#I'm neck deep in this quicksand | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

javier-pena · 10 months ago

Text

quicksand

Pairing: Pedro's unnamed character in Materialists x f!reader

Word Count: 8.2k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You meet a stranger at a party.

Notes: Last week I saw these behind the scenes shots of Pedro in Materialists and somehow I had to write 8,000 words about that? I'm also not quite sure what happened, it was supposed to be like 3k max. There was also this ask Han @swiftispunk received that I couldn't get out of my head. The title is inspired by Ms Swift's song Treacherous (And I'll do anything you say / If you say it with your hands / And I'd be smart to walk away / But you're quicksand), the rest is inspired by going completely feral whenever new pictures dropped. Tremendous thanks to Dani @alexturner who just beta'd a long-ass fic last week and then this fic this week - you're being way too good to me with indulging all thoughts I have that I have to turn into short stories 🫣 My dear, sweet anon who kept sending me encouraging asks, this is for you!!

***

There’s laughter coming from downstairs, deep, rumbling laughter impossible to ignore. Your whole body seems to shake with it, your heart stutters in your chest angrily, and you press your hands over your ears. But the loud voices are still there, mocking you with their indifference to your pain. You bury your face in your cool satin pillow and sob into it, ruining the expensive fabric. You don’t fucking care.

All your friends warned you this would happen and you hate how they were right. “You’re nothing but a toy to him.” Shut up, Marissa, you’re just jealous. “Maybe you should look for a boyfriend who’s closer to you in age.” Maybe you should look for a boyfriend, period. “You’re only a fuckmaid to him, do you realize that?” That was the point you stopped listening to them and, at the same time, it was the point you should have started listening.

You are nothing but a toy to him. You should have looked for someone closer to you in age. You are … no, you can’t bring yourself to even think the word, because the truth hurts too much. The truth and your blindness and your stupidity and the fact that you’re throwing your life away for a man who breaks every promise he makes and who treats you like a pet. A beautiful, expensive pet that can be ignored whenever it’s convenient.

“Come with me to the Keys,” he whispered into your ear, his breath hotter than his steadily cooling release sticking to your thighs.

“What?” you asked, heart clenching painfully. When was the last time he cared enough to make you come? Months ago?

“Come with me to the Keys,” he repeated. “The change of scenery will be good for us. I’ll show you around. We can go deep sea fishing. I’ll buy you some dresses and bathing suits. Just take my card tomorrow.”

He brushed your hair away from your neck, kissed the skin there, cupped one of your breasts, squeezed it hard. “Piers,” you warned, tried to get away from him. But there was nowhere to go.

The truth is you had been looking forward to his trip. Had been looking forward to having the apartment to yourself for a while. It’s not like you would’ve done anything in particular except just breathe for once.

“Don’t be like that,” he mumbled against your neck, squeezed your breast again. “Don’t you want to sip on a nice cocktail? Wear a risqué outfit for me?”

No, you didn’t want that. But if you didn’t say yes soon, he’d get angry. “Okay,” you gave in. “But you have to promise me that you’ll spend one day with me. No business.”

What’s easily promised is easily broken.

Today is supposed to be your day. And for once in your life, you thought it would be. Piers took you out for breakfast, right by the water. You watched the sunshine dance across the waves. Then he showed you around town, took you to his favorite spots in Key West, even held your hand. And you thought, This is it. I’m finally worthy of him. Then came the call, followed by those emails, and suddenly Piers was like, “Sorry, babe, I have to meet them, they’re important business partners. Why don’t you go to the beach club, buy yourself a nice massage? Here’s my card.”

Here's my card. You’ve never hated three words more.

What you didn’t expect was to come home to a party. At least twenty men were milling around the house Piers liked to refer to as his “Key West Residence”, a late 19th century villa. Twenty loud men, rich like Piers, most of them his age, leering at you as you stepped through the front door, mistaking you for tonight’s entertainment.

“Babe!” Piers boomed, spilling half his drink while opening his arms as if he meant to hug you. The glances didn’t stop. “Go upstairs, freshen up, put on something nice, and then let me show you off.”

You managed to complete the first step before breaking down on your bed. You’ve been sobbing ever since.

Something breaks downstairs and some of the men roar. You bury your face deeper against the pillow, terrified to go back downstairs, terrified to stay up here. Whatever you do, it will be the wrong thing. You close your eyes and think about what it would be like if the men downstairs vanished. If you had the house to yourself, sharing it with a person you loved and who loved you in return. You could be having dinner on the patio now. Before that, you might go for a swim in the pool, knowing the only eyes on you were your partner’s, the only glances you received were welcome.

You sit up straight. You might hate it when Piers’ business partners look at you like you’re a piece of meat, but Piers hates it too if they don’t do it without being invited. Twenty men imagining all the vile ways in which they could fuck you is the last thing you want right now, but it’s also the last thing Piers wants.

You stumble into the bathroom and wash your face with ice cold water, willing the puffiness of your eyes to recede. You put on your most expensive makeup, the kind that only comes off with intensive scrubbing, then you pick your most revealing bikini and put it on. If those men stared at you like that in a long sundress, their heads will probably explode if they see you like this.

Chin held high, beach towel thrown over your shoulder, you make your way downstairs on high heels the same shade of black as your bikini. You feel utterly stupid, like you’re giving them exactly what they want, but the flush that spreads across Piers’ cheeks when he sees you is worth it. There are some whistles, a few crude comments, one man slaps your ass, but you make it to the pool. None of them are brave enough to follow you outside.

The water is cool against your skin, doing its best to extinguish the fire that burns within you. The flames don’t die down completely but they’re certainly soothed. You start to swim, one length, then three, and soon the party resumes and the men pick up their conversations again. This almost feels normal; this almost feels like a life you could enjoy. Except that you’re alone. And not in a way you crave.

You stop swimming and start drifting on your back, watching the sky above turn from a gentle blue into a soft pink, a bright orange, a deep purple. Soon, the sun will go down and the party will pick up speed. You should go, put on a dress, let Piers show you off, vanish before they’ve had too much alcohol.

You climb out of the pool, squeeze water out of your hair, wrap the towel around yourself. No one is paying attention to you now, so you pick up your heels to carry them back upstairs. There’s no way you’ll make it back to your room without one or two unwanted glances, without the odd rude comment, but you can live with that. You step onto the patio, eyes firmly fixed on your destination, then start walking through the gathering, careful not to look at anyone, careful not to be seen.

Someone sees you though. It’s not Piers, and it also isn’t one of the men who look at you and lick their lips. It’s someone watching you from the shadows, someone on one of the chairs in the parlor. Keep your eyes on the stairs, you tell yourself. Nothing good can come from this. While you were in the pool, Piers must have turned on the music, old jazz songs he always plays when he wants to appear sophisticated. The tinny sounds of saxophones make your ears ring, irritating you more than the heavy smell of cigar smoke that seems to be seeping into every corner of the house. You feel horrible between all those men dressed in their suits, even with the towel covering most of your skin. And you wish that one man would stop watching you because it makes you feel hunted, makes your body beg to run and hide.

At the foot of the stairs you pause, your heart in your throat. A man brushes past you, pretending like there is only so little room he has to press his palm against the small of your back. You turn around looking for Piers, ready to pretend you have a horrific migraine and won’t be joining him after all, when your eyes land on the man who is making the hair at the back of your neck stand with his unrelenting gaze.

You can’t see him properly because he’s half hidden behind the door to the parlor, a room that’s devoid of proper lighting and full of cigar smoke. But you see his dark eyes on you, feel them look right through you, see you for who you are, while he laughs at something the man next to him is saying. You crane your neck to get a better look at him but two other men walk past, obscuring your view. When they spot you and start to make their way toward you, you bolt up the stairs. At least no one will dare to follow you up here.

*******

“There she is!” Piers announces later, opening his arms wide again. He doesn’t spill his drink this time. You step into his embrace and let him kiss your cheek. “Took you long enough, doll.” You hate it when he calls you that, but you keep on smiling. Then he leans closer and whispers, “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I’ll make sure you’ll regret it. Letting another man touch you! What’s wrong with you?”

So it did bother him after all. It should make you feel proud, but it only makes you feel empty. “I’m sorry,” you whisper back and kiss him. Someone at the back of the room whistles.

“Just try to behave for the rest of the night,” he says coldly, then smiles at you and asks in his loud business voice, “Isn’t she lovely?”

Some of the men nod but none dare to look at you directly. Not when Piers has his arm slung around your shoulder anyway.

“How about a drink?” he asks you and when you nod, he takes your hand and leads you toward the bar at the back of the parlor. You follow him, shivering slightly from the evening breeze blowing in through the open French doors. The smoke in the room makes your eyes sting.

With practiced ease, Piers fills a sparkling glass with vodka and soda, adding a bit of lime juice. You try to ignore the man who is standing a little bit too close to you, whose eyes hang a little bit too low.

“Here you are.” Piers hands you the glass. “I have something to discuss with those gentlemen over there,” he nods at two men standing by the door to his study, “but I shouldn’t be too long. Try not to cause too much of a scene while I’m gone.”

You close your fingers around the glass and nod. All you want to do is run.

As soon as he’s gone, they start to close in on you. It’s what Piers wants. He wants others to desire what belongs to him – his apartment, his car, his life. You’re part of all of that. He wants these men to desire you, to think they can have you. You should have listened to your friends, to Marissa and Annie and all the others. If you had, you might hate yourself less.

You know they all want to talk to you and they won’t take no for an answer, so you start to make your way toward the open French doors to escape into the garden. If you stand right at the edge, you can hear the waves whisper and feel the ocean breeze on your face. And if you keep still long enough, they might forget about you.

You don’t even make it out the door before your eyes start to wander from the lush green bushes and trees outside and land on a man sitting in a leather armchair close to the open doors. You don’t know if it’s the same one whose gaze you felt on you earlier, but there’s something about him that makes it hard for you to look away. He’s in the middle of a conversation, one leg comfortably slung across the other, ankle resting against thigh. One of his hands is spread on his knee, his fingers stroking and tapping the expensive fabric of his back dress pants in a nervous tick. His other hand is wrapped around a glass full of amber liquid that he takes a swig from right as you walk past, pretending not to notice how the muscles in his neck work as he swallows, pretending not to notice the gold ring on his little finger that clinks against the glass as he lowers it again.

Your own drink untouched, you stand on the patio, off to the side where you hope no one will notice you but where you can look at that stranger from time to time. You don’t think you’ve seen him before, but you don’t usually pay a lot of attention to Piers’ associates. None of the men here this evening look familiar. Still, there is something about the way this man runs his fingers through his dark curls from time to time, the way he tries to smooth the wrinkles in his white shirt, the way he takes a drag from a big, dark brown cigar once in a while that makes it impossible for you to look away. Until another man demands your attention.

“Hi there,” he says, his laugh showing off perfectly straight, perfectly white teeth. “I’m Hutton.”

You think about saying, “And I’m not interested,” but to Piers that would probably count as causing a scene. And Hutton looks like he’s one of the younger men here, probably in his late 30s. There are worse guys to talk to. “Hi,” you reply with a sweet smile.

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” He steps closer to you, encouraged by your smile.

“Yes,” you reply. “So how do you know Piers?”

If he’s annoyed by you bringing up your boyfriend right away, he doesn’t let it show. “We work together,” he answers, which could mean anything in Piers’s world.

“And what brings you to Key West?”

“The scenery,” Hutton answers, not even trying to hide his hungry gaze that glides over your naked shoulders and cleavage.

“I thought it was business,” you say, your smile faltering slightly. “Seeing you’re here.”

“I try not to mix business with pleasure.” Hutton leans against the small sliver of wall between the French doors and the corner of the house. “It’s neither good for business nor pleasure.”

You hum, trying to take a step back. You’re already at the edge of the patio though, and you almost stumble off it, losing your footing.

Hutton grabs your arm and pulls you toward him. “Careful there, pretty girl.”

You try to pull your arm back but he won’t let go. “Thank you,” you say at the same time as he says, “Have you ever thought about exchanging Piers for a younger model?”

It didn’t take him more than a few words exchanged to get to the point.

You yank your arm free but he grabs it again. “Stop it,” you command in your strictest voice but he only grins at you.

“Don’t be like this. I’m only fooling around.”

“Then let go of me.” He doesn’t.

You’re about to throw your drink in his face, even if it means Piers will be angry with you again, when someone steps out onto the patio.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

He’s standing right there, one hand in the pocket of his dark pants, the other holding his cigar. Shame washes over you and your palms grow sweaty. You really don’t need this right now. But Hutton immediately lets go of you and turns to face the newcomer.

“We’re good here, thanks,” he says, his jaw clenched.

The stranger takes his time to take a drag on his cigar, lets out the smoke while looking up at the now deep purple evening sky. “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?” he asks and Hutton lets out a sigh.

“Are you just going to keep standing there?” he asks.

The stranger shrugs.

You glance into the parlor, at all the men milling about, wondering if you could make your escape without anyone noticing. But there is something in the way the stranger holds himself that makes you want to stay and find out how this ends. Piers, by now, would have rushed past Hutton, a snarl on his lips, his anger directed at you. The stranger just stands there, his shoulders relaxed, acting as if he doesn’t even particularly care that you and Hutton are out here on the patio as well. It’s a different kind of threat … a different kind of protectiveness.

Hutton turns to you. “Are you coming?”

You shake your head and with a roll of his eyes and an annoyed, “Whatever,” he vanishes into the house, leaving you alone with him.

The silence unbearable, you say, “Thank you.”

He takes another drag on his cigar, then comes closer to you. You ignore how your heart flutters at his approach. He reaches for your hand and for a wild moment you think he’s going to grab your arm too, but he only takes the drink from your hand, sniffs the contents of the glass, then dumps it over the edge of the patio. “Let’s get you a proper drink,” he says.

You’re too stunned to do much more than follow him back into the house and toward the bar. Around you, the volume has risen since you stepped out onto the patio, but you don’t care as much as you did before. It’s hard to care about anything when your stomach is in a tight knot and when you feel like the world around you has gone completely quiet.

