do now do i hug them or ask if we’re officially together or or or’ — shuichis mind rn

“well..do you wanna go out for a coffee sometime this week? just the two of us together?” you asked

“ah..of course” shuichi is so happy he doesnt even know how to act

all giddy and shi lmao

hes probably the type to scream into his pillow when he gets a text from his crush out of happiness

and acts as if nothing happened afterwards

he needs to show he can be a dominant male 🐺

jokes jokes dont hate me pls

we cant just casually ignore the fact kaito was a w wingman

so once he gets out of his ‘hiding’ place hes already whacking shuichi on the back and saying they need to go out to celebrate

kaito is w

[hgfictionwriter]

Gravity - Part Two

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Jessie learns you're engaged. The lies you've been living implode on you both. It's now or never.

Warning: Smut. Dry humping Simulated intercourse, eventual intercourse, possessive sex, cheating, language.

A/N: Angst with a happy ending. Final part of the series. Part One is here. Jessie and Reader's behaviour in this is not healthy lol but I love the drama haha.

Jessie stared at the screen in her hands and felt numb. She couldn't feel her body and her mind was vacant as she sat there motionless. Her eyes remained fixated on the shine from the newly placed ring on your finger.

Someone else's ring. Not hers.

Jessie had no sense of time, unaware of how long she stared until she managed to click on the comments.

Congratulations!!

So excited for you two!

About time!

Can't wait for my invite!

She swallowed and tried valiantly to ignore the stinging sensation that was building behind her eyes. Her grip on her phone tightened. She didn't notice her knuckles growing white.

This couldn't be real. It just couldn't be. You wouldn't get engaged. Not to someone who wasn't her.

Her breathing began to grow shallow and quick and she ground her teeth together hard. She tore her eyes away from her phone and stared hard at the wall as a cacophony of thoughts and feelings began to churn.

How could you? Was she crazy? All these years, these secret rendezvouses, passion-filled sex with proclamations of love every time. She would've swore you were making love - reconnecting and cherishing each other, small moments of reprieve as you held each other between the droughts of separation. She would've gone to her grave believing that your eyes were filled with love for her.

Maybe she'd been lying to herself this whole time.

Maybe she was just a fool.

A wave of anger and devastation went through her and her shoulders shook as she choked back a sob. She sniffled, making the mistake of letting her gaze fall back down to her phone and the image of you and your girlfriend - wrong - fiancée. Another strangled cry formed in her throat before she angrily forced it down.

She really thought you'd wait for her. At least some deep-seated part of her did; that you were just killing time with these girls. A distraction while she was away. That's all her girls ever were. They were never meant to replace you; simply pass the time and give some semblance of normalcy every so often.

Anytime anyone got too close, she'd use her career and her schedule as an excuse to not go deeper. In her mind, she really saw herself coming home to you at the end of it all.

Tears fell onto her screen, distorting the image of you. She screwed her eyes shut.

She didn't understand. If you didn't feel the same way, then why did you come back to her every time she was in town? Why would you jeopardize your relationship? It didn't make sense.

Maybe it really was just fucking. At least for you.

She sniffled, again clenching her jaw as she tried to keep the full weight of her emotions at bay. She exhaled shakily as she started a comment on her phone.

Congratulations

No. She could hear the bitterness.

Congrats

No. Even worse.

Eventually, she settled for a heart emoji. She hoped you knew it should've been the opposite.

And, maybe she was a sucker for punishment.

Jessie clicked off her phone. Full sobs finally wracked her body as she tried to process. Maybe even grieve.

--------

The months passed and the news of your engagement was still a dull ache in the depths of Jessie's chest.

You'd texted her along the way and she left you on read. Something she'd never done. Jessie felt an overwhelming sense of disappointment and dejection at how much effort it took to do it. It should be easy to cut you off completely.

You'd texted again a week later to ask how she was. Jessie chose to lean into the anger she felt and ignored you once more.

You followed up again.

Please don't do this.

Jessie felt an insidious sense of vindication at how you chased her. As superficially fulfilling as it was, she didn't like this side of herself.

One night Jessie was at home relaxing after a hard day of training. She should be sleeping, but truth be told, she hadn't really slept well in months.

She didn't like lying awake in bed, so she'd gotten up and was instead immersed in her book on the couch. She was about to flip the page when her phone began to ring. She frowned and glanced over at it.

