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soaps-mohawk · 8 months

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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 5: What I Want

Summary: You begin your training with Ghost, but not everything goes as smoothly as you'd hoped. At least you're learning how to want things, and that it won't kill you if you ask for them.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader, some Ghost x Soap

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, oral sex, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, brief violence, reader has a breakdown

A/N: I know I was supposed to rest, but I couldn't help myself. I just had to get this one done. I was feeling it. We're finally getting into the good stuff here. Things will kind of pick up after this part, so I'm really looking forward for that.

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(Gif pulled from google)

You tug nervously at your sleeve, feeling exactly as you did when you had to sit in the director’s office at The Institute. Only, you never got in trouble there. You had never been summoned because you misbehaved. You made it a point not to get into trouble, avoiding it at all costs.

You’ve been here just over a week and you’ve already messed up.

Price is staring at you across his desk, leaning on his elbows as his blue eyes bore into you. You’re not staring at Price, you think. No, you’ve come face to face with The Captain. He’s angry, though you can’t be entirely sure. You’ve never seen him truly angry. You’re waiting on the reprimanding, the punishment, for him to tell you they’re sending you back because you’re too much trouble.

“I want you to tell me exactly what happened.”

You flinch at his voice, half expecting him to start shouting but he sounds almost calm. There’s a strain to his voice, like he’s restraining himself. He’s doing it for your sake, you think.

“Ghost and I were walking back from the mess when one of the alphas called out to me. He...he asked if I was going to go spread my legs for ‘that freak’ and he said he could offer me a better time.” You swallow thickly, Price’s shoulders tensing just slightly. “I don’t know what happened...I just suddenly felt so angry and it’s like I lost control of myself and I went up to him and he asked if I was gonna take him up on his offer and that he’d like to bend me over and stare at my sweet ass all night...and then I hit him, sir.”

“Good.”

You look up at Price in surprise at his answer, your eyes widening a bit. “S-sorry, sir?”

“I have little tolerance for alphas that think it’s alright to speak crudely to omegas, especially those they were explicitly told to let be. You saved me a lot of paperwork today. Simon would have done a lot worse had you not gotten to him first.” He moves the papers on his desk aside, holding out his hand. “Let me see.”

You stare at his hand for a moment before you realize he’s talking about your hand. You push your sleeve up, putting your hand in his. Your knuckles have swollen a bit and bruised, tender to the touch as he runs his thumb over them.

“Simon told me you asked him to teach you to fight.” He says, closing his fingers around your hand.

“Well, not so much fight, sir.” You say, staring at your hands. “Maybe just how to throw a decent punch.”

“I’d say the one you threw today was at least half-decent. Corporal Allen is sporting quite the bruise on his face.” The corner of his lips lift in a smile. “You won’t have to worry about him anymore. He’ll be properly dealt with and they’ll all be receiving a lecture on proper base etiquette.”

“So...am I in trouble, sir?” You ask, pulling your hand back slowly as he releases it.

“No, you were simply defending yourself after Corporal Allen made a pass at you. Just don’t make it a habit of going around punching alphas.” He smiles.

“I’ll try not to, sir.” You say, relieved that you weren’t about to get punished for your mistake.

“Go on.” He nods towards the door. “I’m sure the boys are waiting for you.”

“Thank you, sir.” You say, standing up from your chair, heading towards the door.

Price leans back in his chair as the door closes, the sweet scent of caramel and strawberries still permeating his office. He breathes it in for a moment before pulling out his phone, scrolling through the contacts.

“You’ll be delighted to hear our girl punched an alpha in the face today.” He says once the other line picks up.

“She did what?” Laswell asks, genuine surprise in her tone.

“One of the Corporals made a pass at her, and she left quite the bruise on his cheek. She’s turning into quite the spitfire.”

“I told you she would fit right in. Underneath all that institute-taught BS there’s quite the personality. How is she settling in?”

“She’s softening up to the betas already. Still a bit fidgety, but she’s found a way to get Simon to warm up to her.”

“Oh? How so?”

“She asked him to teach her to fight.” Price grins.

Laswell chuckles. “I told you she’s smart. Just make sure he’s gentle with her.”

“Don't worry, I reminded him to go easy on her. I think it will be good for both of them. Some forced proximity will be good for Simon and she’ll get to learn a few things that could be helpful.”

“So long as she doesn’t go around trying to fight more alphas.”

“She’s already promised not to. The Corporal got off easy. I can only imagine what Simon might have done to him.”

“I’m glad to hear things are going well, John. I worry about her sometimes, but I know you boys will take good care of her.”

“We’re doing our best.”

“If you ever need anything, you know you can call.”

“I know. I’ll keep you updated as her heat gets closer.”

“Good. I’d hate to have to file that paperwork.”

Price grimaces. “I know. I hope you don’t have to.”

You’re tying your shoes as the knock sounds on the door. You’re not sure how they manage to do it, always seeming to catch you at the perfect moment. You’re glad Kate thought to get you some more active-wear type clothing, though perhaps she expected you’d be getting involved in their training or at least start a bit of your own once you arrived, just as she had thought to get you outdoorsy clothes too.

You open the door, staring up at the hulking form of Ghost.

“Come on.” He grunts, turning on his heel to walk down the hallway.

You quickly close your door, hurrying after him. Not much has changed since your request for him to train you, though you didn’t really expect it to. Not at first, at least. You still have to prove yourself to him. Simply existing and getting involved in their lives would not be enough.

He escorts you to the gym, a building you haven’t been in yet. There’s a few soldiers milling around, most of them in the weight room. There’s a pool across from the weight room, for more than just swimming, you think. Your father had talked about his own water survival training. You can only imagine the kind of water training they go through.

Ghost leads you towards the back of the gym, unlocking a door near the exit. It’s set up not unlike a dojo, mats on the floor and punching bags and other training equipment along the walls. Ghost empties his pockets, setting his things on a bench before removing his sweatshirt.

You can’t help but stare, only ever having seen him in long sleeves. His muscles bulge beneath his t-shirt, the first bit of skin revealed to you besides his neck, chin, and hands. Your eyes are drawn to his arms, taking in the sheer size of them.

Tattoos.

He has a sleeve of tattoos on his left arm. You have a desire to look at them closer, to trace each one but you wouldn’t dare. Not right now. You pull off your own sweatshirt, folding it and setting it on the bench, leaving you in just a t-shirt and your leggings.

You fail in your attempt not to stare as he walks towards the center of the mat in his t-shirt and sweatpants, swallowing nervously. He turns to face you, motioning for you to approach with two of his fingers. Your face warms as you hurry onto the mat, coming to stand in front of him.

“Let me see.” He says, holding out his hand.

You stare at it for a moment before your brain catches up, and you put your right hand into his. You ignore the feeling of his fingers wrapping around your hand, lifting it so he can inspect your still bruised knuckles.

“We’ll start with dodging.” He says, releasing your hand, taking a step back. “Let me see your stance.”

You part your feet a little, bringing your fists up to your face. His shoulders shake in a quiet huff of a laugh as he stares at you.

“You need to stagger your stance more.” He says, circling you. “Otherwise,” Hands push you from behind, and you nearly avoid face planting into the floor. “You’re too easy to knock over. The last thing you want is the fight to end up on the floor. You won’t be getting back up if you let your opponent overpower you that much. Again.” He motions to you.

You set up your stance again, widening your feet just a bit.

“Good.” He says, moving to stand in front of you. “These protect your face.” He says, hands wrapping around your wrists, raising your hands just a bit. “You get hit in the face...”

“I won’t be getting back up.” You finish for him.

You know most fights end up with both opponents on the ground. You’d watched your brothers wrestle and play fight enough to know that. You’re not here to learn how to win a fight, only how to protect yourself enough until you can find space to run.

You barely have time to stumble back as his fist swings at you, nearly losing your footing. “Hey! You could warn me first.”

“You think someone attacking you is going to warn you?” He asks.

He has a point.

“Use your legs.” He says as you set yourself up again. “Move side to side if you can instead of ducking under the punch, but if you have to, don’t let your eyes leave your opponent.”

You see this punch coming, ducking to your right to avoid getting hit.

“Good.” He says, repeating the motion with his left hand. “Stay focused.”

You continue with the same motion a few times, already starting to feel a bit fatigued. Running is one thing, but strength is another. Most omegas aren’t naturally strong, nor are they inclined to increase their strength. That’s what alphas and their packs are for. It’s not unheard of, though, for omegas to increase their physical strength. Perhaps you’ll need to consider looking into doing that as well.

Ghost takes a step back, letting you rest for a moment. You’re breathing heavily, though he’s hardly looking fatigued at all. He’s used to this, you remind yourself. He probably throws more punches in a day in the field than he’s thrown at you so far in 30 minutes.

“Now, let’s make it a bit more realistic.” He says, a low rumble at the edge of his voice.

A wave of scent hits you, your brain nearly short-circuiting. Fear pulses through you, ozone burning your nostrils. You stumble backwards, landing on your back on the mat. You’re breathing heavily, every cell in your body screaming at you to run or submit.

“That’s...that’s n-not fair!” You say, your hands trembling from the adrenaline coursing through you.

“Any alpha you fight is going to use every natural advantage they have over you.” Ghost says, stalking towards you. You can practically see it, the purebred alpha within him coming through. “You need to learn to protect yourself against them.”

“That's...that’s not possible.” You say, the edge of a whine detectable in your tone.

He kneels down over you, crowding into your space despite the souring of your scent. It doesn’t even seem to phase him as he forces you flat on your back, his hands coming to rest on either side of your head. You stare up at him, every fiber of your being screaming at you to bare your throat, submit, give in.

Don’t back down.

You push past the fear, the instincts screaming at you as you drive your knee up into his stomach. He lets out a grunt but it doesn’t phase him, his hand wrapping around your leg, using his sheer strength to flip you onto your stomach under him. He presses against you, body folding over yours. You resist the urge, the instinct to press back into him, to be a good omega.

“If an alpha gets you onto the floor...” He says, warm breath fanning your ear through his mask. “You won’t want to get back up.”

His face presses against your neck as he inhales deeply before he pushes himself up, grabbing the back of your shirt and hauling you to your feet as well. You’re shaking, your heart thumping in your chest. Your head feels fuzzy, your brain buzzing a bit. Your omega is confused, poised to strike but she’s not sure against who. Ghost isn’t a threat, and you know that, but he had just proved how easily he could be. Any of them could be, with a simple scent change and their sheer strength.

“Again.” He says, getting into a fighting stance.

“You can’t expect me to fight after that.” You say, your voice breathless.

“If you’re in a real fight, you won’t have much of a choice.” He says, the rumble still audible around his own voice.

He’s right. If someone is attacking you, it’s likely going to be to kill, or to try and take you from them. Your omega shifts uncomfortably as you raise your shaking hands to guard your face. You continue to dodge punches, hitting the ground more and more as you continue to get tired. You’re going to be sore, still feeling your hike through the woods a bit.

The door opens, giving you a moment to breathe. Soap enters, a grin on his face.

“Ah, the wee lass is still breathin’.” He says, leaning against the wall. “Came tae make sure ye hadnae killed ‘er.”

You can practically hear Ghost roll his eyes, his back turned to you as he says something to Soap. You can’t hear what it is, the ringing in your ears too loud. Your omega is still worked up, still poised to strike, more so now in your exhausted state. You push yourself off the floor, not having a moment to think things through before you’re throwing yourself at Ghost’s back.

He turns before you hit him, catching you and flipping you onto your back on the mat. You hit hard, the breath forced from your lungs at the impact.

“Christ, Simon!” Soap shouts, hurrying to your side. “Ye tryin’ tae break her, ye numpty?”

“Don’t do that again.” Ghost growls at you, stomping over to grab his things before leaving the room.

“Easy, hen.” Soap soothes you as you gasp for air, his hand gently rubbing your shoulder. “Be over before ye know it.”

Slowly the paralysis of your diaphragm begins to lessen, your stomach still aching but the air comes easier now. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to fight the tears. You’ve messed it up. One day and you’ve already done more damage than you would have had you not asked him to teach you to fight.

“Don’ worry, hen. He’s just worked up, that's all.” Soap says, brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead.

“It’s his fault.” You murmur.

“Maybe, but yer scent...surprised you didn’t notice, hen.” Soap wiggles his brows.

Your face warms. You hadn’t noticed the uptick of muskiness in the room, the heady scent of arousal before now.

It’s not yours.

“Me?” You ask, letting Soap help you into a seated position.

Soap smirks. “It wasnae me that tented his breeks this time.”

Your face warms even more, your body feeling like it might explode.

“Come on, hen.” He says, slipping his hands under your arms to lift you to your feet. “There’s still time tae shower before breakfast.”

“I can assume you know why you were called in here sooner than our normal weekly meeting time.” Dr. Keller says as you sit in her office.

“Because I punched Corporal Allen.” You say with a wince.

Dr. Keller nods. “Indeed. I just want to make sure you’re feeling alright, after that. Getting into an altercation with an alpha can be tough.”

“I don’t think I’d call it an altercation.” You say quietly.

“Maybe not,” She says, shuffling her papers. “But standing up to an alpha can be daunting.”

“I wasn’t alone.” You shrug. “Ghost was there.”

“I saw both yours and Lieutenant Riley’s account of what happened. I’m wondering, would you have confronted him if you were alone?”

Her question makes you think for a moment. Would you have stopped? Would you have confronted him, much less punched him if you were alone, or even with one of the others? No, you likely would have ignored him and kept walking like you did with Gaz. You’d likely have gone straight to your room and cried a little out of embarrassment and disgust.

“No, ma’am.” You say quietly. “I don’t think so.”

Dr. Keller nods. “You’re aware of Lieutenant Riley’s status.”

You nod, a frown pulling at your brows. How did she figure it out? “Yes, ma’am.”

“I know because I have access to their medical records.” Dr. Keller says. “It’s required for statuses to be present in medical records since purebreds have to be treated differently, just as alphas, betas, and omegas have to be treated differently.”

You do know that. You know that an injured alpha can get defensive if they feel cornered. You know omegas can die from stress if they’re not taken care of correctly. You know betas can get overwhelmed by large groups of injured people all in the same place without proper training to filter out the scents of agony and suffering.

“I think you reacted to his scent.” Dr. Keller continues. “You mentioned feeling a sudden rush of uncontrollable anger. Do you remember smelling anything at that moment?”

You nod. “Ozone.”

She nods, the pieces beginning to come together in your own head. “I’m sure you’ve figured out how different purebred alpha’s are and how much more potent their scents are. Your own status makes you more susceptible to their scents and the changes in them. You were reacting to the change in his scent. Your omega sensed a threat, and took over for a moment to defend you. It’s a natural response in omegas towards those they see as protectors, or even packmates.”

Your eyes widen a bit at her words. Ghost is technically your packmate. He’s an alpha in your pack, but you’ve never considered that you see him as anything but. He has defended you, and he had defended you not long before your altercation with Corporal Allen. Had your omega begun to cling to him out of a sheer need for protection after something like what happened in the mess?

You would like Ghost to see you as more than just an omega in his pack, more than just Price’s omega. You know he’d never claim you, but you’d at least like to get onto friendly terms with him. Soap said it had taken proving himself before Ghost started to accept him. You’re hoping your time spent learning how to fight helps you prove yourself, that you’re not a threat or even a risk. That maybe you can be an acceptable omega for his pack.

“Aside from this incident, how are you settling in? How are things going with your new pack?”

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug, starting to pick at your sleeve again. “Ghost is teaching me to defend myself.”

“Oh? Does this have something to do with what happened with Corporal Allen? Or is there a different reason?” Dr. Keller asks.

“I mean, partially that but also, Ghost, he’s...hard to get along with.” You grimace. “I know that in relationships, a good way to bond with people is to get into their hobbies so you have something in common. Ghost...ghost speaks in violence and I think it would help ease some of my fears if I can at least defend myself.”

“I think this is a great idea. It allows for some bonding time between the two of you, and it can also be beneficial to ease your anxiety a bit. As long as you’re being careful and you don’t get hurt.” She says, giving you a pointed look.

You think back to Ghost flipping you onto your back on the mat, narrowly missing getting hit, how he’d pinned you down using his own scent against you. “He’s being careful.” You say, clearing your throat. “Price would put him through the ringer if something happened. Even just as an accident.”

“How are things going with Price?” She asks, writing something down.

You shrug. “Fine. He involved me in some training this past weekend. We hiked out to a watchtower and the others tried to follow my scent. We got to spend some time together while we waited.”

“Have you done much of that? Spending time together?” She asks.

You shake your head. “Not really. He’s...busy. A lot.”

“You should start making an effort to get to know him more.” Dr. Keller says. “It’ll make it easier once your heat hits if you’re familiar with him. Have you knelt for him yet?”

You shake your head again, not wanting to answer out loud.

“Why not?” She asks.

“He still hasn’t asked me to.” You murmur.

“Do you know why omegas kneel for their alphas?” She asks.

You nod. “It’s good for our brains and bodies. It helps relax us and soothes our omega, makes it easier to process stressful events and can prevent stress related diseases later in life.”

Dr. Keller nods. “Correct. It’s an important first step in building that bond between an alpha and an omega, when it’s done correctly.”

Bad alphas can use kneeling to control omegas, put them in certain mindsets, make them more subservient. You know this, you’d heard stories from your fellow omegas after watching their parents. That’s not kneeling. You never had the heart to tell them it was so much worse.

“Do you want to kneel for him?” She asks you.

That word again.

You do want to kneel for him. You’ve wanted to since this past Saturday in the watchtower. You’ve felt that urge, that drive to drop to your knees beside him and let yourself go, let him carry everything you’ve been feeling over the last week.

You nod slowly, ripping one of the strings off your sleeve. You’re fighting the tears, fighting the emotions welling up inside you. You can feel them building, pushing against your stomach and your chest, threatening to burst right out of your skin and leave you nothing but an empty carcass. You’re breathing has picked up, shaking a bit as you inhale deeply.

“Why haven’t you asked?” Dr. Keller asks, her brows furrowing as she stares at you.

“I don’t know how!” The words tear from your lips, almost echoing as they bounce off the walls like projectiles. You haven’t so much as raised your voice in years, much less to a person of authority, but you can’t stop. The dam has been breached. “Everyone keeps asking me what I want, but I don’t know how to want!” Tears cascade down your cheeks, your breaths coming in sharp gasps. You cover your face with your hands, muffling your sobs. “I’m not supposed to want.”

“Hey,” Dr. Keller’s voice is soft as she kneels in front of you, her hands trying to gently pry yours away from your face. “Who told you that?”

“That’s what we’re taught!” You hiccup, letting her pull your hands from your face. The tears are still falling, lips trembling as you sob. “We’re supposed to be good omegas. Obedient and serve our alphas. We don’t want anything, we’re only supposed to give.”

“Well that’s a load of bullshit if I’ve ever heard it.”

Dr. Keller’s words shock you into reality, your sobs halting with a sharp inhale. You stare at her, the tears still spilling from your eyes. Your hands are closed into fists, your sore knuckles aching from the strain.

“You’re an omega. It’s in your nature to want, to need. You can’t help your alpha if your own needs aren’t being met first. It’s okay to need things, to want things. Are there things you want?”

“Softer blankets. Fluffier pillows. A nightlight. Something to put on my walls. Strawberry scented body wash. Some goddamn authentic Mexican food.”

Dr. Keller chuckles lightly. “I can agree with you on that last one.” She squeezes your arms gently. “You’re allowed to ask for things. You’re not a soldier, and even they are allowed to have things of their own, comfort items, with them. It doesn’t have to be material things either that you ask for. I’m sure your pack would find a way to bend over backwards if you asked them.”

She’s right. The book says omegas can hold great power over the members of their packs if they try. A mix of playing their instincts and the right behavior and temperament can have betas and alphas wrapped around your finger. The idea of having such control over four powerful men makes your head spin.

“I want Soap to kiss me.” You blurt out, your face warming as you hastily wipe at your tears to hide.

“Oh?” Dr. Keller’s eyebrows raise as she looks at you. “This is a new development.”

“We...we almost did...a couple days ago.” You say, burying your face in your hands. “But I stopped it because I thought maybe Price...but then he said he didn’t care...”

Dr. Keller gently wraps her hands around your wrists, lowering your hands. “It’s okay to want that, and it’s okay to want to kneel for Price. I bet he’d be delighted if you asked him. I bet he was waiting because he didn't think you were ready for it yet.”

The calming beta scent washes over you, Dr. Keller projecting it to try and help you calm down. Your tears have stopped, your breathing starting to slow as the gentle almond scent goes straight to your brain.

“I’d like us to still meet for our regularly scheduled appointment this week, but I’m giving you an assignment to complete between then and now.” Dr. Keller says. “I want you to ask one of the members of your pack for one thing that you want. You can pick what it is, and who you ask, but I want to hear about it when I see you later this week, understood?”

You push back the nerves twisting in your stomach. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Good.” She pushes herself up to stand. “You can stay here as long as you want. Just let me know when you’re ready to go back to the barracks. Take your time. You are my only patient.”

She grabs the paperwork off the couch before moving to her desk. You watch her for a moment before letting your eyes wander. You wipe at your face, your cheeks feeling puffy from your tears. You’re glad she’s giving you time to relax. The last thing you needed was to run into a member of your pack like this.

That’s not a conversation you want to have right now.

You take deep breaths, letting the beta scent permeating the air calm you down. You sink down further into the chair, letting it surround you. It’s soft, the cushions pressing around you like a hug. You wonder how she managed to get it in the hard, “function-above-all” world of the military. You wonder how she got most things in her office, or maybe if she’d brought them with her.

It was likely Kate’s doing, you think. The office space was made for an omega, set up to be as comforting as possible. Though, you don't doubt Dr. Keller would have argued her case for having these things fearlessly if she had to.

You stay in her office for a while, listening to the clacking of her keyboard as the soothing beta scent washes over you. Your eyes are still burning a bit as you force yourself out of the chair, out of the soft comfort you could spend days wrapped in.

“I’m ready to go now.” You say quietly.

“Okay.” Dr. Keller says, finishing what she was typing before she stands, grabbing her keys.

She locks the office behind you before you leave the medical center, pulling up your hood to protect you from the drizzling rain. You’re growing used to the perpetually grey skies and sudden rainstorms.

Dr. Keller squeezes your arm gently as you stop at the door to the barracks. “Remember what I told you. I’ll see you in a few days, alright?”

You nod. “Thank you.”

She smiles softly. “You did good today. I am proud of you.”

You slip into the door of the barracks as she makes her way back to the medical center, your shoes squeaking on the tile floors. You head back to your room, the silence in the barracks telling you they’re not back yet.

You kick off your shoes, pulling your damp sweatshirt off as you sit on the edge of your bed. You stare at your ruined sleeve, the seam split to the edge of the cuff now. You got the sweatshirt from one of your fellow omegas at the institute, and you’ve worn it almost every day since. It’s turned a bit raggedy, and your picking at it hasn’t helped any.

Ask for one thing that you want.

It would be easy to ask for a new sweatshirt. You’re sure if you asked Gaz, he’d give you the one right off his back. Everything you can think to ask for, they’d have to buy. If you asked Soap, he’d likely commandeer the closest vehicle and drive straight to town and buy you one in every color, even if he didn’t have permission to.

You could ask for something that’s not material.

Warmth floods your face as you think about it. How would you even ask? You can’t just ask directly. You could, but you might die of embarrassment if anyone heard you. There’s nothing to really be embarrassed about, but you can’t help it. It’s a bold thing to ask for, and you’re not sure you’re feeling quite so bold today.

You chew on your lip as the barrack door opens, their voices echoing down the hallway as they return from their morning training. They pass by your door, their own doors opening and closing. You get up, moving to stand in front of your own door, holding your breath. You could just step out, knock on his door and ask. He’s probably changing, though. You’d never get the words out if he thought it was one of the others and opened it half dressed.

You have to do it, though, before you lose your nerve. If you don’t do it now, you’ll never do it and you’ll have to tell Dr. Keller that you failed. You’re allowed to want things. It’s your nature to want things. It’s human nature to want things. There’s nothing wrong with having needs and wants.

You can want this.

You repeat it over and over as you slowly open your door, letting it close behind you. You smell the air, finding the trail of his scent. It disappears down the hall and around the corner towards the rec room. Your legs feel shaky as you follow it, your stomach twisting anxiously. You can want this. It’s okay to want this.

You turn the corner, finding him coming out of the rec room. He grins at you, eyes sparkling.

You want this.

“Hey, lass, was just lookin’ for ye. Are ye ready for lunch-”

His words cut off as you grab his face, standing on your toes to press your lips against his. He makes a surprised sound against your lips, his body tensing. It’s quick, only a couple seconds before you’re releasing him, taking a big step back. Your eyes are wide with shock, almost as wide as his. His lips are parted in surprise still, his shoulders tensed.

“Sorry.” You blurt out, your nerves only heightened. What if he hadn’t wanted it? “Sorry, I just...I wanted to do it and I wanted you to do it that day, but I’ve never had a real kiss before and I thought maybe Price would want to...but then he said he didn’t care-”

Your words cut off as he grips your chin, lifting your face so you’re looking at him. The tension has melted from his shoulders, the surprise gone from his face. His eyes are soft as they stare down at you, his thumb brushing your lower lip.

“I didnae know it was yer first kiss.” He says softly. “I wouldnae pushed it so far if I did.”

“It wasn’t technically my first kiss, I kissed another omega at the institute but I don’t really count it cause I did it for her.” You shrug. “I’ve regretted pulling away since that day and Dr. Keller said I should start learning to want things and she gave me the assignment of asking for one thing that I want before I see her again at the end of the week and I could have just asked for something simple but-”

Your words are cut off as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours again. It’s soft and sweet, his hand sliding from your chin to the back of your head, holding you against him. Your fingers grip his shirt, and you lift yourself onto your toes to press back against him as his lips move against yours.

His forehead presses against yours as he pulls away, your breaths mingling as you continue to hold each other. “Gaz will be upset he missed out.” He says quietly, lips tugging up in a smile as he squeezes your waist.

“He can kiss me later.” You say, pressing a quick kiss to his lips once more before pulling away. “After lunch.”

Soap chuckles quietly, slipping his hand into yours. “After lunch.”

You hesitate outside the door, shifting nervously on your feet. You could turn around and go back to bed, pretend like you hadn’t spent an hour convincing yourself to walk down here, like you haven’t been thinking about this all afternoon. You had already completed your assignment for the week. You’d kissed Soap, done something you wanted. You’ve fulfilled that desire, and it didn’t kill you. You hadn’t dropped dead afterward. If the others noticed, they didn’t say anything.

This isn’t a want.

You knock softly on the door, half tempted to turn and run and hide under your covers until you inevitably have to get up tomorrow.

“Come in.”

Your hand hesitates on the door handle for just a moment before you’re turning it, stepping into the office. He doesn’t look surprised to see you, though you suppose if nothing else, he had smelled you standing outside. The thought makes your cheeks warm in embarrassment. How long has he known you were standing out there?

“What can I do for you, sweetheart?” He asks, setting down his pen.

You shuffle nervously, clasping your hands in front of you. “I-I was wondering...I..um...” You take a deep breath. “I was wondering if I could kneel for you.”

You bite your lip as he stares at you, the words having come out fast, almost meshing into one long string of nonsense. His eyes darken just a bit, his scent thickening in the air.

“You want to kneel for me, sweetheart?” He asks, his voice low and rough.

You nod, shifting your weight again. “Yes, sir.”

“Grab a pillow.” He nods to the couch. “I won’t have you hurting yourself.”

You grab one of the pillows from the couch, wondering how often he’s slept in his office. How many nights he’s spent awake, pouring over files, his mind working too hard for him to find any rest. You set the pillow on the floor before kneeling down next to him, facing his desk. You shift until you’re comfortable, sitting back on your feet. You let out a long breath as your eyes slipped closed, your fingers twitching anxiously in your lap.

Price’s hand is gentle as it comes to rest on the top of your head. You relax into his touch as he strokes your hair, working his way down towards your neck. You force your mind to relax, easing away the desire to tense your shoulders, to draw them up around your ears. It’s pure natural instinct, one that will fade the more you practice, the more you bond with him. The more you trust him.

“Ready?” He asks, his voice sounding far away despite the fact you’re right next to him.

“Yes, sir.” You murmur, pressing your head into his hand.

His hand slips lower, curling around the back of your neck. You inhale sharply as he finally makes contact with the sensitive area. His hand is warm, the tension slowly easing from your body as he presses his thumb lightly into the side of your neck. The back of your brain begins to buzz, your mind slowly filling with static. You relax even further, your head bowing just slightly as you feel the weight of the last three months lifting off your shoulders.

All the emotions, all the fear, all the unknowns suddenly feel far away. All the apprehension and the anxiety are soothed to nothing as he holds you, the hand on your neck a firm reminder that you’re not alone in this anymore. You have an alpha now, a strong alpha that you can trust in, that will carry it all for you.

You don’t need to be stressed or afraid anymore. A warmth begins blossoming within you, spreading from your core out to your fingers and toes. You feel a bit dazed, but not in a bad way. You’re not afraid of the feeling, not with your alpha’s hand around the back of your neck keeping you safe.

You’re not sure how much time passes, how long you kneel there. It could be five minutes, it could be two hours. Price continues to go over his paperwork, his other hand steady on the back of your neck. It’s not until he’s done that he carefully pushes his seat back, kneeling on the floor next to you. He releases your neck, catching your body as it slumps over, drawing you against his chest.

“Easy, sweet girl.” He murmurs, pressing your face into his neck.

You’re shaking a bit, brain still dazed and flying as you breathe in his scent. Earthy, trees, petrichor. The warm muskiness of a content alpha. You made him smell like that. You invoked that scent.

“Feeling alright?” He murmurs into your hair, gently stroking your side as you begin to come back into your body.

You hum in affirmation, wrapping your arms around his neck. You haven’t been this close to him yet, not since the scenting and that was more of a formal closeness, a required closeness. This is because you want it.

“Don’t let me go.” You murmur into his neck, clinging to him tightly.

His arms tighten around you for a moment before he slips them under you, lifting you into his arms easily. He pushes himself from the floor, moving to sit on the couch with you on his lap. You let yourself go lax in his hold again, feeling calmer and more relaxed than you have in months. You feel safe in his arms, not that he would have let anything happen to you before.

You’ve always been safe, you think as you let your eyes drift closed again.

The water is hot as it runs down his back, contrasting the cool tile against his forehead. His eyes are closed, breaths slow and steady through his nose. He can’t get that damn scent of vanilla and sweet, sweet omega arousal out of his head. He drives his fist into the wall with a growl, cursing the blood rushing south.

He can’t forget the way you felt under him, pinned so easily and helpless beneath him. He hates the way his cock twitches at the thought of the pout on your lips as he’d swung at you, narrowly missing you too many times. The way you tried to jump him.

He lets out another frustrated growl, slamming his forehead into the tile. A hand presses against his bare back and he turns on his heel, hand wrapping around Johnny’s throat, slamming him back against the shower wall.

Jesus Christ, he’s going to kill the mutt one of these days.

“Easy, Lt.” Johnny rasps, not fazed at all by the alpha’s actions. His eyes flicker lower, to the hard cock standing at attention. “Bit worked up, eh?”

He lets Johnny go with a growl, stepping back under the water, turning it all the way to the right until it’s nearly freezing. He almost groans in frustration as the water shuts off completely, his eyes cracking open as Johnny’s hand trails up his chest.

“Easy, big guy. Let me help ye.”

Simon moves until his back is pressed against the tiles, eyes not leaving Johnny’s sapphire ones as the beta slowly kneels in front of him. Johnny’s hands trace over his hips, outlining scars both old and new. Johnny’s fingers finally reach his cock, wrapping around the thick length. Simon sighs in quiet relief as Johnny slowly pumps his length, their gazes still locked.

Simon stares down at Johnny through his blonde lashes as Johnny leans forward, dragging his tongue along his head. A low growl rumbles through his chest as the beta circles his tongue around his head, smearing precum on his chin. He’s painfully hard now, breaking his gaze as his head tilts back, eyes fluttering closed.

His fingers sink into Johnny’s mohawk as the beta takes his cock in his mouth. He breathes through his nose, relaxing his throat as Simon’s cock sinks deeper and deeper, Johnny’s hands closing around his hips to hold himself steady. Simon grips his hair tightly as he begins to move, bobbing his head along his length, his tongue pressing against the bottom of his cock.

Simon squeezes his eyes closed as an image comes to mind, a smaller hand fondling his balls. His hand wraps around the base of his cock as he imagines soft lips on his tip, Johnny’s tongue tracing the parts of him that you can’t fit yet as you take him in your mouth. The sweet whines that would be pulled from you as he choked you on his thick length, Johnny whispering sweet encouragements to you.

He can picture the two of you, you and Johnny with your tongues entwined, his cum stringing between your lips.

He growls, yanking Johnny off his cock and pinning him to the tile wall. Johnny’s lips are parted as he breathes heavily, eyes blown with lust as he stares up at his alpha. Simon’s hand tugs at his hair, tilting his head back to bear his throat. Johnny lets out a quiet moan as he sinks his teeth into the delicate skin, leaving a mark he’ll wear proudly for a few days.

“Turn around and bend over.” He growls to the beta, his cock still hard and throbbing.

“Sir, yes sir.” Johnny says, smirking wickedly as he slowly turns to face the wall.

Fucking christ, Simon groans. They’re going to be the death of him.

You’re going to be the death of him.

NEXT ->

Taglist, part 1:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @ghostlythots @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @thychuvaluswife @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @bisky-business @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @cadotoast @linaangel @rancid-wasp @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @puppyel @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006

#call of duty #call of duty fic #poly 141 #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #alpha beta omega #a/b/o #john price x reader #captain price x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #ghost x soap #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader

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xomakara · 25 days

Text

Baby On Board...Again

SUMMARY | Jaehyun wants to be a dad again.

PAIRINGS | Jaehyun x Reader

GENRE | dad!Jaehyun, mom!Reader, dilf!Jaehyun, milf!Reader, established relationship, smut, fluff,

CONTENT/WARNINGS | profanity/strong language, unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (female giving/male receiving), praise kink, pet names, daddy kink, impregnation, pregnancy kink, couch sex, multiple positions

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+

LENGTH | 6,440 words

TAGLIST | @luv4jeno

NETWORKS | @k-vanity @ksmutsociety

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Hi. Hello again. At this point, Jaehyun should be my bias with the amount of content I write about him. LOL. Anywho, you don't have to read them, but if you did, I mentioned Kun's triplets and Xiaojun's little son. Anyway, here's to Dad Jaehyun! Don’t forget to like, comment, reblog and show some support. Love you all 💚

"Mommy! Mommy!"

You let out a groan and buried your head in the pillows. Your little son is already running a muck, screaming the house down. You could hear him stomping up and down the corridor, but he's not coming into the room. Not yet, at least. But he sounds pretty eager and excited so no doubt that in the next few moments, he's gonna burst in.

"Mommmmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Daaaaaaddddddyyyyyyyy!"

You tried to bury yourself further in your blankets. Hoping they would swallow you and leave you to peacefully go back to bed. You reached out and smacked your husband's sleeping back. "Go get the brat."

Jaehyun snorted and rolled over. "He's your brat."

"You made the brat, you deal with him," you grunted.

"You were there too, honey. It takes two."

"Jae-" Your words got cut off as you heard your son bang against your bedroom door and throw it open. The first thing your eyes landed on when you lifted your head to peek was your son's bright, joyful, excited smile. Jaewoo, ran into your room, jumping on the bed. He was giggling and his little arms wrapped around your body as he smooched your cheek.

"Good morning Mommy!" he chirped.

"Morning baby." You kissed his cheek back.

Your son looked over to Jaehyun who was lying still with his eyes closed, trying to ignore him. "Morning Daddy!"

"Daddy is asleep." Jaehyun mumbled.

"Nuh-uh! I saw you smile!" Jaewoo shouted excitedly.

"Nope. Daddy's asleep." He deadpanned, while a smirk stretched across his lips.

"Wake up then!"

"Nooooo."

You laughed and ruffled your son's hair before poking your husband's cheek. "You have to do it eventually, Jae. You know how he is."

Your son giggled and jumped on Jaehyun's back. He sat there and shook his daddy awake, trying to pull off the blanket covering him. You both share a laugh, loving the determination your son has. He's cute when he's eager. "Daaaaaddddyyy!"

"Oof," Jaehyun grunted.

"Wake up Daddy!"

"You heard your child Jae." You teased.

"Waaaake up Daddy!"

"I'm awake! I'm awake!" Jaehyun exclaimed and tickled his sides, making the little boy squeal and kick.