The man steps behind the bar, gently places his cigar in an ashtray, then regards the collection of bottles before him with his hands on his hips. “You don’t look like a vodka girl to me,” he mumbles, and you feel your face grow hot. You don’t know why. “Here.” He pulls out a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of vermouth. You only now notice how big his hands are, and your mind immediately starts to replay the evening. His hand on his knee, his hand around his glass, his hand … You shake your head, but the shiny gold ring on his little finger glitters enticingly as he unscrews the bottle of vermouth to smell the alcohol within. It’s like you’re a magpie, enchanted by everything that glitters.

“Sweet enough,” he concludes, pouring a little vermouth and a lot of whiskey into a martini glass. Then he goes through all the bottles once more until he finds one of lavender bitter and adds it to the mix.

“What is that?” you ask.

He shakes his head. “I’m not done yet.” There’s a small jar of cocktail cherries he unscrews. With skilled movements, he skewers two of them onto a silver cocktail stick before handing you the glass. The mix inside is orange on top, a reddish purple deeper below. It looks like the sunset you watched earlier.

“What is it?” you ask again.

“Taste it,” he tells you, an eager glint in his eyes.

You take a careful sip and widen your eyes in surprise at the strong yet sweet taste. “Oh, this is really good!”

“It’s sweet, like you,” he says, then seems to change his mind, adopting a matter-of-fact tone of voice. “It’s a Manhattan. That’s where you belong, not in this tourist trash kind of town.”

That makes you laugh. “Hey, I like it here.”

The bar is still between you but he leans on it to get closer to you. “I bet you would also like Manhattan if I showed you around.”

“I’m from Manhattan,” you tell him. “I live there, actually.”

“I do too,” he responds. “Funny how we should run into each other here, of all places.”

You inhale shakily. You don’t know why. “If you hate it here so much, what are you doing here?”

He smiles at you, and you’re sure your heart stops. “I heard you talk to that other guy. I’m not here to have a conversation like that with you.”

You take another sip from your cocktail even though it makes your head spin. “What are you here for then?”

“That’s just another way of asking me what I’m doing here, angel eyes,” he points out. He does it so smoothly you almost don’t notice the diminutive.

You straighten your back, only now realizing you were leaning on the bar close to him. He mirrors you, then walks around the wood between you so he can stand directly next to you. “You tell me what you want to talk about then. After all, you approached me, you made me a drink, you wanted to whisk me off to Manhattan.”

“That was before I realized how worldly you are,” he says and his smile turns sly.

“Oh?” you make. You swallow. “Am I too difficult for you then?”

“I like a challenge.”

This is where you should stop. This is where you should thank him again for rescuing you, and for the drink, and where you should walk away to find your boyfriend, who surely has to be done with his meeting by now. But how can you step away when he’s still smiling at you as if he’s having the time of his life, when you felt drawn to him all evening, when having his eyes on you makes you feel truly seen? Yes, he isn’t exactly subtle in the way he flirts with you, but there is a kindness in his gaze you’ve never seen on another man before. And then he touches you, straightening the strap of your short, tight dress, and your whole body comes alive.

“You know smoking is bad for you, right?” is the only thing you can come up with, willing your voice to remain steady.

“I like things that are bad for me,” he replies.

It’s such a cheesy line, it makes you want to bury your face in your hands. But, god, does talking to him make you feel good.

“Ha!” He points at you. “That’s the first genuine smile I’ve seen all evening.

“Call me ‘sweet’ again and you might see some more,” you retort. All you want to do is to tell him you don’t mind his harmless flirting, that whatever this is between you is fun, but it comes out heavy with implications. Implications you can’t take back because you don’t want to.

He brushes your hair behind your ear and you think you might die. “You’re very brave.” It’s a statement. “I saw you walk to the pool earlier in –”

“I know,” you interrupt him. “I saw you watching me.”

He brushes his thumb over your bottom lip. “It made me want to kiss you.”

You freeze. There is nothing you can say that won’t end badly for you. “So you made me a drink instead?”

He plucks the cocktail stick out of your glass and holds it up to your mouth. You close your lips around the first cocktail cherry and pull it off slowly, your eyes fixed to his. It might just be the low lighting but you think his pupils dilate. He drops the stick back into the glass and takes a big swig of your drink, his eyes momentarily leaving yours. You do your best not to watch his throat as he swallows.

“You really are something,” he concludes, putting down the glass on the bar.

You feel lightheaded, as if you’d just made out with him for half an hour. “I’m also in a relationship.” The words are out before you can stop yourself. You didn’t mean to say them.

“I don’t give a damn.”

You giggle, actually giggle, like a schoolgirl with a crush. “You sound like the hero in one of those ancient black-and-white movies.”

“Or maybe I’m the villain.”

This time you do bury your face in your hands. “Oh, stop it.”

“No,” he simply says, and you get it. You want to kiss him too.

Instead, you glance at the small gold wrist watch on your arm. “It’s late. I should –”

He interrupts you. “Don’t –,” but you don’t let him finish.

“Thank you for the drink. And thank you for making me laugh. You made this whole thing bearable.”

You don’t know if you should shake his hand or kiss his cheek so you don’t do any of it. You pat his arm, once, trying not to notice how it feels against your palm, then walk toward the stairs, your heart breaking with each step. If you were single, you wouldn’t have hesitated to sleep with this man. If you weren’t Piers’ girlfriend, he would never have looked your way. It’s better to end it here.

The quietness of your room engulfs you, just like the soothing coolness of the pool earlier. As soon as you close the door behind you and lean against it, you can breathe. Yes, you can still hear the sounds of the party, but they’re muffled. You can finally hear yourself think again and you exhale shakily. You almost made the biggest mistake of your life. The adrenaline rush you got from it makes you snicker.

Piers isn’t entirely faithful. He attends parties with strippers, he looks at other women, you know all that. But it doesn’t mean anything because at the end of the day he comes home to you. What you just did … it goes beyond everything Piers has ever done, and you wouldn’t have been able to look at yourself in the mirror if you had spent one more minute in the presence of that handsome stranger. Even if your flirting made you happier than Piers has in months.

There’s a knock at your door and you jump. Expecting Piers, you open it without a second thought. “I’ll be right …,” you start but forget every word in the English language when you come face to face with the stranger.

“Hello,” he says, and that handsome smile is back on his face, even if he keeps a careful distance. “You vanished so quickly it made me wonder … did I do something wrong?”

“What?” you ask because it’s the only word you can remember.

“I’ll go back downstairs if you don’t want me here,” he goes on, “just say the word.”

They never come up the stairs. Never. Who does he think he is? “You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just tired.” You try to close the door in his face, but he steps closer, bracing a hand against the wooden doorframe. “Excuse me,” you say insistently.

“Can I come in?”

Into your room? “Oh, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” you reject him. You laugh, but it sounds insincere. “You should go back downstairs.”

“Alright,” he agrees, “but you have to say it like you mean it.”

“Listen here,” you start in your best no-nonsense voice. He tightens his grip on the wood and you hear it creak, despite the noise downstairs. “I want you to …”

It’s no use. You don’t know who he is, you don’t even know his name, but you also know that if you don’t let yourself have this, you’ll regret it for the rest of your life.

“You need to say the words, sweet –”

“I want you to kiss me.”

You both freeze. His mouth hangs open, still in the middle of forming the next word he wanted to say. You tense, well aware that you said something you can not take back.

The few seconds that pass feel like an eternity. Then he pushes himself past the doorframe into your room, into your personal space. You smell the heavy scent of cigar smoke on him, you smell leather and lavender and citrus. You see his smile that turns into something more determined the closer he gets to you. You notice the stubble on his cheek, the glint in his eyes, the small dark spot on the collar of his white shirt. You feel … you feel his body pressing against yours, his hand pressing against the small of your back, his breath on your face, and then everything is reduced to his lips on yours, your breaths mingling, his … his tongue coaxing you open, not gently but insistent, and you not hesitating to open yourself up for him.

It's as if you’re watching it all from above, you pushing him backward, him closing the door with a hard slam, the both of you pulling at each other while kissing and kissing and …

“Careful,” he chuckles when you bite down on his bottom lip. “You said kiss, not –”

“I don’t give a fuck what I said,” you interrupt him, pulling his shirt out of his pants.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he says and grabs your wrist.

You groan. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts.”

He pulls you in for another kiss. “I’m not. You’re just … We’re doing this on my terms or not at all.”

Something throbs deep within your core.

He tightens his hold on you. “I’ve had all evening to think about this. To picture all the things I want to do to you.”

“It’s not going to be just kissing then?” you ask, relishing the chuckle you draw out of him.

“I knew I wouldn’t leave here tonight without feeling your pretty little cunt clench around me.”

It sounds like a line straight out of a porn movie. You should laugh, tell him to take you seriously. But all you can do is whimper at the thought of him sitting in his chair downstairs, talking to one of Piers’ associates or even Piers himself while thinking about being buried deep inside of you. Every other man would send you fleeing. Not him though.

“Who are you?” you whisper.

“Does it matter? Once I’m done with you, you’ll have forgotten your own name.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. “Those are some big words,” you point out.

He lets go of your wrist, then bunches the fabric of your dress up in his hand until he can reach below the hem, his broad, warm hand landing on your naked skin, his ring digging into your soft flesh. You gasp.

“Do you really think I’d disappoint you?”

“No,” you say too quickly, too rashly.

He grabs your dress again. “How about you take this off for me?”

“No,” you repeat, biting the inside of your cheek so you don’t laugh at the look of shock on his face. Then you turn around. “I can’t really open the zipper without some assistance.”

He runs both his hands over your naked shoulders and down to the middle of your back. You expect him to take his time, but he yanks the zipper down so quickly you think you hear fabric tear. You almost don’t have enough time to slip out of the thin shoulder straps before he falls to his knees behind you, pulling the dress with him. His hands are on your butt cheeks now, massaging, grabbing you as if he’s set on memorizing every detail. He slips his thumb under the hem of your panties, dips the tip into the wetness there.

You gasp at the same time as he whispers, “Knew it.”

You pull him away from you and turn around, well aware you’re completely naked except for your panties. “Well, it’s hardly surprising,” you start, your voice airy, but then it dies down completely at the sight of him kneeling in front of you looking up at you with so much heat in his gaze you’re getting burned. How did you get here?

You want him to tease you back, but he only pulls you close, his hands clasping your hips insistently, and kisses your belly, right above the hem of your panties. Then he kisses your thighs and your sides, and your belly button, and then he pulls down your panties and buries his face in your wetness with a relieved sigh. Your hands shoot forward and grab his curls, dig into them, desperate for purchase, as your head swims from the overstimulation. You would like to focus on the feeling of his hair between your fingers. You would like to focus on his tongue swirling around your clit. You would like to focus on the growl he makes when you run your nails over his scalp.

You think you’re laughing. You think you say, “Does that still count as kissing?”

“Yes,” he mumbles against the soft skin of your thighs. His curls are already a mess, his face is flushed, but when he glances up at you, his eyes are bright with determination.

“I think you have to show me that definition of kissing someday,” you go on, glancing up at the ceiling. You can’t look at him directly, it feels too intimate.

“That’s enough talking,” he decides and licks a broad stripe across your drenched folds.

You tighten your grip on his curls in response because your legs start to quiver. You hope he doesn’t notice, but his fingers dig into your thighs to steady you. The edges of his ring are cutting into you almost painfully – you want more of it. His hair wrapped around your fingers you pull him closer into you and he moans against you … actually moans. You push away those thoughts that make you compare him to Piers, how Piers would never moan if he was between your legs, how Piers never eats you out. This isn’t about him – it’s about you.

There’s something in the way that stranger rolls and flicks his tongue that tells you he won’t make you wait for an orgasm. You want to hold on longer because you can’t bear the thought of this being over already, but there is something in the way he devours you that pushes you toward the edge at a rapid speed. You don’t even hear the sounds of the party anymore, the laughter, the music; it’s just him and his deep sighs and moans.

You’re almost embarrassed by how fast you come. One second you’re appreciating the way his tongue flicks your clit, the next you can barely stay upright when your whole body releases months and months of built-up tension. You quiver in his grip and he holds you close, licking and licking until you can’t take it anymore. You think you mumble, “Fuckfuckfuck,” but there is no way to be sure. All you know is that you just had one of the best orgasms of your life.

You laugh as if the weight of the world has been lifted off your shoulders. What else is there to do? “So this is doing things on your terms?” you ask.

He sits back on his heels and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. You think you might explode at that sight. “No, that was for your benefit. The rest is going to be for mine.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you glance over your shoulder at your bed that’s rumpled from you crying on it earlier. If he can make you feel like that with just his tongue, what will he be –

“No, sugar, not like that,” he tells you, immediately pulling your attention back to him.

Your throat is dry when you ask, “What then?”

He stands and cups your cheek, his hand pleasantly warm. You lean into the touch immediately. “Don’t be so impatient. Enjoy the moment for a while.”

“What moment …?” you start but you don’t get far. He claims your mouth in a searing kiss that makes you wish you had been paying more attention to what he was doing when he was eating you out. You kiss him back, slinging your arms around his neck, the soft fabric of his white shirt rubbing against your naked chest. He licks across your bottom lip until you open your mouth for him, and then he claims you like no one has before. You fear that if you start thinking about how you can taste yourself on him, you’ll go insane.

“You’re so easy to kiss,” he mumbles against your lips. You’re not quite sure how he means it, but your chest still expands at the compliment.

“And you’re very handsome,” you retort lamely.

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about telling me all evening?”

“No,” you reply too slowly this time.

He kisses your temple, then brings his mouth right next to your ear. “I’ve been thinking about watching myself fuck you.”

He doesn’t give you time to process, takes you over to the vanity that stands opposite your bed, its mirror dull in the dim light of the room. Even when he places your hands on the table top, telling you to hold on, you still don’t think he’s serious. You look at yourself in the mirror, at the makeup smudges below your eyes, the birth mark on your throat that you hate, how your mouth hangs open in a way that looks so very unsexy. Behind you, that stranger you invited into your room, this man you know nothing about, is unbuttoning his expensive dress pants, his white shirt obscuring the view. What does he see in you that makes him want you like this?

“Do you know what you’re doing to me?” he groans, his eyes fluttering shut.

He’s holding himself now, but you can’t see his hand moving without turning around. And he didn’t tell you you’re allowed to look. Your palms begin to sweat against the wooden surface of the vanity, at the thought of him telling you what you are and aren’t allowed to do, at him praising you for doing well and punishing you if you don’t. You don’t recognize that side of yourself.