She froze momentarily when she saw your name on the screen. She subconsciously reached out, her hand hovering over the phone before she managed to pull back. She huffed in irritation before resettling herself on the couch and determinedly returned to her book until the buzzing of her phone stopped.

A mixture of relief and loss went through her when silence filled the room once more. She clenched her jaw as she tried to center herself.

You never called. And especially not at this hour. Her latent anger was briefly replaced by worry. Were you okay?

Before she could spiral too much her phone lit up again with your name.

Jessie studied the device wordlessly as your name was displayed insistently. She swallowed and her hand shot out sharply to pick up the phone. She was going to regret this.

"What."

"Jessie." If you were bothered by her antagonistic greeting, you didn't show it. Her name came through with a blend of relief and emotion.

"What." Jessie's response was harsher this time.

"You haven't talked to me." Your voice was small and Jessie frowned. It wasn't like you. Yet, she let out an abrasive scoff.

"Yeah? So what."

"I can't stand it," you said, a waver in your voice.

Her features screwed up in anger and she shut her book with a slam, abruptly pulling herself up to sit on the edge of the couch cushion. She shouldn't engage, but all of the pent up feelings she'd worked tirelessly to dampen came boiling up.

"Well maybe you should've thought of that before," she said venomously. You didn't reply right away and Jessie swore she heard you sniffle. It put a chink in her resolve. A deep frown lingered on her face, but her posture softened just so. "Why are you calling."

"I need to see you," you said, finding your voice again.

Jessie shook her head in confusion. "What the heck are you talking about."

"Can we talk? Can I come up?" You pleaded. Again, Jessie's face screwed up in confusion.

Jessie clicked her tongue in irritation. “Even if I was willing - how would you propose that, hm?”

"You didn't hear?" You asked. "I'm in town."

Jessie was beyond baffled now. You answered her question before she could ask.

"I planned for my bachelorette to be here," you went on quietly. Emotions flared up inside of Jessie again.

"Well that's a fucking coincidence," she said snarkily.

"It's not." You undermined her sarcasm without hesitation. She swallowed again and closed her eyes.

"So. Wait. Where are you?"

"Outside your apartment," you said quietly again. A beat passed. "I got your address from Teagan."

Jessie didn't know what to feel. She was outraged, but it was dampened by something else. She was so overwhelmed right now she couldn't discern how to react.

She raked her fingers over her face tiredly. “Your fucking bachelorette,” she muttered in a mixture of bitterness and disbelief. She took a sharp breath and continued.

"And where are you friends? They just let you leave your own bachelorette?" She questioned curtly.

"[Y/best friend] knows where I am." You replied. Jessie knew her - she’d been your best friend for years, meaning Jess had been friends with her at some point, too. "She's covering for me."

"Oh for fuck's sake," Jessie said as she let herself fall back against the couch and held a hand wearily to her face once more. This was insane.

"Jessie. Please let me in."

A whining grumble emerged from Jessie's throat and she inadvertently dug her fingers into her face before growling and standing up like a shot off the couch.

"Fuck," breathed harshly. "Jesus. Fine. I'll buzz you in."

A short while later, Jessie paced the entrance of her apartment back and forth as she waited for you to come up. She cursed herself and cursed you, but she also couldn't ignore the way her heart raced and something akin to anticipation filled her.

Her eyes flit to the door as a light knock came through. She stood motionless for several seconds before she cleared her throat and walked over. She took a deep breath before placing her hand on the door knob and turning it.

She clenched her jaw unknowingly as her eyes fell upon you standing before her. You were in a dress and your hair and makeup was done up, but it still didn't hide the subtle bags under your eyes. Seems like you hadn’t been sleeping well either.

You held Jessie's gaze wordlessly, silently seeking her permission to come inside.

She eventually cleared her throat once more and stepped aside to make way for you. You flinched slightly as Jessie shut the door behind you harder than necessary. When you turned back to face her, she was standing there arms crossed and feet planted, a stern look on her face.

"Well. You're here. What do you want." Her voice was anything but inviting and a far cry from the tone you were so accustomed to with her.

“I needed to see you,” you repeated. Jessie narrowed her eyes.

“Why?” She exhaled, her voice growing cold. “We have nothing to do with one another anymore.”