You watched them both, feeling happy and warm. You had your doubts about being a mother. But your husband helped you through it all, and you have never been more thankful for him than when you held your baby for the first time.

"Are we going to the zoo today?" Jaewoo asked excitedly.

"If it's not raining," you answered. "It's supposed to rain."

"Awww," Jaewoo pouted.

Jaehyun poked his stomach. "We can camp out in the living room if it rains. We'll play games, make a tent, and read a lot of books."

Jaewoo's eyes lit up. "And we can make cookies and have popcorn!"

You chuckled and hugged him. "That sounds like a good idea, baby."

"Alright!" Jaewoo exclaimed and climbed off the bed. "I'll get ready!"

He ran out of the room, and you rolled over to face your husband. You leaned forward and kissed him gently. "Let's get up so we can entertain the little man."

"I love you." Jaehyun grinned.

"I love you too." You pecked his nose and kissed the corner of his lip before you pulled away to stand up.

You put on a shirt and went to check the window. The skies looked somewhat clear but you didn't want to take the chance, so you made a mental note to bring an umbrella, ponchos, and anything that would prevent your family from getting sick. You stretched your limbs before heading into the bathroom. Jaehyun joined you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

"We did a good job with him, didn't we?" He muttered, pulling you towards his body. He held onto you tightly, hugging you close and enjoying the sensation of your skin rubbing against his.

"Yes, we did." You breathed and kissed his cheek. "Yes. I can't wait to see how much he grows."

"Me too." Jaehyun kissed your cheek.

After you were showered, dressed, and ready, you and Jaehyun headed down to the kitchen. Your son was sitting at the table, coloring a picture of a lion.

"Whatcha doing, Jaewoo?" Jaehyun asked, ruffling his hair.

"Drawing lions." Jaewoo grinned.

"You'll see real lions later." You told him, kissing his head.

"I want to go now." Jaewoo pouted.

"Breakfast first, bud," Jaehyun replied.

Jaewoo continued drawing and coloring, while you and Jaehyun began making breakfast. You cooked the pancakes while he cut up fruit. The smell of bacon filled the air, and Jaewoo started sniffing and looking around.

"Mmm, something smells good!" He exclaimed and bounced over to you. He put his head on the edge of the counter and gazed longingly at the food.

"Wash your hands first, baby," you reminded him and pointed towards the sink. "And use soap."

"Okay, Moooom!" Jaewoo did as told but ended up splashing a bunch of water on the floor. Jaehyun just laughed.

"He's just as messy as you." He said, drying your child's hands, while you made him his plate. "Want juice?" He asked.

Jaewoo nodded. Jaehyun went to pour his kid a glass while you set down a plate with 2 large pancakes, eggs, bacon, and hashbrowns. "Here, my little man, enjoy."

Jaewoo dug into his breakfast, his mouth full of pancakes and syrup. You and Jaehyun ate a bit slower, enjoying the peace.

After breakfast, you put on your shoes and jackets, and grabbed the bag of snacks. You headed out the door, locking it behind you.

The drive to the zoo was short. Jaewoo was excited to see the animals and he chattered away about them the whole way. When you arrived, he was out of the car and running towards the entrance. You had to quickly chase after him to make sure he didn't get lost.

When you reached the gate, you bought tickets and entered the zoo. Jaewoo's eyes were sparkling with happiness as he skipped through the different exhibits, stopping every few moments to stare and watch some animal move. The three of you walked along the path, admiring the different animals. Jaewoo pointed out his favorites and talked about how he wanted to be a zookeeper when he grew up.

As the day wore on, Jaewoo got more and more tired. He started to drag his feet and complain about being hungry.

"Let's go get some ice cream, okay?" Jaehyun suggested, taking his hand.

"Okay!" Jaewoo said excitedly.

You bought him an ice cream cone, and he sat down to enjoy it. He licked his lips and giggled as the melted ice cream dribbled down his chin.

"So messy," you laughed, wiping his face.

"Sorry Mommy." He smiled sheepishly.

"It's okay. You're just a kid."

After finishing the ice cream, you lead Jaewoo back towards the zoo but your son starts falling asleep. By the time you left the gates, Jaewoo was softly snoring against Jaehyun's back. He settled him carefully inside the car, strapping him into the back seat before Jaehyun started the vehicle and you headed home.

When you pulled into the driveway, you saw that it was starting to rain. You sighed and grabbed the umbrella from the back seat.

"Come on, Jaewoo." You helped him out of the car. "Let's get inside."

You rushed towards the door, holding the umbrella over Jaewoo's head. "Mommy, it's raining!"

"Should we camp out in the living room tonight?" Jaehyun asked, grinning.

"Sure." You replied and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Now let's hurry up. You're going to get drenched."

"Yay, camping!" Jaewoo grinned excitedly and rushed ahead of you to open the door.

"Whoa there," you laughed, pulling him back. "Don't run."

He slowed down and walked inside, his eyes wide and his smile even wider. "We're going to have so much fun, Mommy!"

"We are," you agreed.

You closed the door and set the umbrella aside. You took off your jacket and shoes, and placed the bag of snacks on the table.

"Let's set up the tent," Jaehyun said, Jaewoo yelling that he wanted to help.

"Sure. Just don't break anything." You mutter. Jaehyun began unfolding the tent and setting it up. Jaewoo helped him, and you watched them work together. You got a few extra blankets and pillows, and placed them in the tent.

"All set," you announced.

"Can we have cookies now?" Jaewoo asked hopefully.

"I guess," you chuckled.

You went into the kitchen and started to make the cookies. Jaehyun turned on the tv and put in a movie for Jaewoo.

When the cookies were done, you brought them out to the living room. Jaewoo grabbed a few and retreated to the tent to eat them, watching the movie. You and Jaehyun settle down next to him, snuggle up with a blanket, and start eating cookies too. You share a chocolate chip one together, smiling at each other. It's times like these when you remember why you fell in love with Jaehyun all those years ago. He's a wonderful partner and an incredible dad.

After finishing a few cookies, you and Jaehyun look at your precious son. Jaewoo is snuggling under a blanket while a Disney film plays in the background. Jaewoo fell asleep in the tent, his small snores filling the room.

"This was a good day," you sighed, resting your head on Jaehyun's shoulder.

"Yeah, it was." He smiled, placing a small kiss on your forehead. "Honey, do you want another one? Another baby?"

You thought for a moment, and looked at the sleeping child. Jaewoo was going to grow up and he wouldn't be your baby boy forever. You and Jaehyun created such a beautiful son. There was no doubt he'd continue growing and shining. His existence warmed your heart. He was a good, healthy little boy.

But there was no harm in making another.

"What are you thinking, babe?"

"Let's try for a baby," you breathed with a smile.

"Yeah?" Jaehyun pulled you tighter, pressing another kiss on your head, his hand slidding down to your stomach. "I can't wait until you're big and round with our second child."

You smiled and pulled his head down for a kiss.

"We have to make sure to keep the brat away though," Jaehyun muttered.

You laughed, knowing exactly what he meant. "I'm sure one of the guys would be happy to take him for the weekend."

"I'm sure he'll have fun with any of his uncles and their kids." Jaehyun smiled.

"Right... Kun has been bugging me that we should have Jaewoo over so he and his wife can take him and the triplets to the water park. Taeyong and Doyoung also keep talking about taking Jaewoo camping with some of the other uncles."

"Didn't Xiaojun say that Dongjun has been bugging him about a sleepover?"

You sigh and rub your eyes. Your family was a tight-knit unit of crazy misfits that were your friends. So your son had many, many uncles and a lot of cousins to play with. All of whom were always looking for ways to have your son over.

You both sat in silence, and then you heard a rustle from the tent. You turned to look and saw that Jaewoo had kicked off the blanket and was sprawled across the floor.

"Oh, poor baby." You murmured, tucking him in the blankets. His eyes fluttered open and he looked at you sleepily.

"Mommy," he mumbled.

"Go back to sleep, baby." You stroked his hair.

His eyes closed and he sighed, snuggling deeper into the blankets. You watched him for a moment, smiling. Before you knew it, the three of you fell asleep in the tent, the movie playing quietly in the background.

"You got everything, bud?" Jaehyun asked, checking his overnight bag.

"Yup!" Jaewoo said happily, bouncing on his toes.

You and Jaehyun had decided that a weekend apart would be nice, so Jaehyun was dropping off Jaewoo at Xiaojun's house for a few days. Xiaojun and his wife were more than happy to have Jaewoo over, especially since their son was the same age.

"Are you sure?" Jaehyun double-checked. "Underwear? Toothbrush? Pajamas? A book to read at night? Extra socks?"

"Yes, Daddy." Jaewoo rolled his eyes.

Jaehyun sighed and looked over at you. You chuckled and shook your head. "He's fine, babe."

Jaehyun nodded and smiled. "Alright, let's go."

The three of you walked out to the car, and you helped Jaewoo get buckled into his car seat. Jaehyun climbed into the driver's seat and you took your place beside him. You drove the short distance to Xiaojun's house and parked on the street.

"Are you excited, honey?" You asked Jaewoo.

"Yea!" He cheered.

"Alright, come on." You unbuckled him and the three of you walked up the driveway. Jaehyun knocked on the door and waited.

After a moment, Xiaojun opened the door. "Hey guys!"

"Hi Uncle Xiaojun!" Jaewoo exclaimed, running to him.

Xiaojun laughed and scooped him up. "Hello there, little man."

"Thanks for doing this," you said, smiling.

"No problem. I know how it feels to need time away from your kid." Xiaojun smiled. "We're happy to have Jaewoo. Dongjun has been excited since this morning for a sleepover."

"We're excited too." You replied, looking at your son. "Right, Jaewoo?"

"Yup! We're gonna have so much fun, Uncle Xiaojun."

Xiaojun chuckled. "I bet."

"Thanks again," Jaehyun said, patting Xiaojun on the back. "We appreciate you taking him."

"Have fun." Xiaojun winked. You laughed and hugged him.

"See you Sunday, Jaewoo." You waved.

"Bye Mommy! Bye Daddy!" He waved back.

"Take care of him," Jaehyun added.

"I will." Xiaojun chuckled, releasing the boy so that he could run and find Dongjun.

You and Jaehyun got back in the car, and Jaehyun pulled out of the driveway.

"So...we're alone for two days..." he stated.

"What are you insinuating Mr Jeong?" You teased.

"What does Mrs Jeong want to do for the next few days?" He asked.

"Hmmmm...I want to relax and spend time with my husband. Then when the sun goes down, I want him to fuck me." You purred.

"I can make that happen." He grinned and grabbed your hand. He kissed the back of it before releasing it and resting it on your thigh.

"Let's go home and have a nice dinner." Jaehyun lightly squeezed your thigh. "Can't wait to fuck you everywhere."

"Jae, you're such a horndog." You rolled your eyes.

"And you love it." He smirked.

"Just drive." You waved your hand around.

The two of you laughed, and you turned the radio on. You sang along to the music, and Jaehyun kept his hand on your leg, occasionally rubbing his thumb across your skin.

When you arrived home, you unpacked the groceries and began cooking dinner. Jaehyun wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder. "Mmm, it smells good."

"Thanks, babe." You replied.

He kissed your cheek, his hand rubbing softly against your belly. "Can't wait til your tummy is nice and round. It'll be beautiful."

"You're a bit too eager for me to be pregnant." You teased.

"Well, I love the idea of seeing you glow with my child. Knowing that you're carrying something that I put in you...fuck." Jaehyun buried his head against your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses down it. "Watching your breast swell, become full of milk...I bet our child would suckle hungrily from them."

His hand slid under your shirt, and he rubbed his fingers across your skin. You let out a soft moan, and he chuckled.

"Dinner first," you whispered.

"Yes ma'am." He replied. He nipped your shoulder and walked over to the dining table. He set two place settings and pulled out a bottle of wine.

You finished cooking, and the two of you sat down to eat. You talked about random things, and just enjoyed each other's company. The two of you talked about the business, the house, and the upcoming party that Ten was hosting. After dinner, you cleaned up and went to take a shower. When you got out, you dried yourself off and slipped on some comfortable clothes. You went downstairs and found Jaehyun lounging on the couch. He was shirtless and wearing only a pair of sweats.

"Comfy?" You smirked, walking over to him.

"Very." He smiled, grabbing your waist and pulling you onto his lap. "Now I'm perfect."

You laughed and leaned forward, kissing him deeply. His hands moved up and down your sides, and he moaned softly.

"You taste so good." He murmured, kissing your jaw. You hummed in response, closing your eyes. His hands slid down to your ass and he gripped it firmly.

"Mmm, babe." You moaned, running your hands through his hair. You felt him getting harder against you. You ground your hips against him and he groaned.

"Oh fuck," he gasped, pushing his hips up. "If we're doing it, we might as well do it here, right? You want to?"

You smirked and nodded, rolling your hips against him once again, earning a deep groan from him. He chuckled darkly, his hands tightening on your waist.

"You naughty girl." He kissed your shoulder.

"Only for you," you smirked, pressing light kisses on his neck.

"Yeah?" He grinned, nipping at your earlobe.

"You're making it hard to think straight."

"Good."

You groaned and pressed your lips against his. He returned the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours.

"Fuck," he breathed, gripping your ass.

"Mhm." You rocked against him, your breath hitching.

His hands moved under your shirt, and he cupped your breasts. He squeezed them gently, and his thumbs flicked over your nipples.

"God, I love your tits," he murmured.

"They're all yours," you replied, grinning.

He tugged your shirt off and tossed it aside. He leaned forward, taking one of your nipples into his mouth. You moaned and arched your back, your fingers tangling in his hair. He sucked and licked, his teeth grazing against the sensitive bud. You gasped and rocked your hips, rubbing your core against his erection.

"God, Jaehyun..." you panted, biting down on your lip.

He chuckled and moved to your other breast, giving it the same treatment. He pinched the other nipple, twisting it and you mewled, clutching him tightly.

"You like that, don't you, baby girl." His voice is rough. "So sensitive."

You whimpered in response, squirming against his bulge. "Baby...please...need you..."

Jaehyun laughed quietly. "Behave."

"Make me." You challenged him.

"Oh? You wanna be fucked?" He gripped your hips.

"Mhmm." You nodded.

"As you wish, love. Get on all fours for Daddy."

You slid down his legs and positioned yourself on the floor, resting on your forearms. Your ass was raised in the air and you felt a rush of arousal pool in your core.

"God, look at that ass of yours." His fingers tugged at the waistband of your pants, slipping his hand inside, and you gasped as his fingers brushed against your clit.

"No panties, huh?" He smirked, his thumb rubbing circles against the bundle of nerves.

"What's the point if you're just gonna fuck me anyways?" You teased.

"True," he chuckled.

He slipped his fingers inside you, and you moaned. He pumped them in and out, his thumb continuing to massage your clit.

"Fuck," you whimpered.

He spanked your butt, and you arched your back, your ass pushing closer to his hand.

"This should be easier for Daddy to fuck your sweet pussy," he growled.

You shivered in excitement, whimpering as he worked his fingers faster. He rubbed his hard-on against your backside, and you felt the thick outline of his cock through his pants.

"Feel that, baby?" He asked, squeezing your butt. "Feel how hard I am for you?"

"Yeah," you panted.

"So hot and wet." He spanked you. "All for Daddy, isn't it, baby?"

"Just for you."

He pumped his fingers quickly and you cried out, burying your face against the floor.

"You can scream all you want. We have the house to ourselves." He told you, sliding his hand down the curve of your ass, his thumb continuing to work your swollen clit. He curled his fingers, hitting that sweet spot deep within you.

"So fucking wet," he growled.

You rode his hand, your orgasm building. You were so close, and you could feel the pressure coiling in your stomach.

"Jaehyun," you gasped. "Oh...please..."

"Come for me, baby." He kissed your neck.

You cried out, your orgasm washing over you. Your thighs quivered, and you gripped the floor. Jaehyun continued to tease your g spot and his thumb rubbed against your swollen clit until you had your fill. You screamed his name as he pressed his body against your backside, kissing your shoulder, while keeping the same pace.

"Fuck," you breathed, dropping onto your stomach.

He chuckled. "That's what I like to hear."

"Shut up, Jaehyun." You threw an arm over your eyes.

He slid his hand out of you and he brought his fingers to his lips. "Hmm, you taste amazing. A nice dessert after dinner." He stuck his fingers in his mouth and sucked. He groaned as he tasted you, closing his eyes, enjoying every moment.

"Yeah?" You panted, peeking up at him.

"You were always so delicious." He released his fingers and smacked your ass. "Come here and suck me off, pretty girl."

"You're insatiable," you giggled as you moved down on the carpet.

"For you, my love, I am." He threaded his hands in your hair and he guided your head between his legs.

Your hands moved up and down his toned abdomen. He was cut in all the right areas. And you knew those muscles came with work but also because your man is the hottest hunk alive. You leaned down and licked at the trail of hair leading down past the waistband.

Jaehyun breathed out, looking up at the ceiling. He was fighting back the urge to be impatient. As much as he wants to dominate your sweet little mouth and thrust his cock in and out roughly, he won't ever hurt you.

"I love your happy trail, Jae. So sexy." Your fingers slid past the waistband and slowly, slowly pulled it down to release his throbbing cock. The thick and heavy weight springs free and you admire his veiny girth for a moment, salivating for that taste of his hot and salty precum. "Goddamn it, Jae. That is one big beautiful cock."

"You always loved this thing didn't you, my pretty girl? Admit it." Jaehyun teased, combing a hand through your hair. He plays with strands, knowing how that action sends a wave of warmth pooling your aching pussy. "Want this monster cock all for you."

"Yes, please." You purred and your fingers circled his cock at the base.

"Tell Daddy what you want." Jaehyun's eyes were dark with lust as his fingers slipped through your locks, slightly pulling. The action, plus his intense gaze, makes your eyes cloud over and your pussy gets impossibly wetter than it already was. "Use your words, baby girl."

"I want my husband's delicious, thick cock." You kissed his balls. "Please Daddy."

Jaehyun chuckled. "There's my wife." His eyes roll back and he hisses when your mouth slides over his cock. You bob your head, taking as much as you can before he reaches the back of your throat. "Mmm, that's it. Take it all."

Jaehyun's hand was on your cheek, tilting your head slightly for a better look at his cock stretching your sweet lips. "Fuck, so pretty."

Your mouth popped off his dick and you circled your tongue around his tip, smirking as you saw his abs twitch in response. You lick the veins and back up to his tip, before deepthroating him once again, slurping and sucking loudly and shamelessly.

"Fuck, that's right. Choke on my big cock, sweetheart. Suck that dick so well for Daddy." Your lips moved quickly and sloppy, your saliva dripping past his length. Your one hand massages his balls, while the other twisted and jacked off his saliva-soaked dick, bringing your mouth in rhythm with your fist.

Jaehyun groaned, feeling his high approaching fast. You looked up at him, maintaining eye contact. You both know that Jaehyun loves when you gaze at him when giving head, as his arousal goes up to the next level.

"That's it, baby, take me. Fuck, look at those eyes. Such a gorgeous girl." Jaehyun breathed, feeling you swallow him to the hilt. Your throat constricts around him, and you feel his release pouring down your throat. "Swallow daddy's cum, baby. Shit, yeah, such a good wife."

You took his length, releasing a few moments later with a wet sound. He was still half-hard, and you sucked once again, and licked from the base to the tip, watching it stiffen to its full girth again.

"Jaehyun," You whined, licking the clear fluid that leaked off his tip.

He looked at you, his expression a bit dazed from his orgasm, and you climbed over his lap, lining his cock at your entrance and slowly sinking. You mewled, closing your eyes, savoring the burn that came from his big cock sliding into your wet pussy.

Jaehyun moaned when his full length was completely inside you. "Ah, yes, fuck. You feel so good, sweetheart."

"Move for me. Please."

"Ride Daddy's cock. Use it and cum for me."

And ride you, I will. You planted your hands on his chest and started rocking on his hips, the sloppy sound filling the room as you continued fucking him. His hands rested on your hips and guided the movement, grunting and cursing under his breath as your cunt clenched him so well.

"Fuck, that's it. Oh my god, you feel amazing. Such a fucking good pussy. Best I've ever had." Jae grits his teeth. "Don't forget who owns this. This is Daddy's pussy. My. Fucking. Pussy."

"Yes," you gasped, picking up your pace. You moaned as you ground down on his hard cock, the drag along your walls feeling incredible. You clenched him and felt your body heating up with your release approaching.

"Say it," Jaehyun barked, squeezing your waist. His thumbs dug into your hips as he pumped in and out. "Tell me who it belongs to."

"It's yours, Jaehyun."

He let out a guttural groan. His hands gripped your waist and he bucked his hips up, ramming into you roughly. The lewd sounds grew louder, the scent of sex filling the air, and sweat glistening over his flawless body.

"Shit," you groaned, bouncing yourself harder, taking him to the hilt. "Oh, oh yes. So good. You feel so good, baby. Don't stop."

"Take my fucking cock, Y/N. Such a good girl. Look at how deep I am inside you, how big my cock looks stretching that tight pussy." He licked his lips, his eyes raking hungrily over you.

He drove himself upwards again, increasing his speed. You felt the knot in your belly beginning to unravel and a thin sheen of sweat glinted off your skin. You clutched Jaehyun's hand and threaded his fingers with yours, feeling your orgasm fast approaching.

He must be nearing his end as well, his hips losing their rhythm, becoming sloppy with desire, but he wanted you to break first. His other hand left its place on your hips and traced circles around your swollen nub, causing you to cry out in pleasure. "Can't wait to see you knocked up, baby girl, full of my baby, so round and beautiful."

"Oh fuck, I'm...oh fuck. Jaehyun!" Your climax hits you and your juices gush all over his dick and your thighs. Jaehyun curses as your walls milk his cock, milking him of everything and spilling it all inside your womb, pumping the last bits and still grinding until he has drained the last drop.

You rested your head on his chest, and he wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.

You eventually lean back, and look at your husband. He looks wrecked.

You probably do too.

"Hi," you breathe, giving him a weak smile.

"Hi, pretty girl." He replies. "You okay?"

"Mhhmm. I don't think I could be any better, to be honest." You laughed softly, your body sated and warm.

"Me too." He grinned. "Damn, babe, it's been a while."

"Definitely," you nodded in agreement.

"Want to get cleaned up?" He offered.

"In a minute. I just want to stay here a little longer. Please?" You said quietly.

He chuckled. "Okay, we'll stay like this."

You laid your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his torso. He pulled a blanket from the back of the sofa and draped it across your naked bodies.

"We haven't had alone time in forever, huh?" He stated, combing his fingers through your hair.

"Mmm, that's true." You hummed in acknowledgement, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.

"When was the last time you and I got to spend time without our son?" He asked, tapping his fingers against your arm.

"I honestly couldn't tell ya." You laughed, lacing your fingers with his.

"Yeah...me neither." He replied.

You smiled, peering up at him through your lashes. He looked beautiful, his chest rising and falling with each breath. You brushed some stray hairs away from his forehead.

He was perfect.

And he was all yours.

"I know what I want to do for the next seventy odd years. Spend it with you." He smiled, taking your hand in his, interlacing your fingers.

"Me too." You whispered, cupping his face.

"Our 60th anniversary...fucking old but I'll fuck you then, just so you know." He told you with a playful grin.

You slapped his chest with your free hand, letting out a scoff of amusement. "Not in your 80's Jae."

"Hmmm," he narrowed his eyes, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"Can I at least make love to you in our 70's?" He asked, raising a brow.

"If you're that determined...yes you can, babe." You pecked him.

"Then I'm gonna fuck the living daylights out of you tomorrow morning, old or not, and it's a promise." He winked.

"Don't make promises you can't keep, Jae." You teased.

"Watch me, baby."

It had been about two months since you and Jaehyun finally had alone time and now Jaewoo was running around the house like a whirlwind. He was getting quite active at his age, and the two of you couldn't help but wonder where he got all that energy from.

While his dad worked from home, Jaewoo would often come to visit him and bring him juice boxes or other random things from the playroom. Jaehyun would always humor his son by accepting whatever gift he had for him. Sometimes, they'd be random papers filled with doodles or playthings. Jaehyun cherished it all.

Even if it was junk, Jaehyun would simply put it away for a rainy day, and your house was covered with them.

Jaewoo was his little prince, after all.

"Daddy, look." Jaewoo skipped towards the mahogany desk in Jaehyun's study and put a stuffed dinosaur onto it. It was an orange and white T-Rex and one of Jaewoo's favorites.

Jaehyun reached out to stroke Jaewoo's soft dark hair. He had your natural waves.

"Ahh, my favorite dinosaur." Jaehyun smiled wide as he pulled his son into his arms.

Jaewoo giggled loudly, squeezing his father's shoulder. Jaehyun gave his son a gentle squeeze.

"You need to eat lunch," Jaehyun suggested. "Want to order pizza?"

Jaewoo nodded enthusiastically. You always told Jaehyun that pizza was fine occasionally, as long as he watched the amount of sauce and cheese. You had prepared a healthy lunch for Jaewoo, but sometimes Jaehyun could never resist spoiling his little boy.

And by occasionally, you meant more than 4 times a week...but you didn't stop Jaehyun because he did help with other chores when the weekends came around.

"Where's Mommy, Jaewoo?" Jaehyun asked, turning off his laptop. "Go get her so I can place the order."

"Okay!" The little boy ran away, leaving his father smiling and shaking his head.

Jaewoo went around your house looking for you, searching the living room, the kitchen, only to find you huddled over the toilet in the downstairs bathroom. His eyes wide, he screamed for Jaehyun as he ran to the study. "Daaaddddyyyyyyyy, Mommy is sick!!!"

Jaewoo looked towards the open door in surprise before rushing forward. "Jaewoo?" He questioned frantically.

"Daddy, Daddy!" The boy screamed as he pushed his tiny legs to run towards his father. He wrapped his arms around Jaehyun's calves and looked up at him imploringly.

"What? What, why are you shouting? Where's Mommy? Why are you crying, Jaewoo?" Jaehyun smoothed Jaewoo's hair, worried.

"She's sick!" Jaewoo explained as tears started rolling down his cheeks. Jaehyun felt a rush of panic through his body. His mind running with all sorts of questions.

"Where is she, Jaewoo?" He knelt down and wiped Jaewoo's tear-stained cheeks with his thumb.

"In the bathroom." He pointed to the door that was still left ajar. Jaehyun pulled away from the tight embrace he held Jaewoo in and rushed in the direction his son pointed to.

"Y/N..." He found you in the bathroom, still leaning over the toilet bowl. Your pale complexion frightened Jaehyun. For someone with skin that glows so perfectly, a shade of a tinge of whiteness wasn't a good sight to see. "Y/N!"

"W-Why are you panicking so much?" You raised an eyebrow, leaning against the bathtub while you wiped your mouth clean with toilet paper.

"Y/N, we need to go see the doctor," Jaehyun announced anxiously as he grabbed you by the wrist and tried to drag you out. "You could have a serious illness or something. Who knows?! Jaewoo heard you being sick..."

"Calm down." Your voice remained calm, and it immediately made Jaehyun stop and stare. A smile etched on your face before your hand took over his and gently laid it flat on your belly. "We don't need to visit a doctor, sweetie."

Jaehyun blinked twice, unable to process what was happening. You laughed, thinking how it was cute to see him be confused.

"Jae...sweetie, you do the math. Our son heard me throwing up in the bathroom and panicked over nothing. It isn't because I'm sick...no." Your other hand came up to cup Jaehyun's jaw before continuing, "I'm just having a baby."

Jaehyun gasped when everything fell into place, the pieces that were once broken together had made a bigger and clearer picture for him to understand the situation better. "Holy fuck...you mean, that you-"

"Yeah." You bit your lower lip and grinned as you saw your husband's mouth gaping. "Surprise?"

"Baby, oh my gosh." He immediately hugged you close, his arms wrapping around you while pulling you flush against his chest. He could not describe the happiness he felt when he found out about your pregnancy.

"I was going to tell you but I guess your son ruined it with his screaming." You teased, your arms circled Jaehyun, and returned the hug.

"In his defense, he probably thought his mommy was sick. Isn't that right, buddy?"

You and Jaehyun withdrew the hug when you heard small footsteps approach the bathroom. With curious eyes, Jaewoo stood a little bit away from the two of you and looked up with tears in his eyes. Jaehyun broke into laughter, grinning before reaching out for the toddler and scooped him in his arms.

"Is Mommy sick? She's very sick isn't she?!" Jaewoo cried as he hugged the sides of Jaehyun's face. "I'm scared, daddy."

"Mommy is not sick, Jaewoo." Jaehyun comforted his son. "Mommy is just..."

"Jaewoo, do you want to be a big brother?" You asked, leading your little family into the living room.

Jaewoo is still teary as he rubbed his face on the side of his father's neck and listened attentively to his mother's question. "Mmhmm." He mumbled, nodding. Jaehyun places Jaewoo in the middle of the couch and your son automatically wraps his small arms around you when you sat down. Jaehyun settles on the other end and keeps one of his hands wrapped around yours, his thumb grazing your ring finger gently.

"Mommy is having another baby." You gently tell Jaewoo. You pointed at your belly. "The baby is growing inside of mommy's tummy."

"But why were you sick, mommy?" Jaewoo inquired innocently.

"Mommy ate something and the baby didn't like it. Mommy didn't know that the baby didn't like the food." You explained in a gentle tone.

"So, you threw it out?" Jaewoo tilted his head, asking. "You shouldn't have eaten it then, mommy."

"Next time I'll ask the baby what they want to eat." You nodded in response.

"And the baby is fine now?"

"Yup, the baby is perfectly fine now." You replied with a smile.

"Pinky swear?" Jaewoo smiled cheekily as he put his tiny finger on yours.

"Yup, we'll all be fine." You brushed some strands of your son's hair away and rested a hand on your stomach.

"Mommy, can I help watch the baby?" Jaewoo asks. You glance up at Jaehyun, meeting your husband's soft and loving gaze.

"Do you promise to help look after your baby brother or sister?" Jaehyun continues. Jaewoo nods fervently, excited at the idea of having someone smaller to protect and dote on.

"Mommy and daddy would really appreciate the help, baby," you tell him, smoothing down his hair once more. "Are you excited?"

"Yes, mommy. I am!" Jaewoo claps, wiggling his small body as he bounces on the couch. You could tell how enthusiastic he is to be the 'big' brother of the new baby, his tiny smile, the way he spoke.

Jaehyun leaned over his son's head, making a funny face that caused his son to fall back laughing. Then, he planted a kiss on his head, looking up at you with the fondest expression ever. His palm cupped your cheek, giving you a soft smooch.

"Thank you, Y/N."

"For what, Mr Jeong?"

"For marrying me, giving birth to our son, and being my forever companion. Thank you for always standing by my side."

“I love you Jaehyun.” You clutch his hand.

“I love you too.” Jaehyun gently taps the tip of your nose, kissing the side of your forehead while placing an arm behind you and Jaewoo. Your family's laughter resounded across the quiet residence, warm and wholesome.

#kvanity #ksmutsociety #nct #nct 127 #nct dojaejung #nct stories #nct imagines #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct jaehyun #jeong jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jaehyun #jaehyun smut #jaehyun x reader

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lovebugism · 5 months

Note

hi bug! Can I request you a ditzy or shy!reader where some girl flirts with Steve in front of her maybe at Family Video? Little angsty because she feels insicure of herself? Thank you🩷

ty for requesting!! — steve doesn't realize he's being flirted with because he's so in love with you (ditzy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, 1.6k)

You color in a scribbled heart with enough vigor to break the pink crayon in your hand.

Steve always hangs your drawings in his locker in the Family Video break room, so you tend to take your art pretty seriously. ‘Cause there’s absolutely nothing humorous about the two stick figures holding hands — each of them vaguely resembling the both of you — that you’re passionately scribbling behind the front counter.

He’d watch you work your magic on a piece of lined scrap paper if he could. He’s too busy tending to a regular now. Mia, he thinks, or maybe Maia. She rents movies every week, but according to the system, she doesn’t watch a single one of them.

“Well, what do you recommend?” she questions with a smirk on her painted lips, leaning her elbows on the counter until her chest juts out.

Steve leans slowly backward and tries not to cough at the overwhelming scent of her fruity perfume. “Uh… I don’t know,” he answers with an unenthusiastic shrug. “I usually just watch whatever.”

The girl squints her dolled-up eyes. “You don’t have a favorite movie?”

Steve ponders the question for a moment. ‘Cause he doesn’t have one, really. All his favorite films are your favorites because he spends the majority of movie nights watching you instead.

So, at a loss of how to answer, he tells her your first choice. “The Star Wars movies are pretty alright.”

“Do you have them here?” she wonders.

Steve nods and points her in the other direction. “Yeah. In the Sci-Fi section.”

“Can you show me?” the girl questions with a hopeful glint in her pale eyes. Everything about her sparkles with mischief, like a predator hunting for prey. Stealthy, like a ninja, Steve would’ve called the approach a couple years ago. Long before he found you.

He’s more into forthright proclamations of love these days — bubblegum pink lipstick stains pressed to his cheek and handmade pictures drawn in crayon.

But, for the sake of Keith totally reaming him for not helping a customer, Steve nods and rounds the front counter. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Follow me,” he urges halfheartedly, sparing you a forlorn glance as he goes. You’re much too distracted to see it, though.

You’re too distracted to notice most things, really.

That’s why Robin’s angrier than you are about the whole thing. She exhales a big huff and stands across from you, peering over the tower of tapes there. “God, he’s so oblivious,” she groans.

Your hand freezes as you color in Steve’s vest. You glance up at her with wide eyes, heart sinking at the annoyed look on her freckled features. “Huh?”

“Steve. That girl’s been drooling over him for five minutes, and he hasn’t even realized.”

Your brows pinch. “What girl?”

“The one that’s hanging all over him,” Robin answers, nodding her head to the other side of the store. The girl in question lingers at Steve’s side, a little too close to be casual. She hangs on every word he says — which certainly can’t be a whole lot, considering he knows next to nothing about that Star Wars franchise.

“I thought she was just being nice,” you shrug.

“She was flirting with your boyfriend,” Robin corrects in a monotone. “It was disgusting. I’m pretty sure her flirt got all over my pants.”

You look back at the two across the room. Steve tenses when the pretty redhead presses her chest against his arm. For the sake of not making things totally awkward, he forces himself not to shrink away. What had seemed virtually innocuous to you now makes your stomach ache.

“She’s so pretty…” you observe quietly to yourself.

Robin only scoffs. “Yeah. If you’re into girls like that.”

You don’t know exactly what she means, but it makes you lean slightly forward in interest anyway. “Do you think… Do you think Steve’s into girls like that?”

“No,” Robin answers, features twisted like it’s obvious. “He’s into girls like you.”

For the first time ever, you find that slightly hard to believe. Why would Steve ever pick you over someone like her? The way she smiles is pretty. The way she laughs is pretty. Even the way she talks is pretty.

And what do you have? A couple of stupid crayon portraits?

A strange feeling sears your chest when Steve and the pretty girl walk back to the counter. He must’ve told her a joke or something ‘cause she tips back her head to laugh loudly in response. Jealous tears sting your eyes accordingly. You take your art and your box of dull crayons and scurry off to the break room.

“I can help you check out!” Robin offers, suddenly very chipper.

The redhead’s face twists. “Oh. I thought that—”

“Steve’s needed in the breakroom, actually,” Robin tells her when the stranger’s pleading eyes flit to the boy beside her. “I can handle it from here.”

“Wait— What’s in the breakroom?” he wonders obliviously.

“Your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve blinks once. The sudden lack of your presence makes his chest ache. He stalks off to find you without another word.

The redhead, Mia or Maia or whatever, doesn’t bother to disguise the shock painting her dainty features. “Girlfriend?” she echoes, quiet with disbelief.

Robin nods and takes the tapes from her hands, knowing she’s only renting them ‘cause she thought Steve liked them. The scanner beeps as she rings them up. “Yeah. He’s kinda in love with her, turns out. It’s disgusting.”

The conversation fades the further Steve gets down the hall. He opens the door to the back room with a grating squeak. The rusted hinges screech again in protest when he swings it shut behind him. He finds you slouched over the table, vehemently scribbling with vibrantly colored crayons.

He can’t help but smile at the sight of you. “Whatcha doin’?” he lilts in place of a greeting, sliding back a chair to sit across from you.

“Nothin’…” you mutter distantly.

Steve folds his arms over the tabletop and rests his chin on top of them. It bobs with every word. “Why’d you leave me, huh?”

You shrug with a faint I don’t know type of sound.

“Can I see what you’re drawing, at least?”