His eyes are open again and he searches for yours in the mirror. “I asked you a question.”

You swallow hard. “No, I don’t,” you say, fighting down a giggle. It’s nerves.

“I’d better show you then,” he concludes, and he pushes inside of you with one hard stroke, filling you faster than you can spread your legs.

You both take a moment to breathe. He adjusts himself, you try to get used to the angle, the feeling of fullness. You haven’t seen his hard cock, but you know he’s more than Piers, so much more the stretch is almost uncomfortable. The wood beneath your fingers starts to swim when your vision blurs and –

“No, none of that.” He grips your chin and lifts your head, forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror. “I’ve also been thinking about you watching me fuck you.”

His hand looks so big holding your face like that, and when you swallow again, he can feel it against his fingers.

His own face is right there next to yours, his eyes firmly fixed to yours through the glass. “You’re a big girl. I’m sure you can take it.”

Before you can think of anything to say, he pulls out of you and thrusts back in in a tentative motion that is enough for your eyes to flutter shut in pleasure.

“No, no, no,” he whispers into your ear. “Keep them open.”

You do as you’re told and he rewards you with a sharp bite to the spot where your neck meets your shoulders. Your hips thrust back of their own accord, meeting his in a quick snap.

“You make such pretty sounds,” he mumbles against your skin.

You hadn’t even realized you were making any, too transfixed by watching him move behind you. Whenever your gaze wavers and flutters to your own face, embarrassment sends adrenaline shooting through your body. But he … watching his shoulders and arms tense and relax beneath his shirt that looks all too tight now, watching him meet your gaze, eyes full of lust … you don’t know why you would fuck anyone any other way than this.

He straightens his back, changing the angle slightly, and now you do hear yourself groan. He grabs your chin tighter and pushes two fingers into your mouth. “You know,” he says, and his hips snap with more force, faster, making the vanity rattle beneath your hands, “if you were mine, I’d let no man touch you. I would’ve broken his arm.”

It takes you a few seconds to figure out what he means; you’re too busy relishing the taste of his skin on your tongue. There must have been a man who touched you … when you were coming down the stairs … You can see it all clearly now. He would grab that man’s arm, calm and collected, twist it, make him shout in surprise … you can almost hear the bones snap.

“Oh, look at that,” he groans, and you do. You look at yourself in the mirror, unashamed, eyes wide. You watch how you eagerly suck and lick his fingers, watch it as if another person was doing it. You’re trembling in his grip … or is he making everything shake with his thrusts that are coming faster and faster now as he fucks you, taking what he needs? “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You almost don’t hear him, too transfixed by how depraved he’s making you feel. “You’d get off on that, a good man protecting you. Shame I’m not good, really.”

You don’t care. You’re done with those men who act politely, who treat you with care when they know Piers is around, but who talk about you taking it up the ass when your back is turned. You’d much rather have this, a man who isn’t scared to say these things to your face. Even if he thinks he isn’t all good, he still protected you.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth and you whimper at the loss, watching how a thread of spit connecting his digits to your lips breaks. With his other hand, he suddenly grabs one of your breasts, squeezing your hard nipple with practiced ease, and you arch your back with a moan, exposing your throat to him. His fingers close around it, hard, restricting the airflow, his ring pressing against one of the most vulnerable spots of your body in a way that doesn’t leave any room for doubt – you’re doing this on his terms.

He tightens his grip on your throat until you start seeing stars, the loosens it. “I’m going to make you come now. I want you to watch yourself. I want you to see what you look like coming around my cock.”

If you could, you would nod, but he isn’t looking for your consent. He rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger one last time, then lowers his hand to find your clit. When he touches you, you make a sound like never before, one that’s feral and animalistic and can’t possibly be coming from you.

He shushes you, his breath tickling your neck. “You don’t want anyone to hear us.”

You don’t? You have no idea. You can’t form a single coherent thought as he pounds into you, making sure you’ll be able to feel him long after he’s done with you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Your voice is breathless after that scream, hoarse and raw. Your gaze flickers to his fingers curled tightly around your neck.

“Keep your eyes on yourself, baby girl,” he orders.

Baby girl.

That’s what does it. You watch your eyes widen and your mouth fall open as your body shakes first from his thrusts and then from wave after wave of pleasure. He was right. You love this. You love watching yourself come while he forces you to watch yourself, love to watch your orgasm play out across your face. He’s watching you too, licking his lips hungrily, never faltering. But you can see it in his eyes, the way he’s memorizing every detail of your orgasm.

“Well done,” he says once you’re done and moves your chin so he can kiss your lips.

Then he suddenly pushes you down so your chest connects with the table top. You grunt in surprise, then in pain when he rolls your head to the side so you can still somewhat glimpse his reflection above you.

“My turn,” he growls.

His teeth are digging into his bottom lip, his eyes are firmly fixed on his own reflection, and he holds you down with such a strong grip you can’t move, but also in a way that’s so casual it makes you feel like he’s using you. Your heart stutters with longing so intense at that thought that the feeling spreads to the rest of your body and becomes so intense he feels it in his own. At least you think that is what’s going on when he smiles down on you.

The position you’re in and the tenderness between your legs steadily turns from pleasurable to uncomfortable to simply too much. But he doesn’t finish. He keeps going and going, not as fast as before, seemingly transfixed by what you’re doing. You reach back for him and he grabs your wrist and pins it to the small of your back.

“Please,” you whimper, and it makes his intense gaze falter for just one second.

“Almost there, baby girl,” he replies, “you’re doing so well. Just keep taking it a little while longer.” You think you could bear anything if he just kept talking to you like that.

Then suddenly it’s over. There is one last thrust that pushes you onto the tips of your toes and then he stills. The only movement comes from his hips that are twitching as he empties himself inside of you. You don’t even dare to breathe, watching as his reflection slowly relaxes and he closes his eyes for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath.

Finally, he pulls out of you and you try to stand, but he pushes you back down again. “Stay. We’re not done yet.”

Your legs tremble in anticipation, but your mind is blank, unable to imagine what else he could have in store for you. You don’t feel anything at first, you just hear him moan, and then you realize he’s kneeling behind you, cleaning you up with his tongue, eagerly licking his own release off your skin. It makes you feel so lewd you forget about everything, even Piers. Especially when he doesn’t stop at your thighs but moves further and further up your legs until his tongue and nose are buried in your folds once more and he’s spreading you open with his big hands.

You can’t help it.

“Fuck, fu- I- I’m gonna –”

There’s no time for you to finish the warning before you’re coming a third time, your hips desperately twitching against the vanity. He licks you through it, catching every last drop you’re giving him on his tongue. You can’t tell for sure but you think he’s chuckling and for some reason the shame you feel turns you on even more.

When it’s all over, he peels you off the vanity and pulls you into his arms, brushing your hair out of your face that is sticky with sweat. “You sure are a greedy little thing,” he says before he kisses you tenderly.

You swallow a sob and give him a sigh instead.

“Half the people downstairs probably heard us.” There’s a big grin on his face at that thought.

“I don’t give a fuck,” you repeat your earlier sentiment, surprised to discover that it’s true.

“Someone wants to get caught,” he teases and kisses you again.

“What I want is for you to fuck me like that again.”

“Oh, baby girl.” You almost hate how he’s already figured out what hearing him call you that does to you. “There are a million more things I want to do with you. This was just a taste.”

You’re not sure if you can believe him, but you decide to indulge that fantasy. You put on your sweetest smile. “Can’t wait.”

He lets go of you and walks toward your door. “Why don’t you give me a call once you’re back in Manhattan.”

A red warning light switches on somewhere in your brain. “But I don’t even know your name.”

“Something tells me you’ll find out.” And with that, he’s gone.

#materialists fanfiction #materialists #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal #is this anything?#quicksand

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perkypeony · 8 months ago

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𝔸 𝔽𝔸𝕋ℍ𝔼ℝ'𝕊 ℂ𝕆𝕄ℙ𝕃𝕀ℂ𝔸𝕋𝔼𝔻 𝕃𝕆𝕍𝔼 𝕀𝕀

Dad Gojo x daughter reader

Part 1 Part 3

2012

Y/N was lying on the couch, her eyes glued to the cartoon playing on the TV. Satoru, sitting beside her, was engrossed in his phone. Needing a glass of water, he went to the kitchen, leaving his phone on the coffee table. Being a curious three-year-old, Y/N got down from the couch and picked up the phone. She then began playing with it, swiping and tapping the screen. In her innocent exploration, she accidentally opened the gallery and deleted a few pictures.

Returning to find his daughter with his phone, Satoru quickly checked it and realized some photos were missing. Among them was a cherished picture of him and his late girlfriend, the last picture they had taken together before she passed away. Panic and anger surged through him.

"Y/N, what did you do?!" he scolded, slapping her hands away.

Y/N recoiled, tears welling up in her eyes as Satoru stormed off to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Confused and hurt, Y/N toddled to the closed door, knocking vigorously. "Daddy? Daddy, open the door," she sobbed.

Inside, Satoru was torn between his grief and guilt. The memories of him and his late girlfriend crashed like a tidal wave. After a long while, Y/N stopped crying. He finally opened the door to find Y/N sitting on the floor, her eyes puffy from crying. She looked up at him, her small arms reaching out.

His heart aching, Satoru bent down and picked her up, holding her close. Despite his anger, he couldn't ignore the bond that still connected them.

April 2014

It was Y/N's third day of preschool. The school day had ended 40 minutes ago, but Satoru was nowhere to be seen. Her teacher, growing concerned, called Y/N's father.

“Mr. Gojo, it's 40 minutes past pick-up time," the teacher reminded him.

Satoru's voice came through, feigning surprise. "Oh, I thought it was an hour later. I'll be there soon."

In truth, he purposely didn't come to fetch her, hoping that somehow leaving Y/N there might make her disappear from his life. When he finally arrived, Y/N's face lit up, oblivious to his resentment. She ran to him, arms wide open, her innocent smile beaming. "Daddy! You came!" she exclaimed.

Satoru forced a smile, lifting her. "Of course, Y/N," he said, though his heart wasn't in it. The weight of his grief and guilt crushed him, making every affectionate gesture feel like a lie. He could barely look at her without seeing the ghost of his late girlfriend, the life they could have had together.

Y/N, in her naive world, saw her father as her hero. She held onto Satoru's neck tightly and kissed him on the cheek. “I had so much fun today. We painted and played games!”

Satoru nodded, pretending to listen, though his mind was elsewhere. To Y/N, everything was perfect, her father had come to pick her up, and all was fine in her little universe. But for Satoru, each step felt like walking through quicksand, dragging him deeper into despair.

July 2014

The day before Y/N was to go live with Utahime, Satoru helped pack her things. Y/N watched him, confusion and sadness in her eyes.

"Why, Daddy?" she asked, her voice small. "Why am I going to live with Aunt Hime?"

Satoru paused, struggling to keep his composure. "Because I said so," he said flatly, not meeting her gaze.

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes. She ran to him, wrapping her arms around his leg. "I'm sorry for asking about Mommy yesterday," she cried. "I don't want to leave you."

Satoru pried her away, his voice cold and distant. "You're the reason Mommy died," he said, his words cutting deep.

Y/N cried harder, taking her stuffed bunny with her and plopping onto the bed. “What did I do?” her voice barely a whisper.

As she finally drifted to sleep, she dreamed of her parents. In her dream, they were holding her hands, walking together to a playground. Laughter echoed around them, and for a brief moment, she felt the warmth of their love, a fleeting moment of happiness that contrasted sharply with her waking reality.

Meanwhile, Satoru sat alone in the living room, the weight of his words heavy on his heart as he replayed the scene over and over. He buried his face in his hands, tears streaming down his cheeks. He had pushed away the only piece of his late girlfriend he had left, the innocent child who looked up to him with unconditional love.

Morning came too quickly. Y/N woke up, her eyes puffy from crying, clutching her stuffed bunny tightly. Satoru avoided her gaze as they left for Utahime's. When they arrived, Y/N hesitated at the door, turning back one last time. "Daddy, please don't forget me," she whispered, hope lingering in her voice.

Satoru didn't respond, his heart breaking as he walked away, leaving her standing there, feeling more alone than ever. As Utahime hugged Y/N, the little girl buried her face in her new caretaker's shoulder, muffling her sobs.

𝐻𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑔𝑜, @kalopsia-flaneur. ��𝑡𝑤 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑎 𝑓𝑒𝑤 𝑑𝑎𝑦𝑠.

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk angst #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #utahime iori

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crazy-ache · 2 months ago

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Pirate Elucien Playlist

Tread carefully...

You’ve been warned.

Elain and Lucien are falling into deep waters. A playlist to accompany the fic Treacherous Waters, a story featuring Elain Archeron as a disgraced daughter of society, forced to marry our favorite Lord of Foxes, the mysterious pirate captain intent on keeping her.

This is a little stocking stuffer gift for @jsmelodies for the @acotargiftexchange. Hope you enjoy listening! Key lyrics found below the cut.