Your gaze dropped immediately and Jessie saw your jaw tighten. You eventually met her piercing gaze once more.

“I-I don’t think I can stand that. I thought I could. But…I can’t.”

Jessie tossed her hands up in frustration. She was normally pretty composed during confrontations off the pitch, but you had her feeling out of control.

“What do you want me to say to that?" She laughed incredulously. "That we can keep fucking a few times a year, texting in between and everything can stay the same?” She paused briefly, fighting off a sudden pricking sensation behind her eyes. She took a breath. “Now that I know how you actually feel, there’s no way.”

“No, Jess-” You took a step forward, causing her to take a quick step back. You stilled. “Jess. I know how it seems. I never lied to you. I just…,” you trailed off.

“Just what?” Jessie cut in acidicly after you took too long to find your words. “And you did fucking lie. Because if you love someone you don’t go off and marry someone else.”

You gave her a hard look and spoke evenly.

“Honestly? I didn’t think you’d care.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jessie seethed.

“What exactly did you expect?” So far Jessie had been the only indignant one, but her accusation sparked a fire in you. “You’re off playing all over the world and I get your scraps whenever you happen to be around. You fuck me and then off you go again until the next time you hit me up.”

Your declaration silenced Jessie momentarily. She hadn't necessarily viewed things like that. And she certainly didn't think that was your perspective.

“I told you I love you.” Jessie’s voice strained as she took a step toward you. You remained rooted to your spot. “I tell you every time. I tell you I won’t play forever.”

You let your hands fall away from you listlessly. “And what was I to do with that?” You asked, your voice tense. You saw the expression on Jessie’s face and you clarified. “That you won’t play forever. That’s no guarantee of anything. Loving someone doesn't equal building a life with them.”

Jessie ran both hands through her hair, digging her fingers into her scalp painfully as she did so. She inhaled a shaky breath and did her best to speak calmly.

“I told you I love you. What do you think that means? You think I say that to anyone else?” Her defense brought up the reality of your situation and her anger returned. “No. That’s what you do. But not me.”

The hurt she felt began to boil over and she lashed out further.

“You were almost always seeing someone else. And I wasn’t going to ask you to wait until I was done. I’m not that selfish.” She paused, swallowing the emotions as best she could. “I thought.” She had to stop, dropping her gaze briefly as she reset. “I tried my best to not let it get to me, you seeing other girls - and I know I saw other people too - but I thought when everything was said and done…,” she trailed off as a lump formed in her throat. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter anyway.”

Jessie turned on her heel and walked over to the couch and sat down heavily. She leaned back and crossed one arm over her chest and brought the other up as she mindlessly chewed at the skin of her thumb.

You didn’t move right away, contemplating what to do next. You watched Jessie who determinedly stared at the wall; you decided to step tentatively into the room. Jessie’s eyes flicked over to you momentarily before pointedly returning to the wall.

“Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted this,” you asked as you gestured between you and her. You suddenly felt worn out and weary. “Us.”

Jessie’s eyes snapped towards you and her tone was sharp. “I wouldn't ask you to put your life on hold. And you chose not to come with me to London. Why would I ask you to wait?”

“But you wanted me to.”

Jessie sat up, her lips drawn tight in frustration. “Well you clearly didn’t want the same,” she said with a meaningful glance to the ring on your hand. She sat back heavily once more. “So I’m glad I never asked.”

“Jessie. I came here tonight because I do want you,” you countered, your voice taut. “The closer I get to the wedding…,” you trailed off, your gaze falling to your feet as you swallowed the discomfort you felt. You felt Jessie’s eyes on you. You blinked back the start of tears and forced yourself to look at her. “The closer I get,” you started anew, voice stronger this time, “the more I realize I’m making a mistake.”

Jessie held your gaze, her jaw set. She eventually exhaled and looked away.

"You're drunk," Jessie said, her voice low.

"Hardly," you said. “My feelings for you are present all the time. The more I drink, the harder they are to hide. That’s all."

Jessie bristled and shot you a look before saying dryly. "Lucky me." She frowned, frustration anew. "And lucky for your fiancée. What a fucking joke." You heard the break in her voice. She turned her head away from you.