He grins and reaches for you without thinking — because you always let him see. Needless to say, when flinch suddenly away from him, it scares him far more than it should. You scramble to cover the paper with your arms like you’re doing something wrong.

“No,” you answer in a mousy voice.

A chuckle spills from Steve’s mouth. “What? Why? You always show me.”

“It’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid! I love when you draw stuff for me,” the boy insists with a lopsided smile, distantly surprised by your sheepishness. The pretty pink grin slips from his mouth at the crestfallen glint in your eye. He softens without thinking. “What’s wrong? What happened? Did— Did Robin say something?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

You avert your eyes from his prying ones, feeling half-suffocated beneath his honeyed gaze. You start to color again with an absentminded hand, if only to have something else to look at. “You’re just…” you trail off, shifting uncomfortably in your chair. “You’re too pretty.”

He laughs before he means to. “What?”

“You’re pretty, and I don’t like that other people get to look at you,” you confess quietly, coloring in Steve’s hair with the ‘deep golden’ crayon. “It’s not fair— No one else should think you’re as beautiful as I do. I don’t like that.”

Steve props his chin on his palm and hides his grin behind his fingers. He reaches for your busy hand with his free one to get your attention. “Well, you know what?” he starts when your eyes flit up to his. “You’re the only one I want looking at me. So what everyone else thinks doesn’t really matter.”

“It is when they’re drooling all over you,” you answer with a scrunched nose.

Steve can’t help but scoff out a laugh. Those words have Robin Buckley written all over them.

“Last I heard, Rob was giving that girl what for, so… you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he tells you, both to soothe the misplaced jealousy and to make you smile. He thinks it only half works. “Can I tell you a secret?”

You perk up at that. Steve grins and leans in close like he’s about to confess something serious. His dark eyes twinkle with mischief.

“I’m so stupid in love with you that I forget other girls exist sometimes,” he murmurs in true secret-spilling fashion. “And when they’re… drooling all over me? I don’t even see it. ‘Cause all I’m thinking about is how I have my own girl back home. And that I’d much rather have her drooling on me.”

“…Am I the girl?” you press in a tiny voice, just to be sure.

“Yes, baby, I’m talking about you,” Steve chuckles. “You should know that— You’rethe one drooling on my pillow every morning.”

Your nose scrunches sheepishly. “You’ve said that word too many times… It doesn’t sound real anymore.”

“What’s that called again?”

“Semantic satiation,” you answer without missing a beat.

“Well, now I’m gonna tell you I love you ’til you’re semantically satiated,” the boy teases with a knowing squint in his eyes. “‘Cause I love you.”

“Steve.”

“I love you.”

“Stop,” you say, sterner now, though your gaze still glimmers with something soft. Your eyes follow his form when he rises from the table, shifting the short distance to sit in the chair closest to you. “Steve, stop—”

“I love you,” he repeats, anyway, taking you into his arms and smacking a dramatic kiss to your warm cheek. Between each innocuous peck, he mumbles, “I love you— I love you— I love you—”

Steve doesn’t stop kissing you until he hears you giggling again. The pretty sound brightens the dull breakroom. And all he can think about is what a lucky schmuck he is. To get to kiss you and make you laugh forever.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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uzurakis · 4 months

Note

hi hi it’s me again!! (yes I’m the nonnie w/the stalker request + ‘my friend thinks ur cute’ request :3) I’m here to request again!! reckless!reader with jjk men (yuta n Megumi yk the deal 🙏🙏) + bonus points if reader hides their injuries too! maybe reader was on a mission; got injured and didn’t tell jjk men, or reader was playing around on a frozen lake not giving af and it begins to crack, or reader straight up doesn’t look both ways while crossing the street n act like they have 9 lives (yuta ptsd fr 😭), or anything you wanna come up with :3 do what you like!

HIDING YOUR INJURIES FROM THEM?

featuring: gojo satoru. fushiguro megumi. yuuta okkotsu. itadori yuuji.

n. i sure know the deal my beloved meguyuta nonnie (imma call u dat instead). i decided to go with the first idea of yours, i hope that’s okay!

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. you returned from a challenging mission, your body aching with every step. despite the pain gnawing at you, you plastered on a smile as you entered the room where megumi was waiting. he looked up, concern etched across his features.

fushiguro megumi has the term ‘worry’ in his vocabulary. he immediately called out, "you…” without saying any ‘hey’s or ‘hi’s, you were able to cut him off with your response.

"it went alright, just a few scrapes," you replied, trying to downplay the severity of your injuries

but megumi wasn't fooled. his brows furrowed as he approached you, his eyes scanning your form. “you’re lying,” megumi grabbed your wrist firmly as he looked straight into your eyes. "those 'scrapes' look more like serious wounds," he said, you could literally hear him edged with frustration.

you swallowed, guilt creeping into your chest. "i’m fine," you confessed, avoiding his gaze and breaking free from his grip.

megumi sighed, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. "you're injured, and you’re still trying to hide it from me? seriously?" he scolded, frustration becoming more evident.

“fine then.”

he looked away, and you felt a twinge of regret at the way he responded. but then there was a change in his attitude. as he reached for the first aid kit, his demeanor softened and his irritation vanished. silently, he whispered, "let's get you patched up," megumi’s voice was soft yet stiff.

as he tended to your wounds in silence, the tension in the room dissipated. his touch was tender, his movements careful as he bandaged your injuries. when he finished, he looked up, green pupils meeting yours.

"you make me worry, you know that?"

ITADORI YUUJI. you stumbled through the door, trying to hide the wince as pain shot through your side. itadori was waiting, his eyes lighting up as he saw you, but then furrowing with concern as he noticed your slight limp.

"baby, you're back! how did it go?" he asked.

you forced a smile, trying to brush off the pain. "good, thank god it was just a second grade curse," you replied, hoping he wouldn't see through your facade.

your boyfriend, though, remained unconvinced. "are you sure you're alright? you’re limping.”

you hesitated, but his genuine concern melted away your resolve. you felt bad for keeping it from him, but at last you said, "well, there might be a small injury, but it's nothing serious."

instantly, itadori's expression softened, and he wrapped you in a tight hug that made you let out a small ouch. "don't hide these things from me," his breath warm against your ear. “let me help you tend your injuries, baby. do you need shoko or just an aid kit?”

GOJO SATORU. the mission had been tougher than anticipated, but you knew gojo would worry if he saw how badly you were hurt. so you played pretend and hoped it would be enough. gojo was lounging on the couch, one arm draped over the backrest, his usual smirk playing on his lips. his eyes, hidden behind his pitch black glasses, seemed to twinkle as he looked up at you. "oi, you're back earlier than i expected."

you nodded, keeping your movements slow and controlled. "yeah, managed to wrap things up quicker than i thought." he tilted his head, a curious glint in his eye. "really? no trouble at all?"

"none," you lied, forcing a laugh. "just the usual."

gojo's smile faltered, just for a second, but you caught it. he stood up and sauntered over to you, his gaze never leaving your face. "hey, you know," he began, voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone, "i can see right through you, babe. you're hurt."

"i'm okay, satoru. really."

he reached out, gently but firmly taking your arm. "don't lie to me." his fingers brushed against a particularly sore spot, and you winced despite yourself. “look?”

"satoru, i didn't want you to worry—“

he cut you off, his grip tightening just enough to keep you still without causing more pain. "hm, too late for that, baby," he said with a mix of irritation and concern. "let me take care of you."

you sighed, realizing there was no point in hiding it anymore. "okay, but just... be gentle, alright?"

he led you to the couch, his touch surprisingly tender as he helped you sit down. "i'm always gentle," he teased, but his eyes were serious as he examined your injuries. "you should've told me right away."

YUUTA OKKOTSU. he eyed you for a moment, his smile fading slightly. "babe, you alright? you seem a bit... off."

"just tired. it's been a long day." you waved a hand dismissively, nothing to worry, you wanted to tell him that.

yet, yuuta's gaze still lingered on you, eyes narrowing slightly. "alright," he said slowly, "if you say so."

you made your way to the bathroom, trying to move naturally despite the pain. you thought you had managed to convince him, but as you stood in front of the stall, trying to remove your clothes without aggravating your injuries, the man appeared in the doorway.

"let me help you with that," he said softly, moving to stand beside you.

you blinked, surprised. "yuuta, really, i'm fine. you don't have to—”" then he gently took your hand, eyes full of concern. "please, let me help you tend your wounds, babe.”

thinking again, you hadn't said anything about being hurt, but somehow he knew. "how did you..”

your boyfriend smiled faintly. "i could tell. i know you too well." his fingers brushed lightly over a bruise that was starting to show through your shirt. "you don't have to hide it from me."

you sighed, feeling a mix of relief and resignation. "i just didn't want you to worry."

yuuta shook his head, his expression tender. "i worry more when you try to hide things from me. so don’t do it again, you hear me, babe?”

@uzurakis

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queenimmadolla · 7 months

Text

𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐌𝐞

(A Lisa Frankenstein, Eddie Munson AU)

next ┊ 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Summary: After a series of unfortunate events in your life, and lonelier than ever, you often turn to a dead guy and his tombstone for comfort. Never in your wildest, fucked up dreams did you imagine he’d turn to you for the same thing, but you find yourself hiding a living corpse, bringing him further to life, reaping some justice, and cutting off a lot of body parts all while trying to fit in and falling in love.

a/n: Part One is here! Just want to say thank you to my friends for hearing me rant and rave about Lisa Frankenstein for weeks now, though I’ve been unbearable with this concept in my head. This will be the longest chapter, just to establish some stuff, but we’ll get to the slaying! Hope you love Undead!Zombie!Eddie as much as I do. Happy reading! (p.s.,there will be some romantic smut in a later part)

Chapter warnings: a bit steve harrington x reader, some eddie munson x other female, death of a family member, brief description of SA (bordered with RED DIVIDERS if you’d like to skip), mistreatment of Reader, suicidal ideation (reader just has dark humor), implied murder, very campy, very cunty.

THEN, 1986.

“Where you head’n too so in a hurry, boy?” Wayne Munson asked, sat on the couch with a mug of steaming hot coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other as he watched his nephew bounce around the trailer, grabbing all of the the items he let haphazardly around.

Wayne always told him to pick up his things, but like the rambunctious boy he was, there was no breaking out of his messy habits.

“I got people to see, pops. Things to do. Trouble to ‘cause, cops to anger, you know the drill.” Eddie didn’t even need to turn around to know his uncle was scowling but he was proven correct when he turned to throw his father figure a shit eating grin over his shoulder, “Kidding, old man. Mom had me baptized when I was a baby, remember? I can do no wrong, like Achilles.”

“Wha’?”

“Ugh, dad. If I have to explain the joke, it ruins it. I’ll be back by dinner, alright?”

Wayne fixed him with a pointed look, “You best be on your best behavior, you hear me?”

“Always.” Eddie gave a mock salute before dipping out the front door, still grinning as he tossed the keys of the van and caught them midair.

While he wasn’t necessarily going to cause trouble, he certainly would be providing the fun grass, powder and pills that were often behind it. Eddie knew Wayne was aware of what he did, had implied so when talking about how he knew Eddie was a good kid, just living in the wrong circumstances sometimes. Always said he wanted nothing but the best for his boy and for Eddie to realize he was meant for more than what this particular town forced on him.

Made Eddie’s chest tight, but seeing things like the broken patio board—Eddie had accidentally stomped through it after seeing a spider—reinforced Eddie’s belief that he’d much rather help out any way he could than let his uncle bear the financial weight of providing for him.

The van roared to life, after sputtering for a good seven seconds, and Eddie revved the engine a little. As he let her warm up, something in the side mirror caught his attention.

Someone.

Sheila. His neighbor in the trailer across the street. She was hauling a box to a car, looked rather heavy and Eddie would have dropped everything to scramble over and help her, had it not been for Mr.Brawn at her side.

Eddie watched as the guy, who stole the girl he was in love with right out of his arms, grabbed the box. The two lovers exchanged words which ended with them laughing at something as she followed him to the car.

He slid the box into the packed car as she climbed into the passenger seat, and before Eddie knew it, he was watching her drive away, right out of his life forever.

Eddie hadn’t even realized he was clutching his steering wheel so tight, his knuckles were straining against the skin, hot tears pooling at his waterline but he refused to let them fall. He’d shed more than enough tears over her, over what could have been.

They started off so promising; throwing flirty waves from their bedroom windows, occasionally at school, before she approached him for weed. After that, came the whirlwind romance and Eddie hadn’t considered himself a romantic before—hadn’t had a whole lot of opportunities to make that discovery but he was so fucking romantic. A big sap. And he wasn’t ashamed of it.

Until she’d graduated, and he hadn’t. Again. Turns out, not trying at academics all year and then aiming to ace finals wasn’t enough.

Suddenly, all the bullshit naive plans they had to run away somewhere far from Hawkins weren’t possible. At least, Sheila couldn’t with Eddie.

He lost her to a guy in another band, had made the mistake of taking a piss after he and Corroded Coffin performed to their tiny ass crowd, and had come back to see her talking to the keyboardist of the band that had gone on before them. She looked entranced, leaning forward to hang on to whatever the fuck he was saying. When Eddie had gone over to ask her if she was ready to head out, fully prepared to tuck her under his arm and way from the keyboardist, she’d insisted and told him to his face, in front of his apparent competition, that she was gonna stick around a little longer and he should head out without her.

He’d spent the entire night pacing in front of his window, glancing out of it every five minutes and every time he heard a pair of wheels turn onto the dirt road. Eddie got his confirmation when his car happened to be one of them. He’d watched, heart splintering, as the keyboardist got out of the car and walked around to open her door for her before they disappeared into her trailer. Eddie knew her dad worked nights. Knew what she and that musician were doing and he’d thrown up the entire contents of his stomach at the imagery before passing out.

Eddie woke up to Sheila hovering above him and framed by the glow of the bathroom light like some angel. She’d dumped him right there and left the spare key he’d trusted her with on the table.

And now, she was living her dream with someone else while Eddie got to stick around this shitty town with these people who could barely stand him for no reason (and yeah, okay, maybe he’d poke their buttons). In truth, while he was a little heartbroken over her, it was the fact that she still got her happy ending that hurt the most.

The girls around Hawkins might have been interested in maybe hooking up with him, but they weren’t interested in being Eddie’s girl. Weren’t interested in falling stupid in love with him, making plans to start a life together. Didn’t want him in their plans.

Eddie Munson was lonely. And it sucked.

With a heavy sigh, he cranked on the radio, fingers twisting the volume dial up to the most obnoxious level before shifting the gear to drive.

“It’ll get better, Munson. Love ain’t no stranger.” He mumbled, sucking on his teeth and pulling out on the road.

If he had known then where it would lead him, where the night would take him, he would have at least hugged his uncle. It would be the last time he saw him, and it would be the last time Wayne Munson saw his nephew alive.

Three days later, he’d be identifying and weeping over his boy’s body in the morgue after reporting Eddie missing when he didn’t come home.

NOW, 1989

“Where are you going? It’s almost time for breakfast.” Chrissy called out, head poking out from her bedroom as she watched you race down the hall.

“Not hungry! I’ll be back soon!” You called over your shoulder, the large sheet of craft paper wrinkling in your hand as you took the stairs two at a time before bounding down the short entryway.

You’d almost crossed the foyer and then slammed yourself back against the wall as you saw Laura, Chrissy’s mom, fiddling with something at the table. She had the radio on, some garbage self help tape spewing nonsense to her, and that condescending smile on her face.

Yeah, you’d be avoiding her, lest you wish to be verbally and eloquently belittled. How Chrissy came out of her toxic womb to be such a good person, you’d never understand.

When Laura crossed into the kitchen, you sprinted for the door, fumbling a little with the knob in your urgency, but once you got it open, you were out, running across the walkway and the fencing around the house until you were in the woods behind it.

Only then did you feel safe, the trees a welcome reprieve from your living situation, the magnifying glass this new town had you under, and from the world in general.

You’d come from a small town before Hawkins, so you were used to small town living. But these people were so judgemental. You hadn’t even grabbed a box from the moving van before your neighbors were casting you snide looks, noses turning up and backs to you as they watered their yard and lounged about.

Four months later, nothing had changed. If anything, they were more open with their disdain for you, commenting on your demeanor (and you were a cool fucking person), outfits, hair, body. It was annoying. They were annoying. EVERYTHING was annoying.

You didn’t even want to be there but you had no real choice. You’d graduated high school a couple of years ago and despite the popular teenage notion that you’d simply pack up your things, go to college and be successful at whatever career you wanted, life did not happen like the movies. The freedom you’d been promised by your own delusions never came. That bitch came with a hefty price tag and you weren’t exactly jumping into a safe of gold coins like Scrooge McDuck with your minimum wage job.

You’d gotten into several schools of your choice, but scholarships wouldn’t be nearly enough to cover it, and you’d literally have to sell your entire body to science if you wanted to be able to afford the loans you were being offered, since their interest rates were higher than the standard human beings’ lifespan.

So, living with the ‘rents was checked off on your list of things you didn’t want to continue doing past your high school graduation. And hey—you were only 19 years-old! You were still young! Just save up a few years, and maybe one day you’d be able to think about taking a loan. You had time. What could possibly go wrong to throw your plans off?

Your mother was murdered.

Yeah, that was a bummer. Could’ve been worse, you supposed. You could have died with her, when your home had been broken into, and sometimes you wish you had. Alas, you were still breathing, albeit extremely traumatized. But only good ol’ mom was six feet in the ground, in an entirely different town, because your father had also moved on a mere few months after her death, with the worst woman to leave flaming footprints on the earth’s crust, and they’d eloped after like six dates before moving you to a town where you knew no one.

Thinking about it actually made you sick and feel a little delusional.

The only real good thing about your entire soap opera of a year was the community college you’d been able to enroll in. You had no real idea what you wanted to do in life, had no real drive for career paths, but you were doing something, and that something kept the she-devil that was your stepmother off your back. Most of the time. Some of the time. She couldn’t say you were a deadbeat yet.

Chrissy, your sweet to a definitive and insensitive fault step-sister had pushed you into going with her for registration. Convinced you it was the perfect way to make some friends. It was hard to say no to Chrissy, she had a way with people and could make the meekest soul feel like they were capable of anything and everything. She could always see the best in people, and she was outgoing. Your time in Hawkins had been brief, but you’d easily gathered Chrissy was popular, a former cheerleader (and she’d successfully tried out for the community college team) and beloved by all. While part of you felt a little jealous at her confidence, you admired her more. She was never intentionally mean to you, either. She made the occasional comment, but it seemed like Chrissy had more so a filter problem, rather than spitting anything out with sugar coated hostility like her mother. Chrissy was...nice. After everything you've been through, you could use a little nice in your life.

And sometimes nice was also the woods behind your house, as it led to the Hawkins’ Cemetery.

Morbid, sure, but you couldn’t help yourself. After a particularly nasty encounter with Laura the first week of your Hawkins sentence, and feeling lonelier than you’d ever felt before, you’d gone for a walk, tears decorating your face with wet trails as you tried to physically hold yourself together, arms wrapped around yourself.

You’d arrived at the cemetery, and because you couldn’t pay your mother a visit, you decided the only decent thing to do was visit other lonely souls.

You’d stopped to pay your respects to just about every tombstone and plaque, but one in particular caught your attention.

Tucked away in a corner and separate from the other graves, under a weeping willow, was the most damaged tombstone of them all. Parts of it were broken off, a lot of the information pertaining to the individual underneath it was seemingly grated off. You had no idea who it was, the only remaining legible letters were MUN and you figured it was he simply because you’d taken some paper to the tombstone for etching and ran a black crayon over it. You’d been able to make out the word ‘he’ on the paper and deduced it had once read may he rest in peace.

The state of his tombstone surprised you, given how recent the date of death was. While his birth date had also been worn away, the year of death—1986–had been left. It was 1989. No way his grave should’ve looked like that.

Apparently, even the groundskeeper avoided his part of the cemetery. The grass around his grave was overgrown, and pitiful. So, you’d gone home, grabbed the lawn mower, and pushed it all the way over. You’d ended up disgusting, covered in grass, dirt and sweating like a cheater on a Sunday morning, but his grave was looking better. You’d taken to caring for his grave after that. A bunch of your trinkets and things you'd seen that you immediately thought he’d like surrounded him now and you’d even planted some bluebells.

He also made surprisingly good conversation, even though he never talked to you. His presence, while mostly imaginary to you, was comforting.

So, during any free time you had, you were sat against his tombstone, chatting about your day, life, whatever you wanted. Felt like he was always listening, no matter the subject and it was really lovely to be heard.

When you arrived at the cemetery, it was practically vacant, with just the red headed girl you normally saw. You didn’t see her all the time, she was just one of the faces you saw the most, and that was only a handful of occasions. For the most part, Hawkins didn’t seem keen on remembering the dead.

“Hope you haven’t been lonely without me,” You greeted as you approached his tombstone, ducking under a few low hanging willow branches that still brushed over you anyways. You’d have to ‘borrow’ Laura’s shears soon, the willow tree was hauntingly beautiful around his grave, but you wanted its branches and leaves to frame his grave, not conceal it, “I missed you.”

It was a little odd, but you did.

When you weren’t at his grave, you were thinking about him, trying to put a face to MUN, wondering what his life had been like. Did he have any loved ones? What had his interests been? How had he died? Had he felt as lonely as you did?

“I know, I know.” You settled onto the grass in front of his tombstone, securing the craft paper to his tombstone with some masking tape, “I was just here last night.” You imagined he would say.

“I just can’t stay away from you. You have a very intriguing aura: I can’t see it because you’re dead, and that makes me want to know you more.” You pulled a black crayon from your pocket and went about scribbling on the paper, over where you knew MUN would be etched in stone, “I’ve said it a million times, and you’ve probably turned over in your coffin repeatedly because of it, but you’re the only one who understands me. And you’re the only one here that I care about—probably in the whole world actually, except maybe Chrissy but I know her friends think I’m weird, and I don’t want to drag her down with me.”

Once the letters appeared on the paper, you sprawled out STER and you dropped the crayon to produce a pretty hot pink marker from your pocket instead, signing your name with a little heart to go with it just above the last name you’d crafted for him.

The odds of this dude being a Munster were slim to none, but you thought it was fitting for someone who lived in a cemetery.

You sat back on your haunches to admire it, it was a cute piece. Would look nice on your wall and whenever you missed him and found yourself longing to be near his grave, all you’d have to do is turn on your side and you'd be able to see part of him.

You ripped the paper off his tombstone, and weighed it down on the grass with a rock. With that out of the way, you gave him your full attention, shuffling until your head and shoulder were leaning against the stone, “Would you wanna be dragged down with me? Be seen with me? I’m somewhat of a pariah around here. Did you have better luck when you were still kicking?”

You figured with how fucked up his tombstone had been, probably not. You imagined he’d confirm it, too. Just out right say, ‘Nah, these assholes hated me.’

“Yeah, looks like we’re two peas in a pod.” Then you glanced down, fingers, twirling the blades of grass over his grave, “Or, you know. Casket.”

You let silence fall over you, broken only by the chirping of birds in surrounding trees.

“Goddamit, why do you have to be dead?” Your eyelids fluttered close, and instead of the cold stone, you imagined your head pressed against a warm chest, rising and falling with breaths, and a heartbeat thumping strong below your ear, pushing blood throughout his body. Imagined he was alive, arms slipping around you, firm and strong to hold you together so you didn't have to anymore.

But he wasn’t, and you were reminded when the groundskeeper shouted, “HEY!”

You shot up, glancing around until you saw him by the entrance with a leaf blower, “YOU AWAKE?”

What kind of a dumbass question was that? Sure, it had looked like you were asleep but you were clearly alert now.

“YEAH!” You shrieked back to be heard, and he went back to not caring.

“He can see me leaning against your tombstone, but he can’t see overgrown grass, weeds, rocks, or your grave in general when I’m not here. Men, always so selective, amirite?”

You glanced at the stone, half expecting it to respond. “Eh, what do you know, you’re just a man, too.” You reached your arm back, knuckles trailing over MUN.

“Despite you mouthing off to me most of the time, I brought you something.” You reached into your other pocket and pulled out a necklace, lined with black pearls and a cross pendant. It had been your mother’s. While she had a pension for religion, it wasn’t something you thought about. Dying, sure, but whatever afterlife? Not so much. Felt wrong, sometimes, to carry it around with you—felt like you were disrespecting her a little bit to not believe what she did, even though she had no qualms with it when she was alive. So, you figured why not trust it with the other important person in your life?

“Pretty, huh? It was my mom’s. She’s dead, like you. You wouldn’t happen to have seen her around, would you?” You joked, fingers stroking over the pearls. There was no risk in leaving them with your dead friend, people avoided him and you had a feeling even grave robbers wouldn’t dare step near the willow, so they’d probably be with him for the rest of eternity, “I want you to have them, take care of them for me.”

You placed the necklace over the peak of his tombstone, smiling when they didn’t fall from their place, “Mm, you look good in them. Better than I do, I’m not big on pearls. More of a silver jewelry kind of girl. I could do gold and diamonds, though, only for a wedding ring.”

You held your arm out, admiring your ring hand void of any actual rings, “Nothing too gaudy, of course. That’s what my earrings are for.”

Your eyes trailed from your outstretched fingers, to your wrist, and the watch decorating it. The time made you heave a heavy sigh, “I gotta go. Chrissy’s dragging me to a party tonight, so I’ve got to mentally prepare for that. You’ll think of me while I’m away, won’t you?”

Trailing a finger down the stone, you leaned forward to press your lips to it in a sweet kiss.

“I’ll be back soon, and this time I won’t forget my book of sonnets. I know how much you love the cynical poems I force on you.”

And though you announced your departure, you found it hard to leave him, like you always did. It took all you had to gather your crayon, marker, and your new poster (and you kept dropping all three to have an excuse to linger) and leave the cemetery behind, glancing back impulsively every couple of steps until it was no longer in view, and the moment it wasn’t you wanted to drop everything and run back to him.

You had to remind yourself he was a stranger, who didn’t care for you, rotting in the ground. And it sucked.

“I don’t wanna go.” You announced, staring into the bathroom mirror you shared with Chrissy. You’d just finished your makeup, eyes heavily lined, and lashes coated an electric blue that made your eyes pop. You were always a little heavy handed with your makeup, you figured the whole point of it was to use it as you wanted. Your hair had been manipulated to hell and back, but regardless of what you did, you were unsatisfied with the girl staring back at you, “I’ll just stay home.”

“Not on my watch!” Chrissy declared, reaching in front of you for her pink lipstick. The bathroom counter was littered with your combined beauty products, “This is the first major rager of the year, the perfect social gathering. You need to meet people, sissy.”

You scowled at the idea, “I have met people.”

Chrissy tubed the lipstick bullet, rubbing her lips together as she gave you a concerned side-eye, “People who like you, sissy.”

Ouch, there’s that brutal honesty.

“It’s not good for you to be on your own all the time,” She set the lipstick down so she could place a dainty hand on your shoulder, big blue eyes focused on you, “I worry about you. Daddy and mom worry about you. Your doctor worries about you. You need to get out more.” Chrissy stressed, pink lips pulling into a reassuring smile before she went back to focusing on the mirror and her makeup.

You let out a heavy sigh, mulling her words over. Definitely could have been phrased better, but Chrissy was right. You were currently the town recluse, and occupying your room and the town cemetery wouldn’t change that.

“That blush isn’t the right shade for you, sissy.” Chrissy broke you from your thoughts and your eyes drifted back over to your reflection, the girl looking so unsure and right back at you, “You really have to accentuate your features, compliment them, because you’re already beautiful.”

Didn’t feel like it.

Your expression must have given your inner thoughts away because Chrissy turned to you again, practically bouncing, “Wait a minute, you could use my tanning bed!”

You deadpanned at the mention of the ridiculous full on salon tanning bed that Chrissy owned. There was a dedicated mini garage in the backyard for it, next to the pool, and complete with neon lights, her beauty pageant trophies and sashes as well as her cheer trophies. The PG&E bill was always through the roof for the Tan Shack alone, and you still had no idea how Laura could afford it.

“No, Chrissy I-I don’t think that would work on me. At all.”

Chrissy waved off your concerns, “It’s not about the tan, or even if you can tan. It’s the experience. When I lay in that tanning bed, with those little goggles on my eyes and I can hear the buzzing, I feel myself blooming. Regardless of whether or not my skin actually tans,” It didn’t. Chrissy burned but she somehow still looked good, “I feel amazing about myself.”

“Are you sure that’s not cancer?”

“You’re so funny!” Chrissy laughed even though you were being serious, “Sissy, every girl deserves to feel beautiful. If I can provide you with an experience that might raise those confidence levels that are dragging across a nail-covered floor right now, why wouldn’t I?”

Your eyebrows furrowed, trying to decipher if that was a compliment or not, but you didn’t have long to mull it over before Chrissy was framing your face with her hands.

“And I can. Please, let me do this.”

You groaned, long and drawn out and awkward, before squeezing your eyes shut and slowly nodding your head. She squealed, clapped her hands together and dragged you out of the bathroom.

After explaining how it all worked, Chrissy bid you a cheerful goodbye and left you to your own devices so she could finish getting ready for the night ahead of you both.

You’d selected your tan level, positive you wouldn’t see any real results but maybe the ‘experience’ would benefit you and shed your fuzzy slippers and robe, leaving you in some boy shorts and a tank top as you tried to settle yourself in the tanning bed. The dip was awkward, and you couldn’t get a good grasp on the top of the tanning bed since it was meant to only open and close rather than stay in position so grasping onto it for balance as you lowered yourself in led to you conking yourself on the head with a noticeable bonk.

You hissed in pain, rubbing the sore area as you clambered the rest to the way in. Once you’d stretched your legs out, lowered the top, maneuvered the goggles over your face and waited for the magic to happen as you were surrounded by neon blue lights.

You heard the buzzing as the tanning bed started up. The magic happened alright. The entire tanning bed shocked you, and you shrieked as you felt the intense electric current ripple throughout your body, sparking every single pore in the worst way possible.

“I’m so sorry you got electrocuted, sissy.”

Chrissy broke the silence as you sulked in the passenger seat, your hair a little bigger than normal and not a result of styling. After getting all five senses shocked out of you, you’d come out with a hairdo that would not usually be up to par with you, and some serious case of static electricity. You’d tried to gently press your hair down and when you saw a literal spark in it, you decided to just leave it alone.

Your step-sister had been apologizing since.

“It’s alright. I survived.” And you wanted to forget about it.

You could see Chrissy glancing nervously at you from the corner of your eye as she drove you to the party location.

“So…how are you liking Hawkins Community, so far?” She asked, thankfully changing the subject.

“It’s fine. The campus looks relatively the same as the community college I toured in my old town. Classes are decent.” Pitiful. The classes were so boring and straight out of the book, but it cost you a fraction of a fraction of what you’d have to pay to attend a university.

Chrissy lips turned up in a mischievous smile and you internally groaned, fully expecting her next question.

“See any cute boys?” And then, as an afterthought, “Or…girls?” Then she took her eyes off the road again, squinting at you as if she was trying to assess something, “Or…..anyone?”

You betrayed yourself, eyes darting to the window before they were back on her and she perked up in the driver’s seat.

“Okay, spill.”

Your heart started thumping wildly in your chest as one particular guy came to mind, but you hadn’t thought about him too much. Hadn’t allowed yourself to entertain the idea of a romance with him. That’s how people got their hopes up and letdown.

“Sissy! Sissy, come on. You have to tell me. I’m your only friend!”

This time, you could tell she was joking, even though she did have merit. You bit your lip as she ribbed you a bit more, the corners of your lips tugging up into a smile.

“Okay, okay!” Your hands flew to cover your face, embarrassed, shy and a little giddy all at once to actually be admitting you had a crush.

“Steve Harrington.”

“STEVE HARRINGTON?” She repeated, incredulous and you shushed her even though it was only you two in the car.

“Sissy, that’s so unexpected! I haven’t really seen him since high school but I didn’t think he’d be your type.” Chrissy admitted with a shrug of her shoulders.

“He works in the library.” You sighed out, recalling your brief interactions with him when checking out a couple of books. He’d been kind, made a couple of humorous comments about the titles, and always tried to meet your avoidant gaze, which meant he was being nice to you. Coaxing you out of your shell. You actually didn't have much trouble interacting with people, you were more abrasive than you ever were shy, Steve was just a little too easy on the eyes. Made you forget how to talk, and on occasion, walk. It was embarrassing, “Always makes those cute displays with recommendations.”

“Good for him,” She commented, sounding impressed. “I didn’t really know he was intellectual. Wasn’t, the last I heard. Had a big reputation in high school, seemed kind of mean and everyone called him King Steve.”

You frowned, feeling the need to protect him, “Didn’t they call you the Queen of Hawkins High?”

“Yeah, but only to make me seem pretentious.”

You raised your eyebrows, glancing away. Chrissy was kind, but sometimes, she could be pretentious.

“And anyways, I’m not a student at Hawkins High anymore, so they can’t call me that. Maybe Steve really did change. Come to think of it, I haven’t heard much about him since he struck out with a series of girls. Maybe he took a good look at himself and decided a change was needed.” You could feel her eyes on you again.

“Does he flirt with you?”

“No.”

“See him flirt with any girls?”

“Nope.”

“Does he still make his hair all big and poofy?”

“Looks more voluminous than poofy.”

Chrissy hummed, “An improvement. Is he all beret wearing and drinking coffee now?”

You tried to recall ever seeing him in a hat, let alone a beret, “No, I don’t think so. If anything, he’s introspective.”

“He’s on the spectrum?”

Your smile waned when you realized she was asking a legitimate question, “Oh. No. That’s—that’s not what that means. I just meant he’s thinking about what he does; how he acts, how he behaves.”

It got quiet for a few moments.

”Well,” Chrissy broke the silence once more, “He might be there tonight. I’m not sure if they’re still friends, but Tommy Hagan is hosting tonight, and once upon a time, they were inseparable.”

You made a sound of acknowledgment, upper lip twitching in disgust. You knew Tommy, saw him around campus. He was a big jerk, you’d witnessed him throw some guy’s backpack in the trash and pour his drink on it. You wish you’d known it was his party you were going to in advance. Tommy was a nasty piece of work, so his friend group was the same. Out of all of them, though, Carol got on your nerves the most.

She didn’t pay you a whole lot of attention, but when you were walking in with Chrissy—and this is Chrissy, so she acknowledged everyone—and she said hi, Carol would just look you up and down before pursing her big mouth like she’d sucked on something sour. One day, you’d like to give her your fist to suck on.

”Patrick McKinney is bringing three kegs and I heard Reefer Rick is bringing his whole inventory.”

“Reefer Rick?”

“Yeah, he’s the local drug dealer now. I mean, he’s always been but he used to have somebody sell for him while he supplied, but he died.”

Your eyes widened while your pupils dilated, mind conjuring up some image of a poor dude being murdered for drugs and then the supplier just taking over, not fearful at all of meeting the same fate, “He died?”

Chrissy nodded her head, looking thoughtful, “Yeah, Eddie Munson.”

Munson.

You sat up in your seat, fully alert and invested in the conversation now, “Eddie Munson? Is he buried under the willow tree in the cemetery?”

You stared at Chrissy, willing her to think faster as she squinted and pursed her lips, “I think Tina mentioned something about someone peeing on a tree over there, so I think so.”

Your mouth dropped open, expression utterly horrified that someone could do that, “That’s beastly, what the fuck?”

“I know,” Chrissy sighed with a shake of her head. “I didn't know him all that much, bought some weed off of him a couple of times and he seemed a little scary—appearance and mannerism wise—but he seemed nice when you had to interact with him. He didn’t deserve that.”

“How did he die?” You asked, voice small and heart shrinking. You didn’t like where this was going. Didn’t like it one bit.

“Well, the official determination, if I remember right, was like a drug deal gone bad or something, but no one really believes it. He was known to have weed on him, kept the harder stuff somewhere else. Everyone knows he was murdered. They did a number on him, it was all everyone could talk about because Sydney Porter couldn’t even get her dad—he worked at the station—to show her pictures. He told her they messed Eddie up bad. People here really didn’t like him. No one knows who did it though.”

You sunk back into your seat, mind troubled and stomach turning. This whole time, you'd been tending to and caring for the grave of a murdered guy, taken from this world simply because people didn’t like him. He must have been so lonely. So scared. And they killed him.

Chrissy was wrong. People in this town knew who killed him, because one of them, or some of them, had to have been his murderers.

Your fingers curled into tight fists, painted nails digging into the flesh of your palms. Chrissy noticed the change in your demeanor.

“Oh, sissy. You’re such an empath. Don’t be so sad, I know it’s a horrible story, but he’s resting now. In peace.”