Listen to the Playlist

Love Letter From the Sea to The Shore - Delaney Bailey

'Cause you hold in my tide I would die a thousand times Just to see you in another life I think I loved you In a thousand ways 'Cause you remain stagnant On my troubled days No matter how far I drift away You'll be there when I come back one day

Black Water - Of Monsters and Men

But there's something, eating at me Black water, take over Swallowed by a vicious, vengeful sea, oh-oh Darker days are raining over me, oh-oh In the deepest depths, I lost myself, oh-oh I see myself through someone else The strange silence surrounding me Grows closer, feels colder

Allies or Enemies - The Crane Wives

Are we allies or enemies? This will be the death of me This will be the death of me All is fair in love, and war But I can't fight with you anymore This will be the death of me

hostage - Billie Eilish

I wanna be alone Alone with you, does that make sense? I wanna steal your soul And hide you in my treasure chest I don't know what to do To do with your kiss on my neck I don't know what feels true But this feels right so stay a sec Yeah, you feel right so stay a sec And let me crawl inside your veins I'll build a wall, give you a ball and chain It's not like me to be so mean You're all I wanted Just let me hold you like a hostage

Troubled Waters - Alex Warren

The waves keep crashin' What would happen If I asked you to stay? Woah say you won't Let me drown in troubled waters alone Ooh throw me a rope Won't you tell me that you're still holdin' on Feel the world on my shoulders Slowly pullin' me under And I don't wanna push you away Woah say you won't Let me drown in troubled waters Drown in troubled waters alone

Treacherous - Taylor Swift

Put your lips close to mine As long as they don't touch Out of focus, eye to eye 'Til the gravity's too much And I'll do anything you say If you say it with your hands And I'd be smart to walk away But you're quicksand This slope is treacherous This path is reckless This slope is treacherous And I, I, I like it

What The Water Gave Me - Florence + The Machine

Time it took us To where the water was That's what the water gave me And time goes quicker Between the two of us But oh my love, don't forsake me Take what the water gave me

We Sink - Of Monsters and Men

I know that it's a waste of time, chasing in the dark But keep me in your clouded minds, until time ignites a spark

gold rush - Taylor Swift

Gleaming Twinkling Eyes like sinking ships On waters so inviting I almost jump in

Power Over Me - Dermot Kennedy

I wanna be king in your story I wanna know who you are I want your heart to beat for me Oh, I Want you to sing to me softly 'Cause then I'm outrunning the dark That's all that love ever taught me Oh, I Call and I'll rush out All out of breath now You got that power over me, my my Everything I hold dear resides in those eyes

Sailor Song - Gigi Perez

Oh, won't you kiss me on the mouth and love me like a sailor? And when you get a taste, can you tell me what's my flavor? I don't believe in God, but I believe that you're my savior

She Lit a Fire - Lord Huron

I've been through the desert and I've been 'cross the sea I've been walking through the mountains, I've wandered through the trees for her I have been trying to find her, want to give what I got She lit a fire, and now she's in my every thought

Salt And The Sea - The Lumineers

I'll let the darkness swallow me whole I need to find you, need you to know I'll be your friend in the daylight again There we will be, like an old enemy Like the salt and the sea

Runaway - AURORA

No, take me home, take me home where I belong I can't take it anymore But I kept running for a soft place to fall

Francesca - Hozier

Do you think I'd give up That this might've shook the love from me Or that I was on the brink? How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily? Now that it's done There's not one thing that I would change My life was a storm, since I was born How could I fear any hurricane? If someone asked me at the end I'll tell them put me back in it Darling, I would do it again, ah, ah If I could hold you for a minute

#elucien #elucien playlist #acotar playlist #pirate au #elain x lucien #acotar gift exchange

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littlelesbinonny · 10 months ago

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The Devil's Den

Chapter 45: In Which Quicksand Is Less Than Quick

You can read this also on Ao3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46831621/chapters/117962293

"Don't make it weird."

"What do you mean?"

"Just... don't make it weird."

"Make what weird?!"

Cassandra gave Daniela a look as she sucked her blood cocktail through the glass straw in her tall cup, tilting her head causing the messy bun atop to flop, "when they come out tonight; don't. Make it. Weird."

Daniela narrowed her eyes still leaning on the marble countertop with a near-scowl at her sister, "why do you think I'm going to make it weird? When did I give the inclination I'm going to make it weird?"

"You haven't," Bela added with a sly smile, "you just tend to get excited about stuff. Sometimes weirdly excited."

Daniela pushed herself off the countertop and threw her hands in the air with some exasperation, "is weird my new default adjective? When have I ever made something so weird that you two speak of?"

Cassandra and Bela exchanged glances.

"Dani." The brunette enunciated.

"CUH-SAAAWN-DRUH." Daniela exaggerated back.

"Dude!" Bela hissed, "shhh, they are still sleeping - let it go -" she pointed at them both, then to Cassandra, "don't be a pest," pointing now to Daniela, "just be chill... k?"

Daniela tsked, "I will, god," she huffed leaning back down onto the countertop, "am I like the only one interested in mom's new girlfriend?"

"No, I'm excited to get to know her," Bela replied, "this one is clearly not going anywhere and I, for one, am happy for mother. She will more than likely be a big part of our lives now, at least, if she isn't ready to run from her first introduction to our world." She giggled.

"Yeah, Mother Miranda certainly gave her a dramatic welcoming, if you can call it that. Not sure how I'd feel getting sucked into a war that had nothing to do with me, then have to kill said person who sucked me in, tried to kill me, and then... yeah wow, what the fuck, that poor girl is probably traumatized as shit."

With a large dramatic sigh Cassandra pulled her other knee up to her chest on the bar stool and put her glass down on the counter, tugging at her oversized forest green zip-up hoodie back around her angled shoulder, "most likely, and with what they both went through the last three days I'll actually be a little surprised if they make it out of the bedroom tonight." She wiggled her eyebrows playfully at her sisters.

"Ew. Gross. Why."

"Oooo, so they didn't do any of the nasty last night?" Cass grinned at the redhead, "I figured with your bedroom being the closest you'd have - "

"Oh! My fuck!" Daniela spat, "No! I didn't hear anything. That's the last thing I'd ever be listening for, Jesus."

Cassandra cackled and Bela shook her head.

Waking up to Alcina like this was a whole new sort of feeling.

You were in her bed, in her home, in the underworld, safe under her watch and care.

Some sort of twisted invigoration spurred through you, and with that sleep drunk smile on your face you nuzzled back into her with a sigh of contentment. This really felt like home.

"Mmm," Alcina hummed sleepily herself, "my mighty warrior, awake..." she grinned with her eyes still closed as she wrapped her arms about you tightly, brushing her lips over the top of your head nestled under her chin, "have you slept well?"

Nodding mutely, you took a deep breath and sighed, "you?"

She hummed low in her chest and it rattled lusciously against your cheek.

"When you are in my arms, the dead have nothing on me."

You chuckled, still very groggy, "I give the term sleeping like the dead new meaning, huh?"

"Definitely new and improved."

Pressing your face further under her neck, you relished how relaxed and comfortable you were, knowing if you were to stay here for much longer you'd likely pass back out. It didn't sound like too bad of an idea, really. Before you'd both climbed into bed, you were worried about getting back to your life above ground; stressing over what kind of mess you would be facing to clean up. Now, in the bliss of this, you were on the brink of forgetting it all.

"What time is it?" you eventually uttered begrudgingly against yourself.

Alcina, just as procrastinating as you, lazily looked to the golden clock on the far wall in the dim light and squinted, "it appears to be midnight."

"Dammit all," you mumbled, "I don't want to go."

"So don't," Alcina replied softly, "stay. You needn't leave for any reason unless you just want to."

Again you sighed and closed your eyes, "just up and leave my life like aliens abducted me?"

"Why not?"

A stupidly completely valid point. So valid you couldn't, or maybe perhaps didn't want to, counter it with reason. Were you really going to go back to your job? Your desk prison? What was left up there in the human world aside from Malka? Nothing would ever be the same now.

"Listen, you're taking advantage of my sleepy state and making too much sense. I've at least got to go get my plants and clothes."

Alcina chuckled deliciously and rolled you over, peppering you with slow sweet kisses everywhere, "draga mea, I can't help but indulge my selfishness," her nose nuzzled your earlobe, "I promised to take you home, and so I shall, as much as I'd like to keep you here. Decisions can be made later, if you must keep me pining."

"Well I certainly don't want to be the cause of you pining."

"Oh," she moaned, "but you're sooo good at it dragoste."

You both giggled and gave into the last few minutes of unbothered happiness before finally rising and getting ready. Well, Alcina got ready, you made a half-effort attempt at just making yourself presentable to make it out of the underground and to your apartment.

Though, you did get to watch your lady of the night dress and put on her makeup, and that was a treat that made the choice of choosing to live down here so much more tempting.

She was meticulous but fast in all her application. Now whether that was from your necessity to get home or just how she did this every night you weren't sure, but the woman had you captivated in the simple tasks and you blushed without regret when she caught you studying her in the mirror.

Alcina smirked through her last swipe of red lipstick and hummed, "see something you like?"

Her voice was cool and tinted with the bedroom tone that made you all but swoon, and you shook your head through a nasally huff, "only everything," you smiled.

Rising from the vanity bench, you took your bottom lip between your teeth as she stood before you now fully prepared to take on the night. She wore a pair of loose black pleated pants, much like the ones she'd taken Mother Miranda down in, looking flawless as she did, and a maroon chiffon blouse that was tucked into said trousers with a simple yet elegant black belt with a gold buckle cinched around her waist. If the underworld had a Miranda Priestley, Alcina would be it. She looked like an unintended seductress; too regal, too beautiful, to not be completely dangerous.

Alcina smirked and sauntered over to you perched on the chez lounge, leaned down and took your chin into her grasp, "you make this too easy." She sighed as she kissed you through a smile.

"What?" You inquired as you caught her glimmering grey hues.

"Adoring you."

Her daughters were in the kitchen as you two were leaving, and it seemed they were even more awkward about the whole thing than you were, at least in Daniela's case. She knocked over her wine glass on the attempt to straighten her posture and address you and her mother as you passed. Alcina merely rolled her eyes as she went to grab her trench coat.

"I shall return shortly, girls." She stated, trying to hide her amused grin.

Tangled 'ok's' and 'mhm's' were muttered in response. Cassandra and Bela gave you kind nods and small smiles. Daniela gave a weak, unsure kind of wave of her hand and more of a toothy grin, and then Alcina was tugging you by the arm out of the manor.

You did not ask for clarification on that situation.

Meanwhile, not moments after the door had latched, Cassandra grinned smartly.

"Told you you were going to make it weird."

"Oh shut up!"

Bela with a huff and loud eyeroll, she removed herself from the counter, leaving her sisters there to do as they may and headed upstairs to the turret.

Now that you were able to really take in your surroundings, the underworld city of vampires and lycans was seriously impressive. The cavern in which this place was so intricately built made you genuinely question what else about life was hidden under human noses. To think that an entire city hid under the bustling state that was New York made you feel childlike in the wonder of it all; a world within a world that no one knew about. You loved it. It was so beautiful, so terrifying, and so meticulously kept. There was no trash to be found in any corner, nothing broken, or run-down, no stains on the cobblestone or cracks in the sidewalks, let alone the buildings that still looked brand new aside from their ole world architecture. And, there was no vegetation either you realized. The street lamps were bright, and the buildings emitted light of their own from windows, but there was no natural occurring light down here at all. It was a little claustrophobic at first, but overall it was a wonderous sight.

As the two of you walked, you noticed it was rather empty and quiet. Either everyone was still slumbering or they were out in the city feeding or doing whatever it is vampires and lycans do. Eventually you did pass a couple vampires as you got closer to the edge of the city; their glances were long yet attempted to be understated as they eyed you, but shallow bows were offered in silence as Alcina lead you on.

She held your arm on hers proudly without any noticeable disturbance from how they gazed at the two of you. You smiled. That aura of pure prowess of hers emanated at great length.

Getting out of the underground was even more intriguing to you since you'd been unconscious when Miranda's heathens brought you here. The tunnels were pitch black in some areas as you went and you held just a little tighter to Alcina's arm. You couldn't see it but you were pretty sure she was smirking stoutly at your literal blind trust.

As light began to syphon slowly down the current corridor you walked, your eyes adjusted accordingly and your grip loosened, and before long you were coming up several sets of stairs and into the belly of a church. This must be St. Patrick's. The events that took place last time you were here set off the tumbling of dominoes that oddly enough lead you to this very moment. You wondered how that situation had been handled and if -

"What in Gods name has been happening?!"

A voice halted you and Alcina with a jerk.

Alcina didn't miss a beat.

"Ah, and good evening to you as well, Father."

A disheveled looking priest was now in front of the both of you, his wide bloodshot eyes and tired expression trying to hide under the facade of, well, several expressions. You recognized him from before and he looked even worse for wear than last time.

"What has happened?!" The father asked again, throwing his gaze between the two of you, finally setting to staring at Alcina as though he was parched, "I've had to shut the church down for two days! The - the - those things! Hundreds of them! Came barreling through here! And the rumbling and - and - explosions? Th-the sounds coming up from the tunnels! I've not had any sleep - I haven't left - I sent everyone home - I -"

"Father," Alcina said, halting his rambling and heavy breath, "rest assured, everything has been handled."

His face went blank before erupting into another twisted grimace, "what does everything mean!?"

Alcina, in a most uncharacteristic fashion, placed her palm on the priests shoulder and squeezed it softly, "you will give yourself a heart attack if you do not relax," she mused, tilting her chin upwards slightly before taking another paused breath, eying him intently, "the everything of which I speak is that very threat we all faced. The ones who mauled and killed your deacon? Well, they have been neutralized. It's over, Father."

Watching the worry and tension melt off of him was nearly comical. You weren't sure if he was going to collapse to the floor by the news and you glanced up carefully to Alcina who looked all the more pillar-like as she seemed to hold this man together somehow.

"Oh..." the word fluttered from his parted lips, "I... that is... that is wonderful news," he sighed and dropped his gaze most heavily, "I feared the worst... the silence over the last several hours has had me on edge - I - I assumed those... white-eyed creatures would emerge from the underground again and it would be over."

Straightening her spine, Alcina cocked an eyebrow, "Father Sullivan," she uttered slyly, though you could hear the hint of playfulness, "that might be the most hurtful thing you've ever said to me."

You watched as the horror and worry returned to his face as he peered to Alcina with his jaw dropped again in the need to defend himself.

Alcina grinned most eagerly, "to think we, and I, have defended this world and your church for so long, and you assume some fancy-fangled new breed of vampire could swoop in and take us down?" She placed both hands on her hips and huffed, "I must say I'm a little disappointed in you."

Her wink finally lessened the leash of his fear again.

He started to laugh, taking his quivering hands and running them along his weathered cheeks with a smile emerging, "I doubt I will ever be able to fully follow your wicked calm and sense of humor, Lady Dimitrescu, but I am grateful to you, as I always have been, despite our differences and disagreements."

"Think nothing of it, Father. Relax. As I have told you many, many times in the past, you are far too uptight for your own good. Everything is under control. You are safe, your priests and deacons are safe, your church is safe. And now, I really must be getting this lovely lady home." She smiled over at you.

"Oh, oh yes," he sputtered and swallowed, nodding at you with a weak smile, "forgive me, how rude I have been," he outstretched his hand for you to shake, "I am Father Sullivan... and you are?"

You took his hand but before you could reply, Alcina was introducing you for you, proudly.