You sniffled, subconsciously picking at the fabric of your dress as you watched her. It broke your heart to see how you’d turned this kind, sweet woman into a shell of herself, now protecting what was left with acidic remarks and seething anger.

“I came here because I needed to know if you felt the same. Really felt the same.”

This time, when Jessie’s head snapped back towards you, her eyes were brimming with tears.

“I begged you to come with me to London. I’ve barely dated anyone, but those I did never stood a chance. I was always too preoccupied. And I don’t just mean soccer.” She blinked back her tears and ground her teeth. “I’ve always loved you. I still do. Whether you’d come with me to London or we did long distance or whatever - I felt like no matter what, you’d be my wife one day.”

Finally, a couple of tears started to fall and when Jessie spoke her voice trembled. “And it’s fucking devastating waking up every day knowing you’re going to marry someone else.”

You crossed the room to her on instinct alone and she stood as you approached. You stopped shortly in front of her and you held each other’s gaze wordlessly. Her shoulders rose and fell with deep breaths as she tried to not fall apart.

“I still believe I shouldn’t have come with you to London.” Your gaze was unwavering and you saw how the set of her jaw tensed further at your proclamation. “But I think we should’ve tried. It wouldn’t have been easy to be apart, but it would’ve been better than pretending that we didn’t need each other.”

Now tears began to form behind your eyes. When you spoke your voice was thick with emotion.

“I missed you so much. All the time. I felt numb without you. But I really couldn’t believe you’d ever truly come back for me. How could you? After all you’ve achieved and the amazing journeys you’ve been on, why would you choose me in the end?” You let out a shuddering breath. “At some point I think I felt like I needed to move on - as best I could anyway. Stop waiting around for someone who was never coming home.”

Jessie’s lip trembled as she held your gaze. “I would always choose you. You should know that.”

“But I didn’t,” you returned, your voice tight. “I’m sorry.”

You brought your hand up and gently cupped her cheek. She winced initially, her features screwing up in emotion before she subtly leaned into your touch.

“Truth is. I’m lost without you, Jessie.”

When her eyes opened, they were glistening with tears and she looked so sad.

“I’m sorry it’s ever felt like I was using you or I didn’t care.” Her voice was taut and she frowned as she worked to hold back her emotions. “Because, truth is, even after all these years, being with you feels like home.”

Hearing her words sent a wave of emotions through you and you closed your eyes and leaned forward to kiss her. She passively accepted your kiss.

You pulled back momentarily to look at her. Her eyes fluttered open to meet yours. They were truly the most beautiful eyes you’d ever seen. You leaned in and kissed her once more. This time she returned it.

Your kiss deepened over several moments before you broke away long enough to gently push her down onto the couch. She looked up at you, not breaking eye contact as you hiked up your dress enough to straddle her lap. She swallowed but her hands came up to rest on your hips over the fabric. You leaned down and captured her lips in another kiss.

You subtly began rocking your hips against her and her fingers dug into you. She kissed you a while longer before pulling back.

“You’re engaged.”

You brought your hands up to clasp behind her neck, your thumbs rubbing up and down the taut muscles there.

“I know.” Your eyes remained locked on each other. “It should be to you.”

Her mouth fell open subtly and her breathing deepened. Her gaze was fixed on you.

“I know.” Her tone was almost stern before softening. “It could be.”

You leaned in and kissed her hard. She met you, returning the kiss greedily. She gripped your hips and began helping you rock against her before she stopped abruptly, moving her hands down your dress to rest on your legs.

“You’re still engaged,” she repeated. “It’s different than before. We shouldn’t…”

Despite her words, her fingers were kneading into the muscles of your legs and she still kissed you eagerly. Morally - yes, you should stop. But, as always, this was Jess.

You placed your hands on her shoulders and shifted yourself so you were straddling a single leg of hers. You moved a bit further down her leg and rolled your hips against her, your core rubbing against her muscular leg. Even though you still had your panties on, the friction sent irresistible waves through your body and left you wanting more.

Jessie could easily feel your heat through the thin fabric of her pants and it sent goosebumps all over her. She dug her fingers into your legs through your dress.

“Y/N…” Your name came out both pleading and as a warning. She tried to ignore how she instinctively flexed her leg against you. Your grip tightened on her and soon you were whispering in her ear.