“No, he’s not. They fucked up his tombstone. He can’t even be dead in peace.” You huffed, furious on his behalf.

“How do you know?” Chrissy asked, raising a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“I go there a lot, it’s nice. Quiet. A little creepy, but that adds to its charm, makes it relatively peaceful. I’ve been visiting all the graves, but I was drawn to him the most. Etched his tombstone. He’s my favorite.”

Despite the horrors you’d learned, the thought of Mun—Eddie, still brought a wistful smile to your lips. Maybe your presence was enough to settle him, bring him a little bit of peace this town and the people in it refused to give him.

“H-He’s your favorite…?”

“Yeah. I feel this….connection with him. From the very first time I visited. Now, I leave him gifts, flowers, pretty stones, poems I wrote, a book of sonnets I stole from the library.”

“You….should talk to your doctor about this, Sissy. That’s really weird. That’s really weird, sissy.”

You fought to not roll your eyes. As much as you cared about Chrissy, and knew she cared about you, she didn’t understand you.

“Well, since people ruined his grave, I thought it might be nice to clean it up and make sure he’s not forgotten.” You snapped, “It’s not like I call him my boyfriend or anything.”

Chrissy eyed you skeptically, “Well, then that’s nice of you, I guess. Just don’t go around telling everybody about that, or you’ll be known as the Ghost Whisperer.”

“He hasn’t talked back to me yet.”

Chrissy laughed, and freed one hand off the wheel to lightly slap your arm, “See, now that’s funny. If you do tell anyone, end it with that joke. You’ll be a riot.”

You smirked, staring out the front windshield. You’d let her think it was a joke. For now.

You made a sound of displeasure as Chrissy pulled into a clear space on the grass and parked. She jumped out to dance over to her friends, some wine coolers cradled in a plastic bag she clutched.

You allowed yourself a full minute to stew in your misery before getting out of the car and following after her. As you neared her group, you quickly realized that was a bad idea.

“Oh my GOD! Vickie, you fixed your teeth! They look so good. I wasn’t gonna say anything because I thought you were happy with the overcrowding, but now that you fixed it, I can’t look away!”

Yeesh. You beelined away from them and wandered around the crowded front lawn, dodging rowdy friend groups and couples until you spotted a cooler.

Maybe a drink would calm you down.

You squatted down and popped the lid, digging around the ice but all you spotted were Pepsi and Squirt cans.

“The liquid fun is inside.” A guy’s voice came from behind you and you rolled your eyes. You were so not in the mood to be hit on right now.

“What?” You asked, tone bored, but you didn’t want to make him seem helpful so you grabbed a Squirt.

“Alcohol. He keeps it inside.”

You slammed the cooler shut and popped the tab of the can, rising to your feet, “Yeah, I figured that mu—shhhh.”

Oh, shit.

Steve Harrington was standing before you, eyes alight with mirth as he smirked down at you.

You swallowed hard, hoping to god your tongue hadn’t gone down with the movement. See? Here you went getting all stupid around him.

”Funny seeing you here.”

You laughed nervously, “Yeah. I—uh, mhm.” You forced yourself to take a drink of your soda to keep from making an even bigger fool of yourself.

“Sorry if it’s weird of me to just walk up to you. I was chilling on the side of the house and thought I saw you, but I’m a little nearsighted and I didn’t bring my glasses.”

You pulled the can away from your mouth as your brain registered the lack of metal frames on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome with and without them, that wasn’t fair. It was still throwing you off.

“It’s—It’s okay. Uhm, no harm done.” You shrugged your shoulders, hoping it looked cool and not as stiff as you felt. You even added in a smile with some teeth for a little razzle dazzle.

“I actually came over here to tell you your books are significantly overdue.” Steve deadpanned, tongue playing with his canine tooth as he scrutinized you and you shrunk, smile falling from your face. You had got to get better at following up on your due dates.

“Oh.”

He scoffed, face breaking out into a grin as his shoulders shook with his chuckles “I’m kidding.”

OH, THANK FUCK.

“Oh,” And then, because every god probably hates you, you started snorting with laughter. You cut that shit quick, clearing your throat as you took another sip of your beverage.

“So,” Steve took a step closer to you, “Are you enjoying─”

“Hey!” Carol stepped right up to Steve, practically leaning all over him as her ruby red lips spread into a seductive smile, eyes lidded and no doubt a few drinks in with a drink for Steve in her hand. For the billionth time that night, you rolled your eyes, trying not to gag at how desperate she was. You knew Tommy had recently dumped her, the entire town knew and now she was clearly trying to get into Steve’s pants, “I found the keg.”

She could eat shit, his pants were yours.

“Oh, Thank you.” Came Steve’s bleak reply and part of you thought he might have actually wanted to talk to just you. Now, you were really annoyed she’d interrupted.

“Hey, Carol.”

Carol looked surprised that you’d even dare speak to her, raising her eyebrows, “Hey. Hi— sorry, how do we know each other?”

“You’re my lab partner.” You were unimpressed, you expected her to be a better mean girl.

“Yay me.” The smile she directed at you was anything but friendly, reminding you of the one Laura would make after you did something in public she didn’t like, but she couldn’t yell at you until you were home. Carol swirled the liquid in her cup around, head tilting as she offered it to you, “You wanna sip, partner?”

“Carol.” Steve warned and she tutted, flicking her wrist.

“You’re right, I don’t know why I assumed she partied.”

“I’ll take a beer,” You could handle alcohol, had cleared your mother’s wine cabinet after she was murdered, so this would be no big deal.

Carol looked annoyed but handed you the cup, and to make sure you wouldn’t gag and vomit, you threw it back, throat opening as you swallowed the liquid as fast as you could to refuse it as much time on your taste buds as possible.

When you lowered the cup, you realized you’d made a mistake and glanced into it at the small amount left behind, watching as the ground in your peripheral view began to shift.

Steve seemed to realize something was wrong, quickly taking your cup and ingesting what was left. His suspicions were confirmed and he spat it out on the grass before scowling at Carol, “PCP? Really, Carol? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why the hell would you give that to her!?”

“Oopsie.”

But it was too late for you. You dropped the soda can in your other hand and lifted your hands to your face, watching the lines around your palms and fingers begin to move, swirling around and you backed away from them, watching as everything around you began to come undone.

“Hey!” You heard a voice next to you and someone started rubbing your back, you hadn’t even realized you were crouching. You craned your head up to see Chrissy and you frowned. Her voice was so different, distorted. She sounded more like your dad than Chrissy.

Her face was both far away and right in front of you, you reached a hand out to test the theory, see if it really was close. Chrissy caught your wrist, frowning at the state you were falling into.

Chrissy started asking you questions, about what you’d taken, what you drank but her voice was too loud for you, and the purple behind her head was distracting. Still, you nodded your head.

At your confirmation, Chrissy’s frown intensified and she helped you to the ground before darting over to chew Steve and Carol out.

You couldn’t stay on the grass for long, the blades of it stabbing you and sending pain shooting up your palms and into your bones so you crawled some distance away before you managed to push yourself up and stumble towards the house. It was hard.

Everything was moving. You heard a loud sound and glanced around wildly until you were staring up at the sky, mouth dropping open to see green clouds and lightning.

You had to get away, the need to escape, be safe was urgent but it felt like the closer you got to the front door, the farther away it went. Your breathing was heavy and panicked as you kept stumbling forward, arm outstretched and finally you reached it.

You yanked it open and nearly fell inside, tripping over your feet until you hit the back of the couch and used it to sink to the floor.

You heard your name being called and lifted your head, eyes crazed as you tried to find the source. Fred Benson approached you, the skinny boy squatting to be eye level with you.

“You okay?” He asked and you reached forward, grasping his face in your hand and squeezing to make sure he was a real person.

“You.” Was all you said, booping his nose but still suspicious of him. Was he real?

“Uh, yeah. It’s me. It’s Fred, we sit next to each other in ASL class.”

He looked like Fred. You still didn’t believe he was human, squinting as your hands grasped at the back of the couch.

“You don’t look so good,” Fred pushed the frame of his glasses up his nose, brows furrowed in concern, “Let's find somewhere for you to sit down for a minute. Or maybe a while. Man, what did you drink?”

He stood up, offering you a hand and you took it but didn’t pull yourself up. Fred heaved with all his might and managed to get you on your feet but he realized just walking you wouldn’t be enough, and so did you because you draped yourself over him, one arm over his scrawny shoulders.

Fred cursed under his breath but held your weight, leading you out of the populated living room and you watched a couple furiously make out on the couch cushions as you passed.

“I hate parties. I don’t know why I came—well, actually I do. I never got invited to these in high school, so I guess I’m living out my fantasy now. In all honesty, I’d much rather be watching Weird Science. So far tonight, I’ve seen three cheerleaders throw up and a baby being conceived.”

“Uh huh,” Was all you could get out, watching people swirl past you like shooting stars.

“Would you count that as escaping the teen pregnancy statistic? I know they’re out of high school, but we’re all still pretty young.” He commented as he led you up the stairs. You tripped several times and almost sent him flying down them but the two of you managed to make it.

Fred was heaving by the time you'd shouldered him into the hallway wall, his face and hands clammy.

”Good god, how did I pass P.E.?” The two of you paused there until he regained his breath while you plastered yourself against the wall, cheek pressed to it and hands stroking over the wallpaper. Eventually, Fred peeled you off of it and kept moving until he could find a place to put you.

“You like movies right? Got any favorite directors? Or favorite films?”

“Wall.”

“Huh? Oh, you’re just admiring the wallpaper.”

“Great Wall of China.”

Fred positioned you against the wall, looking a little annoyed. You didn’t care, could only focus on the framed photo of the Great Wall of China directly across from you.

“Oh.” Was all he said when he spotted it. “Stay right here.”

Then he disappeared and you watched as the painting came to life, and the stones of the wall began moving, rippling. You didn’t even know stones could move like that but now it made so much more sense.

Fred appeared again, tugging you along into an empty room. You spotted a trash can and nearly threw Fred into the bedroom wall as you dove for it, retching everything out of your stomach. You could hear Fred gagging, but he was decent enough to make sure your hair stayed out of your way. When you were done, he helped sit you up on the bed, and nearly collapsed next to you.

”We did it,” he cheered with no real gusto. And you sat there, still feeling the earth orbiting. It was the most odd sensation, you could feel a spot on your brain pulsing, like a migraine but it felt so euphoric to close your eyes.

“Here,” They snapped right back open and you glanced to your side to see Fred offering you a handkerchief. Of course Fred Benson carried around a handkerchief. How amusing.

“Thank you,” You gave the three versions of him you could see right then a smile and used the handkerchief to wipe your mouth, eyelids fluttering close just as the sound of thunder filled the room, and a flashing of lightning accompanied it.

“Huh, a rainless thunderstorm, looks like the angels are bowling.” You heard him muse next to you.

And it brought another smile to your face, “My mom used to say that.”

At the mention of her, your brain conjured up all the happy feelings and memories of her, huddled on your couch, in your old home watching black and white horror films. They didn’t scare her, so she could tolerate them. You missed her. She made you feel so light, so seen, so—no.

Something was wrong. Something felt very, very wrong.

Your smile faded and you felt your belly sink as you opened your eyes.

“Does that feel good?”

You didn’t want to, but you looked down to see Fred’s hand on your breast. Your breathing picked up and Fred let go of you to grab your wrist and force you to touch his crotch, “Well don’t just sit there, help me out. Finish what you started.”

Anger filled you and you yanked your hand away, “No.”

Fred opened his mouth as you got up, rushing away from him and stumbling back out the way you remembered while he yelled at you.

You had to get out, had to get away. Had to be safe, feel safe. You banged against walls as you went, desperate to get out of the house, away from Fred, from everyone, and to safety. That was your only concern as the drug really hit you.

All you could remember was seeing colors, hearing and feeling the wind against your sweaty skin, leaves blowing with it and gusting around you.

You had no idea how you escaped the mad house, how long you’d even been walking or how you actually got there, but you found yourself in front of the cemetery, a flash of lightning illuminating the gate.

To anyone else, a cemetery would have been the worst place to find themselves on a night like this, but you’d already been to hell so you trudged forward, feet taking you to him. Even in your drugged state, you were able to find your way to Eddie. Always would be.

Your knees dug into the grass as you collapsed in front of his tombstone, fingers reaching forward to trace over MUN and 1986 before your body curled around the large stone, hugging yourself to it. Electric blue tears slipped down your cheeks, staining them with your mascara.

“I wish I was with you.” You whispered, hating everything, hating this town, hating the people, hating Fred Benson, hating Carol, hating Laura Cunningham, hating how your mom wasn’t alive, hating how the one person you’d unknowingly sought for comfort was someone you’d never met before who was six feet under the ground. And you hated how you weren’t down there.

You laid there, hugging his tombstone for hours under the thunder and lightning as the PCP slowly left your system.

When you were able to stand up on your own, you gave the tombstone another kiss, rested your forehead against it and quietly thanked him for helping you find your way home before you left, following the path you’d made during all of your visits.

The house was quiet when you got in, and Chrissy’s car hadn’t been parked in the driveway when you’d walked up so you figured she was still at the party. Sluggishly, you made your way up the stairs, falling into your shared bathroom. Your hand searched the wall, struggling to find the switch. Once your fingertips made contact with it, you flipped it and squinted as the room was flooded with the warm light. It was still too much for your eyes but you kept it on and walked towards the mirror

The girl looking back at you was not the same one you’d last seen in it. This girl had blue smudged all around her eyes, faint trails of it over her cheeks and a rats nest for hair. Her eyes burned, not from the light, but from a fury within.

She was stuck in a life she didn’t want to live and couldn’t do anything about. As a large strike of lightning flashed from the window positioned at the back of the bathroom, towards the back of the house, you decided to put her out of her misery, picking up a blow dryer and smashing it against your reflection with a yell.

You stood there, chest heaving as you stared at the broken reflection. Then you tossed the blow dryer onto the counter, and went to bed.

Your dreams were much more pleasant than your reality, eyelids fluttering open to the ceiling of your old bedroom. A glance to your side confirmed your mother’s photo was at your bedside, next to your alarm clock on your old bedside table.

“Well?” Her photo asked, shooting you that gorgeous smile of hers, “What are you waiting for? Go get him.”

Your confusion was momentary, your mother raised her chin in a direction and you knew what would happen, you were giddy for it as you looked down to see yourself wrapped in the most beautiful wedding gown you’d ever seen.

You rose from the bed into a sitting position, picking up the bouquet on the pillow next to you. Your dresser mirror was directly across from your bed and you took a moment to admire the beautiful girl staring back at you. Where you last remember seeing trails of tears were diamonds, glittering against your skin. Her eyes sparkled with a joy you’d never known. You bid her one last smile as you turned your head to the figure sitting on the edge of your bed, dark curls cascading down his neck, past broad shoulders with his back to you.

His right arm was out, palm up.

He was waiting for you.

You shifted until you were on the edge of your bed next to him, staring straight forward just as he was.

Without looking, you knew exactly where his hand was, and you placed your left one over it, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. Slowly, the two of you leaned towards each other, until your head was on his shoulder and his cheek was pressed against the top of your head, his fingers curling around your hand to ground you. You sighed, all the tension and weight of the world leaving you.

“Sissy. . .”

“Sissy…”

“SISSY!”

You groaned as Chrissy shook you awake, eyes prying through all the mascara that had crusted over your eyes. It took a couple of blinks until you regained your clear vision, gaze locking on Chrissy leaning over you. Her face was clean of any makeup, skin glowing and hair wrapped up in rollers.

She’d gotten home later than you and had still been able to look perfect.

What the hell?

“You better get up, sissy. My mom’s losing it over the bathroom mirror.”

You were confused for a second until you remembered smashing it with a blow dryer last night—or this morning. Well, it definitely would have broken at the sight of you now, anyways.

You frowned but made no move to get up so Chrissy tugged your blanket off of you, giggling when the both of you realized you had your hand in your underwear. Hastily, you yanked it out, and threw the blankets back over yourself.

“It’s okay, Sissy. Everyone does it. It’s natural.”

“Oh my god…”

“So, what happened last night to bring this on?” She wiggled her eyebrows and you stared at her for a second. Part of you wanted to yell at her, berate her for letting you stumble around while high on a drug you’d never taken before, the other half knew in Chrissy’s World, it was all rainbows and sunshine—at least, it had been since she’d forced her mother to respect her boundaries. Chrissy didn’t expect the worst in anyone, didn't expect anyone to take advantage of you and certainly didn't expect you to wind up walking to the cemetery and then home on a bad trip. No, in Chrissy’s World, you’d probably spent the night flirting with someone, probably Steve, maybe fooled around in his car before he drove you home.

You didn’t see it necessary to shatter her world so you groaned instead, the full force of your migraine hitting you now that you were out of sleep’s clutches, and covered your hands with your face.

“Ooh, your knees…”

You glanced down to see what she was staring at and sure enough, your knees were scratched up from kneeling at Eddie’s grave, but in Chrissy’s World…

“I fell.” Was the only excuse you could come up with and Chrissy smirked.

“Me, too.” Her eyelid dropped in a wink just as Laura yelled upstairs for you, so, begrudgingly, you wrapped yourself in your robe and headed downstairs to receive your punishment.

Just as you suspected, Laura had attacked you with allegations—that were true for once, you had smashed the bathroom mirror—and your dad looked like he could care less.

“You know,” She stated, fixing you with those unnaturally blue eyes of hers, “Your dad wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. See the good in you, but I knew. I’m an Intuitive Person, you know. An IP. They’ve got seminars for people like me.”

Your mind flashed to How to Handle a Narcissist.

“Laura…” Your dad warned and Laura inhaled sharply, displeased that your dad was sticking up for you. For once.

“Did you know there was a tornado last night? It hailed. Wind blew the fence over. The yard is covered in debris, and now I have to focus on repairing the bathroom, too. I don’t think that’s fair.” She huffed and Chrissy spoke up from her place on the couch.

“It was a tornado watch, mom. Not a real tornado.”

“Actually, Chris, the weather was downright crazy last night. I mean, it was really something, I saw green lightning. Big balls of it in the sky.”

You and Chrissy shared secret smiles at hearing your dad talk about big balls.

“Love muffin, could you swap out being a weatherman for being a father, right now?” Laura gritted out through her chemically whitened teeth.

“It’s a Meteorologist,” You mumbled and her head snapped over to glare at you before she was speaking to your father again.

“Honey, your daughter is a vandal. She’s got a taste for vandalism, and she is deliberately vandalizing and destroying property. First, it was my collection of Precious Moments figurines─”

“That was an accident, you didn’t wrap them in bubble wrap and I dropped the box when I tripped over the front steps.”

“Mother,” Chrissy chided, hands crossing over her robe. “Be. Nice.”

“I am being nice,” Laura hissed, glare never leaving you, “But I refuse to coddle her. She’s headed straight to the nut house with this behavior.”

You frowned, wiping away some of the dried mascara under your eye, “Can you say that if you’re a Psych Nurse?”

Laura had the decency to look embarrassed before whacking your father’s arm. He sighed, putting his newspaper down, “Sweetheart─”

You clocked the twitch in Laura’s eyelid at the affectionate name your father used to refer to you.

“─You’re gonna clean your bathroom, alright? Sweep up all that glass.”

”And?” Laura pushed, still staring at you.

“And…..um. Pay for the mirror, I guess.” Laura turned her nose up, hurmphing.

“That’s fine, can I get ready for work now?”

Your dad nodded and Laura looked like she wanted to protest but you turned your back to her and made your way upstairs, hesitating at the top when your fathered turned the volume of the TV back on and you heard the news reporter reporting from the cemetery, talking about a grave, under a tree, that had been struck by lightning.

You wondered if it had been Eddie’s. There’s no way you’d be able to check today, you’d get home from work too late, so you’d have to check tomorrow.

You tried to stay busy during your shift at the local tailor’s. You didn’t really have a passion for it, but you were relatively good with a needle and thread. With the magnifier headlamp, you were practically unstoppable, altering coats, dresses, blouses, shirts, all with minimal finger injuries—though luminol on some of these clothing items would no doubt reveal traces of your blood.

But hey—you now knew what it meant to work so hard you put your blood into something and you always had band-aids on you, in case anyone needed one.

You were so invested in your work, you hadn’t heard the bell above the door chime when it was pushed open, and didn’t notice Steve leaning against the counter, watching you work until he cleared his throat.

You jumped, head swinging around to see your crush smiling at you and you raised the magnifying glass portion of the head lamp off your face, feeling embarrassed that he’d seen you with the headgear on in the first place.

“Hey! I didn’t know you worked here.”

You let out some nervous laughter, mind racing for ways to make this seem cool but you came up short. “Yeah, I—employed.”

“I can see that,” He chuckled, amused by your lack of verbal sparring.

You didn’t know what to say after that so you stared, fingers twisting and pulling the thread you’d been working with, desperate for him to say something or get out.

“Oh! Uh, I heard you guys also get rid of stains? I’ve got this one on my pan─”

“THAT WE DO!”

You sighed, eyes slipping shut as your moron of a boss came bursting out of the office.

“What can we do for you, Harrington?” Murray asked, leaning against the counter, causing Steve to lean back, smile now less than thrilled.

“Murray…I forgot you worked here.” Steve said it in a voice that made you think he would have avoided the shop had he known who it was that was currently in charge of running it.

“Yup, got me this sweet little gig. And no radios.” He gestured around to the shop, void of any technology save for the cash register—and he made sure it was never him operating it, “Would like to see the government try to control me now.”

“Right, I just came here to drop off my pants, spilled something on—well, it doesn’t really matter, I just spilled something on them.” Steve placed the folded pair of pants on the counter and Murray immediately unfolded them, searching through the fabric until he found the stain by his crotch. To both your horror and Steve’s, he lifted the strained fabric to his nose, sniffing deep.

“Mm. White wine?”

It took Steve a moment to find his voice and close his jaw, “Crush. The soda.”

“Same thing. We’ll get this right out, my man.”

You and Steve shared one more look of disbelief before he slowly backed away, the bell above the door sounding as he left.

“He’s a nice guy,” Murray commented and you shrugged your shoulders, wanting this conversation to be over, “I’m surprised you know him, little loser.”

You shot him a glare.

“Oh, c’mon, lets not pretend you’ve got an active social life—if I call you in for a shift, you’re available. Nothing wrong with being a loser. I was one throughout high school and look at me now. Who got the last laugh?”

You were positive the look of pain on your face should have told Murray that anyone other than him got the last laugh. He was a forty something year old, afraid of technology, convinced the government was watching him, who tried to befriend teenagers.

You’d have to kill yourself if you were anything like him.

When he disappeared back into the office, because of course you’d have to get rid of that stain for Steve, you snatched the pair of pants off the counter. Glancing around to make sure there weren’t any eyes on you, you pressed them to the side of your face, imagining yourself hugging Steve instead of the pants. They smelled like him. It was bliss.

Then your eyes snapped open.

Oh, god. You were a loser.

After your shift, you’d gone straight home. Normally, you’d stop to grab a bite or something, you still had to pay for the mirror you broke so fast food was off the table for a couple of weeks, but on your dining room table when you walked into the house.

A pizza box. Your stomach growled as you imagined the slice of cheese waiting for you.

“Is there any left?” You asked, already making a beeline for it.

“Should be a slice left,” Your dad mused and as you tossed the top of it open, all you wanted to do was maybe beat him with it.

There, on the parchment liner of the pizza box, was the skinniest and tiniest slice of pizza to ever be cut. Not even the width of two of your fingers.

“Want me to order another one, sweetheart?” Your dad asked and Laura immediately inserted herself into the conversation.

“She can eat it, love muffin. Besides, we’ve got vegetables in the fridge if she’s still not full.”

“I said we should have ordered two, but my mom had a coupon she wanted to use.” Chrissy didn’t sound impressed.

“Yes, we got a free soda!”

Chrissy ignored her mom, “Sissy, we’re going to the movies! You could get something there, they sell pizza and nachos, right?”

You knew she was trying to find a solution for you, but your bullshit meter for the day had already been capped. You didn’t want movie theater pizza or concessions, you wanted a reasonable slice of this pizza, not some scrap your step-mother had saved you. It was obvious she was implying that she, your dad and Chrissy were the perfect sized family and you were simply an afterthought. Unwelcome.

“Yeah, I’m passing on the movie.”

Before you could stomp upstairs, Chrissy caught your hand.

“Sissy, please? We’ve got to bond as a family, it’s crucial. If it takes two, how can I do it as one?” She pulled you into her side.

“Really, Chrissy, I’m super tired.”

“You’re tired?” Laura asked, incredulous. Here we go again.

“All you do is work with a sewing machine for hours like some old spinster, I can hardly imagine that being tiring, but my Chrissy just got back from a five hour long cheer practice. They were throwing her around like raggedy ann and she stuck every landing.”

“Mom, stop.” Chrissy blushed, but you could see how proud she was of herself, “I’m sure Sissy pokes herself with those needles all the time, and it hurts, I’ve been prodded myself during all of my custom fittings.”

“I have finger calluses so I don’t even bleed anymore,” You begrudgingly admitted, “I can take it.”

“I bet you can.”

After they’d left for the movies, you’d gone upstairs, showered, put on your comfiest pajamas and fuzziest slippers, you grabbed a bowl of chips and set yourself up in front of the TV to watch Dawn of the Dead. You had to give props to all these zombie actors, you couldn’t imagine having to act out being one of the walking undead, imagined it felt pretty stupid but the paycheck and experience must have been cool.

You popped another chip into your mouth just as someone knocked on the front door. As you placed the bowl of chips on the table to get up, the knocking got louder, more aggressive and you hesitated, fear beginning to swell up inside of you.

Maybe if you ignored it, they’d go away.

You turned your attention back to the tv, picking up the remote to lower the volume and hopefully hide your presence in the house.

Then, much to your horror, you heard the distinct sound of a pained, gurgling groan. It sounded very similar to the ones you’d heard the zombies making on your tv, but this one was louder.

And it was coming from outside your front door.

You crouched, duckwalking to the foyer where one of the house phones was placed. You’d just picked it up from the receiver when a shadow from the living room window caught your eye. You barely had time to turn your head when something came crashing through it, breaking the glass and yanking the curtains from the rod.

Shocked, the phone slipped from your hands, banging against the hardwood floor of the foyer and you let out a scream at the same time as the person on your TV, running away from the figure invading your home.

You made it to the dinning room. Literally scrambling across the table to put an obstacle between you and the stranger—no, creature. Tall, caked in mud, leaves and stems, it resembled the Swamp Thing. It grunted, groans low and reverberating off the walls.

“Uuuhhhnng…”

This couldn’t be happening to you, you couldn’t die like this!!!! It was supposed to be by your hand or nothing!

”STAY AWAY FROM ME!” You shrieked, picking up the decorative plates from the table to throw at the creature. You nailed it a couple of times, watching it stumble as the fine china shattered against it. When you ran out of plates, you bolted from the dinning room, screaming as you scrambled up the stairs, and lost one of your slippers in the process but to hell with it! You had to get out of there. Hopefully, one of your neighbors heard your shrieks of terror and called the police.

You peaked over the railing at the top of the stairs, to see the creature analyzing your slipper. While it was distracted, you locked yourself in your room and made your way to your bedroom window, pulling it open.

“Okay, okay. I can do this, no big deal. Stunt actors do it all the time.” You climbed outside of your window, body nearly convulsing as you almost slipped down the roof, “Nonononono.”

You tried to grip onto a couple of shingles but they gave away, slipping right off the house to shatter against the concrete walkway and you realized Laura had no fucking idea what she was doing when it came to house repairs, the dumb bitch had just laid the shingles out without securing them.

“OH MY GOD-I’M GONNA DIE! HELP!”

Your body slipped further down the roofing, until you were forced to grab the gutter, gagging when your fingers squelched against whatever was in it. You dangled a good six feet off the ground, and while it wasn’t exactly a ten story fall, with your luck, you’d land on your head and break your neck.

Whimpering, you tried to pull yourself back up the roof, but it was no use. You had nothing stable to grab onto as you yanked yet another shingle clean off. You glared at it and muttered a goddammit before tossing it somewhere behind you as you went back to hanging on for dear life.

“Oh, no.” You mumbled, terrified as your fingertips began to lose their grip, wet with the mystery sludge from the gutter. “No, NO!”

You lost your grip, plummeting down but you didn’t meet the concrete. No, the Creature broke your fall and you were now face to face with it. The pressure of you landing on it, made it spit up into your face, green sludge, and you gasped before breaking out into screams again.

Pushing yourself up and off of it as you ran around your front yard, nearly blind. You were not opening your eyes to let that bacteria infested swamp slime, water, whatever the hell it was, into your eyeballs.

You could hear the Creature stomping around behind you as you bobbed and weaved, could feel his presence and you could not believe you were actually gonna die fighting off a swamp monster in your front yard while blinded—in clear and plain view for your neighbors to see, by the way, and unbeknownst to you, an elderly couple was watching you, not even a little concerned about your well being or the creature chasing you around.

“Stop it!”

“Leave me alone!”

“Go away, I’m just a girl!”

The timed sprinklers went off and you were soon assaulted with them as well. With just about all your senses done for, and the sprinklers washing the guck away from your face, you made a run for the house, slamming your back against the door and locking it behind you.

Your chest was heaving, wet body pumping with adrenaline as the back of your head thumped against the door. You weren’t done yet. That creature was still out there!!!

You dove for the phone on the ground, hanging by its springy cord and shouted out hopefully loud enough for it to hear, “I’m calling the police, so if you don’t want your ass riddled with bullets, I’d suggest you leave! They shoot before asking questions!”

You frantically dialed 911 but there was no ringing, instead, you could still hear buttons being pressed on the other line.

Bleak, and accepting your fate, you put the phone back on the receiver, and turned towards the living room, where the other phone was located.

On the chair, next to where the table the phone normaly rested on, was The Creature.

You grabbed one of the lamps, ready to use it as a weapon but it didn’t attack you, just turned the phone receiver this way and that, as if admiring it.

Despite your fear, you took a reluctant step forward, casting the creature in the glow of the lamp you clutched and for like the billionth time that night, you gasped.

The sprinklers had washed some of the filth off of it, too. Before, its head had been caked in a mud helmet, but now, you could actually see it’s head. It had long, disgustingly dirty curls, and wore a leather jacket, jeans and tennis shoes, all covered in grime.

When it craned its head up to look at you, you readied the lamp, poised to throw it at it—him. It was a guy. Big brown eyes, stared up at you and he made no move to attack.

Slowly, you lowered the lamp, and crouched down a few feet away.

His attention returned to the phone—shoe shaped—in his hands and shakily, with stiff limbs, he put it back on the receiver.

“It’s…It’s cool looking, right? The-The shoe phone.”

He glanced over at you and then the phone again as you mumbled out an explanation,

“Our neighbor in our old town cheated on his wife and she threw all his stuff out the window at him and my dad snatched the phone.”

“Merrrruhhhhh.” He moaned out, picking up your slipper and offering it to you. When you just stared, he dropped it and you moved the lamp to the side, crossing your legs.

“I’ve never seen a zombie before.” You marveled, then squinted, “You are a zombie, right? An undead?”

It took him an entire minute to choppily raise his shoulders, you realized he was shrugging. Or trying to. Every movement he made was choppy. Reminded you of how stop motion was made, except his scenes weren’t being played fast enough to have fluid movements.

He tried to get up and promptly slipped, accidentally elbowing the mini sound system at his side. It turned on, Sinead O’Connor’s Drink Before the War playing. You’d been the last to use it.

You watched as his head tilted in interest as Sinead began to croon out lyrics.

“Do you like music? This is Sinead O’Connor. She makes music that heals souls.”

He raised his wrist to his chest and you inhaled sharply as you realized he was missing the hand on it.

“Uhm, no—I don’t think she healed your soul. I meant like, figuratively. Her music makes people feel.” You placed your hands on your own chest, trying to convey your meaning, “She’s one of my favorites.”

A surprisingly comforting silence fell over the two of you—though he sometimes made his quiet dead guy gross sounds—as you stared at him, taking in the green-gray tint of his skin beneath the dirt all over him, cheeks sunken in. You had a feeling if you touched his skin, it’d be hard, maybe waxy and it was a bit unnerving how human his eyes were, but duh! Of course they were, he was a human. Just. A dead one. At least he wasn’t a skeleton.

Man, Hollywood wasn’t too far off with their interpretation.

“C’mon,” You stood up, eyes taking in the state of your home and all the dirt the two of you had dragged in, “I gotta hide you, new dead friend.”

#Eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #Freak like me #lisa frankenstein #lisa frankenstein inspo #Zombie!eddie munson #dead!eddie munson #undead!eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson au #Eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson #Steve harrington x reader #eddie munson x black!reader

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gyusrose · 6 months

Text

➵ burning desire -> s.jy

⚠︎ smut (mdni)

✎ pervert!jake x innocent reader, praising, dirty talk, bj, oblivious reader, masturbation, corruption kink, cursing.

summary: you never thought that the person you would ask to take your virginity would be your roommate’s best friend.

wc: 2.5k

(jake x fem.reader)

“oh jake’s coming over by the way.” sunghoon, your roommate/ child hood friend said as he walked into the living room to where you were.

you weren’t surprised at this point. jake should just move in at this point from how much he comes over. even though he comes pretty much everyday, you’re still kinda awkward with him. you’ve probably had a total of three full conversations with him. sunghoon had many other friends yet jake is the only one who would come over.

“i’ll go get some groceries, since the fridge looks so sad, if he comes before me just tell him i’ll be back.” sunghoon said before grabbing his keys and leaving the loft.

great. it’s gonna be him and you alone. can you get any luckier ?

not even ten minutes passed after sunghoon left when you heard your doorbell echo throughout the house. knowing who it was, you took a deep sigh and opened the front door, revealing a messily-haired jake. he had on an oversized zip-up jacket with some baggy jeans. you’d never admit this out loud but he was very attractive. maybe that’s the reason you can’t seem to talk with him, you’ll just get too nervous around him.

jake smiled at your presence. he saw the absence of sunghoon’s car and was more than thrilled to be with you all alone.

truth be told, jake was actually obsessed with you. from the way you act, tell jokes, to the way you smell. he never missed an opportunity to be close to you. you were very oblivious to this. not noticing how some of your panties would go missing whenever he came over, or how he would blatantly stare at your ass anytime you bent down or just turned around in general. jake loved that. he wanted to ruin you.

you looked adorable today, with your skimpy baby blue shorts that barely covered your ass and a simple white tank top, ‘unfortunately with a bra on’ jake thought.

sunghoon’s better than him, cus’ he would’ve fucked you the moment you moved in.

“sunghoon went to get some groceries, he’ll be back shortly, come in.” you softly smiled, letting jake walk through the doorstep.

“how’s college going?” he asked you, sitting down on the brown couch.

“it’s going alright, just a lot of work.” you awkwardly giggled.

“have you gone to the parties?”

“erm..not really, i don’t really like that environment anyways. i prefer staying in my room.” you were now sitting on the sofa across from him.

that’s another thing jake loved about you. you were so well-behaved. from what he knows, because sunghoon has told him, you’ve never gotten wasted or anything, you were that type of girl, you’re always on top of your schoolwork, leading you to be a valedictorian in high school. you were probably even still a virgin.