"And she is half the reason for the armies defeat and that we are all safe... she is to pass freely in and out of your church without question."

Father Sullivan nodded, "yes, of course. You may come and go as you please. The side door where Alcina will lead you is always unlocked for her kind, you may use it the same."

Alcina smiled once more before taking your arm in hers, "thank you, Father. Now go home and rest. I will visit you soon to discuss matters."

You could tell he was far too exhausted to say anything else. He folded his hands in front of him, bowed his head graciously, and then you parted ways.

Your apartment looked very much the same as you left it. But the notifications on your phone were anxiety inducing.

16 missed calls and 4 voicemails. Work, Malka, and your co-worker Blair. Oh boy.

While you were looking through your texts and listening to your voicemails, Alcina was checking to make sure all locks on your windows and doors were still operational and nothing was broken from your kidnapping. Perhaps the best of news was that everything seemed fine.

She turned to you as you sighed heavily while leaning against your kitchen counter, plopping your phone onto the surface while rubbing your face with aggravation.

"That bad?" she asked resting her hand on your shoulder, eyeing you sincerely.

"It's not so much bad, it's just chaotic," you mumbled, finally locking eyes with her, "everyone is freaking out that I've vanished. I've been gone two days, going on three. Blair said my boss is reaching out to authorities, soooo I've gotta come up with some kind of story as to where I've been, and dear god I do not want to deal with police. I have no idea what I'm going to tell everyone. And then there's Malka who is worried as hell, especially since she... erm, well, knows about you and what's kinda been going on. I texted her first and told her to call me when she wakes up."

Alcina narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, trailing her hand down your back while leaning on the counter next to you, "let me worry about the police," she instructed, "I'll deal with that if your employer has contacted them."

You tossed your eyes to her with confusion, "how?"

"Draga mea, you forget already how far my reach is?" She smirked, "the deep city officials and our kind have worked together for over a century, remember? Who do you think has to play clean-up whenever a vampire or lycan gets out of line and causes a disturbance? Don't worry about them, I will take care of it for you."

Shaking your head with a bit of relief, you chuckled at her, "you never fail to blow my mind."

"A cherished pastime," Alcina smiled brighter, grabbing for your hands and holding them to her lips, "now, about your story."

Staring with a sigh, you shrugged your shoulders, "I'm drawing a blank. I'm a shit tier liar."

"Mmm... perhaps you were struck by a vehicle in a crosswalk and have been in the hospital. You of course asked said hospital to call your work, but we all know the incompetence of the medical profession from time to time, so the call was never made, therefore it isn't your fault you've been "missing", but you are mending and will likely need... two, three weeks off work to recover?"

Her twinkling eyes and greedy smile made you giggle, not to mention the decently detailed story fabrication.

"Have you been concocting this for a while?" You chuckled.

Alcina grinned, "the walk may have given way to some inspiration."

"And I'm sure the two to three week recovery period has everything to do with my injury and not your ploy to spend more time with me, right?"

"What an insinuation!" Alcina pursed her lips, "of course it has to do with your injuries. You may have a horrible concussion, draga! Perhaps whiplash, broken bones even? The possibilities of such an accident really are endless... you may even need a month to fully recover, but I must speak to your doctor to be sure."

You were fully laughing now, "and who might my doctor be, ma'am?"

"Well that would be the Attending Physician Dr. Beneviento; Donna Beneviento, draga mea - we've known each other for many years, you know. She's brilliantly smart, one hell of a physician."

Her unwavering smile made the majority of your worry dissipate as the story did hold merit if it could be pulled off.

"So what, you give Donna a call; give her the details; she works her magic, and poof - I have a doctors note?"

Alcina nodded, "that's about it, yes. Just say the word and it is done."

"Well, this makes more sense than anything I could probably come up with. I guess it's a couple week long recouperation for me under your, erm, Dr. Benevientos' watchful care, huh?"

"Mm yes, I think so."

"Good," you said as a twinkling of mischief appeared in your own yes, "that'll give me plenty of time to get my shit in order and for you and Malka to meet."

The sharp turn that sentence gave Alcina played out perfectly and you were fighting your urge to laugh. Watching her struggle with the glee that you were free for several weeks to a very clear 'damn you' was everything you needed right now.

Draping your arms over her shoulders you kissed her cheek over and over, "I think it's cute."

"Mmm?" She hummed, securing her hands on your lower back.

"Your jealousy."

'"I am not jealous," Alcina replied all to quickly, looking at your smirking face inches from her, desperately trying to believe her own lie, "I am simply protective."

It was your turn to raise your eyebrow, "well then meeting her should put all of that at ease."

Doing all she could not to roll her eyes, Alcina narrowed them and pulled you tightly against her, kissing your lips light and tender, "if it pleases you, draga mea... I shall."

"It would please me greatly."

"Fine."

Kissing her through another smile you sighed once more, feeling like there was some control back in your grasp.

Alcina returned the smirk, but hesitated to let go of you, "I suppose this means I need to get back to the underworld and speak with Donna," she sighed, "my life is going to be very interesting over the next few weeks... will you be staying here?"

You tilted your head in contemplation briefly, "maybe I should until it mellows out down there?"

"Your presence will more than likely be demanded when the clan leaders show up in groves."

Your eyes bugged, "I have to meet more leaders? Didn't I already do that?"

"Only the local branches of my area, the rest will undoubtedly be on their way as the news of Mother Miranda's death reaches far and wide. Remember, there are nine clans."

Your head spun for a second, "wait, I thought the council members that I met were those leaders?"

"Mm, no draga, those are the local heads of this particular section of the underworld; vampire and lycan. The ones I speak of are like me; matriarchs and patriarchs of their own cities."

"Oh god," you dropped your head, "I dunno if I'm cut out for vampire politics."

Alcina chuckled brightly, "you aren't being put on trial dragoste, that will be for Ethan and Mia. You will simply be a local celebrity, as it were. You helped me take down one of the oldest and most infamous of our kind... that in itself, outside the fact you are a mysterious creature yourself, will have curious admirers dying to meet you."

Your visage flattened, "a terrible, terrible pun."

She kissed the tip of your nose, "if I must meet Malka -"

"That is COMPLETELY diff - "

Alcina placed a long slender finger to your lips and smiled, "you'll be wonderful and well received, I promise you."

The scowl you bore weakened and you huffed once more through her immobilizing beauty, "Un. Fair. You forget I'm just a boring tiny human in a big world of beautiful vampires and fearsome lycans. I'm not used to the glamourous, big to-do's you all... do, or whatever."

"Dragoste," she cooed, "you are not human, and the life you have lived has not been kind nor nurturing of you and your power. You - are a mighty Fae - and the world in which I govern is more for you than I think you might realize. Give it a chance. Believe me, it is not all grandeur and glory. But being with those more of your calibre might suit you."

You considered her words. Maybe she was right.

Maybe.

"It's still scary," you admitted, "I feel like a flopping fish out of water in pretty much every aspect of my life right now... I haven't had a lot of time to really digest it and... it's pretty surreal. Everything has happened so fast. I was like, normal last spring, before I met you," you teased, "then I find out vampires are real. I fall in love with you. I start to change and have no idea what's happening. Malka tells me I'm magickal - then all of a sudden my powers show up - THEN mutant vampires attack your city, we take on a deranged vampire and kill her, aaaand now life is supposed to... what, go back to normal? What the fuck even is normal now?"

Her smile was soft as she caressed the side of your face, "I understand. You're right, what is normal? But you have me. And... Malka, and Donna, and even Karl, Angie, and anyone else you choose to confide in - you won't be alone in the journey, draga mea. I am with you the whole way."

The surrealness really was setting in now that you'd said it out loud. Grasping it was harder than holding sand.

You plopped your head into Alcina's chest and held her tight, "thank you... It feels so strange."

Alcina understood the conundrum well. She too had her whole life flipped upside-down. From one moment dying in bed, to a choice that gave her immortality. How does one not go mad at the thought?

"If it is any consolation, you aren't strange. You are simply walking a very unique path now," she squeezed you firmly, "a whole new world and life is at your fingertips."

While it felt like a blip of an eternity had gone by standing in your kitchen embraced by your vampire in silence, you pulled back and looked at her, "so... what now?"

"As I said earlier, I need to get back to speak with Donna to get your work off your back. Then find out what knots in the city need untangled, deal with the mutant problem, see the hidden underground where Miranda was hiding all this time with said mutants, and meet with the clan leaders as they show up. There will also be a very interesting trial for Miranda's little nuisance minions; Mia and Ethan."

Her wicked glimmer of a smile said without words she couldn't wait for that.

Once more Alcina traced her finger over the side of your face, "if I don't see you until then, I will be here tomorrow night." She then eyed you firmly, "what do you need from me until then, draga mea?"

"Nothing, you've got it under control babe. I'll wait patiently for my Queen of the Underworld to return to me."

She scoffed, but smiled, "more power was everything I didn't want, and now look at me."

"I think it's kinda hot."

"You would," she shook her head, cupping your face, "and indulging you is hard to resist."

Upon reentering the underground, Alcina reached into her trench coat pocket and retrieved her small brass cigarette case; plucked one from the lip and lit it with a similar lighter as she walked, eyeing her surroundings with a new sensation.

This was all hers now. Untampered. Without an absent thumb pressing down upon her any longer.

She would reign over her people with more understanding and openness than ever before. Her hands would no longer be tied by a tyrant who wanted her to bake her a cake with half the ingredients. These were her people, all of them, and she would do all she could to be the leader they all deserved and more; not for her vanity, but for the good of their livelihood and the future that was inevitable. Her role didn't seem so cumbersome anymore. Somehow, in the dramatic events that had occurred, she felt sturdy and honored with her title. The once looming threat of her silent, lurking enemies seemed far from her now. She didn't feel the poisonous glances she'd experienced for the last several decades, no, she felt no lingering trace of danger at all. She'd made her stake. Her claim. A bloody, deadly demand for respect that would echo for centuries to come. If one were to be so bold to challenge her now, somewhere in the depths of her soul she felt no qualms with fear or hesitance. Why that was she may never know, but it felt good either way.

Change would come, and she would meet and forge it. And she wanted you by her side through it. If it were at all possible.

Turning down the cobblestone towards City Hall in her quest to find Donna, Alcina heard commotion as she approached the inner city. She came to find several groups of vampire and lycan alike, huddled and gathered around large amounts of stone and construction gear, blueprints being passed and scoured over, and sounds of work being executed further off down another street. Repairs were already underway; she loved how quickly things were happening.

Almost on cue as she thought about who was responsible for such promptness, Dmitri, Mitch and Sylvia came out of City Hall conversing amongst themselves, handing off more papers and orders to workers and continued on with their task. She stopped and stood to admire the scene, but as her eyes moved around something different about City Hall caught her eye.

Narrowing her vision as she looked up the facade of the grand building, there above the large stone entrance was a bloodied, mangled mess of long blonde hair tacked just above the towering double doors.

Alcina took a very long drawn out drag as she studied it.

"I see you've found Angie's handiwork," Donna stated unamused as she approached her friend from behind, coming to stop at her side and look as well.

Without a breath of an expression on her face aside from her narrowed eyes, Alcina let the smoke blow from her red lips as she tapped the ash from the tip of her cigarette onto the stone at her feet.

Donna wasn't sure if she should panic, "I can have it removed immediat -"

"No," Alcina cut her off, a smirk tugging now at her lips, "leave it," she looked over to Donna taking a shorter puff, "but at least confirm the rest of her body, whatever might be left after your vulture of a sister, and no doubt Heisenberg took from it, made it to the sun tower?"

Unable to hide her own smile, Donna nodded but didn't get to answer.

"I can confirm that on behalf of Miss Beneviento," Dmitri offered approaching the women, tucking his long white hair behind an ear, "that tower was sealed over an hour ago with my supervision. Miranda's jaw remains in Karl's possession, I'm not entirely sure what Angie took, but the skull fragment," he motioned to the hall, "is all that's left otherwise. Not my choice of decoration, but, it does make a suitable statement." Alcina shook her head and tongued her teeth, "I suppose there is no subtlety about her death. Perhaps it's a statement that needs made... I'm sure the clan leaders well let me know." She smiled.

"Yes, and speaking of that," Donna began, "Marguerite will be here by the end of the night. I've received word from a few others, but I assume in no more than three days time, all clan leaders will be accounted for. The council will adjourn to address the happenings and I've been busy gathering all intel for it. I sent Mateo with several of Karl's military to Miranda's manor in Connecticut, and Dmitri has several of his people working with Salvatore in the secret lair Miranda built here collecting whatever we can."

"Ah, yes," Alcina remarked, "I would like to see this place as soon as it is feasible."

"I can take you whenever you are ready." Dmitri affirmed with a nod.

"Excellent, but first I must speak with Donna." Alcina said grasping her arm softly, "Dmitri, may I meet you here in half an hour?"

He nodded graciously and the two women set off inside City Hall.

The half hour that was spent inside the disheveled council room seemed to take much shorter than Alcina realized. Donna was happily running 100 miles an hour to get your needs in order. She was carrying the cell phone Angie had hidden in the house and used it to contact her and explain her duty in the workings for your cover. Alcina proclaimed she was judging her quite harshly, as she knew if her daughters found out she'd never hear the end of it. Donna simply shrugged and begrudgingly admitted cell phones were handier than she cared to admit. But they finalized and mobilized to get you taken care of and Alcina was then seeking out Dmitri.

Miranda's hideout was quiet literally next door to them. In the furthest reaches of abandoned tunnels at the North end of the city, hidden behind a faux wall, lay one entrance to her lair. It was a ridiculously obvious choice to make as she normally came from the North East tunnels from her Connecticut abode. But, no one had any reason to go looking or snooping, though the agitation remained for Alcina that this had all been done right under their noses.

There was a steep drop to a long set of winding stone stairs that lead to the belly of the cavern. The ceiling was no where near as tall as the city's, and it felt cramped for all things considered. But it was large. Easily half the size of Alcina's city. Which made for a nice fit for her army that were standing about mindless, unmoved, and vacant of all light behind their eyes under the watch of several of Dmitri's soldiers.

Alcina couldn't help but seem a semblance of sorrow for them as she walked through, following Dmitri to what she assumed to be an important area of this whole debacle.

Through the vast, dim, elongated cavern, they came to an area to the right that had a single red door that was halfway open. As they approached, Dmitri motioned for Alcina and ushered her in.