“Do you know how many times I’ve touched myself while I think of you?” Your hot breath in her ear sent shivers down her spine.

“How many times you’ve made me cum without ever actually touching me?”

A small groan worked its way up Jessie’s throat and she flexed her leg again, you ground down against it immediately. You kissed Jessie hungrily and she returned it eagerly. She could feel your arousal starting to seep through the fabric that separated you.

She was trying so hard to be good, but you grinding against her and breathing in her ear was making it nearly impossible.

Jessie let out a shaky breath and despite her intentions her hands began to work their way under your dress. She stopped herself by your knees, digging her fingers into your skin there.

“I don’t want to just make you cum,” she told you between heated kisses. “I want more.” Jessie dug her nails in. “It kills me to think I’ve just been a fuck to you.” She hissed as you dragged your nails down the back of her neck.

“You’ve never been just a fuck. Ever.” You told her resolutely as you continued to grind against her leg. You could feel how your underwear was nearly soaked through already. “You’re so much more to me. You’re everything. I’m in love with you, Jess. That never changed.”

Jessie’s head fell back against the couch and she lifted her knee to give you more friction. She watched your eyes shut as you rode her leg.

“But I’m not the one who falls asleep next to you,” she challenged you. You locked eyes with her again.

“You could be.”

Jessie let her hands roam further up your legs until her thumbs rest in the crook between your thighs and hips.

“I hate that she gets you every night.” Jessie leaned up and kissed your neck. She smiled to herself as you moaned and began running your fingers through her hair. “That she gets to make love to you.”

“I think of you when she’s on top of me,” you said as your fingers continued to roam through Jessie’s hair. She flexed her leg and pushed up towards you, her hands now pulling you down onto her as well. Another moan fell from your lips.

“It’s always your name on the tip of my tongue,” you continued.

Jessie’s breathing grew heavy and a few subtle grunts escaped her as you brought yourself closer and closer to your climax. The fabric of her pants was wet with your arousal now and it was driving her crazy.

Jessie and you were in a rhythm and you pulled back to see each other. She stared into your eyes, your gazes unyielding, and it wasn’t long before you tensed up on top of her. Your panties were soaked completely through and you dug your fingers into her crown as you came.

You fell against Jessie as your orgasm faded and she absently massaged your thighs. She kissed your neck chastely and urged you to pull back to look at her. When you did, her expression was set.

“We’re not friends,” Jessie told you resolutely. “We never will be. I can’t look at you and pretend I’m not in love with you.” You nodded and kissed her tenderly.

“I know. It’s the same for me. I’ve been in love with you since I was 19, Jess.”

While Jessie’s expression was stoic a moment ago, now her lower lip trembled and her eyes glistened.

“You can’t marry her.”

You sat back momentarily and took in this woman before you.

“I won’t.” You promised her.

Jessie’s fingers dug into you once more and her jaw clenched.

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” You told her with confidence.

She brought one hand out from under your dress and grasped your left hand. Her fingers gripped your engagement ring, giving it a solid tug and removing it. She didn’t break eye contact with you as she placed it in your palm.

“It should be my ring on your finger.”

A rush of emotion went through you at her declaration. You took the ring and set it aside before kissing her.

“So put a ring on my finger.”

Suddenly, everything Jessie had been holding back tonight came bursting forward. She gripped you tightly and carried you to the bedroom, quickly doing away with your dress and your ruined underwear. She kissed you possessively as she wasted no further time and ran two firm fingers through your folds.

“You’re mine from now on,” Jessie told you unequivocally. “I’m sick of sharing you.”

You moaned in her ear before adding, “Same applies to you. No more fucking other girls.”

She smirked and began circling your clit. “They never compared anyway. And why would I want anyone else if I can come home to you.”

“Remember that,” you panted, “when you’re halfway around the world and surrounded by beautiful women.”

“You’re the only one I want,” she said with no hesitation.

“Jessie,” you pleaded as you tugged at her shirt. “I want your skin on mine.”

She smirked into the kiss. “Take it off me, then.”

You reached down and pulled the shirt up her back and over her head. She sat up, straddling your leg and inadvertently showing off her incredible physique as she tossed the shirt to the floor. You tugged at the waistband of her pants and she continued to give you a charming smirk as she rose off the bed briefly to remove them.