“ i’ll be right back, i need to go take a quick shower.”

jake, being who he is, obviously took this opportunity for himself. sneakily opening your bathroom door an inch, enough to see you in it. although the fog stained on the glass shower didn’t let him see your bare body, the image was exotic. he could see your hands wander all across your wet body. the fact that he couldn’t see all of you turned him in even more.

it didn’t take long for him to coming your bedroom (which he knows like the back of his hand) and engulf himself into the comfort of your bed. gosh he loved your scent so fucking much. he knew he didn’t have much time so he lowered his jeans along with his boxers and wrapped his hand around his cock.

his breath got louder along with his moans, hoping you wouldn’t hear him. he accelerated his hand motion, closing his eyes imagining you. pictures of you in the shower showing in his mind, wanting to fuck you against that wet wall. it didn’t take long for his cum to spurt out over his bare stomach along with his hand.

he quickly got dressed properly and wiped his hands, trying to leave your room as soon as possible, not before going into your cabinet where you keep your panties, grabbing a new pair since the ones he had at home were used and dirty from his juices. he shoved it in his pocket trying to run out, but before he knew it he heard the door click open.

naturally his brain got into fight or flight, looking for the nearest place to hide in, running to your closet.

you walked into your room, nothing but a towel wrapped around your wet body. jake didn’t fully close the closet door, this allowed him to see you. he hoped you wouldn’t come into the closet, knowing how embarrassing and overall weird it would be to find your friend’s friend in your bathroom hiding.

jake’s prayers were answered as you already had the clothes you were going to put on neatly folded on top of your nightstand. while grabbing your clothes, you noticed how awfully disorganized your bed was. did you leave it like this ? almost like a figure was there.

you brushed it off and got to changing. you let go of your towel letting it drop to the floor. jake was in heaven. his breath hitched, almost gasping out loud at what he was seeing. he put a hand over his mouth to get himself caught. you were perfect.

you clipped a bra around your perfectly sat tits, just like jake imagined them, fuck he could feel himself getting hard again. he’s about to burst out the door and have you bouncing on his dick.

you then opened your the drawer were you would keep all your panties and grabbed a pair, you’ve noticed how you haven’t seen some of your panties in a long time. like the one with the pink bows? gone. the baby blue ones? gone. the dark red ones? gone. and it’s always your favourites too.

you quickly put it on, remembering that jake is downstairs and you don’t want him to be alone for long and become bored.

jake was enjoying the show. you don’t know you’re being watched yet the way you’re putting in your clothes is so seductive. or maybe jake’s just horny.

you soon finish and grab the towel to put it back into the bathroom, leaving your room.

jake knew this was his only chance and sprinted to the living room. trying to not make noise as well. in the span of fifteen seconds he was downstairs, seated. exactly ten seconds later, he heard a front door opening revealing sunghoon. he always gets away with it

“ _______ are you going to live like this for the rest of your life? “ your friend, giselle, said. she would not die before she gets you to attend those goofy frat parties.

“i’m happy like this gis, i don’t want to be around sweaty drunk people, sorry.” as much as you loved giselle, the two of you were the complete opposite.

“just for like an hour or so, so you can live it. you’ll regret not having fun once you grow old!”

although you did not want to go an inch, you give a thought to what she said. she could be right. you’ll feel out of place for sure, but maybe it’s not as bad as you think?

“i guesssssss….” you quietly said but giselle heard you loud and clear, jumping in excitement as if she just won the lottery.

“alright alright let’s calm down.”

“you pulling up to yeonjun’s party tonight?” sunghoon asked jake while they played on the gaming console.

“erm i’m not sure, I’ve got schoolwork to do.”

“jake sim missing a party? that’s some i thought ill never hear.” jake rolled his eyes at his comment.

“literally everyone is going though, even _______.”

jake’s mind lit up. you were going? what in the world made you go? suddenly jake’s dying to go too.

“she is? i thought she hated those things..”

“i thought so too, but supposedly her friend begged her to go and she wants to try it out.”

of course giselle was behind this. jake knew the two of you were inseparable, and she wasn’t the best influence either.

“i’ll see if i go..” jake said before shifting the conversation to another topic.

“isn’t this too much?” you asked looking at yourself in the mirror. the dress, to anyone else, looked completely normal for a party, yet for you, it was way too open and revealing, specially in the chest area. ( it’s just a v-neck)

“you think this is too much? please. it’s not even short short, besides your boobs look great.” you don’t get it. what makes them so great?

“alright let’s go now, before they finish all the booze.” giselle dragged you outside, getting into her car.

jake was starting to believe you simply weren’t coming. you wouldn’t. you’d hate it here.

his mind stopped talking when he saw you. that wasn’t you. who took over you? you looked very unlike yourself. a skimpy dress that barely covered your body. who the hell ? he could not get hard in the middle of a party surrounded by his friends, so he looked away, trying to ignore you as hard as it was.

“wait _____ you’re a virgin?!” one of giselle’s friends, karina, exclaimed after she asked you why you looked so tense.

“is that that obvious?” you’ve never bothered thinking about losing your virginity. it honestly seemed painful that one time you had to write an essay about sexual reproduction sophomore year of high school, so you never went back to it. you don’t have the time for any of that nonsense.

“holy shit you’re the first person in college i’ve met that’s still a virgin! “

you don’t get what’s so surprising. you’re still young anyway. either way, you barely know how to satisfy someone or even yourself.

“wait have you even masturbated?” you shook your head no. the gasps that fell from the table y’all were sitting at could be heard all over the frat house.

“shut up you’re joking, actually?”

“girl what do you do for fun?”

“you need to get laid so you can feel how good it is i swear.”

you quickly dismissed her other friend, ningning’s request. you were too nervous to even go up to a man, how the heck could you just do it with him?

“this room is drowning with fine men, and you’re hot, simple hook.” her other friend said, chaewon. damn giselle’s more popular than you thought.

“i really don’t know anyone here, it’ll be too awkward..” you scratched your neck. this just made you realize how disconnected socially you were. you only knew sunghoon and jake out of the thousand people here.

“wait her roommate is sunghoon right giselle?” giselle nodded at kazuha’s question.

“wait sunghoon? ew no. i’ve known him forever we’re like siblings!” kazuha chuckled.

“no not him! but his bestie, jake. he’s been glancing at our table since we got here. you know him?”

jake? you never thought of him that way. sure he was handsome and very honestly your type of guy, but would he really? from what you know, he's not that type of guy. sunghoon described him as the "purest" of his friend group. (girl if only you knew..)

“he’s cute, and kazuha’s right, he keeps staring at you.” giselle adds on.

jake couldn’t enjoy himself. knowing you’re here somehow affects him more than he thought it would. he should’ve stayed playing on his playstation.

while the rest of his friends went on to dance with their girlfriends, jake stood there seated on the stool. glancing your direction every now and then, hoping to god you wouldn’t catch him. he was so lost in his head that he didn’t even notice someone standing next to him.

almost as if you could read his mind, there you were. standing, arms crossed, bitting your lip nervously. like you had something to tell him.

you’ve never flirted with anyone before, you’re just going to ‘wing it’ like chaewon said.

“______? i thought you didn’t like this environment.” he started the conversation, quoting what you said to him a couple of days ago when he visited.

you laughed nervously. “ha, yea, still do but i guess i just wanted to try it out for once.” jake could tell something’s up. normally you wouldn’t be so nervous talking to him. or maybe he just looks real fine tonight.

to ease up the tension, jake led the conversation pretty smoothly. mostly asking you about school and such. thankfully, you looked more relaxed a couple of minutes into the conversation, he really is a great talker, you thought.

somehow the topic tumbled over boyfriends and girlfriends. you don’t know how.

“seriously? i don’t believe you!” jake said as you told him your very empty love life. jake already knew this obviously, he just pretended to not know so you wouldn’t be weirded out.

“have you?” you asked. jake nodded. “ like three in high school but none during college, just hook-ups i guess.” your eyes widened, not expecting that last part. this is what sunghoon thinks of as ‘pure’ ?

“what is that surprising?” jake chuckled after seeing your reaction. you waved him off denying it, but it was actually shocking.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to react like that.”

“it’s cool don’t worry. i’m guessing you don’t do those kind of things.” your cheeks were tinted red. the way he was staring at you at that moment did something inside you that you’ve never felt before.

“uh, no never actually.” jake just smirked at your response, now catching up on why you came up to him so nervous.

jake never thought this day would actually come. he had you asking him to “show him how to do it.”

and there he was, showing you. you were on your knees in front of him, looking up at him with those cute doe eyes of yours.

“just stroke it baby , up and down, slowly.” you were almost scared of screwing it up. your hand can barely wrap around his dick completely. jake had to hold himself together, he could cum right now.

“fuck yeah just like that baby, now faster.” you do as told, noticing how lubricated he’s become. you were engrossed at his reactions. he was groaning and moaning with every stroke you gave.

“open your mouth baby, i wanna feel it.” mouth?

“my mouth? do i just suck it? or ?”

“just open it baby.” you soon opened your mouth while he gathered your hair into a ponytail in his hands. pushing himself in as much as he could.

you did what your intuition told you to and began sucking it and licking it, catching jake by surprise.

“shit princess. stepping ahead i see.” his head thrown back, this might be the best head he’s ever gotten.

the image of the way your small mouth wrapped around his cock drove him insane.

jake started moving his hips up into your mouth, making you gag. although you pretty much couldn’t breath properly. you…liked it? you did not want to let go of him.

“fuck baby, stop i can’t cum so fast, i need to fuck you.” he said pushing you off of his dick, laying you down on his bed, bare right in front of him.

your heart started to speed up, was this actually about to happen?

“relax baby, i promise ill try to make it as enjoyable as possible. trust me.” he said kissing your plump lips.

jake looked calm and cool on the outside but was he panicking on the inside. like he said before, he can’t believe the day finally came.

his hands rummaged through your body, fuck it was literally perfect. just like the last time he saw it.

his fingers found your pussy, rubbing your clit, catching you by surprise. you’ve never had this sort of sensation before. as he kept teasing your heat and sucking your clit, you get what the girls were talking about.

“oh my- “ you could barely speak as jake was too fixated in your pussy. your fingers entangled between his locks, you’ve really been missing out.

jake pulled away, earning a whine form the loss of contact, but then you saw him grab a condom and roll on to him.

you took a deep breath as he lined himself up in your entrance.

“it’s going to hurt a little at first baby, it’s normal, just relax okay?” you nodded and kissed him before he entered inch by inch.

jake in reality wanted to pound into you. seeing your expressions with his cock inside of you isn’t helping.

it hurt more than a ‘little’ , you had to admit. as he fully entered you, jake groped your breast, kissing them, leaving hickeys all over them. knowing that no other man has been able to do this to you made him moan. you’re all his.

“you can move..” you said getting the green light to start to thrust.

soon the pain you felt in the beginning, vanished as you suddenly wanted him to go faster and faster.

“oh fuck right there!” this was the first time jake heard you curse and fuck was it hot.

“yea baby? want me to go faster? you love this cock that much already hm?” you nodded desperately.

jake was over the moon, this was so much better than what he imagined. you were like an actual goddess, he was the lucky one.

jake, wanting to go deeper, grabbed your thighs and put them over his shoulders, leaning down.

you felt like you were in another world. you had no idea you could feel this amount of pleasure ever. you were almost crying from the level of ecstasy.

“i f-feel something, i think i’m going to come…” you said, unsure of what the feeling was.

“shit baby me too, cum all over my dick like the good girl you are.” your legs trembled as you felt some sort of relief wash over your body. both jake and you moaned as your climaxes reach over.

pulling out and dispensing his condom, jake laid next to you, grabbing your waist.

“so…what do you think?” he said caressing your cheek. you looked at him in awe.

“should’ve done that a long time ago.”

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hazelfoureyes · 7 months

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Hello! Not sure if you're taking requests, so do ignore this if you feel like it.

I adore your work sm!! Rewatching the Stayed Gone mv, Vox had a picture of a bootleg Alastor and pointing to his microphone were the words "dildo?"

Do you think you could write an Alastor x Reader, or just Alastor pleasuring himself with the microphone? (That sounds weird now-)

Thank you for taking the time to read this!

-🍺

Good Vibrations

the way I immediately knew what to do is proof of my depravity. I know it isn’t exactly what you meant but this is what I’m comfortable with writing. This was a quick little 30 minute write, I hope it still brings you joy 🎙️

After you make an offhand comment about doubting if his microphone actually works, Alastor finds a creative way to convince you while at dinner with the group.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x Reader, erotic but not smut?, smut is explicit, this is just horny, the microphone does in fact work, vibrator

Rarely was Alastor without his microphone. Even Vox made note of it. But, his voice sounded like it came from his mouth. Sure there was a radio affect to it, but he was a demon after all. You couldn’t figure out how it worked. Or rather, if it worked.

As you all waited to take your seats for dinner, Niffty having turned out to be a surprisingly good cook, you were caught staring.

“Is there something I can do for you?”, Alastor leaned down to meet your eyeline.

You blinked, “Oh, sorry. Just wondering if that even works.”

“If what works?”

“Your microphone.”

He knew it worked, of course. But your question felt… offensive. “Do you think I’d carry a functionless microphone around?”

Without hesitation you replied, “I do, yes.”

“Oh absolutely!” Angel pushed between you two.

“You do have a flare for the dramatic, boss.” Husk took his seat beside Angel.

Charlie nervously scratched her cheek, “I always wondered that too! But it worked in Cannibal Town, so I’m a believer now.”

“But wait-,” Vaggie looked to Charlie, “If it worked when you put it to your mouth why doesn’t he have to? It’s literally everywhere but his mouth.”

Alastor’s forced grin strained against this cheeks, black gums showing. You gave him a shrug and joined the group. He took his seat opposite you, pulling his chair in all the way.

You’d already forgotten the conversation when you felt something graze across your lap. Before you could investigate, Alastor spoke, “Why don’t we all say what we did today! I’ll go first!” Your knees shot up, knocking the table as a strong vibration lit up your crotch.

Vaggie leaned in, “You good?”

Slowly, eyes wide, you looked up to meet Alastor’s wicked smile.

“I went downtown to grab a fresh cut of venison. Niffty makes the best venison roast this side of Pentagram City.” You white knuckled the edge of the table, glancing down to see the microphone resting between your thighs. The top was nestled firmly above your mound.

“Hmmm what else? Oh! I got some deviled eggs. My, what a treat. My mother made the best deviled eggs. You know-,” as he droned on, you tried to push your chair away from the table. “Ah ah! It’s so rude to leave while someone is speaking.” He leaned back, foot reaching under the table to hook around your chair’s leg and pull you forward.

“Aww Al, you never talk so much! This is great. What else did you do today?” Charlie rested her cheek on her hand, eyes sparkling at Alastor.

“I am so glad you asked! Let me think, hmmmmm” He drew out the consonant, the sound making a rougher vibration than others. You were hunched over the table, biting your bottom lip to keep quiet. “Oh I went to— what is it called again? Ummmmm,” Your leg shot up again, the silverware clanking against your plate.

“Will you just fucking say it?!” You spit it out louder than you meant.

“Woah! That’s not very nice.” Charlie gave you a disappointed look, pulling a groan from you, “What’s gotten into you?”

Angel looked over to you, “You doin’ alright? You’re like… sweatin’.”

“What indeed, Charlie. Well, anyway! I think I’ve made my point!” You felt the weight of the microphone slide down your thighs and past your knees. You took in a deep breath, finally able to relax your body.

“You’re pretty pale…”, Husk commented, “You sick or something?”

Angel pushed your hair from your forehead, “That face looks so familiar.”

Before you could answer, Alastor opened his mouth, “I think she should lie down. Allow me to escort you to bed, my dear.”

“You are so sweet today! I love it! Fuck yeah!” Charlie punched the air. Alastor came behind you and pulled your chair back for you. “Take your time, if she’s sick maybe she shouldn’t be alone.”

“If you say so!” Alastor practically sang the words. With both hands on your shoulders, he guided you out of the room.

“He’s the best.” Charlie beamed, “Alright whose next?”

༻Masterlist༺

#Me #I’m next #hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #fanfiction #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #the radio demon #radio demon #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x you

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awearywritersworld · 1 year

Text

"took you long enough"

gojo satoru x reader summary: when you ask your best friend to meet the guy you've been seeing, things don't go quite as planned. w/c: 3.2k tags/warnings: angst to smut with a fluffy ending. 18+. friends to lovers. jealous gojo. curse words. drinking. gojo shoves ur love interest. he's just kind of an ass to him in general. fem!reader. no use of y/n. a/n: i don't often write smut, but i kinda got carried away.. carpe diem, i say masterlist

gojo is tired of hearing you ramble on about the new guy you've been seeing. he barely even glances at your phone screen when you try to show him a picture you took together.

"you're way out of his league," he states dryly.

"hardly," you scoff. "men don't exactly line up for me like women do for you."

it'd be a lie to claim you didn't have a thing for gojo at one point, but you learned a long time ago that he isn't interested in you that way. it wasn't hard to tell, given his parade of hookups and the occasional two week relationship. you've gotten over it though... for the most part, anyway.

he rolls his eyes. "i assure you that's only because you're shy, princess."

"okay, so you should be rejoicing that your best friend finally landed herself a boyfriend—"

"boyfriend?"

"well.. it's not official yet, but i think he's going to ask me soon!"

your apparent enthusiasm at the prospect leaves a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. of course, it's only because he wants the best for you and this guy certainly isn't it. "you've gone on like two dates."

"'toru, i've been seeing him for almost a month!" when he doesn't respond, you continue speaking. "so... that's why i was sort of hoping you'd come out with us tonight."

he looks at you increduously, "i am not third wheeling."

"you won't be!" you assure. "shoko and kento said they'd come. i just want you to meet him because you're really important to me and i actually think this could go somewhere—"

"alright, alright," he acquiesces, albeit begrudgingly. he's never been able to say no to you.

you squeal with excitement, throwing your arms around his neck in a brief hug. "i can't wait! we're all meeting at seven, i'll text you the address."

after a quick kiss to his cheek, you gather your things, all but running out the door. you weren't going to give him a chance to change his mind.

he stares after you wordlessly, running a hand through his hair while an unfamiliar tightness overcomes his chest.

when gojo enters the bar, he spots you right away despite the sizable crowd. as he makes his way toward your group, he can't help but notice how pretty you look in your little dress. in fact, you'd look absolutely perfect if it weren't for the fact you have another man's arm around your waist.

wait, what?

your laugh rings out across the room and judging by the smirk on shoko's face, he can tell she's said something you find unreasonably funny. once you spot him, your face lights up and you pull away from your almost boyfriend to give gojo a hug, something that brings him a sense of satisfaction.

"hey, sweetheart," he greets loud enough that the other man can hear. "who's this?"

"satoru, this is shinya!" you're beaming at him expectantly, so gojo has no choice but to extend his hand.

"hey, man." shinya shakes it firmly. "it's great to meet you. my girl's told me a lot about you."

gojo's eye twitches and he decides almost immediately that he finds shinya utterly insufferable. his voice is grating and he's too short and didn't you say you prefer guys with lighter hair—

"nice to meet you, too," gojo responds cooly. "i'm always happy to meet one of her friends."

nanami and shoko share a knowing look, more than prepared to break out their hypothetical popcorn. and boy, is this as good an occasion as any.

the strongest sorcerer isn't one to indulge in liquor, but how can he refrain when he has to be in the same room as shinya? each time he touches you, looks in your direction, calls you some sickening pet name— whenever he breathes in your general vicinity, really— gojo brings his drink up to his lips.

everyone else seems to be getting along, but unfortunately, he grows increasingly snarky with each glass he empties.

shinya asks what you'd like when he goes up for another round and it's 'oh, you don't know her favorite drink? well, i guess you're not as close as we are.'

shinya pulls your chair out for you and it's 'wow, you really got yourself a gentleman, princess.'

shinya mentions that he's fairly well versed in martial arts and it's 'really? maybe we should go out back and spar. i think it'd be fun.'

nanami steps in then, not entirely convinced gojo would hesitate before laying him out. "you can put the measuring tape away, idiot."

shinya is being an impressively good sport, but your anxiety has you emptying glasses in a hasty manner, too. you have no idea what's going on with gojo. you understand that he can be abrasive at times and that communication definitely isn't his strong suit, but his behavior is just absurd. you force an awkward laugh at nanami's comment.

"not that i'm not having, um, a great time and all!" you hiccup before continuing. "but i'd really like to dance. c'mon shinya!"

nanami and shoko wind up joining you both, which comes as a surprise. neither of them are exactly the partying type (not that you are either), but you're happy to see them having fun. honestly, you can't remember the last time either of them let loose.

you wonder if they also just wanted to escape gojo's snide remarks. now that they aren't ringing in your ear every other minute, your nerves have certainly calmed down a bit. well, until—

"so you do know that he's totally in love with you, right?"

"who?" you question, looking around as if it'd be obvious.

and it is, just not to you.

shinya chuckles. "gojo."

"what?" you bellow, completely dumfounded. "no way! i mean he's not— and i'm not— we're just friends."

"yeah?" he still sounds amused, nodding in gojo's direction. "is that why he looks like that?"

turning toward your table, even you have to admit he looks completely miserable. unbeknownst to you, he's spent the last half hour sending away every woman that approaches him asking to dance. he just isn't in the mood right now. at least, that's what he tells himself.

"er.. he just doesn't get out that much," you try your best to brush it off.

"whatever you say, baby."

you're relieved he doesn't seem terribly bothered by the idea, even if you find it completely implausible. it's true you spend a lot of time together and that you know one another like the back of your hands, but you'd given up any hope of it being more than friendship a long time ago. you'd moved on.

but if that's the case, why did shinya calling you baby suddenly feel so wrong? you convince yourself it must just be the alcohol.

when the four of you finally stumble back to the table, you realize you've missed last call. though it's probably for the best, as the five of you are certainly in for a nasty hangover the following morning.

it's near closing time, but the crowd has hardly thinned out and the music is still beating loudly in your ears. you're going back to jujutsu tech with your friends rather than home with shinya, so you loudly exchange goodbyes over the music as he gets ready to leave.

"i had a really great time tonight," he tells you. "maybe we could go for dinner tomorrow? there's something i've been wanting to ask you."

"okay!" you agree eagerly, eyes shining. "i'll call you in the morning."

gojo feels his stomach drop, his jaw clenching bitterly. he tries to tell himself to relax because this is what you want, but he just can't seem to get his thoughts straight.

shinya leans down, his lips meeting yours sweetly, and it causes white hot anger to flood gojo's body. it all happens so fast, shinya's ripped away from you with astounding force and he staggers backward. you've been struggling to hear over the noise all night, though you make out each word that follows with striking clarity.

"get the fuck away from her!"

gojo stalks off before anyone has time to process what just happened. he's already half way across the room when you come to your senses.

"'toru!" you call out, taking a step in his direction when he doesn't respond. "satoru!"

you take another step but you're stopped when something pulls you back. you look down to find shinya's hand wrapped around your wrist before your gaze turns up to meet his eye. "look, i really like you, but if you go after him, don't bother calling tomorrow."

the ultimatum is simple, but so is your decision. "i'm sorry."

you run off before he can say anything else, shoving your way through the bar patrons, and follow gojo out the door into the cold air of night.

"satoru!" you shout once more, thankful that his pace is slow enough for you to catch up. he turns to face you when you tug on his sleeve.

you nearly shy away from him, his expression something fierce, but the liquor in your system gives you courage. "what the hell was that? you embarrassed me—"

"i don't fucking care," he spits.

he's never taken such a tone with you, so you throw your hands in the air and exhale impatiently. "what do you mean? you should care! you're my friend, aren't you?"

"that's exactly what i mean. you're supposed to be mine," he growls.

you're not sure how it happens, but the next thing you know, his lips are crashing into yours, your teeth knocking together with the force. his hands paw at your hips, pulling your body against his greedily.

"i can't believe," he mumbles against your lips, "you wasted your time," his hands find your hair, tugging your head back and revealing your neck, "with that fucking loser."

once he's finished speaking, his lips trail across your jaw, landing just below your ear. your eyes flutter open and you're suddenly very aware that you're standing in the middle of a public sidewalk.

"'toru," your voice is breathy, even though you're trying desperately to keep it together. "there are people—"

he pulls away heatedly, his eyes narrowed. "you didn't care when he kissed you in front of everyone."

"yeah, but that was just a peck," you reason, though if he keeps this up, you're worried you might lose your resolve.

"tch, i guess you're right." the familiar sensation of warping through space and time sweeps through your body for a few seconds before your feet meet solid ground again. you don't need to look around to know you're in his bedroom. "we're going to do a lot more than that tonight."

your stomach flips at his words, heat rushing to your core. his lips find your neck once more, leaving sloppy kisses along your skin. "that's what you want right? for me to show you who you belong to?"

you nod weakly, feeling as if you're in a daze.

"ah, ah. use your words, sweetheart."

"yes— ah—" he sucks on the spot just above your collarbone before nipping the delicate skin there. "yes, 'toru."

"then get on the bed," he orders lowly.

and who are you to disobey? you can't honestly say you haven't been dreaming of this for years. his blanket feels cool to the touch, making you realize suddenly how much your skin is already burning with desire.

he kneels beside the bed, wasting no time before pushing up your dress and pulling your legs apart. you see his shoulders fall as he exhales harshly at the sight. his eyes flutter shut when he presses a kiss to your core over the tiny cotton panties you decided to wear.

he's rudely reminded of the possibility that you may have put them on with another man in mind.

"did you let him fuck you?" he interrogates. his eyes don't leave yours as he begins placing open mouthed kisses on the inside of your thigh.

"n-no!" it's almost embarrassing how vehemently you deny it, but the man between your legs takes great pleasure in your response.

"mm, knew you were a good girl."

he hooks a finger beneath your panties, pulling them down excruciatingly slow. you buck your hips up once he throws them off to the side.

"feeling eager, princess?" he taunts, his breath fanning across your center.

you nod, your legs shaking with anticipation, before remembering what he said about using your words. "please, 'toru. need you so bad."

he can't possibly deny you, not when you beg for him so sweetly. he presses a soft kiss to your swollen bud before flattening his tongue against it, drawing circles there. he groans when your slickness coat his chin.

you whine when his eyes shift up to meet yours and push yourself against him even further. he chuckles against your skin, but truth be told, he's just as eager as you are. he slips one long finger inside of you, relishing in how easily you take it.

"oh—" you cry out as he adds another finger, his tongue pressing against you just a little harder.

his other hand is gripping your thigh roughly, the flesh spilling between his fingers. one of your arms is supporting your weight, but the other reaches out, your fingers threading through his hair.

you're panting now, tugging on his white locks in pleasure. he moans in response and the way your walls are clenching around him lets him know you're close. "c'mon baby, cum for me."

that's all it takes for you to unravel, his name falling from your lips over and over. he doesn't stop until he's sure you've come down from your high.

"you tasted so perfect," he tells you, unbuckling his pants in a hurry and shoving them down his legs.

his shirt and boxers follow quickly thereafter, so you pull your dress over your head. you can't tear your eyes away from his cock, it's long and thick and pretty.

he pushes you back against the bed and crawls on top of you, but then he just stares down at your face. just as you begin to wonder if something is wrong—

"you're so fucking beautiful. have i ever told you that?"

your mind reels for an answer, but you don't have to worry about it for long, as his lips capture yours. you can taste yourself on his tongue

"tell me what you want," he murmurs against your lips as he moves his cock along your slit, coating himself in your wetness.

"need you, 'toru. p-please, i need you to fuck me."

he smiles against your lips as he lines himself up with your entrance, pushing inside slowly. he leans back to find that your eyes are screwed shut and your lips are parted in bliss. he's determine to seer the image into his mind forever.

splitting you open is absolute ecstasy, the noises he's making are proof enough of that. "fuck, princess. fuck."

he nearly whimpers when he bottoms out. "god, you feel so perfect. i could stay in this pussy forever."

your legs wrap around his waist once he begins to pump in and out. "never felt so full, 'toru. it feels s'good."

he shudders at your words and laces his fingers with yours, sweat beading on his forehead as he picks up his pace. his head dips down, his teeth nipping the skin of your neck aggressively.

"p-people are gonna see—"

"i want them to," he rumbles. "want everyone to know how good i made this tight little pussy feel."

you can't argue with him, not when this is the best anyone's ever made you feel. his head shifts even lower, his tongue moving along your nipples in a way that has your back arching off the bed.

he uses the opportunity to snake an arm beneath your lower back, holding your body against himself firmly. the new angle has you mewling his name in the most sinful way.

"you're takin' me so well. like you were made for this cock."

your head's lolling to the side as you fall to pieces beneath him and he can feel himself getting close. "look at me when i fuck you, baby."

you do as he asks, his hips stuttering when he sees the tears of pleasure swimming in your eyes. "you're mine, aren't you? tell me you're mine."

your pussy clenches around his cock so tight it's almost painful. "i'm yours, 'toru. all yours."

"fuck, that's my good girl. gonna cum for me again, hm?"

you nod up at him meekly, too far gone for words, but he doesn't seem to mind this time.

"'i'm close too, sweetheart." his fingers reach down to rub circles on your clit, eliciting a throaty moan from you.

you feel your stomach tighten and you're nearly there, but you don't go over the edge until he begs, "can i fill you up? want to so bad."

you can't find the strength to respond, so you hope the way you tighten your legs around his waist and claw at his back is answer enough.

your head rolls to the side once more, your vision going fuzzy around the edges. he grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, turning you to face him. "please, baby. wanna see you when i cum—"

he hums your name through a choked moan, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he reaches his own high. he collapses on top of you, laying there for a moment before pulling out and rolling onto his back beside you.

no words are shared, both of you trying to catch your breath and slow your heart rate. the silence gives your mind a chance to wander, which is never a good thing.

you consider the fact that gojo's never kept a girl around for more than a week or two— that this probably meant way more to you than it did to him. you sit up feeling stupid and wrap your arms around your chest.

you look around the room in search of your panties, his cum running down your thighs when you stand up to grab them. it's not until you pull them up your legs that he opens his eyes. he props himself up on his elbow, furrowing his eyebrows when you pick up your dress.

"what are you doing?" he asks curiously.

"well, i figured i should go back to my room—"

"what, are you crazy?" he gawks at you. "get your ass back in this bed."

you approach him shyly, your apprehension clear to him. "i mean, you can if you want, but why would you go back to your room?"

"i just didn't know if you... you know.."

"no, i don't know." if you knew him any less, you might think he was intent on torturing you, but it's clear to you that he's genuinely confused.

you sigh. "i just didn't know what this meant for us."

"baby, i didn't think i could make it any more clear." he sits up to grab you by the wrist, tugging you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist. "i'm all yours, so you're stuck with me." he tries to mask the nervousness in his voice when he asks, "is that okay with you?"

you nod, hiding your face in his neck. "took you long enough."

#m!writes!smut #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo smut #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk smut

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adrienneleclerc · 3 months

Text

TikTok Gone Viral

Paring: charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina reader

Summary: Y/N used a specific TikTok audio and it goes VIRAL

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: I had this audio in my head so like why not. It’s my version of making Y/N a “PR nightmare” as other fanfic authors put it

Y/N was scrolling through TikTok while Charles was washing dishes, as he should because she cooked, and came across a video of a girl using a Megan Thee Stallion song with the caption “ovulation week be like”. She thought it would be fun to use the same audio so she put her phone against the napkin stand they have in the counter and started recording.

I need *points to self* this pussy *points down* on his *points to Charles off screen* nose *points to her nose* I spread it, I spread it, I pose *random dancing*

However, she did not see Charles move into the frame as she danced because she had her head down and just posted it without looking back at it. She did caption it “needing my boyfriend a little too much lately” and just exited TikTok. Their relationship has always been private, no one really knew Charles was dating anyone after Alexandra and they’ve only been dating for a few months. At least it WAS private.

“What were you filming, Mon ange?” Charles asked.

“Just a silly little TikTok, muñeco, don’t pay mind to it.” Y/N said.

“Alright well I’m done with the dishes, you want to watch a movie?” Charles asked

“Can we watch ‘Nosotros Los Nobles’?” Y/N asked.

“Whatever you want, Mon ange.” Charles said.

“Get the chips.” Y/N said as she got up from where she was sitting to head to their bedroom for a blanket while Charles gets chips from the pantry. They both headed over to their couch, sat down, Y/N put the blanket over them, and Charles gave her the bag of chips and passed her the remote. “Okay, it’s has English subtitles, so I hope you find this movie funny.”

“I’m sure I will.” Charles said. Sadly, both fell asleep on the couch, charles was cuddling Y/N. However, with Charles’s phone charging in his bedroom, he missed multiple missed calls from the Ferrari media manager, Fred, Pierre, Arthur, and his other friends. Y/N also has missed calls from her friends

The next morning, Y/N woke up on top of Charles. She shook him awake.

“Muñeco, we fell asleep on the couch, get up.” Y/N said and Charles woke up.

“Mm, what time is it?” Charles asked.

“I Don’t know, my phone is charging in the room.” Y/N said, getting off the couch to get her phone.

“Can you get my phone too?” Charles asked.

“Sure thing, muñeco.” Y/N went to their bedroom and unplugged their phones and she was shocked to see how many missed calls both of them received. “Charles, you have so many missed calls, here.” Y/N handed him his phone.

“Thanks Mon ange.” Charles said. He unlocked his phone and called the media manager. “Hello?”

“Charles I’ve been trying to reach you yesterday, your girlfriend posted something on TikTok.” The media manager said and Charles was very confused.

“How do you know I have a girlfriend?” Charles asked and Y/N’s head popped up.

“What about me?” Y/N whispered asked and Charles made an “I don’t know” face.

“The whole world knows she your girlfriend because you’re in the background of her now VIRAL TikTok. I’ll talk to you later.” The media manager hung up and Charles looked at Y/N.

“Ma Belle, my beautiful beautiful girlfriend, what did you post on TikTok last night?” Charles asked. Y/N took out her phone to open up TikTok.

“Just a silly TikTok using a trendy audio…oh shit, I gained SOOO many followers.” Y/N laughed and Charles took her phone to click on her profile and see the video he posted. His eyes widened when he saw himself appear on screen. The video had 9.1 million likes, 60.7 thousand comments, 231.8 thousand saves, and 76.3 thousand shares. Y/N looked over his shoulder. “Oh that’s why the video went viral. Oh I’m so sorry, muñeco, I didn’t know you appeared, I didn’t rewatch the video before posting, are you in trouble?”

“I don’t think I’m in trouble but now I have to introduce you as my girlfriend.” Charles said. “We are no longer private, Mon ange.”

“Shit, I was doing so well without the hate comments.” Y/N pouted and Charles chuckled before kissing her.

“I hope you’re ready, Mon ange.” Charles said before he grabbed his phone to record a video. “Hello everyone, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. We have been dating for a few months. Say hello, Mon Chou.” Charles said, pointing the phone to Y/N.

“Hello” Y/N waved shyly. Charles pointed the phon back to him.

“We met at her job, she’s actually a bartender, it was after my break up with Alex, we talked, we hit it off, we started hanging out, and now we’re dating, not that it’s any of your business. But I like her a lot and we’re happy together.” Charles stopped the video and posted it on his Instagram.

“You really had to say I was a bartender?” Y/N asked.

“Well you are a bartender, mon coeur.” Charles said.

“Watch them say I’m only after your money.” Y/N said.

“But we both know that’s not true, your salary is pretty good AND you get tips. I am glad I don’t have to hide you anymore though, I can finally post pictures of us together.” Charles said, kissing her.

“Well I’m glad you’re happy. Do you have to go to maranello?” Y/N asked.

“Nope, you want to go out today? We could go on the yacht.” Charles suggested.

“Ooh, a picnic on the yacht?” Y/N asked,

“Yep.” Charles said.

“I’m gonna start cooking.” Y/N said already looking in the pantry to see if they have anything to make. Charles just looked at her with love in his eyes, now the whole world knows he has the cutest person as his girlfriend.

The End

Hope y’all liked it, I found this very fun to write. Also, is there a market for Logan Sargeant x Hispanic reader fanfics?

#hispanic reader #latina #hispanic #tiktok gone viral #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic

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jinwoosungs · 5 days

Text

09/15/24; 05:40pm

{ drabbles / headcanons }

[ when they see other men hitting on you ]

featuring: sylus, zayne, xavier, rafayel

sylus had allowed you to join him on one of his meetings. he had admitted to needing you by his side, just to help him cheer up while discussing plans to merge businesses together with a potential partner.

the meeting place was at a high-end bar sylus owned, filled with rooms that helped with keeping the privacy. you remain by sylus’s side, as his future business partner sat across from you. while you sit with sylus on one of the velvet seats, you became bored with each passing minute. your drink had long since been drained, your glass empty as the intimate light became reflected on its smooth exterior. time seemed to drag on, making mere minutes feel like hours.

sylus and the man kept droning on and on about the logistics of their business, talking about how each party had high hopes of supporting each other through their deal and blah blah blah blah blah…(clearly you were close to turning brain dead from boredom).

letting out a huff, you rest your chin against the palm of your hand. sylus senses how antsy you were getting, placing his hand over yours before giving it a light squeeze. such subtle displays of affection makes you smile in response, all while catching his tiny smirk as well.

while sylus’s partner reads over the paperwork, you trail your eyes toward the main floor of the bar, seeing all of the people mingling and dancing as the music began to play. as you focused on the familiar beats, you let out a gasp upon realizing that it was your favorite song that was playing.

letting go of sylus’s hand, he gives you a questioning glance. you point at the main floor of the bar, “my favorite song is playing, is it alright if i join in and dance?”

he lets out a gentle huff, “go on. i’ll join you in a moment.”

letting out a happy giggle, you press a kiss against his forehead before standing from your seat. with a bounce in your step, you walk down the stairs and join in with the others, basking in the pulsating music.

you simply follow along to its beats, body gently gyrating as you moved across the dance floor. gone was your boredom when you allowed your stiff body to dance freely, simply enjoying the music that was playing when a low whistle catches your attention.

you continue to sway back and forth, seeing a man dressed in a pristine suit make his way over to you. “whoa, babygirl, you’ve got to let me buy you a drink.”

your eyes were sparkling with amusement when you gave the man a shrug. “sure, okay.”

the man was shameless, flashing you a hungry grin that sends shivers down your spine. “so… are you seeing anyone right now?”

you had to hold back a giggle, catching sight of a familiar man dressed in a black and red suit from your periphery. a smile graces your features as you continue dancing, gesturing your head upwards towards the stairs.

the man frowns, using his pointer finger toward the same direction. “you keep looking up-“

he follows your gaze and visibly stiffens, finally noticing sylus before letting out a string of curses.