This room looked nothing like the rest of this place.

Clearly this was Miranda's chambers. The walls were covered in papers with notes, maps, and pictures. The myriad of tables and benches were filled with similar paperwork. Off in the far corner was a bed well made, a small vanity, and a wardrobe with several articles of clothing. Alcina gritted her teeth briefly before Dmitri approached her with a leather back journal.

"We've found countless, heavily detailed, hand-written documentation of Mother Miranda's escapades down here... this is one of her personal diaries. I thought you may want to look it over," he said handing it to her.

Taking it slowly from him she peered down and began to flip through the article. Her handwriting was very clean for cursive, and Alcina mused only a little on the words as Dmitri continued.

"I've not gathered this room up entirely as I wanted you to see it."

"Have you given your people any time to rest, or did you begin this immediately after my command to go and rest?" She smirked with a knowing gaze.

Dmitri bowed his head shallowly with a smile, "you know me far too well to know that I sit by idly when things need done. These matters needed attending to. I won't deny my gnashing curiosity for Miranda's activities lead me on to find answers. I feel we're scratching the surface at best; the piles and stacks of... all of this has been extensive. And, there's many more where that came from, but the journal you hold is the most recent. The more we dug, we found some dating back nearly twenty years."

"Twenty years?" Alcina repeated looking up from the pages with disbelief.

Dmitri nodded, "this has been in the works for a very long time, it seems. Though, this is not the worst of it."

"I would assume not. What else have you discovered?"

"An experimentation room."

Those three words made her stomach churn.

"Show me."

#alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu/female reader #alcina dimitrescu/original female character #alcina dimitrescu/reader #lesbian #f/f #fanfic #wlw #donna beneviento #daniela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu

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mylostloversbookmarks · 2 years ago

Text

Do You Want Me Or Do You Not?

Characters - Joel Miller x Reader

Summary - You have been with Joel and Sarah for 4 years and your life is pretty perfect. Your evening plans quickly take a turn for the worse.

Word Count - 2.3K

Warnings/Tags - 18+ only Minors dni. Typical canon language, Angst, I mean all the angst, Joel being an asshole? mentions of arguing, mentions of drinking.

A/N - Set Pre-Outbreak! This is my first fic and I would like to say a massive thank you to the beautiful @pedgeitopascal for beta reading and encouraging me to share this! This was supposed to be a drabble but I got carried away, open to writing more to this! Feedback is appreciated but pls be kind.

Read Chpt 2 Here! ~ Hold On To Me, Cause' Im A Little Unsteady.

Divider credit to @saradika

You slammed the door so hard that you were surprised it didn’t come off its hinges. Your blood was boiling, leaving a thin sheen of sweat over your skin and prickling up your spine to the back of your neck, making you feel nauseous.

"How could he say that?" you ask yourself quietly.

Staring blankly at the front yard, the streetlights hummed and zinged above your head, making you dizzy. The air was hot and sticky, clinging to your exposed skin like ivy on an old house. You moved slowly, your legs feeling as if they were wading through quicksand. Closing your eyes and inhaling the humid evening air, you feel tears pooling in your eyes and threatening to overflow.

"How did this happen?" you thought to yourself over and over again. Sure, it wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to argue, but they were always silly little fights that you blamed on your short temper and his stubbornness. You'd both raised your voices at each other before, and instead of apologising like adults, he'd do or say something that made you laugh, and no matter how hard you tried—and God knows you tried—to hide it with a bitten lip or a turn of the head, He saw right through you. Giving you that "I know you're mad, but you love me" look with a shit-eating grin.

You would roll your eyes and wrap your arms around his waist. Laying your head against his chest as he rested his chin on the top of your head. The small circles you drew on his broad back and the silent kisses he placed on the crown of your head were just unspoken apologies. Not this time. This felt different. This felt final. Like there was no coming back from the venom-laced words he hurled at you.

It was late, around eleven p.m. if you had to guess. You cursed under your breath as you realised you had left your phone on the kitchen counter. Not knowing what to do, you decided to walk around the block and give yourself and him a chance to calm down.

You felt lost, wandering, your face hot from the tears you hadn't noticed were falling freely now. You tried to take another deep, shuddering breath as you wiped the palms of your hands over your face, but all that was coming were silent, wracking sobs, your throat hurting from swallowing around the lump in it. As you walked the empty streets of your suburban neighbourhood, the argument replayed over and over in your head.

Joel had just returned home from work, having promised you and Sarah that he would be home by seven o'clock at the latest. You couldn't lie to yourself, you wished he was home more, but you understood that he needed to finish this job, so you didn't press him on it. He threw his keys into the bowl with a little too much force and sighed heavily.

"Hey, are you going to make dinner?" he muttered under his breath, without even looking at you, staring at the ground as he removed his work boots by the door. "Oh yeah, of course. Shall I just shine your shoes when I'm there, master?" You snarked at him and laughed, not really thinking he was being serious. When you looked up from your laptop, he was staring at you blankly, the question hanging in the air.

"You know I worked a full day too, right? You said you would be home for Seven, so I took Sarah to the mall, picked up her new soccer kit, and then drove her to and picked her up from practice. It got late, so I made something quick for her. I thought we could get takeout when you got back, and you know it wouldn’t hurt for you to cook once in a while, Miller." You laughed, still working away on your laptop, and when no response came, you paid no mind to the back and forth.

"Yeah, and I'm sure there were plenty of better things you would have rather been doing," he muttered under his breath again, clearly intending for it to be loud enough for you to hear in the small living room that joined the kitchen. Your eyes snapped up as you heard the door to the fridge being yanked open with enough force to knock the condiment bottles from their shelf inside the door. Smashing as they met the cold tiles of the kitchen floor.

"God fucking dammit," he cursed. Joel is known for his colourful vocabulary, but this one caught you off guard. What has gotten him so riled up in the five minutes he has been in the house? You stood up and marched into the kitchen, leaving your laptop on the middle seat of the sofa, watching as he stepped over the mess by the fridge and opened the cupboard under the sink for the cleaning supplies. Still not looking at you.

"What is up your ass this evening?" You asked, irritably, as the prospect of a quiet night curled into his chest with Chinese food in hand quickly passed you by. "Nothing, don’t worry about it," he pushed past you, barely brushing your shoulder in his passing. He had yet to look at you. "I get it! You had a shitty day at work, but you don’t need to take it out on me!" You huffed as you walked around the small, worn dining table the three of you usually share your meals.

"Work was fine," he spat. You bent down to help him pick up the glassy mess, but he flinched back from you, bolting to his feet and crossing to the trash can on the other side of the kitchen in two long strides. He threw the jagged shards of glass into the bin with enough force that it rocked from side to side. You have seen Joel angry on plenty of occasions. If things mess up at work. If Tommy needs to be bailed out of jail for the umpteenth time. He has never been this angry, not with you anyway.

"What’s wrong?! And what did you even mean by ‘I'm sure there were plenty of better things you would have rather been doing’ Joel?!" You asked as you deepened your register to mimic his voice and his earlier statement. "Oh, I think you know what I mean," he laughed out with no trace of humour, his voice like ice. There was the beginning of a pit in your stomach, telling you that something was very wrong here. He has never in the four years you have been together, spoken to you like this. Not even remotely close to it.

"Okay, I really don’t understand what is happening here. Is there something you want to get off your chest?! Have I done something to piss you off or something?" You questioned, throwing your arms up in the air, letting them fall to your sides with an audible snap as your hands connected with your jean-covered thighs. You wracked your brain for something, anything, that would explain the way he was acting towards you. You came up blank. He was fine when he left for work this morning, you had to pry his strong arms from around your waist as he trailed tender kisses up your neck, making you wiggle your behind against him. Giggling and telling him if he didn’t leave now, he would be late for work. He left you in bed with a "To be continued" purred into the shell of your ear.

You could feel your temper bubbling under the surface now, threatening to spill over as you take deep, measured breaths, trying your best not to lose it on him. This didn’t make any sense. He was glaring at you from across the room, chest heaving with angered breath. You could see the strain in his arms as he stood ridged, gripping the kitchen counter as if it were the only thing tethering him to the earth. You were worried he would snap it with the way his knuckles turned white as bone under the force.

"I mean, why are you even here, (Y/N)?! With me? With Sarah?!, If I'm such a pain in the ass, why don’t you just go? Go find some other fucking guy to play "house" with! I'm sure they will show you a real good time!" The words rushed out of him like a tsunami, sweeping you and the little happy life you had made with him and his daughter right out to sea. It was as if he slapped you, even though you knew Joel would never slap you, or any woman for that matter, because he was raised right. The words still made you stumble backwards, bumping into one of the dining chairs.

You had to hold onto the chair for support. It felt like your legs would buckle under you. Looking into his eyes, you could tell he regrets saying it; he knew he had hurt you in one of the few ways only he could. You know you're not the most maternal woman around. But you adore Sarah as if she were your own child. Right to your very core. You would do anything for her, and you would protect her like a lioness protects her young. Ferociously. She knows that…they both know that, right?

"Is that what you think of me? That I would rather be somewhere else? With someone else? Why would you say that to me?" You choked out, your voice tight around the lump quickly rising in your throat, your voice barely above a whisper. Joel takes a deep breath and releases it in a slow, saddened sigh, like the world is crushing his shoulders with the weight of the words he has just cut you with. He can’t look at you, he won’t. He just stares at the floor as he runs a hand through the mop of dark hair atop his head, just long enough to start curling at the nape of his neck. You have to leave; you have to get out of this kitchen. You feel like the tension in the room will suffocate you if you don’t.

Now you stand in the rain that has just started to mist heavily from the blackened sky. Closing your eyes and tipping your head back and letting the cold rain calm your heated skin, taking in a deep breath, and enjoying the smell of fresh rain on the concrete almost make you smile. Almost. After walking the four blocks around your quiet, deserted neighbourhood, You find yourself outside a bar, deciding that you would rather drown your sorrows in a cheap amber liquid than return to a house where the man you love won't even look you in the eye.

You check the pocket of your jeans, hoping that you didn’t empty them of your change into the bowl on the console beside the door, which held the house's spare change and keys, when you got home from work…to the house that isn’t yours, not really, but before tonight had felt like your home. You shake the thought away immediately; you are tired and don’t want to get emotional in public. You say a silent prayer of thanks to whatever higher power was looking out for you as you fished the two rumpled twenty-dollar bills from your back pocket. Pushing the door to the bar open, you are welcomed by the chatter of happy patrons enjoying their Friday evening.

Opting for a seat at the sparsely occupied bar, you wait patiently for the bartender to be free to serve you. She approaches you with a friendly smile. "What can I get ya?" she asks in a thick Texan accent. It knocks you for six; his face is immediately in your mind, images flashing before your eyes from your first date, vacations spent with Joel, Sarah, and Tommy. Joel comforting you through your father's death, you beneath him between your cotton bedsheets, to his lack of ability to look at you just hours ago.

"Honey? You alright? Can I get you something?" The bartender asked you again, her brows knitted together in concern. You shake your head, trying to physically get rid of the memories that flood your vision. "Uh, yeah, sorry. Can I get a Jamesons…ah, a double on the rocks, please?" You ask, trying not to meet her worried gaze. "Coming right up," you thank her and prop your elbows on the sticky counter of the bar, ignoring the way the sticky sensation makes your stomach churn. Rubbing the heels of your hands into your eyes hard enough that you start to see purple splotches on the inside of your eyelids. You remove your hands when you hear the clink of ice in a glass being set in front of you.

Thanking the bartender again with a small, polite smile, you hand her a twenty, and ask her to keep the change. She thanks you and kindly leaves you to wallow in your thoughts. There is no doubt about how you feel about him. You love Joel like you have never loved before. It is all-encompassing, sometimes you think the depth of your feelings for him could swallow you whole, and the love you have for his daughter is of equal measure. The question that has been circling your exhausted mind for the last few hours comes front and centre again.

"Why? Why would he say what he did? What could have happened to make him doubt your feelings for him? About your little family?" You take another deep, steadying breath as your emotions threaten to overwhelm you again, rubbing your face in your palm while nursing the burn in your throat and rolling the whisky glass in your other. You feel a presence just behind your right shoulder.

"Is this seat taken, Darlin?" a familiar baritone voice asks quietly.

It’s familiar, but it’s not the voice you were hoping to hear…

#joel miller angst #joel x reader #joel x y/n #the last of us fic #tlou fic #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller #pedro pascal characters #joel miller pedro pascal #joel miller hbo

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nctstar · 5 months ago

Text

“Stop that.” He whispered against the skin of your neck. “You know he wouldn’t care.”

“That’s the problem. We need to do this properly.”

“You know why we can’t do that.”

pairing: johnyong x fem!reader (no romantic johnyong ship)

other members: none

word count: 3.7k

genre: romance, angst, with a side of smut

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni!! profanity, y/n has migraines (pretty severe!), semi-public sex, oral (fem receiving), cheating (? it's complicated), sleeping with your ex, some freaky kissing

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic.

a/n: hi guys, i'm alive :D i've had a lot of ideas recently and a steamy johnyong drama was one of them, and then my eyes feasted upon acne studios event johnny and i finally got the push i needed to go through with writing it :) writing slump over we all cheered wooooo. also, ik it's kinda ~confusing~ rn. this is a series so just trust me okayyyy. also, i love making fic playlists and here's the one for this fic. if you picked up that this is loosely based on the 5SOS song blender pls marry me rn <3 nobody get's 5SOS like I do I swear :( pls hmu if you get me

You wouldn’t have noticed him at all, if it wasn’t for the way you watched Taeyong’s deep brown eyes flicker past you, shadows of stories passing by like it was nothing. You thought nothing of it, but your head turned, your body in tune with his more than you realised. And, just like a bad case of fate, there he was.

Johnny Suh.

He walked in like he owned the place, as he always did. His cocky demeanour hung off his body perfectly, like the oversized leather jacket he wore everywhere he went. His smile made the girl waiting on him eagerly blush, something that made you both angry and a little wistful. Your gaze lingered on far too long. And, as usual, like he always did, Taeyong pretended he didn’t notice. He always pretended, even when you were so far gone, he felt like he was pulling you out of quicksand.