She climbed back on top of you and ran her hands along your chest and down your stomach with a low growl rumbling in her chest.

“No more sneaking around,” she proclaimed as her eyes met yours. “I want people to know about us.”

You were dripping wet already, but the intensity of her words and the way she looked at you made your core pulse.

She leaned down and ran a thumb along your jaw, her lips hovering just above yours.

“We’ve wasted enough time. I don’t want to waste anymore.”

“Me neither,” you agreed as you cupped her face.

“Starting now,” Jessie asserted as she shifted so she was between your legs, which you readily spread for her. Her hands ran along your legs, wrapping them around her waist as she ran her fingers through your slick folds once more, lubing up her fingers with your wetness before sinking inside of you. “Fuck,” Jessie hissed as you clamped down around her fingers. “You feel so amazing each and every time.”

A wanton moan left your lips. Your fingers dug into her shoulders as you tossed your head back as you felt her digits fill and stretch you.

“God, Jessie, you always make me feel so good,” you said, feeling short of breath already. You felt her body jostle against you as she let out a smug snicker.

“I haven’t even gotten started,” she said as she withdrew her fingers slowly before plunging them back inside to her knuckles. She pulled your earlobe between her teeth and flicked it with her tongue.

“You’re always so good,” you told her as you arched into her. You chuckled. “It’s embarrassing how easily you get me off.”

“Mmm, let’s not call it easy, baby. I very much made a point of ensuring you’d remember me and how I made you feel regardless of who you were going back to.” Her breath was hot in your ear and she traced her tongue along the shell of your ear.

“Then you were very successful,” you told her, your words truncated by subtle moans as she pumped in and out of you, her body rocking above you as she did. “There were too many times I almost said your name.”

A low growl formed in Jessie’s throat again and she quickened her thrusts. “I wish you would’ve.” Despite herself, Jessie’s hand made its way up to your throat and it rest there at the base, her fingers ever so slightly wrapping around you. “I want to be the only one you cum for.”

You ran your fingers through her hair and nodded. “You will be - I promise.” You moaned loudly as Jessie’s fingers curled inside of you and stroked your g-spot repeatedly.

“Now.” Jessie commanded. “Starting now. I’m the only one who fucks you, has sex with you, makes love to you. You aren’t sleeping with her again. Or anyone else.”

You nodded mindlessly as your moans continued to fill the room alongside the sounds of her strong thrusts in and out of you.

“Say it,” she demanded. “You’re mine now. Your body, your heart, your everything - belongs to me now.”

“Oh fuck,” you said in a low moan as you writhed beneath her. “Yes, Jessie. I promise - I’m yours completely.” Jessie groaned and her strokes grew harder.

“I’ll buy a place for the two of us. And I’ll come home to you as often as I possibly can. And I promise I will make every minute away worth your while.”

You clawed at her back and she continued to chant declarations in your ear. The bed creaked with each thrust as she pushed you deeper into the mattress.

“I’ll give you so many orgasms you’ll need a break from me. And I will love you so thoroughly and deeply you’ll never feel alone no matter how far away I am. I promise.” Her voice softened.

“Jesus Christ, Jess. I’m so close.”

Jessie lifted her head and kissed you deeply.

“Marry me. Please. It doesn’t have to be soon - but please, let it be me.”

You kissed her hard, pulling her even closer towards you. “Yes. Oh my god, yes, Jessie.”

Jessie didn’t break your kiss as she continued to pump into you desperately. You both groaned deep in your throats and soon your climax took you.

You continued to moan into each other’s mouths as she rocked into you, your arousal dripping down her palm and onto the sheets. When your body grew limp, she exhaled heavily and let her weight rest upon you as you both worked to catch your breath.

She was absently stroking your hair with her free hand when you came around. You slowly blinked, your vision coming back into focus.

“Did you just ask me to marry you?” You asked.

Jessie hummed and lifted herself up enough to look down at you. “I did. And you said “yes” - but if-”

“No, no. I’m not changing my mind. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t imagine it,” you told her lightly. She chuckled softly and kissed your cheek.

“I mean, we need to have some deeper, bigger conversations about how all of this will work, but my feelings stay the same,” she told you. You nodded in return.

“I know. It’s going to be very complicated and messy for a while. Are you up for that?” You asked and she stared at you steadfast.