“oh shit-“

but it was too late.

with a snap of his fingers, sylus was already settled next to you, his arms forming a protective shield around your waist. “what’s this? are you trying to hit on my woman so shamelessly, despite knowing how hard your father worked to strike up a deal with me?”

“m-mr. sylus, i apologize! i truly didn’t know, honestly-!”

sylus ignores the stuttering man, choosing instead to focus all of his attention on you. keeping your chin still, sylus leans down to press a searing kiss against your lips, earning a gasp from you. it takes your mind a few seconds to process what was going on until eventually, you kissed him back.

“mr. sylus, why did you run off so soon?” with a grunt, sylus was forced to pull away from you, watching as the older man reappears, out of breath and looking quite red from drinking copious amounts of alcohol during the meeting. his eyes look back from sylus and to his son, eyes already narrowing when he points an accusing finger at him. “now what did you do to get offend mr. sylus?”

the man was left a stuttering mess, trembling beneath his father’s livid gaze, but sylus simply brushes both of them off. he hums while taking out the thick stack of papers that were meant to seal the deal between onychinus and his company. “i’ll tell you what your son did; he managed to hit on my woman all while believing he could get away with it.”

a bored expression was seen on sylus’s face when he rips apart the papers, allowing it to scatter across the dance floor before leading you out of the bar as several guns were pointed at the man, “the deal’s off, because no one tries to take my woman away from me and gets away with it.”

both men were practically trembling, mumbling out excuses as they were close to wetting themselves. a wave of empathy washes through you, and you end up placing a hand on sylus’s shoulder.

“wait, sylus, don’t do something so drastic. if you go through with this, it’ll ruin the reputation of this bar- of your business.”

your boyfriend lets out a scoff, as if annoyed that you would dare to defy him. but he sees the pleading look in your eyes and sighs. with a snap of his fingers, his men stop pointing their guns at the father and son duo.

“you’re lucky my woman is so forgiving.” sylus calls back to the men, keeping you kept tightly in his embrace before gesturing at his men to toss them out of his bar, “i suppose you’ll both get to live another day since i’m in such a good mood now.”

when zayne spoke about attending a conference that akso hospital was hosting, you quickly took him up on his offer of being his plus one.

throughout the night, you enjoyed all the foods the catering had provided for the occasion, taking sips of your wine while zayne kept a polite grip on your waistline. he was always attentive to your needs, not complaining at all when you asked him to get you a serving of some type of food or pieces of fruit you had been craving for.

from greeting his colleagues and even saying hello to yvonne and dr. greyson, you make small talk with them, with zayne remaining glued to your side as a tiny smile graces his handsome features. suddenly, a deep voice was heard calling by out to zayne.

“dr. zayne, would you mind sharing a bit of your time with me? there’s some matters i would like to discuss with you.” you look back to see an older man with salt and pepper hair calling out to zayne.

“i’ll be back shortly.” zayne takes a hold of your empty plate and cup, tossing it into one of the trash bins before coming closer to the man. as you smile back at zayne, yvonne and dr. greyson both began giving you knowing grins.

“god, it must be so nice to have dr. zayne wrapped so tightly around your finger like that.” yvonne sighs while stepping closer to you.

“truly, i’ve never seen such a respectable man turn into putty within mere seconds.” dr. greyson states all while pushing up his glasses.

you end up flushing a bit in embarrassment. “guys, it’s not like that. he’s just… a really good friend of mine.”

“hehe, friend? oh sure… but let me tell you… i’ve never seen mere friends look at you the same way dr. zayne does to you.”

the heat seems to deepen upon hearing yvonne and dr. greyson’s teasing words, yet before you could even defend yourself, they were both called by yet another colleague. “ah, we have to go and attend this conference.”

“but do tell us what happens next when dr. zayne returns!”

with both of them rushing to get to the conference on time, you were left alone, letting out a sigh as you searched the area for any signs of zayne. after spending several minutes walking around the area, trying to catch any sight of him, you gave up and let out another sigh.

resting your back against the wall, you began fingering the snowflake bracelet zayne had given you for your last birthday. seeing the light catching rainbows from beneath the tiny diamonds, you couldn’t help but admire its beauty.

ever since zayne had gifted you something so precious, you had never once taken off this bracelet (aside from the times you needed to shower). it was something that always made your heart flutter with happiness each time you admired it. while looking at the precious gift, you couldn’t help but wonder if there was some truth to yvonne and dr. greyson’s words.

“my, what’s a lovely woman like you doing here all alone?”

you were suddenly ripped away from your reveries, eyes meeting with a tall and handsome doctor that had blond hair slicked back into a neat style. his green eyes shone with amusement, looking down at you with an almost predatory gaze. you look away from him, hiding your precious bracelet behind your back.

“i’m just waiting for someone.” you stiffly tell him, hoping that he couldn’t sense your discomfort.

“oh? is it a boyfriend?”

you keep your lips sealed shut, refusing to answer his question as a chuckle fills your ears. “my apologies, of course you would be closed off from me since i haven’t even properly introduced myself to you. the name is dr. jones, and i work in the cosmetic surgery department.”

you visibly stiffen when dr. jones places a hand on your shoulder, “now, i’ve dealt with my fair share of women who wish to change themselves all in the name of beauty- but i must say, your natural beauty is utterly captivating to me. i see no reason to change a single thing about you.”

“so please, won’t you tell me your name?”

“she’s mine.”

your heart began beating faster, hearing the tranquil voice of zayne coming closer you. his eyes were glimmering with unbidden anger for the blond doctor, standing in front of you while acting as a protective shield between you and him.

“dr. zayne, it is an honor to be in your presence.” dr. jones admits tightly, clearly upset that you were already spoken for-

yet you couldn’t bring yourself to care about the other doctor’s reaction-

since all you could think about were zayne’s prior words.

she’s mine she’s mine she’s mine…

zayne gives dr. jones a stiff nod before wrapping both arms around you, “if you’ll excuse us.”

not even giving him a chance to answer, zayne walks away with you, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around you. looking back at him, he appeared so taut with anger, making you shiver as you apologized to him. “i’m sorry, i was looking for you, but then he approached me and-“

but zayne cuts you off, managing to lead you in a secluded area as he pins you against the wall, kissing you fully against your lips. your heart was felt skipping its beats in response when you finally kissed him back, seeming to melt against him.

no words were spoken when zayne kept kissing you, swallowing each and every moans of your delight as you finally relished in your mutual yearnings for each other.

xavier finally had a day off from missions and asked if you’d like to go out to dinner with him. and of course, being his girlfriend and all, you accepted.

you were eager to walk with him to the restaurant, with xavier calmly greeting the host as he tells her his name. she gives him a wide smile, taking two menus with her before leading you to a more intimate space near the back of the restaurant.

once you were seated at your table, you both look at the menu and decide what you wanted to order. as you searched through the menu, you became aware of how xavier’s converses were felt gently caressing at your bottom leg, making you giggle at his sudden playfulness. you return his affectionate gestures by placing the tip of your ballet flats against the side of his jeans, running up and down the expanse of it with your own, victorious smile.

xavier gives you a smirk, leaning across the table to give your lips a quick kiss before sitting back down just as the waiter appears.

“hello, my name is james and i’ll be your server today.” the waiter was a young man of average height, and just as he takes out his writing pad, he catches sight of you and does a double take.

his freckles seem even more prominent the moment his face flushes red at the mere sight of you. the sudden change in his demeanor makes you tilt your head in response, and xavier wasn’t too happy with the events that were unfolding.

“excuse me, but if you can stop drooling over my girlfriend, we’d like to order.” xavier’s voice cuts through the air, making the waiter’s eyes narrow in annoyance.

“r-right… sorry, what all would you like to have?”

you tell james each of your orders, and once you were done, you notice the way james’ gaze lingers on you for a few more seconds before he leaves the table. looking back at your boyfriend, you began to giggle, seeing the grumpy expression on his face while he remained seated with his arms crossed over his chest.

“oh, come on, xavier. the poor guy was really young, and i’m sure it’s just a harmless crush.”

“tch, it was not a harmless crush. that jerk looked like he wanted to whisk you away from beneath my nose. i don’t like it, lets eat out someplace else.”

“hey, don’t be silly! we are not wasting your reservation just because you’re a little jealous.” you giggle all while leaning forward, taking his hands in yours. “and besides, we both know that you’re the only man for me.”

“that better not change.” your smile widens when you manage to get xavier to smirk back at you, blue eyes filled with confidence once more. once james delivers your food, you did your best to ignore the waiter for xavier’s sake.

for the next hour or so, things went smoothly, with you and xavier enjoying your dinner as you shared your food with each other. once all the plates were cleaned and your respective drinks completely drained, you wait for james to return with the bill all while speaking to each other in soft whispers, so caught up in your own little world that you didn’t notice the plate of a decadent looking chocolate cake appearing before you along with the bill.

you look at the plate of cake, then back up at james. “oh, we didn’t order this.”

“n-no worries, it’s on the house.” james admits to you with a bit of a dreamy sigh, making this the last straw for xavier.

you watch your boyfriend stand from his seat, taking the bill before reaching over to grab at the plate of cake. with lightning fast reflexes, he smashes the cake into james’ face. “she said we didn’t order this, so you can take it back.”

your eyes go wide upon witnessing xavier’s actions firsthand, in a bit of a shocked daze when he takes a hold of your hand and leads you away from the table, leaving james a sputtering mess as he removes the plate away from his face and spits out the bits of cake. “come on, i’ll pay our bill up front.”

after processing what had happened for a few minutes, you came to your senses just moments later, “xavier! what was that about?! that was-“

your boyfriend manages to cut you off by placing a searing kiss against your lips. the sudden kiss manages to make your knees buckle from below you, since you had never felt such a passionate kiss coming from xavier before. in all of your two years of dating, xavier always managed to keep his cool.

yet now, his kisses were so deep that it rendered you speechless. it felt like he was pouring the entirety of his heart and soul into it, acting like he wanted to swallow you whole and claim you all for himself.

when the need for air proved to be too much, xavier was the first to pull away from you, his eyes appearing dilated as he rests his forehead against yours, “i’m sorry, but i won’t ever tolerate a man that dares to look at you like that-

no one will ever love you like i do, and it’s only reasonable that i punished him for daring to look at what’s always been mine.”

you were filled with pride, watching all of rafayel’s art put on display as you attended his first ever exhibit. since your beloved boyfriend was so excited to talk about his passion for art with other people, you gave him some space and simply decided to admire his works displayed throughout the building on your own.

with a glass of wine in your hands, you stop in front of a massive painting that depicted a gorgeous city hidden beneath the ocean waters. your eyes became mesmerized by the gentle lighting and the way it cast rainbows across the various castles.

truly, rafayel had a talent for capturing each scene in such a captivating manner, his paintings appearing like illustrations that came straight from a fairytale novel.

as you attempt to burn rafayel’s latest masterpiece into your very memories, you became aware of a tall figure that stood next to you. you trail your eyes, only to see a man around your age staring down at you.

“now, i know that this is an exhibit that exists to celebrate a young prodigy’s work, but can i just say, seeing you wandering so aimlessly around has me utterly mesmerized, for you are by far the fairest piece of them all.”

a shudder of disgust courses through you, filling you with a strange sense of dread the more this strange man attempted to hit on you.

“i’m sorry, but this fairest piece of them all has already been taken.” you attempt to turn away from him, but the man seemed relentless in his pursuit of you. he ends up blocking you from the front, arms already outspread to prevent you from stepping off to the side.

“oh, stop making excuses to try and avoid me. if you were taken, then what sane man would even dare to leave you all alone like this?”

he grabs a hold of your wrist, tightening his large hands over it as you winced, knowing that a bruise would form, “let go! you’re hurting me!”

suddenly, you were ripped away from that rude man, now being safely tucked within the arms of your beloved lover. “she’s taken by me, and if you don’t wish for me to cause a scene, i suggest you leave.”

rafayel’s voice had taken on a deeper tone you had never once heard before. ever since you got together with him, he had always been your cheerful and goofy boyfriend- one that was full of bright smiles and sweet laughter…

yet the rafayel that was currently protecting you held none of those soft traits. his eyebrows were knitted together in annoyance, placing both arms protectively around your front as he kept your back pressed deeply against his chest. the man was about to make another move, having every intention to rip you away from rafayel’s arms when he grabs your wine glass and throws the rest of your wine into his eyes.

the man falls to his knees, feeling the alcohol stinging at his eyes as rafayel calls the guards over. “take this man away from the premises. he’s been ruining my exhibition for far too long.”

not even bothering to stick around, rafayel takes you away and into one of the conference rooms. you feel the way he was trembling when he locks the door, making you reach out to try and comfort him.

“rafe-“

he suddenly cuts you off with a kiss, facing you within mere seconds as his trembling hands gently frame at your face. you eagerly return his kiss, slotting your lips against his in a fervent kiss that takes both of your breaths away.

within minutes, rafayel was the first to pull away, showing you his pout for a brief second before he hides his face within the curve of your neck. “how dare he hit on you and pull on your wrist like that? ugh, he deserved more than just some wine to his face. maybe i should have used my evol on him?”

hearing the slight whine in his voice makes you giggle, wrapping your arms around your beloved artist before pressing a kiss against his soft strands of hair. “don’t be silly, you don’t need to waste your powers on him.”

you listen as rafayel grumbles once more, making you grin as you gently remove his face from the curve of your neck. framing his defined cheeks with your two hands, you admire his pout for another moment before leaning forward, pressing a kiss against his pouty lips while basking in his sighs.

and thanks to your kisses alone, rafayel stopped his pouting and forgot all about the anger he felt for the man who dared to take you away from him…

end notes: jealous lads men are so 😭🙌🏻🥰 currently unedited, but i’ll make any changes once this is posted.

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

#sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus x y/n #zayne x reader #zayne x you #zayne x y/n #xavier x reader #xavier x you #xavier x y/n #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #rafayel x y/n #lads x reader #lnds x reader #l&ds x reader #love and deepspace x reader #writings 📖

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foli-vora · 2 years

Text

once again in your arms

joel miller x f!reader

A/N: mwahah, hello boys i’m baaack (10 points to whoever knows what movie that quote's from). took an unexpected break coz life, but i’m ready to get back on track. this was requested by a beautiful anon a while back (sorry for the wait angel), but i hope you enjoy! x

Request: hello! so this is kinda angsty: joel and the reader are married and have a baby (plus sarah, obviously). the day of the outbreak, reader and baby were in town and she couldnt call joel (or viceversa) cause the phone lines were down. they were separated for a few years until they arrives at the quarantine zone he's in, and he recognizes them in the crowd.

Word count: 4.5k-ish

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, birth and having a baby, domestic fluff, angst, pre and post outbreak, some spoilery things if you haven’t seen the show yet, heartbreak, loss of a child, apocalypse things, i sweat at the idea of caring for a baby during the end of the world, soft reunions, fluff, cameos of my fave oc’s made in a different series

It’s a fact you had learnt in the very early days of your relationship... the Miller men knew how to care for a lady. Whether it was Tommy sliding in to open the door for you before you could reach for the handle, or Joel draping you in blankets and taking on the responsibility of keeping your hot water bottle warm to fend off cramps for the evening, not a moment went by when you didn’t feel the constant reassurance of their care.

Especially now, fresh from the hospital and tender from your days of excruciating pain and an extensively long labour, Tommy quickly slaps the pillows into something plusher, hands gentle as they guide you down until you’re reclining into the armchair.

Joel keeps an eye on you from across the room, the brief wash of concern slipping away with the easy smile that grows along his lips when your eyes meet.

He rocks the wrapped bundle in his arms softly, a big hand dwarfing the small head that peaks from the blankets. His fingers brush through the light smattering of hair peeking out from the cotton burrito, his index running along the tiny peak of a nose and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“Dad,” Sarah whines with an eager smile, shifting restlessly on the couch, “come on, I’ve been waiting all weekend.”

“Oh my god,” Joel drawls sarcastically, “all weekend? Baby girl, how are you survivin’ right now?”

“Shut up,” her grin widens, “give me my baby brother before I explode.”

“Well, we don’t want that mess all in the livin’ room,” Joel quips, stepping over your weekend bags tossed on the floor and closer to the couch, “ain’t treadin’ your brain all into the rug—thing was damn expensive.”

Sarah shrugs, readjusting her body to sit straighter and holding her arms out expectantly, “Least I have a brain.”

Tommy snorts in amusement, grinning at his brother's expense, “That’s true.”

“Are you still here?” Joel side eyes him, barely fighting the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

They bicker, throwing their little snippy sibling comments back and forth before Sarah clears her throat, her eyebrows rising in impatience.

“Alright, alright. Here, watch his head,” Joel instructs gently, a smile playing along his lips, “that’s it, baby, you got him.”

It’s a beautiful picture, Sarah carefully bringing the baby closer and tucking him carefully into her arms, and the sentiment is shared with Tommy as the flash and click of a camera goes off. He removes the polaroid sliding from the slot and sits it on the coffee table to develop before instructing Joel to slide in next to her and smile.

Both Joel and Sarah are oblivious to his instruction, lost in the bubble that has overcome them. You find peace watching them, warmth spreading along your limbs by the sweet tenderness of it all. The love is clear between the three of them cuddled on the couch, and it’s almost too much for your heart to bear.

Sarah beams down at her baby brother, cooing soft words and stroking a gentle finger down Matthew’s cheek. Joel throws an arm to rest on the top of the couch behind Sarah, turning into her and answering her questions quietly.

8 pounds, 3 ounces. Smaller than you. No, he didn’t cry at all—gave me and the docs a damn heart attack. She sure did a great job.

Your Joel was never a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, but the emotion shines from his eyes, bleeds through the lines in his face and it’s enough to bring tears building along your lash line.

“You okay over there?”

His familiar drawl brings your attention to him, and you smile at him, tired and fully at peace. It’s bliss, despite the ache of birth still hanging in your limbs. M

“I’m fine,” you respond quietly, lids heavy with exhaustion, “I’m just so happy.”

He fucking beams. His grin creases his cheeks and he nods softly.

“Me too, honey,” he mutters, turning his attention back to his children and playing with a strand of Sarah’s hair as he gazes down at Matthew, “me too.”

—

Four months later.

Chaos.

Matthew wails against your chest, the deafening sounds of screams, bullets, sirens and explosions setting him off into hysterics. Your arms tighten around him, keeping his face tucked closely into your throat so your scent could hopefully provide him some reassurance.

You crouch beside cars, you run until your legs ache. You take cover in stores, the soles of your shoes crunching over broken glass of the shattered windows. Every phone you try gives nothing but a dull tone. Radios are filled with static and emergency broadcasts play on the view screens you run past in your effort to escape whatever the hell is happening.

Worry stirs along the edges of your mind. Is Joel okay? Sarah? Tommy? You can’t call him, you can only run and hope nothing takes you down in your effort to get back to your car. You pass people crouched over others, blood smearing along their lips as they tear unforgivingly into the flesh of another.

It’s a nightmare, and it’s everywhere you look.

Almost there.

You see the sign of the parking lot and it only makes you run that much faster, even though your legs threaten to give out at any minute. You pass an elderly man crouching beside a woman, blood flowing from the open gash on her throat, and the ache clutching your heart only increases when his pleas reach your ears over the mayhem.

“Gloria,” he mutters in an aged rasp, “up you get, love. You’re alright, come on now—”

You can’t help it.

Somewhere in your mind you can feel Joel screaming at you to keep running, to get yourself to safety and not give a damn about anyone other than Matthew, but the image of this man cradling his wife’s wrinkled, bloodied hand is enough to get you advancing to him before anyone could hurt him.

“Sir—”

He ignores you, too busy with brushing the woman’s blood soaked white hair from her face.

“Sir, we have to move—”

You wrap your fingers around his shoulder and shake firmly. His head gives a shake of denial as he clutches his wife’s hand tighter.

“No… no, she’ll need help—she has a bad ankle.”

Shifting Matthew unsteadily onto your hip, your fingers wrap under his arm and tug him onto his feet. He fights you, bats your hold away with an infuriated expression at your rough handling of him.

“I’m so sorry, but she’s gone—we have to run. I—I have a car, please… just come with me, please!”

“I won’t leave her—”

“Please… they’re coming! I—would she want this for you? To die like this?”

He blinks, his frown softening ever so slightly before screams pierce the air, much closer than you anticipated, and terror claws up your throat until you feel you’ll vomit.

You hold out a hand, relieved when his own rough, calloused hand finally takes it, and then you’re running, albeit slower than before, but you make it to your car with no issues.

You dive into the driver's seat, passing Matthew over to the stranger when he makes an impatient gesture to hold him and then you’re tearing out of the lot, running down the few rabid looking beings that advance on you with bloodied expressions of hunger.

You don’t think you take a proper breath until you’re past a military barricade that had seemingly been destroyed in the attack, flying down the highway and around other panicked drivers with sweat slicking your skin.

Taking a deep breath to slow the brutal pounding of your heart, you look at Matthew, now calmed and looking up at the stranger with an obvious shine of curiosity. The old man is clearly softened by the baby, letting his small hand wrap around his finger and wiggling it playfully in his hold.

“That’s Matthew,” you mutter shakily, meeting the eyes of the elderly man before gazing back out the windscreen. You take another breath before giving your own name, tears biting at your eyes when you utter the name Miller.

Do you still have a husband? A step daughter? A brother in law? The unknown scares you, outright fucking terrifies you.

The man nods in your peripheral vision.

“Harold,” he finally says, voice rough and tired.

—

There are people everywhere, screaming, crying.

People run, shout, wail over family and friends.

Tears have long dried on his face, his head thumping relentlessly with the remnants of his heartbreak. Tommy’s grip is firm on him, tugging him out of the way of people tearing down in their direction, pulling him to where a makeshift table is thrust under a tent as a reception of sorts.

He doesn’t care about the people already there asking about their family and friends. He shoves them out of the way, hands shaking as they clutch the edge of the weak table.

“I’m lookin’ for a woman… she’d be with a baby boy, not even four months old—”

His voice shakes. He can’t get it to stop. He struggles to get out the detailed descriptions of you both down to the clothes you were wearing, speaking your names through trembling lips. His stomach jolts at the thought of you somewhere, lying helplessly on the floor with your flesh getting torn into while Matthew screams in his car seat.

He’s a damn baby. He wouldn’t know what’s happening, wouldn’t know why his mama’s not there with him—

The woman gives a small expression of sympathy over the thin surgical mask covering her mouth, “I’m sorry, sir. We’ve had no babies that young come through, and nothing like that has come in over the radios.”

He retches.

His body heaves, almost as if it’s rejecting the mere idea that you weren’t somewhere safe waiting for him. He had failed. Failed to keep Sarah safe, failed to keep Matthew safe, you—the vows he had made now meant shit. He hadn’t been there for better or worse. He’d hadn’t done what a father should have and kept his kids free from harm.

Sarah had died, terrified and in agony, in his hold. Her bloodied handprints remain dry and caked on his arms. Matthew had died, not even making it to six months. A baby, still fresh to the world, only just able to hold his own head up. You had died, not knowing where he and Sarah were, if they were even safe.

Tommy hauls him to a close trash can, rubbing a firm hand up and down his back as he chokes on vomit, tears soon streaming down his cheeks when his body eventually has nothing left to give. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering against his ribs and filling his ears until he’s unaware of the noises around him.

“They’re gone,” he whispers hoarsely, clutching at the rim of the trash can in an effort to keep himself up.

“Now we don’t know that—”

“God damn it, Tommy, you saw what it was like out there!”

Tommy sighs, his own eyes filling with tears. “We gotta keep hope, Joel—”

“Hope?” Joel spits at his brother, “What good is hope against that shit out there? She would’ve been alone, you know as well as I Matthew only would’ve slowed her down. They were in the city. We couldn’t even keep safe out here! They’re—they’re gone. My wife… my baby boy, my baby girl—”

The sobs tear from his chest, harsh and painful. He mourns for hours, unseeing of the flurried movement still happening around him, his sorrow mixing with the flood of agony filling the makeshift safe zone with every new unhurt civilian looking for someone familiar.

Tommy doesn’t take his arms away from around his brother until dawn starts to pierce the horizon,

—

Two years later.

He still fills your thoughts daily.

Your life, your old life, would flash behind your eyelids at night when sleep would finally claim you. You’d feel his touch, kiss his lips, touch his face. It all felt so normal. The dreams would be nothing but memories, and somehow, it made them feel more like nightmares.

Mornings making breakfast with Sarah, dancing to the music falling from the radio. Family game nights, watching Tommy and Joel get more and more competitive with each game. Grocery shopping with Joel, simply wandering down the aisles and relishing in his comforting touch warming your lower back.

You could never quite make peace with the possibility that he was dead. It didn’t sit right. The idea that your Joel had been lost to the disaster that had claimed the world just seemed impossible. Your heart rejected the notion, refused to accept that its counterpart wasn’t somewhere out there, living, breathing, surviving,

Sarah and Tommy, too.

They had to be somewhere, holed up safely and keeping well. They had to.

“They’ve established a quarantine zone close by,” you say quietly, mindful of Matthew sleeping on your lap, “it’ll be a lot safer there than out here. I think we should give it a go… find a more secure place to live. I’ve heard they have work available, good flow of food and medicine…”

Harry snorts quietly, shifting under his old, thick jacket, “That doesn’t mean they’re happy giving it out. There’ll be a catch somewhere.”

You eye the long carved frown in his features and lean forward to fix the blanket covering his tired legs, “Don’t you think we should try at least?”

“Maybe they’ll put a bullet in me,” Harry grumbles moodily, “I’m old—I can’t work like they’ll want me to. Although, it’ll beat living through this bloody nightmare any longer.”

“Harold,” you chide softly, heart aching at the thought of losing the grumpy old man after spending so long by his side.

He’d quickly become a grandfather figure of sorts, to both you and Matthew. The little boy was obsessed with him, and had been since the day you had come together, and though he tried to hide it behind his usual icy facade, Harry was smitten, weak from the boy learning to call him pa.

“He’ll be safer in there,” Harry finally grumbles, gazing at the sleeping toddler. “This is no life for him out here. It’s getting worse and worse. Stability will do him good.”

“And you’ll come with us?”

He sighs sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine—I’ll come. But if they don’t kill me, I’ll be bloody upset with you.”

You snort in amusement, a grin curling your lips. “Fair enough. Now drink your soup.”

“I’m not hungry. You have it.”

He shoves it away, pushing it in your direction, as he usually does. It’s a daily fight—him refusing food in favour of giving you and Matthew more, ensuring you both never went hungry despite his own hunger and rapid weight loss due to the sudden lack of food.

You give him a playful frown and hold the small cup out to him.

“Don’t make me force feed you, old man, drink it.”

—

The walls of the Quarantine Zone are a lot more daunting than you had originally thought they would be. They tower high, and the barely there movement of soldiers along the front and top of it have nerves start to build in the pit of your stomach.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Surely they wouldn’t shoot without asking questions? Would they even give you a chance? What happens to you if the zone is full? Would they let you go on your merry little way?

God, you feel sick.

The ice creeping along your skin doubles, and you tighten your grip on the baby carrier strapped to your chest. Matthew hums quietly against your back, his little fingers tracing random patterns along your shirt as he bounces with your each step. Harry walks somewhat steadily beside you, his cheeks reddening with the more distance you cover.

He gives you a reassuring nod when you look to him for guidance, and you continue forward, swallowing the lump building in your throat when you become aware of them yelling about your presence.

Their guns are raised when you eventually make it closer, and it’s automatic to throw your hands up in surrender.

“We’re not infected!” you shout, hoping they’d listen.

A soldier steps forward. “On the ground, now!”

“Shit. Okay! Please, I—we’re not infected—”

“Get. On. The. Ground!”

“I have a kid! I have a—please, we’re not—”

“Get the kid out.”

Panic flares to life in your chest. You fight the tremble in your fingers as they raise to the clip across your chest, winding a supportive hand around to your back to keep Matthew from falling out of the carrier as it loosens from your torso.

After a bit of shifting, Matthew stands on shaky legs, his eyes darting between you and the few soldiers with their weapons raised.

“It’s okay, baby,” you soothe softly, “we gotta do what the man says, okay? Can you do that for mama?”

You continue to lower until your front hits the rubble covered ground, and you motion for Matthew to do the same, heart breaking as he cowers in fear and falls to his knees before copying your posture and hiding his face against the road.

More voices fill your ears, the obvious presence of more soldiers swarming from the gate causing your pulse to skyrocket as Harry lowers on the other side of the small toddler.

“Check ‘em.”

“Everything’s fine,” you murmur, keeping your gaze on Matthew and smiling when he peeks at you from between his fingers, “we’re okay. Keep your eyes on me, baby. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

It stings.

You automatically flinch away from the device someone holds at your neck, freezing when more weapons are raised in your direction. The device gives a small beep and the soldier gives a loud clear, before moving for Matthew.

He cries out at the pain, his chest heaving with his growing sobs. The guns move in his direction and you’re flying towards him before you can even think, yelping when arms pull you away from your baby before you can console him. His screams worsen.

“Please,” you beg, “he’s just a baby—!”

The soldiers remain emotionless.

Another beep, another clear.

The fingers digging into your arms loosen and then you’re free, hurriedly crawling on all fours until Matthew’s in your arms, his tear stricken face pressing into your throat. You soothe him softly, murmuring how well he did and that he’s safe with you while the soldiers move their attention to Harry.

When the device gives a final clear, another soldier steps forward, a small smile stretching his lips.

“Sorry about that,” he says, stepping forward until he’s only a step away, “but we can’t be too careful.”

It’s surreal being around people again.

For the longest time, it’s just been you, Matthew and Harry. The people left after the event had turned cruel, desperate for any remaining resources and resulting to violence left, right and centre. It’d been sheer luck that you three had escaped some of the nastier characters you’d come across during your treks. Sure, you’d lost a few supplies every now and then, but you were thankful you all were still here at least.

The man leads you into an office of sorts, with rusted old chairs to sit on while he goes about ‘registering’ you. You’re surprised at the process of it all, confused when he says you’re in luck because after this morning, there are new rooms available. What does that mean? Had something happened to the occupants?

Your stomach turns, but you dare not dwell on it.

Safety for Matthew, that’s all that matters. That’s why you’re here.

It feels like hours before you’re stepping into the sun again, lead out onto a relatively normal looking street with written directions to your new accommodation. The door bangs loudly behind you, fully closing you from the horrors of the outside world, and you try not to focus on the looks of curiosity, borderline hostility, as you start to walk further into the QZ, the height of the wall casting a large shadow over your path.

There’s a main square of sorts, filled with small stations of people selling various items. Your stomach grumbles at the sight of shitty looking food, desperate to eat something other than the random old bits and pieces you’d find through your looting, but you’d have to begin work to even afford a single half burnt bread roll. The two ration cards you had received at your ‘registration’ wouldn’t make a dent in what you’d need to afford any of it.

You pass the sellers, sharing a sullen look with Harry as he too realises he wouldn’t have enough for any of it.

There’s crowds, and you try to keep to yourself as you move, but something catches your eye, as if your sight had been automatically pulled to that direction and you’re oblivious to the people bumping into your frame.

For a moment, you’re sure you’re dreaming.

Did they end up shooting you at the gate? This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be unfolding right before your very eyes. You feel alive. You feel your pulse, your breath. You feel Matthew shift in the carrier, you hear Harry making comments about the people and the surrounding buildings.

You can’t look away.

You’re pulled in his direction, certain with every bone in your body that it’s him. It’s him.

The man turns, and his eyes are meeting yours through the crowds before you can even brace for it, and you see the moment it hits him.

He freezes, his eyes unblinking as if they don’t want to risk losing the hallucination his mind had conjured. He steps forward, and again, and again, slow in his movements, cautious.

“Joel?” You breathe, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear you over the bustle of your surroundings and the distance between you, but he must see your lips mould his name because then he’s running, ducking through the people and heading straight your way.

You start to jog, careful not to disturb the carrier holding Matthew too much, and then he’s there. He’s there and he’s real and he’s saying your name so sweetly, a broken rasp of disbelief and a tremble taking over his hands as they raise to cup your cheeks.

You sob at his touch.

The tears flow from your eyes and you grasp at whatever you can on him, your fingers tightening around the jacket hanging from his frame as you attempt to pour two years of loss into your embrace. He cradles the back of your head, keeps your face pressed tightly against the dirtied skin of his throat as he mutters brokenly about how he thought you were dead and that he’d missed you so damn much.

“Oh baby boy,” he rumbles, noticing the baby carrier and the toddler within it with tears filling his lash line, “look at you.”

You hurriedly unclip the harness and sweep Matthew out of it, bringing him into the middle of your embrace. Joel runs a hand along Matthew’s cheek before sweeping down and kissing him on the forehead, his tears dropping over the toddler’s cheeks in obvious relief and utter joy.

“How—”

You shake your head, nuzzling into the rough hand holding your cheek. “Later. We’ll talk later about everything, I just—god, I’ve missed you so fucking much, Joel.”

His head lowers until his forehead is pressed against yours, and his eyes flutter closed. You feel it in the simple gesture, how much he had missed you, mourned for you. He gives a small nod, followed by a quiet okay, before another presence suddenly makes themselves known.

Your body jolts with the weight hitting your side, and you jump in fright before your eyes come across a slightly skinny looking Australian Shepherd desperate for attention.

His tongue lolls from his mouth as he attempts to lap at your cheek, and you chuckle through your stream of steady flowing tears at the cheerful dog.

“Chip,” Joel grunts in slight annoyance, shoving the fluffy beast away from where he tries to jump and sniff at Matthew’s cheeks, “down—down, boy!”

“You have a dog?” You ask in curiosity, reaching out to pet the animal. Your smile widens when he eagerly nuzzles into your touch with an excited whine.

“He was wanderin’ the QZ when I came in,” Joel replies, one of his hands leaving your waist to deliver a rough rub to the dogs head, “followed me home one night and hasn’t stopped botherin’ me since. Tommy said he’d be good for me.”

“Tommy’s here? And Sarah?” You perk immediately in excitement, your eyes flying past his shoulder to look for his brother and the other part of your heart that’s been missing for years. “I’m so glad they’re alright, where are they?”

You don’t notice how considerably quiet he’s gone until you look at him. He’s defeated, guarded, his dark eyes drawn to the floor. He can’t look at you. Why can’t he look at you? What’s happened?

“Joel?”

“Sarah… she—she—”

He struggles to finish the sentence, the words stick uncomfortably on his tongue. His features twist in clear anguish and you feel the world around you shatter. Sarah, she… she’s gone? When? How?

Your heart sinks, weak and broken by the unexpected news. Your mind struggles to wrap itself around the notion that you’d never see her again, that the last time you saw her was truly the last.

Regret begins to build in the pit of your stomach. That last day… you should’ve hugged her tighter, kissed her forehead, told her how much she meant to you and how lucky you were to be in her life—

The tears begin again.

“Oh Joel, I-I’m so sorry,”

You both share the heartache, wrapped in each other's arms and breathing in the other. His tight hold doesn’t loosen for a second, and you attempt to put every ounce of energy in your tired body into returning it.

The world stands still, just like it did that cursed day.

How can you be so elated that he’s here, and yet be filled with so much pain at the same time? How long has he been lost, no doubt blaming himself for his baby girl not making it to where he is now? You mourn her, mourn him for being lost, stuck on a path of despair and believing he had lost everything for so long.

What had become of him? What had the pain done to him? Surely it would’ve been pure torture for the man who practically breathed family.

Harry can wait. Introductions can wait. Food, drink, sleep—you care for none of it. Not now. All that matters is that Joel is here, truly here in the flesh, wrapped in your arms and holding the child he hasn’t seen for two years. All that matters is that you had found one another in the violent hellscape the world had become.