“What colour looks better on me, jagiya?” Switching to Korean was your safety net, something sacred between only you and him, more intimate than the restless nights you spent tangled up in bed, Johnny’s presence a mere afterthought. You turned to Taeyong’s back, his slender body on display in the full-length mirror in front. You tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear as you both locked eyes through his reflection.

“Black.”

The seriousness, properness in the air was almost palpable, like you both were being watched, tested and graded. Not a single wrong movement, or breath. It was unbearable and at the same time, so tantalizing, like something could break the surface at any moment. Moving forward, you brought a hand up and over his shoulder, letting your fingers run over his collarbone. “Yeah. Definitely black.”

Taeyong kissed your hand, and you tried to remember when he took your hand in his. “I wanna show you a few more items. In there.” He cocked his head ever so slightly to the curtained fitting rooms, so subtle, meant to remain a secret between the two of you.

Not thinking about Johnny was like trying not to let the plague take over your body. He seeped through you like the truth, feeling right in every scenario. And in this moment, as you let Taeyong run his mouth down the valley of your breasts, your skin erupting in flames underneath his lips, you shut your eyes, and there was Johnny. Your feet on his toned calves, your hands around his thick cock. But when you opened your eyes, there was Taeyong, between your legs, right here, right now.

You clamped your mouth, moans threatening to spill out. “Oh god,” you whispered through your fingers. “R-right ther-haah…” Your thighs constricted around his head as he quickened his pace, both of your hands behind you to hold you upright.

“Hey, excuse me?”

Fuck.

It’s like someone had drawn the curtains back on you both in this compromising position. You moved away first, shoving yourself back on the complimentary bench you weren’t sure how many others had done unholy things on, Taeyong shortly after, watching your face redden with every passing second.

Johnny continued. “This one’s a little small, sweetheart. I run larger than that, you know?” You could almost see him winking at her, smiling that god-awful smile that made every woman melt like putty under his gaze. As if on cue, she giggled.

Fuck. Him.

“Come here, baby.” You spoke softly, both hands unhooking your bra as you kneeled in front of Taeyong, shuffling closer so your tits pressed again his torso, clad in a compression shirt. He groaned. “Fuck.” He grabbed your face, kissing you deeply and pushing you down to the floor.

Thirty minutes later, you were in the passenger seat, the days shopping in various sized bags in the back. You were both silent, the radio playing some obscure song neither of you knew. With the windows down, the air still felt hot and heavy, pressing onto your skin. You played with the strands of hair sticking to the back of your neck, squinting as Taeyong turned a corner and the blaze of the mid-afternoon sun poured into your eyes.

“I ended up getting both.”

“Hmm?” Condensation slipped inside your palm as you played with the cold water bottle next to the gear shift.

“Both of the caps.”

“You bought caps? You have so many at home.” The answer felt involuntary, combined with the frustration of the hot weather and lack of food since brunch. He frowned, and you immediately felt guilty. “Sorry, I mean like-“

“You said you liked the black one. You were right there.”

You felt a deep shame somewhere buried inside you as you mentally flicked back to the moments in the dressing room. The plague was making you really sick now, making you notice things you didn’t need at all, and throwing out memories of things that you really did. “R-right. Sorry, hon. Didn’t mean to snap. It’s just so hot today.” You meant to chuckle, to lighten the mood, but your body could not go through with it. Instead, the both of you sat in uncomfortable silence.

The silence stretched on for agonising miles, as it usually did. Nowadays, when you weren’t having dry, stationery conversations, you were exploring each other’s bodies like it was what you were supposed to do as a couple. Not out of passion, or lust. Just because. Your eyes kept drifting closed, the will to keep them open slipping further away from your grasp. You just wanted to be in bed…alone, slipping through the mattress and into the floor, deeper, and deeper.

You finally woke with a jolt at the sound of the door close. Your makeup felt far too heavy on the skin of your face, the ache in your feet now screaming at you. “Baby, wait.” The phrase disappeared into the air unheard, but you stepped out of the car, right in the face of a camera.

“_, _!”

Shit. How did they find us?

“Are you here alone? Who drove you here? Tell us a bit about the man in your car…” You admired the man’s insistence at his job. His passion, however intrusive and idiotic, was majorly inspiring at this phrase of your life.

Shut the fuck up, you wanted to say. You kept a stern face instead, hoping your eyes would communicate that instead. “No thanks.” You side-stepped him strategically, a new throbbing in the left side of your temple starting to grow. Fuck, not again. You tried to breathe, in, out, in, out, but the rhythm caught in your throat, your vision began to grow blurry, and you stumbled uncomfortably in your sneakers that now felt like they weighed tons.

“Ma’am? Are you alright?” You heard the man’s keys before his footsteps, the sound of his camera flashing as he approached. The light was blinding, and you dropped to your knees as the flashing sounds continued, like gunfire on a field of soldiers.

Who the fuck still used bright-ass flash?

“Who the fuck still uses flash!” It was a yell, from maybe about 10 metres away, but the ringing in your ears fogged it up like it was underwater. You tried to focus on your breathing, but your heart didn’t care about your wellbeing, apparently, speeding up at the sound of his voice. “Get away from her, right now.” The voice, still foggy, felt closer to you, and you felt an arm around your middle pulling you gently upwards. He whispered, “Okay, sweetheart, let’s get you out of here.”

Your pain spiked at the thought of the busy, lighted McDonalds as you walked away from the man with the flash camera, somehow on the floor of the car park now. “It needs to be dark, and quiet. It won’t stop unless it is.”

Johnny made a noise of sympathy. “I know, I remember.”

You only then registered the tears, wet on the heavy-set makeup on your face. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes, a weird sense of guilt throbbing just as hard as your migraine deep in your gut. He was still walking you somewhere, and you just let him, no energy to care about anything other than the pain in your temples. He soothed you gently through whispers of something inaudible, but his breath felt warm and welcoming on your neck, and, despite it all, you were grateful for his presence.

“Go lie in the back, okay?” He shoved his jacket off as he spoke. “No cologne today. You can put it over your face. Don’t worry about anything.” You nodded, the familiar routine flooding back into you like water in on a dehydrated rock.

Time passed like the way months pass in a busy year, and the next time you took a long, deep breath, you opened your eyes to the sensation of a firm, cold, king-sized bed. The room was dimly lit, enough so you could make out the outlines of the furniture in the room, but not bright enough to read anything if it was written on the walls. There was no lingering smell in the air, only the faint scent of your own shampoo, and no sound at all except the light ringing in your ears, much less strong than before. Your muscles relaxed like you were in a hot bath after a long day – safe, relaxed, nothing on your mind. You fell back asleep in seconds.

You woke what seemed like hours later. The room was significantly darker now, no more dusk light glowing from behind the curtains. The door was slightly ajar, and you registered voices this time coming from beyond.

“Why didn’t you just call me?”

“She was having a bad one. And, why would I have needed to call you?” You put on the slippers next to your bed without thinking, wrapping the robe you forgot you put on tight around your body. “You weren’t even there with her. What were you thinking?”

“Johnny, don’t. I stepped out to get something for her.”

“You should have known she would have the episode today. There are always signs.”

“You just said it was that asshole’s fault!”

You walked in the kitchen to see Johnny turned away, Taeyong at the end of the counter. When you met Taeyong’s eyes, you watched them widen as he stepped towards you. “Oh, honey.” You held him, his hand pressing the nape of your neck towards himself. “I was so worried. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you squeaked. As you pulled away, Taeyong pressed a kiss to your lips, pulling away to look into your eyes and stroke the sides of your face. “You look so tired, sweetie. I should have noticed.”

“Really, it’s fine, love.” You kissed him back, making awkward eye contact with Johnny towards the end. Shuffling awkwardly, you cleared your throat. “Um, we should get going.”

“No, you’re staying for dinner.” Johnny threw a towel over his shoulder in a way that was comical, almost making you laugh. You smiled, trying to ease the situation. “Johnny, really. I appreciate it, but-“

“There’s no way you both can drive all the way back to the apartment.” Your heart skipped as you heard him say the and not your. That one word gave you that illusion that time had stopped, and that the past 10 months had all been a dream, and you were still there, in the kitchen, pressed up against his body without a care.

You shook your head, willing the memories and coming back into reality all at the same time. “You can’t. You’ve just had your worst episode. No thanks to that grade A fucktard who doesn’t know how to use a camera in the 21st century.” He rolled his eyes. “Car trips will make you nauseous.”

“No! I mean,” you rubbed your head. “Me and Taeyong, we have this, um, this event…” You knew it was a weak argument, but you threw it out anyway. When you looked over at Taeyong, he was, of course, shaking his head. “I’m sure Jaehyun won’t mind. It’s the album release party.” He looked over to Johnny, who nodded politely.

“You can still go. Just drop me off at home.”

“Nonsense, _. You spend the night here.” You and Taeyong both looked at each other, you with an expression of clear distaste, and Taeyong with something a bit less than that. “I mean…didn’t you say you had a thing?”

“Yeah, I mean, she’s not a kid. She can stay by herself. Call us if you need anything. But she shouldn’t get into the car.” Taeyong hummed in agreement as Johnny walked towards the both of you, and you looked at the both of them incredulously. “Did you both just decide on plans without me?” You crossed your arms. “Unbelievable.” It came of surprisingly playful, making them both laugh, Johnny now sizing you up with his eyes like he always did. “You like the robe?”

“Y-yeah.” For a second you were too comfortable, looking right into Johnny’s eyes, wanting more than anything to be in his arms. Your body, your mind, this house…you were there, 10 months ago, back when it was all okay, it was right. Forgetting that Taeyong was right here, staring at you back, wishing you were here right now.

“You gonna be okay here, baby?” Taeyong brought your hands into his, pulling you close as Johnny walked away. You nodded, smiling up at him with passion in your heart for the first time in what felt like too long. The guilt started throbbing in your gut again, but you grabbed his face in your hands, kissing him deeply until you felt it ebbing away.

∞

“Shh. You need to be quiet. My niece is here.”

That was the sentence that rang like alarm bells in your brain. At first, your entire body tensed up, the unfamiliar surroundings making you confused. Memories of the day came back, and you relaxed a little, finally registering what was going on.

The sounds of a woman giggling and going shh in an exaggerated tone made you feel like someone threw all your emotions in a blender. Annoyance, confusion, anger, sadness, lust…it all swirled and mixed intentionally, blades cutting through each one at lightning speed.

Both of their bodies thumped upstairs, and it wasn’t long before she started moaning like a pornstar.

Your. Fucking. Niece. Is. Here??

You made a face of disgust at nobody as the noises continued. “If I was your niece, I would be reporting you to CPS.” You slammed back into bed, momentarily delighted that the painful throbs in your brain were gone far enough that you could throw yourself around easily. You pushed a pillow on top of your face, as if you were in a teen movie and you needed to throw a tantrum. At the third Oh, harder! girlish squeal that you heard, you were ready to go through with it.

Instead, your brain decided to flash through memories of yourself and Johnny. Back when you weren’t his fake niece, and instead the giggly drunk girl he would take upstairs to fuck the living daylights out of.

Fuck. Why am I thinking about this? You were stretching your arm uncomfortably out, too lazy to get out of bed to reach your phone, thinking about calling Taeyong to distract yourself or to come get you when the noises upstairs stopped.

“FUCK YOU!”

It was so loud it made you jump.

You heard the deep tenor of Johnny’s voice in the background, before her higher-pitched one cut through the air. “Fucking asshole!” You heard thumps of footsteps, much quicker and lighter than before, and sounds of zippers being pulled. When they stopped close to the door of your room, which was still slightly ajar, you kept thinking shit. There was no way you could pretend you were asleep this entire time anymore.

“Give me your fucking car keys. I’m leaving right now.”

“Look, I-“

“Do you even remember my name?” The small but significant silence that followed was so intentionally on point that you couldn’t help but snigger, covering your mouth with your palm to remain quiet.

When you heard the door slam, you lay properly in bed, still going with the plan that you were gonna pretend you somehow slept through that. As if like a badly-scripted TV show, the door to your room opened as you tried to tuck yourself in, not quick enough to avoid Johnny at the door.

“Oh, hey.” For some reason, everything was immediately extremely funny, and it was like trying to guide an elephant going estray, the way everything in you was trying not to burst out laughing.

“Sorry about the noise.”

“It’s fine.” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “I was awake anyway. Migraine’s pretty much gone.” You gestured awkwardly to your head, reaching out to grab your phone now properly. “I think Taeyong’s ready to pick me up now.” You turned the screen on as you said this, as if you just read texts from him. In reality, your phone was dry and empty, the lockscreen of you and Taeyong making a heart at the beach last summer glaring back at you in the dark. “I’ll be out of your hair soon.”

“No trouble.” He walked into the room, door now fully open. You crossed your legs on the bed, not knowing what to say or how to act, not knowing why he was now silently looking over the dresser in the room to your left.

“I said your name.”

Your blood froze, body reacting before your brain. You sputtered, “I, uh, what?”

He opened his mouth to reply, now fully turned towards you, but you brought a finger to your own lips. “That’s okay. Don’t need to explain, Johnny. I, just, why would you say that?” The last part refused to remain a thought in your heard, instead spilling out of you in words drenched in emotional blender soup.

“You just said you don’t need an explanation.”

“Ugh, Johnny,” you rubbed your temples, not because of an incoming migraine, but in a more dramatic, single mom in a bad murder mystery novel kind of way. “You always do this. You know what I mean.”

When you looked up, his eyes were softer than you thought. He looked…vulnerable, and lost. He had the other end of that string that you held onto as you slipped deeper into the quicksand, standing there, looking like only one who could pull you out.

He walked closer to you, and your body did not move away. He got close enough to sit on the edge of the bed, slouched over, and you dragged your legs over to sit next to him. “I’m your fucking niece?” You laughed easily now, and you watched his body vibrate as his body copied yours. “It was the only thing I could think of in the moment, okay?” His smile made your body feel electric, like you could conquer anything in that moment. And for a moment, you surrendered to the notion that it was exactly 10 months ago, on the precipice of the moment it all fell apart.

Why did you break up with me? You wanted so desperately to say, your voice coarse from screaming it in your mind for hours every day. But instead, you answered his measured attempts to keep a light conversation.

“You had any migraine this bad in a while?”