“I’ll endure anything if it means I get to be with you at the end of the day.” You smiled at her, but her eyes began to shimmer with tears once more. “Please don’t change your mind in the morning. It would devastate me.”

“Jessie.” You kissed her reassuringly. “You’re the one I’ve wanted all along. I’m not changing my mind.” It was your turn to frown. “If you’re uncertain at all - you have to say it now. I cried every day when you went to London. I can’t do that again.” You took a breath and held her gaze. “I can’t have my heart broken a second time.”

“You won’t go through that again,” Jessie promised. “No more heartbreak. I swear.”

[vaguesxrrow]

can u plsss write one about charles with an american reader? like the inspo is the olivia rodrigo song so american lol. like maybe him making fun of her accent and her doing the and back and like the differences between the two cultures?

ACTUALLY INSANEEE bc right before seeing this i was singing that song in my head (i dont listen to olivia but i probably should tbh). alsoo i wasn't sure if you wanted a fic or hcs, so i kind of made a 2 in 1. hope you dont mind! xx

a/n: im not american nor british and ive never been to the usa or the uk... so excuse any inaccuracies pleaseee

tags: g!n reader, american!reader, alive!reader

you shivered and exhaled sharply, your breath misting out in front of you. the moment you stepped outside, you knew you should have piled on more layers, but edwin had been eager in whisking everyone out the door to carry out an investigation for your current case.

you burrowed closer to charles. obviously, he couldn't provide any real body heat, but being near him was a boost in morale to keep going despite the temperature.

"alright?" he asked, putting an arm across your shoulders.

"i should've put on more layers," you grumbled.

charles laughed as he kissed the top of your head. "you can have my jacket."

shaking your head, you declined. "it's fine, it's not that cold. and besides, i wouldn't want to strip you of your british glory and your british coat."

charles snorted. "so it's my british glory, now? who was the one making fun of my accent literally just yesterday?"

"litch-rally," you parroted, grinning. "why is it that all your t's turn into ch's?"

"hey, you're one to talk - what is it you were ordering at the restaurant yesterday? a glass of wa-der, was it?"

"bite me, charles."

he raised his jacket up and engulfed you with it in a bear hug. you shrieked with laughter and wriggled in his hold, but didn't protest when he demanded you hold your arms out so he could put the jacket on you.

"what are you, a soccer player? i thought i was your [boy/girlfriend/partner], not your competition," you teased.

"soccer?" he mocked, outraged. "soccer? it's football, mate."

"mate?" you scoffed incredulously, although you were smiling. "way to friendzone me after months of dating."

"oh, come on, you know you could never get rid of me." charles pulled you in again, this time by your hand. "and for the record, you look cute wearing my clothes."

a few beats of silence, in which you two looked at each other with similar expressions of fondness and exasperation.

"yeah, okay, now get away from me, you victorian fossil." you shoved him playfully, and sprinted away to catch up with the other three. niko waved you over, giggling at charles, who was jogging to keep up.

"victorian fossil? i grew up in the 80s!" he exclaimed. "you know this!"

⌦ ---

- you do know very well that charles grew up in the 80s - you frequently ask him what it was like back then, because naturally, you'd take an interest in your boyfriend's life

- however, charles loves how you're genuinely interested, and get how watching times change can feel a bit lonely for him sometimes

- you're a great listener when it comes to this (which you think you should be greatly accredited for; charles' good looks can be very distracting at times)

- imagine: you and charles in your room as he looks around, inspecting the decor you have on display as he rambles about life in the 80s

- he tells you about a huge movie premiere he went to:

- charles: "get this, right - a ridiculously long line outside the movie theatre. the weather is absolutely miserable, and so are the people. no one's talking at all. i think everyone was just hungry - i saw this lady have tea delivered.

- you: 'i keep forgetting you have stuff like tea times. and did everyone really have the patience to wait for that long, in silence?'

- charles, with a fake american accent: yeah, dude. in silence.

- you throw a pillow at him.

- you also like telling hilariously bad jokes relating to his accent

- you: psst. charles.

- he turns towards you, already expecting another jab at his british-ness

- you: what day do british people eat the most?

- charles, in a deadpan: what day.

- you: chewsday, innit-

- he yells 'NOPE' and walks through the wall, leaving you to wheeze-laugh on your own