Peace, but that tranquillity will forever be tainted by loss, a void hanging in the midst of relief, never to be filled again.

tag list 1: @maievdenoir, @javier-pena, @lv7867, @dihra-vesa, @katronautt, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @missminkylove, @beskarprincessjenny, @mswarriorbabe80, @danidrabbles, @sergeantbannerbarnes, @amneris21, @eri16, @absurdthirst, @hnt-escape, @acourtofsnakes, @ezrasbirdie, @mstgsmy66, @lovesbiggerthanpride, @coaaster, @sherala007, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @wyn-n-tonic, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @shirks-all-responsibilities, @withasideofmeg, @harriedandharassed, @andruxx, @buckybarneshairpullingkink, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @prostitute-robot-from-the-future, @tanzthompson, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @hope-for-the-best-98, @fangirl-316, @christina-loves, @jediknight122, @hallway5, @xoxabs88xox, @nicolethered, @churchill356, @massivecolorspygiant, @just-here-for-the-moment, @gracie7209, @pinkie289, @lavenderluna10, @goodgriefitsawildworld,

tags that have continuously not worked will be deleted from my taglist soon x

#joel miller x reader #joel miller f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x wife!reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader

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coldfanbou · 5 months

Text

The First One is On The House

Ningning fic once again a challenge given by @i-am-lifeform24

Length 2K

Ningning X Mreader

“Hello? Yes, I can fit her into my schedule. I should have an opening at 7. Later? I guess I could take her in after the show. Alright, I look forward to her visit.” You put the phone back on the receiver and walked back to the table; you were so looking forward to going home early for the evening when you got a call from that customer. You would've preferred taking the appointment for another day, but you wanted to keep your weekend free. You sit back in your office chair and stare at the ceiling before gazing at the clock hanging on the wall. Three hours, that’s how long you’d have to wait for your guest to arrive.

Getting bored, you pulled out your phone and checked social media, seeing posts from stars from earlier in the day as they walked the red carpet for some fashion event nearby. You see a few of your usual clientele post pictures, liking them before moving on. Eventually, you get tired of that and begin some repetitive tasks, trying to seem busy as you wait for the client to arrive despite them arriving a couple of hours from now.

Soon enough, you went back to looking at your phone, checking out photos from the event, and seeing the different kinds of people that went. You stopped on a picture of Ningning from the group Aespa when you heard the door open. It was your friend, a manager for various groups. “Sorry for getting here late. She just felt so tired during the show, and we thought it best to call you.”

“Just who is it? That they needed a massage so desperately? I could’ve had a nice evening for myself.”

Your friend stands aside, letting his gues walk forward. “I’m sorry for making you stay late.” You recognize the woman as she bows her head; it’s Ningning. She was still in the same clothes you had seen in the picture a moment ago, a revealing short black dress that clung to her body.

You wave her off as you refocus. “It’s fine. Just prepare for the massage. I’m going to talk to your manager a bit.” You point the small woman toward a changing room and look back toward your friend.

You see him heading out the door before you can say anything. “I’m going to get some food. I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Hey!” The door shuts, and you’re left alone again. You head toward the window and watch him walk toward a nearby restaurant, shaking your head. “I’m gonna talk that guy's head off when he comes back.”

A small voice catches your attention, “I’m ready.” You turn back around to see Ningning covering herself with the towel provided. “Where did my manager go?”

“He went to go eat across the street. Anyway, please follow me.” You lead Ningning into one of the massage rooms and have her lie face down on the table. “I hope the clothing in there wasn’t too tight. I’m going to move the towel down now.” Ningning nods her head.

You move it down slowly, revealing the tan bra that was provided to all female guests who would rather not be naked. It was thick and padded, meant to be comfortable. Your eyes move down her back, noting her flawless skin. You lather your hands in an unscented oil, rubbing it in between your fingers before placing your hands on her lower back. You apply slight pressure on her back, dragging your thumbs away from the center of her body. “Did you have a good time at the fashion show?”

“It was alright, but the chairs were so uncomfortable. My body started to ache from sitting in them.”

“I see. Is there anywhere that aches specifically?”

“I mean, my butt hurts,” Ningning says with a laugh. You just nod along, creating an awkward atmosphere. You kick yourself for not laughing at her joke. Continuing the massage, you move your way up her back, reaching her shoulder. You could feel the tension in them and increase your strength as you began to massage all the knots out. Ningning groans as she feels your hands dig into her shoulders and release the tension in them. “Ooh, that feels so good.” You focus your efforts on Ningning shoulders, and once they relax, you take a step back.

“I’ll be moving down now.”

“That’s fine,” Ningning moans as she places her head on top of her hands. You move the towel up slightly, keeping her ass covered as you begin to work on her thighs. As you ran your hands across them, you could feel the toned muscles underneath. Working on the one nearest to you, you give her thigh a strong squeeze.

Feeling your hands move across her thighs, Ningning feels her body getting warmer. She used her hands to cover her mouth, struggling to keep her groans from filling the room. Your hands felt good; Ningning could feel a growing wetness between her legs as your finger brushed against the inside of her thigh. Her cheeks begin to turn red as you switch to the other side, starting the process over again. When you accidentally squeeze her thigh a bit too hard, Ningning couldn’t hide her moan—letting the long, smooth sound of her voice fill the room before catching herself. She buries her head in her hands, too embarrassed to look anywhere in the room. You try to ignore it and continue on.

Needing Ningning to turn onto her back, you finally speak up, “Ningning, I finished with your backside; I need you to turn over.”

“O-okay,” She turns herself over slowly, glancing your way. You began to massage her arms, and as you got to her shoulders, you noticed Ningning continually glancing at you. Nearing her chest, Ningning groaned again. She rubbed her legs together, growing more aroused as your hands glided along her body. Moving down to her legs, you noticed the wet spot between Ningning’s legs, and she knew it too.

You tried to ignore it, but Ningning continued to rub her legs together as you tried to massage her. “I…I’m sorry.”

“There’s no need to be sorry. We’ll just stop here.”

Ningning grabs your hand. “Wait!” She let go briefly before grabbing your hand again. “I-is there any other services you offer?” You understand what she means. Ningning’s voice grew smaller as she went on. “I mean, I see in videos that sometimes masseurs offer special services. Is that an option here?” You were about to reply when Ningning placed your hand on her breast. I can pay you. I-my body just feels really good when you touch it.”

You had to admit that Ningning was a beautiful woman that you’d be lucky to have sex with, and you considered your options. You look at the clock on the wall; half an hour has passed. Knowing your friend, he’d likely be going for seconds right about now and want to take his time getting back. “Alright.” Ningning gives you a soft smile and lets go of your hand. You place it over her slit, the briefs she was wearing keeping your away. Still, it was enough to make her groan. Like the bra provided, the briefs were meant to keep customers more comfortable. Ningning stares at you with lustful eyes as she squirms on the table. You snake your hand under the briefs and drench your fingers in her nectar as you slide your hands along her slit. Feeling your fingers touch her sends Ningning over the edge; you watch her toes curls and eyes shut as she cums at that moment. “I’m sorry. It’s my first time,” She mumbles.

“I…figured.” You reply as you begin pulling down the briefs. Ningning covered her face, her shyness taking over. You turn her body towards you before dropping your pants. Ningning’s eyes become glued to your growing bulge. “It’s not polite to stare.”

“It just looks so big.” Her comment makes you chuckle. You pull down your underwear, revealing your cock to the young woman. She reaches toward it without uttering a word; you feel her soft hand wrap around the tip. “It’s so warm…”

“So you’ve used toys?”

“...yes,” She says shamefully.

“It’s natural, Ningning. No need to be ashamed, but let’s see how the real thing compares.” You tell her as you take a step forward and rub the tip of your cock against her slit. Ningning whimpers and stares at your cock as it runs along her cunt. You lean in, kissing her neck softly as you push your head against her cunt. She wraps her arms around you, holding you closely as she begins to fill the room with her moans. You feel her walls squeezing your cock as you push inside of her.

“Ahh, hold on,” Ningning moans, her hands gripping your shirt. You stop moving, giving her time to adjust. You pepper her with kisses as you wait, softly squeezing her body. “You can move now.”

You push more of your cock into Ningning, watching her expression carefully. You see her shut her eyes and moan as you bury yourself inside her. Her walls are tightly wrapped around your cock, rubbing against the head. You begin thrusting slowly, holding onto her hips to keep her in place. Each thrust brings out more moans from Ningning.

The small woman holds you tightly, wrapping her legs around you as you thrust deeply into her. You could feel Ningning’s walls tighten around your cock, as she neared another climax. “I’m cumming again,” She whimpered. “I’m going to cum.”

You speed up your thrusts, making her cry out from pleasure. You feel her thighs squeeze your sides as she cums. You continue thrusting into Ningning, making her let out a high-pitched whine. Each one was driving her crazy as you overstimulate her. You force your tongue into her mouth as her eyes roll into the back of her head.

Ningning’s arms lose strength. Falling onto her back, Ningning lets out weak moans. You revel in the feeling of her walls clamping down on your cock. When you feel your orgasm coming, you begin to slow down. You pull out entirely and turn Ningning onto her stomach. You press your cock against her cunt, holding onto her waist with one hand. You ram the length of your cock back inside the petite woman, slipping in with ease. As you drive your cock in and out of Ningning, you watch her ass bounce as it slaps against your body. “You’re so tight, Ningning. I’m getting pretty close to cumming.”

“Cum…” Ningning mumbles as her head bobs with every thrust. You feel yourself getting closer. Your hands dig into Ningning’s flesh.

“Where do you want it?” You ask as you ram your cock deep into her cunt. Ningning doesn’t respond to the question, only repeating the word cum. You make the quick decision to pull out, knowing it would only cause trouble if she got pregnant. You pull out at the last moment, painting her back as you spurt cum onto her. Ningning feels the warm cum hit her back, groaning as her mind slowly returns to her.

You check the clock; your friend should be back in a few minutes. You grab a few towels and wipe the cum off Ningning's back. “Your manager is going to be coming back soon. You better get changed.”

“Manager?” Ningning slowly blinks as she realizes. He’ll be coming back soon. She struggles to stand up, and you’re forced to help her get into the changing room while you clean up. You wait by the entrance for her manager to show up, and soon enough, he appears.

“I’m back.” He says with a burp. “Where’s Ningning?”

“You really didn’t hold back on eating, did ya? Did you get me anything?”

“Uh, no, sorry.” Ningning steps out of the changing room looking like she did when she first stepped foot inside, the only difference being her slightly frazzled hair. “Oh, there you are.”

“Sorry for the wait. I struggled with the heels.”

“That’s okay. Let’s get you back to the dorms. Thanks for dealing with her.” Ningning nods her head and follows her manager out the door, picking up a business card before giving you a wink and leaving.

#kpop smut #male reader #m reader #aespa smut #ningning smut

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macfrog · 2 months

Text

birth of venus sex on fire chapter twelve

these two mean the world to me. thank you for coming on this journey with them. i hope you enjoy.

pairing: ceo!joel x fem!reader

summary: if you love something, you let it go.

warnings: age gap (reader is late 20s, joel late 40s), workplace relationship, imbalance of power dynamic, alcohol consumption, lurve, fingering, masturbation, cum eating, oral (m receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, size kink, daddy kink, praise kink, cursing, some angst, soft!joel, cocky!joel (we missed him!)

word count: 12.6k

series masterlist | main masterlist | playlist | follow @macfroglets w notifs on to be the first to hear when i post 💚

“Alright, let’s get into it.”

He sits on the other side of the table, legs crossed and balancing the notebook on his knee. Twirls a pen around his thumb, catching it without looking. He’s too busy scanning the page in front of him, the list of questions he’s about to drill you on.

Let’s get into it, he says, and then stares silently at the scribbled lines.

Your shadow splits a shard of sunlight across the office. Knee jerking, palms clammy and fingers twisting around each other. You glance down at your outfit – the pointed heels Martha swore went with your dress, the jewelry she promised didn’t look tacky – and straighten your skirt.

Let’s get fucking into it.

“What are your responsibilities in your current role?” he asks.

You swallow. It feels like sandpaper. “Well, uh…”

He doesn’t look up. Not to ask the question, not to wait for your answer. Just stares down, spins the pen, bites his lip until it turns white.

Focused. Razor sharp. You’re not even in the same room.

You turn on your heel and begin pacing. “I manage my boss’s schedule, from nine a.m. Monday to nine p.m. Sunday. I get everything in order, plan out his days, make any bookings. I take calls, I answer emails, I…”

He’s still not looking. He bounces his foot, leather shoes catching the sun. His watch face leers back at you. There’s not a mark of ink on the paper in front of him.

“Hey,” you click your fingers, “Are you even listening to me?”

Joel shakes the frown from his face. “Huh? Oh,” he clears his throat, straightens in his creaky chair, “Yeah, I’m listenin’. I’m…I’m here.”

“Come on, man,” you huff, “You said you’d help me out.”

“And I am. I’m helping you out.”

You glower. “What did I just say?”

His shoulders wriggle. “You know…paperwork, and…Is this –? Is this really what they’re going to ask?”

“I don’t know,” you groan, collapsing into the couch opposite. Your arms cross, like some crumpled tantrum of a woman. “I found it online. They’re all art director questions, supposedly.”

He turns the notebook around. The first sheet flops over.

“Describe yourself in three words,” Joel recites.

“I was gonna go creative,” you count on your fingers, “driven, and then I couldn’t decide between perceptive or observant.”

He squints, tongue clicking against his teeth. He stares at your raised fingers. Thoroughly unimpressed.

“Right,” he stands, “Yeah, I don’t know, kid. A company like this, taking on a new art director, and this is what you think they got waitin’ for you? I mean, what’d I ask you?”

You scoff, twisting to watch him cross over to the window.

Between the sun and your deflated spirit, he stands like some kind of god. High up on the top floor of his skyscraper, towering over the streets. Towering over you.

He’s haloed by the blazing sun. Light arrowing from behind, spilling all over his wide shoulders and dipping in every fold and crease of cashmere. The northern compass point, the magnetic pull turning everything towards him.

Joel’s fingers snap, a hair away from your nose. “Tip number one: don’t stare at the interviewer like that. Asked you a question.”

“Wasn’t staring,” you mumble, shifting when he sinks down at your side. “You really don’t remember what you asked me?”

“Of course I do. I’m asking if you do.” He fiddles with a thread on the couch at your back.

You straighten as though his hand might be iron hot. “I remember…remember you asking what success looked like to me.”

Joel nods once.

“Remember you asking why I wanted out of my old job.”

“Yep.”

You flick a finger around the office. “I remember you asking what I’d change in here. How I’d make the office better. But I don’t know what interior design has to do with being an art director, Joel.”

He smiles. “This,” he shakes the pad, “is generic bullshit.”

“Generic bullshit,” you echo, pinching it from his grasp. You read over the bullet points – your strengths, your weaknesses, how you do under pressure.

“Yes,” Joel says. “Doesn’t tell ‘em a thing about you. Well,” his eyes widen, “I guess it tells them you tried searching their damn questions, the morning of the interview.”

A small, tired sigh falls from your lips. You melt back into the couch, horizontal under Joel’s extended arm. “I just want to be prepared,” you whisper. “I want to be the best person they meet.”

“What makes you think you ain’t already?”

“Well, for starters, I don’t even know which three words describe me.”

He chuckles. “How about more than capable? Hm? The dream assistant. Future art director.”

“Cheesy,” you mutter, batting him away. “I just…I really want it. I want something that feels like mine, you know? And I know I’d be fucking good at it.”

He falls quiet. He thumbs the corner of the pages, knuckles brushing against yours in a way that feels deliberate. Feels familiar.

It’s as though he might turn his hand, open his palm for yours to slip safely into. Lock his fingers through yours, squeeze once for good luck, twice to double it – and a third time, to tell you something he knows would make you flee.

But you don’t flinch, and neither does he.

Instead, he pulls himself up – a mighty groan as he straightens.

You bite back a snark about his age. Stupid fifty-year-old boss, stupid old bones. Stupid smartass.

Joel whips open the bottom drawer of his desk – the one you’d come to know as his junk drawer – and heaps diary after diary on the mahogany surface. Their leatherbound covers and splintered spines, the warped pages packed between.

With a tiny ha (and a click in his joints that you notice even from across the room), he pushes himself back up.

“September, September…” the pages flutter between his thumbs, “…September second, right?”

“What are you –?”

“Here,” he says, and reclines back beside you. He slides the diary into your lap. “September second, two o’clock.”

Your eyes narrow, following an inky trail linking geometric sketches and games of tic-tac-toe; the words college and assistant, a crude drawing of a house.

“So…” your lips purse, “…on September second, you were doing no work and doodling in your planner. What about it, Joel?”

He taps the top of the page, finger settling right below a name.

Penned in his neat handwriting – the trademark font that, after three years, you’re used to finding on sticky notes and signed with the letter J. It’s underlined, then boxed in by more scribbled lines. So familiar, you barely even take it in at first.

You blink twice.

It’s your name. Your full name.

“This is the day of my interview?” you ask.

Joel dares one fleeting glance at your lips. “Mhm. These are the notes I took, the day we met.”

You look down to the diary and back again. Almost an entire page of nonsense scribbles, hieroglyphic trains of thought bleeding from one drawing into another.

You frown. “You really didn’t listen to a fucking word I said, did you?”

He chokes on a laugh, shaking his head. “You had the job before your ass hit that chair, genius. All that interview was, was playing ball. Seeing how hard you could swing.”

But you’re more confused than you were before he emptied his desk. You flick through the book, spine dangling loose from the pages.

There are no other notes, no other candidates’ names – only reminders for Lunch with Mom and Massage 10AM. Meetings with past clients, deadlines long gone. One obnoxious, hot pink gel pen autograph in May, marking Martha’s birthday.

Yours is the only name he bothered to jot down. The only interview he thought to memorialize – in a gallery of distracted doodles.

“What are you talking about?” you ask.

He plays with his tie as he admits it. Nervous schoolboy, avoiding your eye like he did back on Maple Street. It’s a side to him you didn’t know existed, not until a few weeks ago – and seeing it again, you realize how much you missed it.

“There were four other interviews before yours. Every single one of them sat in that lobby waiting for Martha to call down. You –” he taps your hand, “– you got in the elevator and brought yourself up. You remember how shocked Martha was to see you?”

Sure I do, you think.

She stared you down the entire walk over to her desk. She stuttered and stammered her way through a sentence, once she realized who you were. She kept peering over the top of her monitor to steal glances at you when she thought you weren’t looking.

“I…I just thought I looked a nervous wreck,” you tell Joel.

He hums. “Well, you stood up when I opened my door. You held your hand out first. You were scared shitless – I knew you were – but you never lost your footing. You got no idea just how impressive you are, all by yourself.”

He taps on the sheets in your lap. “Now – find me a question on your list that tells them all that.”

It’s not as if you don’t know how these things go. You’ve sat in on plenty of interviews with Joel before – catching anything each quivering candidate says that might’ve slipped through his net, placing bets with yourself on who he’ll pick.

After a few months, he started asking what you thought.

You came to notice the discarded resumes of men you’d deemed sycophants, ladder-climbing leeches in tight, tawny ties – in piles to be shredded. There wasn’t a suit in the building that you and Martha hadn’t been asked to screen, before they were even considered for hiring.

Joel has the sharpest bullshit detector you’ve ever known. You don’t get to where he is without the radar for it. He knew exactly which guys were assholes of the highest order – he was just making sure you always did, too.

Stupid, stupid smartass.

A polite knock at the door interrupts your thought.

“Joel?” Martha calls, “Joel, your ten o’clock is here.”

He curses under his breath. His eyes shift sideways. “Who the hell is my ten o’clock?” he mumbles.

“Salazar,” you whisper, lips closing around a giggle. “Quarterly, remember?”

“Goddamn it,” he groans. He stands up, holding a hand out to pull you to your feet. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I’ll be an hour, tops. We can pick straight back up.”

“It’s okay,” you slot the diary and notepad under your arm, “I should get back to work anyways.”

“Calmed your nerves, at least?”

You smile. “Sure.”

“Liar.”

“Tip number two: don’t ask dumb questions, Miller.”

“Oh,” he scoffs, “We’re starting a list now?”

“Mhm. Three can be: don’t doodle during the interview.”

He elbows you towards the door, leaning close. “Four,” he murmurs, “Don’t get yourself fired.”

You grin as you slip outside.

“You couldn’t handle this place without me.”

Mr. Salazar loves to tell a story.

Joel’s still stuck with him, almost two hours after the guy showed up. With a pointed finger and something that felt as sacred as a blood oath, Martha made you promise you’d leave on time.

Whether we’re still in that office or halfway to Timbuktu, do not wait up. Just go, alright? Or I will hand you your ass, sweetheart.

Thirty minutes out, you’re pacing back and forth. Body humming with jittery nerves, what feels like a glass ball of anxiety rolling around your stomach. A text from Rand weighing down the phone in your blazer pocket: Ready when you are.

You suck in a ticklish breath. “Fuck,” you exhale, jamming your knuckle into the call button for the third time.

The wall rumbles as it delivers the elevator straight ahead. The doors part, and your distorted reflection stares sheepishly back at you.

You blink.

She blinks back.

Your shoulders life with another fractured inhale – and so do hers.

Some tiny, half-there version of yourself. Shrunken and shriveled. She moves when you move, only with half the confidence and double the pressure on her shoulders. She looks like she needs a wine date with Martha.

Scared fucking shitless, you think. Three words to describe me.

The doors close again, swallowing her whole, and –

“Nope,” you decide, spinning on your heel.

The shades are tilted enough to obscure the three figures to shadows: Joel, rocking mindlessly in his chair, Salazar talking with his arms, and Martha hunched at the other end of the couch – losing the will to live.

She’d probably welcome the excuse, to get the hell out of there.

Your knuckles rap against the door.

The investor’s lively cadence never slips – where there’s an audience, there’s a show to be had. He twitters on even over the grounding bass of Joel’s voice, the quick click of Martha’s heels.

Her shadow crosses over to the door and she whips it open. Her voice is a sharp whisper.

“You swore to me, you’d –”

You shake your head and grab her arm. Nervous, you mouth, trying to pull her over the threshold.

She won’t fucking budge. She plants herself in the doorway. Her chin lifts, eyes narrowing to study you down her pointed nose – and then she glances over her shoulder.

One second, she exaggerates the shape of the words, holding a finger up.

“Martha –” you hiss, but the door is already closing, and her shadow is already retreating.

You spin around, dragging yourself over to your desk. Another breathe squeezes past your hammering heart, trembling as you let it go. Your phone buzzes again.

This is pathetic. It’s pitiful. You bulldozed your way this far – against all your good sense. Red wine antidote, all that courage now feels more like a weak-kneed hangover.

You fiddle with a pen holder. Your body feels flimsy like rubber.

The door opens again.

“Hey,” Joel says, turning you to face him. He doesn’t look you in the eye – just slips your purse from your shoulder, squeezes your hand. “Walk with me.”

“No,” you wobble in his grasp, “Your meeting –”

He links his arm through yours, locking elbows. “Martha’s got him talking about some ski trip. We got ten minutes. Walk with me.”

Your breath sputters. “I can’t – I can’t do it.”

“Can’t do what?”

“I’m flapping, Joel.”

“Flapping,” he repeats, and the word never sounded more ridiculous than it does with his Texan twang. “What are we flapping over?”

He sways as he walks. It’s no different, no less comfortable than it was a few weeks ago. Just you, Joel, and the Parisian sunset. The light swimming in the Seine, the sweet air circling you both.

Your heel scuffs against the carpet. “You know,” you catch yourself, “just this potentially life-changing job interview I have in, like, twenty minutes.”

“Huh,” his brows quirk, “No big deal, then?”

Your eyes roll. “It wouldn’t be, if you hadn’t given me some big speech about not losing my footing. Now look at me. I’m all over the goddamn place.”

“Take it in baby steps,” he says. “Let’s just get you there first. All you gotta do is walk in like you’re already part of the furniture. Like they’ve been wondering what goes at that little desk.”

“You said the CEO is nice?”

“She is,” he reaches for the call button, “Likes red wine and racecars.”

Your brows flinch. “She likes…What?”

Joel smirks. “I didn’t say we talked for long. That’s all I got on her.”

He drags you into the elevator, hitting the button marked P. Your reflection stands a little taller, little straighter next to his. Mimicking his posture; the still stance and level head. The coolness you’re sure wouldn’t slip even if the world ended tonight.

“Look at that,” he mutters. “You made it to the elevator.”

“Shock,” you whisper, hugging yourself.

You face each other, inches apart. Nerves and momentum upsetting your equilibrium. The bones of the building drum up your spine as you plummet, floor numbers blinking down to zero.

Joel rests his ankles either side of yours. He knocks your feet softly, smiling fondly when you lift your head.

“Read over their website on the drive over,” he says, in the same polite voice he uses with clients. “Their values, the way they operate. Names and faces, all that shit. Keep it fresh, okay?”

You force your cheeks into a flat smile. “Okay.”

“Look at that,” he says. “Killer smile. Getcha any job anywhere.”

“Gross,” you giggle. “Did you wonder, before you found me?”

“Did I wonder what?”

You tilt your head. “What went at my little desk.”

He itches his nose, laughing into a closed fist. He’s blushing, though he’s trying hard to hide it. “Sure,” he shrugs, eventually giving in, “Knew it must be somethin’ pretty special. And you were.”

The elevator dings, and the doors rattle open.

Joel taps your heel and you sulk, leading him out into the garage.

Rand catches sight of you instantly. He jumps out of the Rolls, a wide grin on his lips, and balls his fists. “How we feelin’?” he asks, giving them a hearty shake.

“Little nervous, aren’t we?” Joel replies, patting your arm. “But we’re almost there.”

You’re holding onto him again. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“We’re still in the building,” you utter, tracking Rand’s kiddy jog around the car.

Joel turns, lips at your temple. “Closer than you were five minutes ago, baby.”

The driver grabs the door, turning his palm to usher you inside. “Figure we’ll get there with ten minutes to spare. Always good to be early to these things, right?”

If it weren’t for the six-inch heels on your feet and the seven-figure man on your arm, you’d reach to tighten backpack straps that aren’t there. It’s the same feeling: first day of school, walking into the unknown. Pushed off by grownups who know better.

You’re a grownup, too, you remind yourself.

The same feeling, and the same determination, too. The resolve to walk in there – bright-eyed and bushy-tailed – and be the thing they’ve been waiting for. Be the thing you’ve been waiting for. So –

“Fuck it,” you decide, slipping free from your boss’s grasp. “Let’s do this.”

“Attagirl!” Rand claps his hands and dances back to the driver’s side.

Joel helps you into the backseat, passing your purse over when you’re settled. “Okay?” he asks, one arm leaning on the roof.

“Yep,” you chirp – a crack in your voice that you both ignore.

“Call on your way back if you feel like it, let me know how it went.”

The strip lighting in the garage strains your eyes. “What if you’re still hearing about Salazar’s ski trip?”

He shakes his head. “Don’t ask dumb questions, remember? If you call, I’ll answer.”

“Thanks, Joel,” you whisper.

He clicks his teeth. You’re welcome.

“Next step, little tiger. Go get ‘em.”

After you interviewed with him, Joel took all of twenty-four hours to offer you the job. He said he would’ve called sooner – that afternoon, if he could’ve – but there had been a holdup with the paperwork. His next question was how soon you could start.

He was that sure.

On your first day, you were shown to your new desk. Wiped clean, drawers bare. A bloated water stain in the wood – the mark of a fern plant Martha thought was treated a little too much like an actual child by your predecessor.

She offered to have Joel order a new desk, but you told her you loved it – water stain and all.

You loved the view on each side – the sprawling city, the sun needling between buildings. You loved Martha’s company, and Joel’s daily ritual of strolling over to stretch his legs and, more importantly, gossip.

The job made you feel grown. A little kid in the big city – yes, sir and no, sir, caffeine for breakfast and paperwork for lunch. It was big enough that you wondered whether you’d really fill it – like you wondered if you’d ever fill your desk.

What supplies did a personal assistant need? You spent more time on your feet than sat at your desk. What knickknacks would you collect?

Well, looking at it all now: a jumble of pinched pens and hand-me-down magazines from Martha. A Wonder Woman stationery set your mom bought you; the chipped Kandinsky mug you make coffee in every day.

A plastic ruby ring, from a riverside stroll in Paris.

Looking at it now – you wonder how it ever all fit. Almost three cardboard boxes, plus an oversized Swiss cheese plant. Your desk is empty again, back to the way you found it.

Because you got it.

You got the job.

Junior Art Director. Jesus fucking Christ.

You were in Joel’s office when the call came through. Laying out travel plans for a business trip, organizing documents into the order he’d need them. Busying yourself purely to distract from playing the interview back in your head.

The entire thing was a blur, the interview – film reel already burning in your memory. One second you were traipsing into the building, the next – strolling back out, sun on your face and spring in your step.

It came back in flashing vignettes: the creative director’s cropped bob, her scarlet lips. The rhythmic dunk of her teabag into her mug, her quiet mhms as you spoke.

Her smile grew wider, the longer the meeting went on. Her tea went cold. She asked to see pictures of your artwork – made some passing comment about your skill being of some use for an upcoming project.

She liked you. Better yet, Joel noted – you liked her.

He walked back into his office just in time to hear the tail end of the phone call. Your shaky thank you, the teary goodbye. He waited until you turned, one hand lingering on your shoulder, and gasped when you broke into a giddy grin.

He pulled you into a bear hug, beats of raucous laughter through his chest. You sniffled into his shirt, staining the material with wet mascara.

What’d I tell you? he murmured into your hair, rocking you side to side. What’d I fuckin’ tell you?

A clumsy mash of work blouses and party dresses fills the office.

Glitzy gold and pressed linen, heels and loose ties. A bottle of champagne on a spreadsheet coaster, an overfilled balloon knotted around your chair. The word Congrats swirled in glitter pen.

Martha fills the latecomers in. She orders everyone to drain their glasses and grab their coats. There’s a dive bar not far, she says, with karaoke and a jukebox. Cheap drinks and heavy measures.

A dive bar. The dive bar. AC/DC and all.

You linger over by your desk, alone, swirling the bubbly in your glass. A little more than awkward, what with the gold party hat your coworkers forced over your head – and the heavy heart it’s doing little to soothe.

Your last day as Joel Miller’s personal assistant is over. As of five-thirty, you don’t belong in this office. Come Monday, you’ll have a whole new job, a whole new title behind your name.

It’s as thrilling as it is utterly terrifying.

Martha had your leaving party organized less than an hour after she heard the cheers from Joel’s office. Proof, you told him, that she’ll be just fine on her own.

Proof, he countered, that she has a very selective work ethic.

He’s in good hands, if her current crowd management is anything to go by. She rounds everybody up like cattle, corralling them into a buzzed herd.

“We are leavin’ in five minutes, alright?” she yells over their babble. “Five minutes!”

Rand dips between the bodies, smiling when he catches your eye. He wanders over, tactically dodging Martha’s waving arms.

“Hi, baby,” he says, arms wide.

“Thanks for coming,” you mumble into his suit jacket, wrists crossing at his spine.

He wriggles his tie straight, keeps one arm tight around your shoulders even when you pull away. “Of course,” he says, a dutiful nod. “You were always my favorite. Don’t tell the general over there.”

You smile, feeling it dampen when your eyes slip back over to the sliver of light under Joel’s door. He’s been locked in there all afternoon – the only proof of life the pacing his shadow has done.

Rand cocks his head towards the shuttered office. “He not coming?”

“No idea,” you pick at a hangnail, “Some emergency, apparently. I haven’t seen him since lunch.”

He frowns, watching as you shot what’s left of your champagne. It’s bitter – a sharp sting all the way down.

“I mean,” you gulp, “he’s my boss. He’s at every other party we have. What’s the difference this time around?”

Rand’s eyebrows wiggle. He swallows his first answer. He knows the difference as well as you do.

Still – he says, “He’s a lot of things, is Joel, but he ain’t an ass. He’ll be there.”

Across the room, Martha lassoes the party – leading them over to the elevator. She pauses, beckoning you over their heads. A thin-lipped scowl on her face, before she’s distracted by stragglers.

“Good Lord,” Rand scoffs, a gentlemanly arm through yours, “Bet you ain’t gonna miss that.”

You rest your head on his shoulder. “Surprisingly, I think I’ll miss her the most.”

As you hover at the back of the bunch, waiting for your very sternly instructed turn to step into the elevator, you glance back at Joel’s office.

The shades are split, pierced somewhere like six feet up. Sliver of lamplight peering through; silhouette of something – someone – staring back.

Come on, you want to call. We’re heading to the bar. Let’s pretend I never broke your heart and you never broke mine. We can dance and kiss like nobody’s watching. We can be okay, you and me.

Martha claps three times as the elevator announces its arrival.

“We’re up, comrade,” Rand quips, and pulls you out of Joel’s sight.

The bar looks the same as it ever did. All chipped mahogany and distressed leather; secret messages etched in secret corners. Slipping between shadow and tacky neon light to order a drink, feeling it hit the back of your skull before you’ve even swallowed the first sip.

It’s no Oasis Wine Bar, but it’ll do.

You’re crammed into a booth opposite some blotchy intern. Kid doesn’t look a day over twenty-one. Martha nudges you closer and closer to the lacquered panel wall, her elbow knocking into yours and splashing your drink over your knuckles.

The group is already a colorful spectrum of drunk: a couple suits slung over the bar, a handful screaming at some vintage arcade game. Rand cuts a merry figure at the bottom of the table, swaying as he garbles to Martha and Deb.

Like a replica of that first night – a playlist of dusty rock tunes, fingertips salty from picking at peanuts. The buzz of conversation fueled by swigs of bitter vodka.

You don’t remember it feeling this shitty, though. This lonely.

The intern leans over the booth, quickly yanking his tie before it folds into a flickering candle. He forces a relieved laugh, then asks, “Are you having a good night?”

“I guess,” you raise your voice over Martha’s cackling, “It’s a little bittersweet, you know?”

His head bobs in a tipsy nod. He looks from face to face, trying to latch onto any conversation that’ll take him. But they all turn away, distracted by some guy in a tropical shirt and his cryptocurrency conspiracy.

The intern stares down at his drink, thumbs tapping the glass.

Poor kid.

You knock on his beer, trying not to look too pitying. “How’s the internship? Liking it?”

He brightens, straightening in his seat. “Yeah, it’s been good,” he chirps. “I’m learning a lot. Mr. Miller is a great boss.”

It’s like being sucker punched by a toddler. Huge blue eyes and rosy cheeks, an unsteady grip around his Budweiser. If he didn’t look so much like a fucking Disney cartoon, you’d lose your nerve.

The alcohol sours on your tongue. “Yeah,” you mumble, sinking back into your seat. “Yeah, he’s – he’s a good guy.”

“Why isn’t he here tonight?” he asks.

“He’s – uh…” You throw a helpless look to your coworker – but she’s too busy showing off pictures of Henry. “…He’s busy tonight, I guess.”

“I’ll bet,” the kid replies. “He’s an important dude.”

“Uhuh,” you elbow Martha’s waist, “He sure is. Would you excuse me?” you ask, and the intern raises his hands. “I’ll be right back.”

Martha and Deb shuffle out of the booth, drinks in hand. You edge your way through the horde to the back of the bar – stopping to refill on the way.

As the muscleman behind the bar tops off your glass, something catches your eye.

Lit only by a flickering Coors Light sign – the red and blue melding into streaks of violet – an iron staircase lingers in the corner. You didn’t spot it last time – or if you did, you were too busy flirting with your boss to pay it any mind.

You drift over, evading the sloshed stagger of one of Joel’s mailroom guys, and click up the steps towards the glowing red of an EXIT sign. Your hip swings into the push bar. The heavy door groans open.

It’s no cooler out here than inside – but it’s deserted. Beer dripping from the lips of toppled bottles, candles wavering in clear pools of wax. A gentle hum from overhead – the string light canopy.

A kitschy little rooftop. A humble hideaway.

Alone, you cross your arms and amble over to the parapet.

The street snoozes, a story below. Leaves flutter along the curb, crushed by the scuffing soles of strangers. Their footsteps echo as they wander off into the dusky night.

No Rolls, you notice. Nowhere to be seen. Not parked on the road, nor in the lot across the street. Nothing but a couple of guys on bikes, standing in the cold light of a store front.

He’s not here. He didn’t come.

He couldn’t, even if he wanted to. Whatever emergency he’s dealing with, it’s taken half his day from him. Martha didn’t even bother to ask if he needed coffee, or to fill him in on her neighborhood politics since the new couple moved in next door.

Still – there’s never been anything he couldn’t drag himself away from. Not where you’re concerned. He abandoned an investor for a solid ten minutes last week, just to walk you to the parking garage and tell you shit you already knew.

He could find a way to make it to this, right?

You scoff into your glass, swallow a heavy sip. Swallow back the quiet disappointment, the burden of a broken heart trying desperately to remember the shape it used to be. Before private jets and business trips, before work parties and closed office doors.