“No.” you shook your head, now tucking your legs in underneath you to lean on the bedframe, his body turning to face you as you did. “Been seeing a new physician. She’s much better.”

“Oh yeah? Finally dumped Dr Misogyny?”

“Uh huh. I figured I didn’t need someone who kept trying to convince me I was overreacting and being hysterical.”

“Mmm. Good on you, sweetheart.” Even though you knew how easily Johnny threw endearing terms around, your stomach still flipped violently at his reply, and you gulped.

“Taeyong’s been good too. He’s sleeping a lot better. Not working too late anymore.”

“That’s good.” Johnny readjusted on the bed, inching closer towards you. “He works way too hard. As do you.”

“Johnny…” Your voice ever so slightly caught in your throat, and it was noticeable enough for him to catch. You mentally cursed, but that’s when something in you went fuck it, and you went in straight for the kill.

“Why did you leave me…us?” Your voice shook, no matter how strongly you willed it not too, and the last word came out like a forbidden whisper.

He looked directly into your eyes, as if he was relieved that you asked him, like he’d been holding onto the response for the past 10 months. “I…I regretted it every single day.”

“Then you should have fucking told me.” You sucked in a breath. “You could have said anything to me, and I would have come running. I trust you, I…I love you.” Every breath felt painful as you let your confession hang in the air dangerously. “You know that.”

“I know, _.”

Before you could even let yourself process the moment, you leant over and kissed him. The guilt throbbing in your gut exploded like a small fire as it catches on to grow endlessly large and overwhelming. He grabbed your body, lifting you to rest on his lap, your kisses growing feverish with heat.

When you pulled away, you opened your eyes to come to your senses. “N-no, we shouldn’t.”

“Stop that.” He whispered against the skin of your neck. “You know he wouldn’t care.”

“That’s the problem. We need to do this properly.”

“You know why we can’t do that.”

“I don’t, Johnny. I don’t know why we can’t.” You began to argue with him, but he shut you up by hoisting your upper body further and further up, biting and sucking the skin down the base of your neck, collarbone, and between your breasts. Your arms latched onto his muscular shoulders as you rocked naturally on his lap. “God, fuck you, Johnny.” He chuckled against your clothed torso.

“Give me a second.” He pushed you gently backwards, rising up on his knees to let you watch as he pulled his shirt off with one hand. He fell on top of you in one fell swoop, kissing you between the cages of his muscular arms. His body rolled onto yours, making you gasp. “Johnny, I-“

“I know. Just let me. Okay?”

#kpop #nct #nct fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #nct scenarios #nct smut #nct angst #johnny suh #johnny smut #nct johnny #johnny angst #taeyong #lee taeyong #taeyong smut #taeyong angst #taeyong x reader #johnny x reader #nct taeyong #nct x reader

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firewolf111 · 10 days ago

Note

Hi :) I hope you’re doing well! Feel free to ignore/modify this but I think it would be really funny if there was a Logince 5+1 where Logan keeps trying to tell Roman how he feels about him, but his plans keep going Awry. Like he gives him flowers and then they both get attacked by bees.

No pressure though!!

This seems like a fun one, especially to get back into things. Thanks for the request!

Hope you enjoy! :)

(Minor injuries and fire. Not graphic at all, but still there)

.....................................

Logan and Roman were walking through a field in the Imagination.

Roman: So Logan, what was the special thing you brought me out here to tell me?

Logan: *clearing his throat and moving to stand in front of Roman. He grabs Roman's hands. As he takes another step backward, his leg sinks into the ground.*

Roman: *stumbling as Logan falls* What the-?!

Both topple into a patch of thick mud that had been covered in loose grass shavings, Roman falling on top of Logan.

Roman: *moving off of Logan while slipping around in the mud* Ugh! REMUS! *huffs* Always messing with my side, that pest. Well... at least it wasn't quicksand this time.

Roman: *helping Logan stand up, both of them covered in mud*

Logan: Quicksand? Wait- again? Does he do this often?

Roman: More times than you would believe. And more times than I would care for.

Logan: And you didn't think to watch where we were going? Or perhaps warn me?

Roman: Yeah.... sorry bout that Specs. I forgot. I was too distracted, wondering what was so special we had to come to the imagination for you to tell me. So, are you going to sate my curiosity?

Logan: Well...uh....

Logan: *glances down at himself, deciding that this wasn't what he had in mind. He'll try again some other time, preferably not covered in mystery mud*

Logan: Nevermind, it's not important. We should probably go clean off before this dries and cakes on.

Roman: Yeah, you're definitely right. This stuff is a pain to scrub once dry. I have no clue what Remus puts in it.

Next time, he'll get it right. Definitely.

Logan decides to stick to the imagination plan. This time, he let's Roman choose where to go. They stop at the edge of a river after hiking for a bit through a stunning forest.

Roman: Here we are! *He gestures proudly to a small waterfall a small distance away.*

Logan: *In awe* Wow. It's breathtaking.

Roman: *smiling at him* A lot of things are.

Logan: *Looking around the at the surrounding forest and river* That's true. The imagination is full of such beautiful things.

Roman: *looking back towards the waterfall* Yeah, it definitely is.

Logan: So... Roman....

Roman: *Turning to face him fully* Yeah, Lo?

Logan: I'm really glad you agreed to this. This spot is beautiful and I would love to do this more often.

Roman: Same here. Maybe we should make this a weekly thing. I quite enjoy spending time with you.

Logan: *blushing and fidgeting with his tie* Ahem. Yes. I -uh... well I certainly enjoy it too. Which is why I have been meaning to ask-

He is cut off by a bird zooming directly between them, diving for a fish in the river right beside them. The sudden movement surprises the two of them, Roman reaching for his sword and Logan jumping backwards.

Logan's foot slips on a slick rock and splashes into the river. He's grateful it isn't all that deep, only reaching up to about his waist. He stands, thoroughly soaked and scowling.

Roman: *Loudly calling from the side* Having a nice swim? You could have asked if you wanted to go swimming so badly. We could have-

Roman: Shoot. Your glasses.

Logan: Yes. They seemed to have fallen off when I fell in.

Roman: Ah, so sorry, Lo.

Logan: Don't be. It wasn't your fault.

Roman: *carefully trudging into the river* Here, let me help.

Logan: *Looking at him and squinting* You didn't bother taking anything off first?

Roman: Ah- uh. Well.... *he chuckles and scratches the back of his neck* We are both soaked now. So it's even.

Logan: *shakes his head with a smile as they both start looking*

It takes about 20 minutes for them to find the glasses, fortunately intact and unharmed somehow. Though most of that time was spent with the two splashing each other and laughing at the absurdity of the situation. A bird of all things.

When they managed to get out, Logan had forgotten what he had wanted to do, only remembering once back in his room that night

Okay. Third times the charm. Surely the Imagination wouldn't let him down a third time.

Surely it would have to work next time.

This time, they stood at the edge of flower field, a the forest path they just trudged through behind them. Roman is talking about his most recent projects while Logan fidgets with the picnic basket he is holding, waiting for the perfect time to pull out the bouquet he hid in it.

Logan: *pulling out the bouquet, careful not to disturb the plastic he used to separate the flowers from the food so they wouldn't be eating petals. He hides the bouquet behind his back.*

Logan: *clears throat* Roman.

Roman: *looking over* Yes, teach?

Logan: Well... you see.... *hears a buzzing sound* ....what's that sound?

Roman: *opened his mouth to speak before a swarm of bees comes out of the forest.*

The bees swarm the two of them, stinging and... biting?

The bees themselves had tiny fangs in their mouths. Their wings were tiny dragon wings and a longer tail where the stinger sat on the tip.

The two sprint away, Logan dropping the boquet and basket. Roman frantically opened a portal back to his room once they created some distance between them and the swarm. They collapse to the floor, panting, as soon as they are through.

Logan: What on earth were those things?!

Roman: Dragon bees. Nasty little guys.

Logan: Dragon... bees?

Roman: Yes. Bees that are also part dragon.

Logan: .... why?

Roman: Do you really expect something called the Imagination to have a reason or make any sense.

Logan: Fair point.

Roman: *chuckling and standing* Anyways, I'll go grab the first aid kit to take care of *gestures to the two of them* all this.

Roman: And don't you worry your little head one bit, you're in capable hands. I'll take good care of you. *winks*

Logan: *blushes as he watches Roman leaves*

Okay, so maybe next time he'll ditch the Imagination plan.

His next attempt will probably work.

This time, Logan decided to bake Roman his favorite cake, decorating his confession carefully on top with icing.

After a long time in the kitchen, he finally had his red velvet cake baked and decorated, ready to gift to Roman. He just had to wait for Roman to get his text and come to the kitchen.

Roman: *calling out while entering the kitchen* Hey! Pocket watch! I have received your summons! Whatever can I help you with?

Logan: *still facing the counter where the cake sits* Ahem. Well- you see... I made you something. It's... not really good, seeing as creation is more of your thing, and baking is more Patton's, but I tried my best. Obviously, you can refuse if you want. I'd understand if you hate it, especially considering it's so poor quality, but I've long since wanted to tell you-

Logan: *turning around with the cake after finally working up enough courage, not realizing Roman had walked closer during his ramble*

Logan: I very much- *accidentally shoves the cake into Roman, knocking him off balance*

Roman: *Falls back and slams his head on the corner of the table*

Logan: *rushing to his side* Roman! I am so sorry! That was not my intent. Is your head okay. *begins carefully checking his head*

Roman: Do not worry, I am perfectly fine.

Logan: You're bleeding.

Roman: Tis only a flesh wound.

Logan: This is very much a bad thing, Roman. Stay here, I'll go get the first aid kit. And perhaps help. Don't think of moving, or I'll get Janus to hold you still.

He gets up and runs for the first aid kit.

Okay... next time should work.

Hopefully.

This time, he decides on an extremely stereotypical approach, taking advantage of the fact that everyone except him and Roman were busy, meaning he had the living room to himself. He spread rose petals across the floor, the lights low, with some classical music playing in the background. It may be cliché, but it seemed like the type of gesture Roman might appreciate.

He was currently lighting candles and placing them around, constantly moving them to try and get them into the right position.

Suddenly he heard a door. He jumps and quickly moves to try to block the doorway and intercept Roman.

Roman: Oh! Hello, my dear nerd. What are you up to this fine evening?

Logan: Nothing much.

Roman: *walking to grab himself a snack from the fridge* Well, if that is the case, maybe the two of us could do something this evening.

Logan: Oh? And what would you have in mind?

Roman: I was thinking, maybe a movie, just the two of us. You know, since the living room is ours tonight. I'm even willing to sacrifice a time slot to fit in one of your boring documentaries.

Logan: Oh? A movie? In the living room? Are you sure?

Roman: Of course! Well, only if you're up to it. We can make popcorn and have snacks, including your boring healthy ones, and make the best and coziest blanket fort. It will be the greatest movie night in the history of movie nights! If... you'd like that?

Logan: That does sound lovely

Roman: Great! I'll go start setting things up if you want to start the snacks. *heads towards the living room*

Logan: Wait!

Roman: *having already been in the motion of entering the living room, clearly having already seen the room*

Logan: Just give me a minute to explain!

Roman: Logan! The living room is on fire!

Logan: I was trying to get everything in position, but you came down before I was ready.

Roman: The living room is on fire!

Logan: I had this all planned, and I really wanted it to be a special moment when I told you-

Roman: The. Living. Room. Is. On. Fire.

Logan: What?

Roman: *gesturing widly* Room. Fire.

Logan: *remembering the candles he'd put down* Oh. That's... unfortunate.

Roman: Unfortunate? The room is on fire.

Logan: Yes. I am realizing that now.

Roman: ...

Logan: ....

Roman: Wait. We should probably be trying to put this out.

Logan: Ah, yes, that would probably be the wisest decision. *rushes for the fire extinguisher*

*After putting out the fire.*

Roman: We are terrible in a crisis.

Logan: Well, usually, I am much more equipped to handle it. This one just...caught me off guard.

Roman: I noticed. What was all that about back there?

Logan: I was.... *deciding to lie* just still feeling guilty about smashing your head against the table.

Roman: Oh Logan, you don't have to feel guilty about that. It was an accident.

Logan: I know. I still feel bad.

Roman: *offering a sympathetic smile before looking around the room* Well. We may need to move the movie night to my room.

Logan: It appears so.

They have their movie night in Roman's room. The next day, they get admonished as the others see the living room (well, Remus congratulates them and asked to be invited next time) and now the two of them are no longer allowed unsupervised.

If there times make a pattern, then five is a guarantee.

But Logan was stubborn. He'll figure it out, maybe...hopefully.

Next time.... will probably fail as well. But there was a small chance he may succeed.

The next time the two of them had free time together, they decided to have another movie night. This time, choosing to do in Logan's room.

The problem? Logan forgot to make sure he had everything put away.

Roman: What's this? "Plans on how to confess to Roman?" Do you mean, like a romantic confession.

Logan: I - well - you see...

Roman: *chuckling* Why do you need a whole notebook planning on vow to confess to me? You could just tell me.

Logan: Well, I was trying to tell you. But then we fell in that mud, then I fell into that river, and then we were attacked by bees- dragon bees, then I bashed your head into a table. And most recently, I managed to light the living room on fire.

Roman: Are you finished rambling, my sweetest nerd?

Logan: *clears throat* Yes. Sorry.

Roman: Don't be. You really have been going out of your way trying to confess to me in some spectacular way.

Logan: I have been, yes. I am quite apologetic for the situations that arose from my... less than ideal attempts.

Roman: I think it's sweet. Well, the attempts, at least. Not so much the chaos and injuries.

Logan: You... think it was sweet?

Roman: Very. I would have gladly said yes had you asked me out. I still would.

Logan: You would be willing to date me?

Roman: More than willing. I've wanted to for a while. Honestly, I thought you would have figured out my crush in you already. I thought it was obvious, but I guess it was more subtle than I thought.

Logan: There is definitely a non-zero chance that it was obvious and I just missed it.

Roman: *laughing* Yeah. We are quite oblivious the two of us, aren't we,

Logan: Very much so.

Roman: *Pulling Logan close to him* So, do you have something to ask me?

Logan: *blushing* Would you like to be my boyfriend?

Roman: Gladly.

Logan: I love you.

Roman: I love you t- Logan, your laptop is smoking.

Logan: You have got to be kidding me.

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