Before Joel.

But he swaggered in, didn’t he – suit and tie and that signature smirk. He changed everything, overnight. He fit in all the spaces you thought no one ever would – nestled his way behind your ribcage, kept you warm, kept you safe.

You can’t remember the shape your heart used to be. You don’t fucking want to.

At least, even when you were fighting, he was still in the game. At least he was still sat on the other side of the checkered plain, nudging his king closer to your queen. You never intended on letting him win – but he never intended to in the first place.

He was only ever in it to watch your eyes light, any time he got close.

Now, the board is cleared. Pawns split in two, knights crumbled to dust. And you miss it.

You miss him.

And missing him is – feeling the absence of him in every room. The empty seat next to yours, your empty hand at your side. The weight you know by heart around your waist, the name always on the tip of your tongue.

Missing him is coming up with a million ways that every other man isn’t him. They don’t make you laugh the same, they don’t make you ache. They don’t know your favorite movie; they won’t pull over just to pinch the greasy bacon from your breakfast sandwich.

Missing him is looking for him. Everywhere. Hoping – Jesus, praying you’d walk out of your interview and he’d be stood, arms crossed, leant against the car. Wishing he’d show up again at your door – flowers in hand, kiss on your lips.

Missing him is existing in the negative space he left behind. Flecks of color fluttering in the breeze, fading as though they were never here in the first place.

The door chunks open over your shoulder, and falls closed with a slam. Right on cue. You don’t even flinch when he rolls a chilled beer against your arm.

Missing him is knowing him. Better than anyone ever has, or anyone ever will.

He’s here. He was always going to be here. Because it’s you, and because it’s him.

Joel holds for all of three seconds, then places the beer between your elbows. He leans back against the stone wall.

“Sorry I’m late,” he says, taking a sip. His rugged, twelve-hour-day form softens before your eyes.

“I missed you,” you whisper, and he smiles.

“Missed you too, pretty girl.”

You lean in, face smushing into his chest, and snake your arms around his waist.

Joel takes the weight of you like it’s nothing; kisses your head and rests his chin there.

“I thought you weren’t coming,” you mumble, feeling the strange chill of tears on your cheeks.

“Are you kidding?” his voice rumbles through your skull. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, you know that.”

The alcohol lining your gums sweetens. It might just make the initial hit worth the trouble.

“I had a pretty shitty night,” you admit, sneaking a glance at him.

“Yeah,” he sighs, “You ‘n me both. Pretty shitty month.”

His cologne is fresh; woodsy and clean. His rough beard on your skin, his tired collar between your fingers. The landscape of a man you know inside and out.

Joel’s hands lift from your waist, past your ribs and around your shoulders. He lifts the broken heart charm from your chest – so tiny in his large hand, nervously twinkling in the light.

You don’t flinch, this time. Barely even notice his eyes on it.

His expression stiffens. His jaw clenches. His eyes are glassy, lined with tears behind his stone-set snarl.

“I’m sorry for what he did,” he grits, swallowing thickly. “I wanna kill him for it, you know that?”

You lift one shoulder, dropping it with a sigh. “He did what he did,” you hush, “He was a scumbag.”

Joel’s upper lip twitches. Twists, then settles when you trace it with your thumb.

“You didn’t deserve it,” he says. “You didn’t deserve none of what he did to you. You were just a kid, you –”

He lifts his head like coming up for air. Sucks a ragged breath between his teeth, shakes the tears from his vision.

“Hey,” you take his jaw, turning him back to face you, “Look at me. Look.” You flash a cheesy grin, nose scrunched and eyes crinkled. “I’m okay, Joel, look.”

His laughter betrays him, breaking from his chest and shattering the wolfish glare. He cups your head, cradling you against his chest again.

There’s nothing between you, now. No spiteful words or suffocating tension; no hurt and no blame. One heart broken and the other bruised, still beating the rhythm of a language only they know.

Still seeking the other out, through all of it.

“What we had,” Joel says softly, “it can’t have been nothing to you, right? Was it really just…?”

“No,” you shake your head, squeezing him, “It was never – You were never just anything to me. I think…” you sigh, “…I think you just pressed on a bruise I had. A bruise I thought I’d gotten pretty good at hiding. And you just…you twisted your thumb into it.”

“I didn’t – I didn’t know about no bruise,” he says. “It wouldn’t’ve mattered if I had, darlin’, I –”

You take his wrists, following the sleeves of his jacket up to his collar. “I know,” you hold his cheeks, “I know it wouldn’t. But you saw straight through me – and the more you saw, the more you cared. And that scared me.”

He blinks down to your lips. “Why?”

“Because it’s never like that, Joel. No one has ever been like that. I was so scared that I’d fuck it up – that you’d figure me out.”

“You gotta fill me in a little here. Figure you out?”

“All my shit. Blake, my dad. All of it.”

Joel frowns. “You think I don’t got shit I didn’t want you seeing, too? My dad, Avery – that ain’t exactly dating profile material, baby.”

You can’t help but laugh. As raw as an open wound, the most vulnerable conversation you’ve ever had – on the roof of a dive bar, with your boss.

And he’s as fucking breezy as though you just handed him the forecast for the day.

“You’re a better man, Joel, than all of them. You mean more to me than anyone. And before I knew it, you had me wrapped around your finger, and…”

“…And I was pressing on that bruise.”

You wince. “Little bit.”

His tongue prods at the inside of his cheek. He scans the rooftop, glimmers of gold in his eyes, and nods.

“Listen to me,” he says, holding onto you. His thumbs swipe your tears away. “I would not hurt you for the world. I wouldn’t. That goddamn email – I just – I didn’t know what else to do. I panicked, and I fucked up. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to –”

“Shut up,” he smiles, “I never meant to scare you. I never meant to hurt you. And if we never go back to what we were, then – I guess I gotta live with that. But you? God, baby, I miss you.

“I miss hearing you laugh. I miss being the one to make you do it. I miss talking to you, miss hearing what you think on things. Miss your goddamn Bart Simpson socks ‘n all.”

You turn into his palm, masking your giggle. “Asshole,” you murmur.

“All I want to do is take care of you,” he says. His shoulder jerks, an earnest shrug. “’s all I want. And you don’t make it easy, that’s for sure – fightin’ back at every damn turn. But – I don’t know,” his eyes thin, “Sometimes I reckon it’s what you want, too.”

“Oh,” you wrestle a simper, “You reckon, do you?”

“I reckon,” Joel repeats, bending the word in an exaggerated drawl. “See what I mean?” he tickles your waist, “You’re a pain in my ass.”

Your head tips back with laughter – the first real laugh you’ve heard pass your lips in weeks. Since you were rolling around your bed, poking his ribs for not being able to use chopsticks. A silly, girlish giggle.

The world bursts into color again.

Joel chuckles, too, as you squirm in his grasp. His hands plant on your waist, forehead rolling against yours.

Your lips brush. Your body ignites.

“I really want to kiss you right now,” he whispers. “That okay?”

“Shut up,” you echo, letting his lips crash into yours.

He tastes exactly the same as you remember. Strawberry and lemongrass. Sweet, in a way that wakens you. Brightens you, full of life and full of color.

It’s as though only a second has passed since you last felt him like this. Felt his scruff on your cheeks, the warmth of his tongue slipping past yours. Your skin feels like satin on his; your body filling in all the worn gaps that time has taken from his.

Fitting against him like you were carved with him in mind. Chiseled from the same slab of marble, finally found one another through the opaque stone.

He pins you to the parapet; one hand firm on the small of your back, the other at the base of your skull. He leans in, claiming every sense in your body as his own – and you offer them over gladly.

He kisses you like it’s all he’s thought about since that last morning at your place. Like he’s making up for lost time.

Hell, you’re both making up for lost time.

Joel breaks for air, panting against your lips, then instantly kisses you again.

Your hand threads through his hair – the soft salt and pepper, the feathered flicks at the nape of his neck. “Joel,” you kiss him once, twice more, giggling, “We’re like teenagers.”

“I love you,” he replies, kissing down your neck. “So much. So – goddamn – much.”

He trails down to your collarbone, where your chest lifts to meet his hungry lips. He drags teeth and tongue between your cleavage.

There’s a delay in the time the words take to sink into your skin. Like they’re stopping to light every atom of your being first, before they reach your brain. Every bone, every muscle and every cell.

“You…” you breathe, pulling him upright. “…You what?”

“I love you,” he repeats. “That scare you?”

Oh.

“N-no,” you press your finger to his swollen lips, “You…Say it again.”

He pauses. Nods, when he seems to make it up in his mind. His eyes flit from yours down to the mess of your lipstick, and back up.

A man possessed, so it looks, he admits it between labored breaths. “I’m in love with you,” he says. “Have been for a while, I think. You got a terrible habit of driving me fucking insane, pretty girl.”

Oh, shit.

You knew it already. This isn’t news.

He as good as told you in the copy room – and before that, in his office. He told you in Martha’s dining room, told you in your kitchen. He told you every time his lips found yours in Paris, and every time his eyes met yours before that.

If you went back and looked, there’d probably be a trail of clues jotted down in his diary – September second, two o’clock. Great AP score, enthusiastic and friendly. I think I’m in love with her.

He’s always loved you.

It’s just different hearing him say it.

Different to how it felt the last time someone said it to you. Different to how it sounded. There’s no ringing in your ears. There’s no focal shift in your vision.

There’s no…fear.

Joel takes hold of your shoulders. “Don’t run off on me again,” he says, kissing your cheek.

“No, I’m not…I don’t – want to,” you burble, playing with his collar. “You’re just…You might be a couple steps ahead of me.”

“Baby,” he says, a little laugh to it. “That’s okay. I don’t mind. I’m good where I am.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he says, and leans in again. “I’ll wait, as long as it takes.”

You melt into him; his strong hands and steady chest. Teeth taking his bottom lip, releasing it with a little pop. Your fingers twist around his hair, tugging lightly.

A low growl sounds from Joel’s throat. His hips rut against yours, fly of his jeans catches on the material of your skirt.

It nestles somewhere between your thighs. Solid, swollen. Blood hammering beneath denim, grinding into your body. He’s hard.

“We keep goin’ the way we’re goin’,” Joel hints, “and we’re gonna have a problem that ain’t solved so easily.”

You release him, licking your lips. “You think I can’t feel it already?”

He sucks on the skin over your carotid. “You think I ain’t been dealin’ with it for the last three weeks?”

“Poor Mr. Miller,” you pout, “Let me deal with it.”

His cheeks lift, brows drop. Cocky. The Joel you’re used to. The Joel you want.

The Joel you fucking need, right now.

“C’mon,” you slip a hand down his front, cupping the weight of him, “I miss my daddy.”

He squeezes your ass, catching you in a rough kiss when you writhe forward. His teeth graze your ear. “I wanna touch you, baby. I wanna feel you again. This little cunt,” he slips a hand between your legs, “She’s all I’ve been thinkin’ about.”

Fuck.

It was a feeble attempt, anyway – matching his ego. Utterly futile. The guy makes you lose your fucking mind.

You’ve done things for him that you’d never dream of doing for anyone else – would wring their necks for even asking – and here you are, keening into Joel, grinding your dripping pussy into his palm for all the street to see.

“She’s all yours,” you whine, the words tearing from your throat in a desperate plea. “All yours, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl,” Joel murmurs against your temple. “I’m gonna take you home, okay? Fuck you nice ‘n hard, make you feel better.”

You moan against his shirt. “Can we go back to yours, Daddy?”

It throws him for one heavy beat. He pauses, breath hot against your jaw, and then presses a barely-there kiss to your lips.

“Yeah, darlin,’” he whispers. “Let’s go back to mine.”

You push off his chest, cunt throbbing with each step towards the fire door. Fingers locked through his – a siren leading her sailor down the wrought iron stairs of Sam’s Saloon. Swimming through bodies, bathing in neon light, breathing in tobacco and tequila.

Joel eyes the booth where his employees sit – folding spinning tops out of beer caps, wagering bets on who’ll still be hungover come Monday.

He turns to whisper in your ear, when a voice strikes like lightning between you.

“Hey!” Martha yells, waving from the corner booth.

You’ve never wanted her to fuck off so badly.

“Just where the hell do you think you two are goin’?”

Joel stumbles into your side, hiding a teenage sort of glee behind your back. It’s contagious – and it riles Martha even more.

You throw your arms in the air, eyes bulging. Take the fucking hint, Martha. “Home?”

“It ain’t even eleven,” she protests, making to stand. “This is your goddamn leavin’ night – what are you doing?”

But you’re already retreating, following the pull of Joel’s hand around yours. Skin like fire, spattering with every touch. There’s nothing – man, myth, or Martha – that could stop you from following him.

You yell it as you swing through the doors.

“Grabbing a paddle!”

Joel leads you with his hands and with his lips down a neighboring street, where his Lamborghini sits at the side of the road. It blinks to life, headlights blinding.

A bruiser of a car – all bulk and brawn and bullish, like the thing is actually rearing. Something of a sharp smirk to it, the same devilish grin its owner so often wears.

He opens your door, steady hand lifting you into the passenger side, and strides around the car. His hand is back between your legs before he’s even switched the ignition on.

“Get – your damn – seatbelt on,” you giggle, slurring the words against Joel’s lips. “I am not letting you drive me home without one.”

His breath is hot and heady, spilling over your tongue with each punch of laughter from his chest. “Alright, alright,” he concedes, clipping the belt into place. He holds his hands out, awaiting your approval.

When you nod, his fingers slip between your thighs.

“You whore,” you snicker – though the sound scatters when he finds your clit. You grab your own belt, yanking it loose from its holder. “Jesus, Joel –”

“There she is,” he coos, pulling out into the road.

He circles her gently at first, massaging over your panties. Middle finger pulsing over the hood, matching the rhythm of your heartbeat flocking south.

Your back arches; nails dig into his wrist. “Daddy,” you gasp, knees parting. Heat quickly soaking through lace and onto leather. “’m gonna – make a mess,” you croon.

“Make a mess, darlin’, it’s okay,” Joel beckons, knuckles white around the steering wheel. “Driving me crazy, watching you like this. Dirty little girl.”

“Let me…” you reach for his thigh, “…Wanna touch you, Daddy.”

He grunts – a sound of refusal. “Give me one first, baby. Here,” and he hooks the slippery lace to the side, fingers parting your folds, “Let Daddy feel you right here.”

Your knee lifts, leg folding against the door, and Joel pushes inside. Two fingers knuckle-deep in one thrust. You yelp.

“Oh, baby,” he tuts, “She’s so wet. She miss her daddy that bad?”

“Yeah,” you whine, watching the thick shine he draws from your cunt. You lift your hips to open wider – and he slots a third finger in.

“Look at her,” he growls, “desperate little cunt. That feel better, darlin’?”

“Yeah, Daddy,” you mewl, though you’re not fucking listening to a word he’s saying.

You watch, boneless and blathering, as your hand lowers – replacing where Joel’s was on your clit. Rubbing little circles while he fucks you with his thick fingers. Your back curls again, tits threatening to spill out of your dress.

“Keep doin’ that,” Joel instructs, wrist jacking faster. “You’re close, ain’t you?”

“Shit,” you gasp, walls clenching around him. “So – close, Joel – fuck.”

The car slows to a stop. A red glow seeps through the windshield, lighting your smirk in a dangerous tinge.

Your pussy drools onto the leather seat, throbbing over Joel’s hand. Syrupy and honey-sweet, coating him in a glistening mess the harder he fucks you. A sticky sound, the slap of skin on skin, the beats of your moaning in between.

“Look at me,” Joel says, and you tear your eyes from between your legs. “Keep playing with it. C’mere.”

He tilts your jaw with his free hand and slips his tongue past your lips – the taste of him more dizzying than any drink from that bar. He kisses you until you’re right there, sucking on his tongue, teetering on the edge of your first climax. Crying into his mouth to stop from screaming at the ceiling.

“Daddy, need –”

Joel’s wrist pounds against your clit. He laughs across your tongue.

“Come on, baby,” he groans. “Let me feel her.”

“Say it,” you beg, your head lolling on his shoulder. The streetlights begin to bleed into the car. The light flicks to yellow. “Need you to – to say it.”

He nuzzles his nose against yours, turning to let you taste the words.

“I love you,” he whispers, and you break wide open.

The car rolls off again as you come with a violent shudder, crying into Joel’s chest. Daddy Daddy Daddy, fuck me fuck me fuck me.

“I know, I know,” Joel says, riding your high out to the horizon. He stares at the road ahead, only daring a glimpse at the sodden mess between your thighs when you start to come around again.

He works your swollen cunt, fingers gleaming with your orgasm. Slips them over his tongue, licks them clean – and then pushes them back between your sensitive lips.

You rock with the moving car, pulse still rattling your lungs. Your eyes drift down, down: Joel’s spread legs, the shape even bolder in his jeans than before.

You got a terrible habit of driving me fucking insane, pretty girl.

Weak and still quivering, you slip your hand over his belt – feeling his stomach jolt the second you touch it. The dark trail of hair from his navel, the thicker it grows – the harder he tenses.

“Easy,” he clips, adjusting in his seat. “Alright, darlin’. We’re…You’re gonna get us arrested.”

“Good,” you shrug, “I bet you have a good lawyer.”

You slump into his lap, the armrest solid against your ribcage. Trembling fingers loosening his belt, picking at the button of his jeans, husking them loose when he lifts his hips.

“Jesus,” he clears his throat, “Won’t let me drive without a seatbelt, but you’re – you’re fine with – fuck.”

He’s heavy and rock solid, so wide you can barely hold him. Big enough that it takes no effort at all to pull him free. Shaft silky smooth, tip flushed red and leaking deliciously.

Fuck, he’s so pretty. He’s so –

“– pretty, Daddy.”

Joel lifts his hand and holds you at the back of your neck, grip tightening when you dab his head along your bottom lip. “Prettier when you’re playin’ with it, angel.”

Your tongue circles his tip – salt and sweat stirring you from your orgasmic haze. You dribble down his cock, spit racing to the twists of thick hair at his base.

The sound he makes is guttural – a roar of a groan from his chest – when you sink down on him. He fills your mouth instantly, nudging the back of your throat in one.

The car swerves some. Joel curses over your head.

You slip back up – slow. Let your tongue trace every ridge, every vein along the way. All of it perfect perfect perfect – all of it him. Chasing streaks of saliva, the pearly shine of precome beading from his slit.

One hand stroking his hilt, lips suckling around his tip. Kneading his weighty balls – massaging them in your palm, dragging your tongue down to kiss the cushiony skin.

“Pretty girl,” Joel rasps, hips canting to meet every lick, every stroke. “You’re gonna make me come if you don’t stop.”

Mhm, you mumble, gagging around the intrusion. Tears sear across your waterline, spilling from the corners of your eyes. So big, so pretty, so perfect.

He nuzzles deep, stretching the column of your throat wide. “Baby,” he warns, voice sharper, “Baby, you gotta – you gotta stop now.”

Maple, he’d said – that day in your shower. If you say it, I stop.

Say it, you dare him silently.

“I’m gonna – c-come, darlin’,” instead.

Say. It.

“You want that?” he growls, hand surfing over your hair to cup your skull. “You wanna make your Daddy come?”

Your voice flattens, mutes under the strain of his cock. You moan instead, the sound weak and muffled.

“Shit,” Joel says, stomach tensing tensing tensing. “Shit, angel, just like that. Good fuckin’ girl.”

He twitches deep inside. He’s there. Right there.

You slacken your jaw and lick up his shaft, two hands wrapping around it. They slip around the sticky spit, swirling and squeezing while you kiss his tip.

He holds you steady, slowing the car to watch as he fills your mouth.

Two, three warm spurts across your tongue, dripping down the back of your throat. You lap up every drop, tongue swirling the salt around your lips before you swallow it down.

Joel rasps as he steers the car into a dim lot. He strokes your head, jerks when you play a little too much with him.

“Attagirl,” he sighs, “Careful with it. Tryna fuckin’ kill me.”

You giggle, swiping kitten licks at his tip before you slip him back into his underwear. You bat Joel’s hands away, buttoning his jeans and threading his belt back together. Planting heavy kisses into the plush of his tummy.

When the darkness is pierced by flickering fluorescents, you push yourself up.

“Where are we?” you ask, twisting in your seat.

“Home,” he says simply.

A plain man in a dark suit strides over to the car as soon as it parks up. The click of his shoes bouncing off the walls.

Joel swipes at your chin with his thumb. He slips the digit past your lips and you suck it clean. “Dirty girl,” he utters, stealing another hasty kiss before swinging out of the car.

You hop out the other side, tottering around the Lamborghini to meet him at the back.

The attendant’s name badge reads Owen. “Long day, Mr. Miller?”

Joel pats his shoulder in greeting, reaching for your hand. “Long day,” he agrees, and makes for the elevator.

Your head swivels, taking in each lavish vehicle parked under luminous light. Emblems with horses and bulls and wings – plenty more than you don’t even recognize. Each car polished to perfection, groomed within an inch of its life.

Joel flicks the button at the top of the panel. The doors glide closed – smooth and silent. You barely feel it as it scales the building rapidly.

“Wait a second,” you stare at the dazzling PH, “Do you live on the top fucking floor?”

He bites his lip. “Might do.”

You step back. “So you let me bring you into my – my shitty little apartment, and meanwhile you’re –?”

“Woah, woah,” he cuts in. “Your apartment is not shitty.”

“It’s not a fucking penthouse, Joel.”

“It’s a nice apartment!” he protests, squeezing your shoulder. “Do you always gotta be so goddamn dramatic?”

“I bet you could fit my entire place inside your living room. Right? Am I right?”

He clicks his teeth and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Naw,” he says, like a little kid. Twisting his toe into the marble floor. “Dressing room, more like.”

The doors part just in time for him to escape your drumming fists – his boyish snicker filling the cream hallway.

You spill out after him, pulse fluttering dangerously through your veins.

“You know what my place doesn’t have?” Joel says, fishing for his keys. “A poster of Richard Gere. I could use one of those.”

“Oh,” you feign amusement, “Well, you can have mine. I won’t be able to look at it now, anyways.”

He slots the key in the lock and turns. Drinks in the sight of you – on a comedown from only the second-hottest car ride you’ve ever taken.

“Your apartment,” he lifts a finger, “has you in it. It wins, every time.”

Your jaw clenches. Your heart begins a warning drum in your chest. Don’t you fucking dare. Don’t you fall.

Too late, you think.

The door sweeps open, and Joel beckons you forward.

“Ladies first.”

You slip by, stepping into a regal hallway. Smooth stone on either side, dark wood under your heels. All marble and mirror, classy, glassy décor. Golden spotlights which glow to life overhead, the deeper your footsteps echo.

It’s dark, and a little moody. Manly. The perfect marriage of masculine and chic. Cold steel and warm wood.

It looks like him. Classy and luxurious – but homey, warm. Everything that draws you to him, and everything that makes you want to stay.

Joel follows silently at your back, much the same as he did in his little white house. Looking to his feet when you turn back, fiddling with the strap of his watch.

You wander to the end of the hall, where the apartment widens. A towering living room – sylvan and rustic, the same muted tones bleeding through. Cityscape backdrop, pristine glass fire. A coffee table homing ornate vases and books on woodworking; a faux fur blanket over the couch and beside it, a worn flannel shirt.

You love it. You love all of it.

And loving his apartment is probably a bit of a copout, right? The easier way, the safer way to admit something much scarier. It’s just fragments of Joel, after all. It’s all the parts you’ve come to like best.

His heart, his soul. The kid with the freckles and scruffy hair, all grown up. Thrown into a big city, thrown into a big job. Thrown into a million-dollar penthouse – and still, he turns everything he touches into…home.

Joel presses his lips along your shoulder, perches his chin on your collarbone. Quiet, a little bashful – hiding from every secret he’s letting you in on just with being here.

Your eyes catch a brushed-gold frame on the sideboard, and you float over.

Faded by the sun and the years in between, there’s a peachy tint to the photo. A dreamy lilac sky, dark cedars fringing the background. A squint mailbox, cherry red with the name MILLER printed on.

Two boys, one as filthy as the other. Matching denim shorts and lanky limbs. Smeared with paint, in the midst of a brawl which nearly blurs their figures into nothing more than one head of dark hair, the other sandy.

You’d recognize him anywhere, though. Even with his arm hooked around his little brother’s neck.

“Tommy started it,” Joel says, elbowing your side. “See that smudge on the mailbox? He pushed me headfirst into the thing.”

Your chest leaps. “Who won the fight?”

He takes the frame and dusts it with the sleeve of his jacket. “Mom did,” he replies. “Threw the camera down ‘n dragged us inside. Grounded us for a week, made us repaint the entire thing.”

“How is your mom?” you ask.

Joel nods. “Good. She’s askin’ after you.”

“She still asks about me?”

“Yeah,” he says. “’cause I still talk about you.”

It prods low in your chest. Aching, stitching itself back together thread by thread. A wound twelve years in the making, the doing and undoing of everything you ever knew. Family and love; hurt and loss.

It’s okay to lose some things, you reckon. It’s okay to let them go. To watch that beat-up Toyota tear off for the horizon. To leave that man and his ring and the promises he’ll never fulfill.

There’s someone better waiting down the line, anyway. It starts with a page of doodles; it ends with your heart in his hands.

The safest place it’s ever going to be.

You cross your arms around Joel’s neck and pull him against your body. Pull him against the wound.

“I want to go see her again, tomorrow.”

“I think she’d like that.”

“Then I want to come back here and spend the whole weekend with you.”

He swallows. “Yeah. Yeah, I want that, too.”

You kiss him softly.

“And I want you to take me to bed right now, and show me how much you love me.”

The twinkling city is the only light left on this side of the apartment.

Half-drunk in a half-dim room, you stumble in backwards – tripping over thin air and collapsing onto the bed, pulling the six-foot shadow of your ex-boss-now-something on top.

The laughter rumbles from Joel’s chest. “I’m too old for this, pretty girl,” he says, sucking a mark into your neck.

“No big deal,” you titter, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. “I’ll keep you going.”

He hovers over you, watching as you peel the clothes from his body. The heavy clink of his belt on the floor, the ruffle of slacks down his legs. He shakes the shirt from his arms and your lips connect again in the darkness.

Hips between yours, he drags your dress from the hem up over your arms. A hungry glimpse, tongue dabbing at the corner of his mouth – like it’s Monday morning all over again, and you’re on your knees in front of him for the first time.

Back when flirting was as harmless as delivering coffee and running errands. Back when he was one third of a fuck, marry, kill debate with Martha and Deb. Back when neither of you knew these versions of yourselves even existed.

Joel lowers – taking your nipple in his mouth.

“Shit,” you pant, fingers searching for the elastic around his waist.

He helps you tug his boxers off. His cock sways between his legs, smatter of come and damp saliva across your stomach as he guides you up the mattress. He takes the lace from your hips in his fist and rids you of it in quick motion.

“See what you do to your daddy?” he asks, tapping the weight of his cock against your mound.

You reach down, wrapping your fingers around him. He’s stubbornly solid again – throbbing under your touch. He shudders when you swipe a gentle thumb over his tip.

“Already came once ‘n you got him hard all over again,” Joel adds.

You take your lip under your teeth, stroking his cock. Your clit flutters at the thought of him pushing in. The stretch that feels so impossible, the punch of pain each time he reaches the end of your pussy.

It steals a sob from your lips. “I wanna ride you, Daddy,” you sputter, a solid shove on his shoulders.

He rolls onto his back, hands finding your hips as you mount his waist.

“Let me ride you,” you’re panting, lowering onto the dense muscle of his stomach. Quickly coating the trail of pubic hair with a pearly sheen. You rock back and forth, taking the stalk of him in one small hand.

“Let me ride – just wanna ride –”

“Alright, alright,” Joel hastens, sitting upright. He slips an arm around your back.

You whine. “You never let me, Daddy, I just wanna –”

“Shh,” he holds your jaw, “I’m gonna let you. I’m gonna let you, baby. Just gotta go slow, alright? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I can take it,” you tell him, hands on your hips.

“I know,” Joel replies, “I know you can. Always do, huh?”

He slides his tip through your core, teasing your entrance. So wide that you can already feel your little hole struggling with just his head. He’s covered in you – your slick blending with his, your breath swapping.

“Three weeks, angel,” he fusses, beginning to edge you down. “Too goddamn long,” he adds, “You know how much I missed this pretty cunt?”

Your pussy sucks his length in, blooming for him. Warm and snug, spongey walls pinching every inch as he penetrates her. Like they’re made for each other, the same way you and Joel are.

“She missed you more,” you gasp, head tilted back to the ceiling. “I missed you more.”

Joel’s teeth pluck at the column of your throat, still raw from the memory of his dick. “Doing so good for me,” he hums, “Little more, okay?”

You collapse forward, boneless and weeping against his chest. The pain and the pleasure hammering through your veins – Joel’s thunder and your lightning. Every nerve on fire, every hair on your body standing to attention.

He holds you steady, hands still locked around your waist, cock still filling you up inch by inch. When your clit reaches the coarse hair at his base, Joel kisses from your chest up to your jaw.

“You feel that, baby?” he asks, two fingers lifting your chin. “Feel Daddy inside you? All of him, darlin’, you got all of him in there.”

You wiggle in his lap, hips aching with the effort of holding his full length. “So big, Daddy.”

Joel tenses, teeth gritting. “I ain’t gonna last long,” he admits, grip firm on your hips.

“That’s okay, baby,” you coo, nudging him back into the mattress. His cock slips from your slit, drizzled with slick. You feel so empty without him – electricity fizzling into nothing, walls clamping around nothing.

You brace yourself over his torso – reaching between your legs to guide him back to your entrance.

Beneath hooded lids, heavy with lust, Joel watches as you drag his tip through your folds. He presses his thumb to your clit, rough circles around the swollen hood, and parts your lips with his fingers.

His cock lines up, and you sink down.

“Christ, darlin’,” Joel groans. He flicks at your clit, his other hand coming up to pinch your nipple.

“I – Fuck,” you moan, bouncing on him. “Feels so – good, Daddy, I –”

You fall forward into the headboard – staying upright only with your fingers locked around the wood. You’re slipping, already barreling your way towards another orgasm.

You grind forward, rutting into Joel’s palm, falling back on his cock. Your spine curls; hands drop to claw at his chest, ground yourself there.

The edges of your vision begin to blur. It’s not like this, it’s never like this. No one has ever fucked you this good, this rough and this loving.

Joel’s balls slap against your ass. He bucks his hips, knees lifting to bump you forward.

“Attagirl,” he says, slipping a hand around your neck. He brings you down, nips at your lower lip. His forehead slides against yours. “Can feel you closing, darlin’,” he chuckles, “You gonna come for me?”

“D-dick,” you hiss.

He smirks. “Always look so pretty when you let go. You don’t wanna show Daddy how pretty you are?”

You writhe over him, biting down hard on your climax.

“My beautiful girl,” Joel murmurs in your ear. “Come for Daddy.”

And it throws you under.

Blinding, deafening. Every nerve in your body overcome, each one flipped to feel only Joel. His cock, buried deep inside, your walls clamped around him; his teeth on your skin, tongue soothing the scrape.

It’s never like this.

Never so euphoric, never such a perfect meld of bruise and bliss. The feeling of your body changing, altering down to the very last atom – blossoming anew. Fresher, purer, lovelier.

When you come back around, you’re on your back.

Legs wrapped around Joel’s waist; arms linked around his neck. He must’ve flipped you, the second you came.

He slips back inside, suckling on the skin beneath your ear, and drives his hips into yours. Ignores your yelps, your short breaths – just fucks into you like you’ll be gone in the morning.

Fucks into you like he’ll never get to do it again. Like he hasn’t been doing it for weeks. He fucks you so hard that it hurts; an ache already burning that you know you’ll still feel walking into work on Monday.

“Good girl,” he chants, over and over. “Daddy’s girl.”

Like a fever come over him – beads of sweat dotting his skin, flush in his cheeks. He fucks you mindless, senseless, wordless. Sobbing beneath him, each word soaking into the next.

Good girl. Good girl. Daddy’s girl, that’s it. Daddy loves you so much, baby. Gonna fill this little cunt up so good.

When your walls pull tight again, your third orgasm flooding from every pore in your body – Joel’s movements halt.

He comes with a painful jolt – his cock shunting into you once, twice, until he’s pumping you full of his come. Twitching deep within you, pulsing warm and messy inside your pussy.

He comes with a sound like song. Your name, entangled in a throaty groan – lips tucked somewhere between your neck and shoulder.

You finally hear it – for the first time in your life.

How it’s supposed to sound: low like thunder, Texan in its swing. No one else, you realize, has ever gotten it right – this right – before. As if only his lips were meant to speak it, his tongue designed to carve around the letters. His vocal cords strung to send the sound to your ears.

It’s his, you decide. Your name – and every other piece of you. All of you. It all belongs to him, now.

“Fuck,” Joel pants, one hand on the headboard to steady himself. He lets it rain down over you: “I love you so much, you know that?”

“Come here,” you whisper, and he falls into your body, “Come love me forever.”

Half-conscious and full bliss, you laze in Joel’s bed – all fucking night.

Strong arms hooked around your shoulders, heart to heart. Breath shared, whispering nothings and everythings in the space between your lips. He’s still buried deep inside, still tucked between your legs.

Bundled in satin sheets, kept warm by his body around yours. Talking shit, poking fun, flirting and fucking around. You play with his hands, sizing your open palm against his. You compare the scars and scrapes on your skin, spill the bloody story behind each one.

“Alright, big girl,” Joel yawns, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m beat. You killed me.”

You snuggle under his chin. “Get some sleep, old man.”

He takes a second to respond. He’s already going. This is probably the closest he’s been to actually sleeping for a good three weeks.

“Love you,” he exhales then, like the thought just lapped past his lips again.

You smile. Take his big hands in yours and lift them closer to your chest, tuck your chin over your interlocked fingers.

Something deep inside you lurches. Tries to escape. You tighten Joel’s grip, as if choking the words on their way up.

Joel’s breathing slowly begins to draw out – tiny sighs passing his lips. Your thumbs trace the short hair between his nose and top lip, combing it, nail ghosting over the lines on his lips.

A warm feeling floods through your body. Suddenly – it starts in your chest and washes over in waves, dousing you and the world around you in a dreamy rose. Like a sunset paints its way across the walls, the glint of gold where the light catches on the tower in the distance.

Peace, you think.

Only – there’s no end to it. No sleek black car to drag you away. No broken promises and half-truths. The ache in your chest pulls gently – a reminder, no longer a threat.

This will never leave. He won’t let it. It’s as safe as you are, now, wrapped in his arms. Nothing and no one to break you apart.

“Joel?” you whisper.

His eyelashes flutter, like even asleep he knows it’s something worth hearing. Like everything you could possibly say – What should we have for breakfast? My foot itches. Did you know Martha box dyes her hair? – it’s all worth hearing.

You gulp. “Joel, I wanna – I wanna tell you something.”

He crackles to life, words melting into one another. “…What is it…darlin’…?”

Your lips morph around voiceless words. Your tongue lifts to the back of your teeth, trying to force the sound out.

It’s everything, you think. You’re everything. Say it. Say it say it say it.

But he’s already dropping off again. He’s already being swept away somewhere you’re too tense to reach. And you’re not brave enough to push through the fog on your own, stick a trembling hand into the unknown and swipe for his.

So you let it go. Watch the words float off somewhere Joel can’t hear them.

You shrink yourself, slotting your head beneath his jaw, your cheek to his chest. He sighs into the crown of your head. His heartbeat thuds a familiar bassline into your ear. Hi, old friend. I missed you.

Maybe in the morning, you can swing by your place and grab a bag. Pack a few days’ worth of clothes, spend the first few mornings of your new career drinking velvety coffee in bed next to Joel. Sharing the mug, sharing the newspaper, sharing the shower when it’s time to get up.

Maybe you should call Martha, and apologize for skipping your party. She can fill you in on the night – the drunken dramas, the secrets spilled. She won’t ask about you and Joel – she’ll just know. And that’s enough.

Maybe you’ll throw the phone to the end of the bed after you hang up, discarded amongst the tangle of sheets, and lie back down next to a still sleeping Joel. Lay your head on his chest, like it is right now. Listen to his heartbeat, run your fingers across the dark hair.

And maybe you’ll think over the same three words currently racing through your head. Maybe you’ll try to piece together a sentence for him to hear, when you’re ready to say it out loud.

Maybe by morning, you’ll be brave enough to admit it to yourself, first.

That…yeah.

You love him.

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #ceo!joel miller #ceo!joel #sugardaddy!joel miller #the last of us #the last of us fic #fic: sex on fire

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