#already making a tag in case i make more posts; you never know
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so. the dolls of my original characters. for now Iâm only planning for Sol and Lazul and Iâve run into the problem of wanting them to have outfits that fit with their respective home planetâs fashions and also wanting them to match.
#and Iâm kinda attached to the outfits Iâve already designed them.#so my choices are such;#cave and scrap one of the outfits#cave and accept they wonât be matching#or make them two outfits each#âŚ#I donât like my choices lmao#and as much as my excited adhd brain would LOVE to make two outfits for them#my rational brain who knows where that type of thing leads#Knows Better Than That#and so Iâll probably cave and scrap an outfit#even though I really really like the one Iâd be scrapping :(#because seeing as these two characters are like literally married at one point#Iâd rather prioritize matching over planetary style rep#anyway#experiencing the adhd symptoms#while knowing theyâre the adhd symptoms#oof.#and I mean that lightly bc like??? I feel happy???#I donât feel that existential dread and nothingness that I was feeling#I feel like I have energy again???#but also my thoughts are slippery (if they arenât about these dolls)#and I am more impatient than I usually am#which. not a great thing. Iâve never really gotten a hang on patience.#but also???? im fucking hungry again???? I want to make food??????#love that for me!!!#oh and also the yapping is on full blast now too#in case the uptick in posts didnât clue you in#or the increased tag commentary#so yâknow. overall having a good time so far. weâll see how that changes as time progresses!!
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Anti-Capitalism and ChatGPT
(wordcount: 1,177)
Hereâs the thing. Iâll be the first to admit that ChatGPT is cool, yeah? And Iâm far from ignorant of the wonderful things itâs made possible. But thereâs a pretty big problem with its professional usage,
and before you stop reading,
I promise that the point of this post is not "you have to stop using ChatGPT." Just. Stick with me for a minute, cuz contrary to what you might expect, this is not a problem contained to just the normies that donât use ChatGPT: this is about how ChatGPT will affect you.
Iâm about to use some scary words like âscalpingâ and âexploitation,â but remember Iâm not accusing you of anything. In fact, letâs start with the good stuff.
Among other things, it could be argued that ChatGPT actually enhances workplace accessibility by âleveling the playing field,â in a way. Any job candidate can quickly make up for lack of time/skill/ability in one area by using ChatGPT to fill in the gaps, right? An individualâs personal quality of life can improve by âoutsourcingâ aspects of their work to ChatGPT â they have more free time, and maybe their work quality and pay grade improve too.
But Iâd like to point out that this isnât ChatGPT making life better for employees. This is actually ChatGPT eliminating the entire role of âemployee.â
Okay, crazy statement time:
A person using ChatGPT in a professional setting is no longer an employee, but, in practice, actually a corporation.
What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Well, in concise terms, ChatGPT catalyzes the exploitation of labor by collecting it all in one place, meaning that the labor of hundreds of people can be scalped and represented as the work of a single entity: the individual using ChatGPT.
This essentially transforms the individual employee into a CEO of their own small corporation, which is being outsourced to larger corporations for work. Our new âCEOâ doesnât even have to pay any âemployees,â keeping all of the profit they earned with the labor scalped by ChatGPT. This is why the individual is able to reap so much more profit from using ChatGPT than they ever could from working as a single employee.
You may think Iâm trying to frame our new little âCEOâ as the villain of this story, but itâs exactly the opposite. Theyâre just playing by the rules of the system, and within the system, itâs way nicer being a corporation than it is living as an employee. Itâs just proof of concept that life on top is exactly as easy as weâve all been guessing it is, and the only requirement for leveling up is a willingness to exploit labor. ChatGPT is a shiny new miracle tool that makes exploitation easy and accessible to everyone, and it doesnât even look or feel like exploitation because there are no faces attached.
But thatâs where this short-term improvement goes downhill: itâs accessible to everyone, including the actual corporations, who have already amassed the means to exploit labor en masse. If ChatGPT gives individuals a level-up by eliminating the role of employee and allowing them to act as corporations, how does that same level-up work when a corporation uses it? Well, I guess itâs a good thing the role of âemployeeâ has been eliminated, because they arenât needed anymore lol: not if your goal is to turn a profit, and we all know thatâs just how things go.
But heyâ galaxy brain here, but couldnât that be kind of a good thing actually? The current system doesnât function without people on the bottom who are available for exploitation, so if ChatGPT can automate the exploited parties for us by scalping labor from the past, then doesnât that mean that the endless work necessitating human employment in the first place is finally⌠unnecessary? For the first time ever, we could be looking at a society where pretty much all of the labor is already accounted for, meaning all humans are free to pursue any passion they want regardless of their background, regardless of their class, regardless of how much money they- oh, right⌠Money.
The world I described above either sounds like a utopia to you or a dogshit stupid pipe dream, and unfortunately, both are true.
The problem is,
while technology has advanced to the point where itâs finally ready for automated labor, society has not.
We still live in a system where if you donât work, you donât eat, regardless of whether any work actually needs to be done. So⌠what actually happens in the current system if labor is automated?
Well, I wonât bore you with the typical âTHE ROBOTS ARE TAKING ALL OUR JOBSâ routine, but like. Itâs only half wrong? I mean, we donât even have the tech to automate all labor anyway, so itâs not like thatâs literally whatâs happening. But there are still⌠a lot of jobs that can be automated now, and that puts a lot of people in positions where they have to compete with ChatGPT in order to keep food on the table. Itâs already a losing battle for a lot of people.
Using ChatGPT gives you a taste of corporate power, of the ability to exploit if it makes things financially easier for you. And thatâs understandable, right? Weâre all struggling in a system like this. Just donât forget that line of reasoning when it comes full circle, where instead of getting to do the exploiting, youâre the one being exploited (again). Donât forget what it was like to be on top: how normal it felt, reasonable, unremarkable. It didnât feel like exploitation when you only experienced the profits. That is who owns you now. Let that radicalize you.
So long story short,
the existence and usage of ChatGPT is not the problem. In a better world, youâre right that ChatGPT could be a great ally, but the current structure of the job market has transformed it into a competitor. The human working class and ChatGPT are forced to compete against each other, not because it is rational for us to be enemies, but because the system pits all laborers against each other for the âprivilegeâ of work. People are realizing that they really canât beat the competition this time, so donât scold them when they donât share your enthusiasm. Weâre all dogs in this fight, and ChatGPT has fucking lazer eyes.
Itâs not the end of the world â the job market has always been prone to fluctuation â but this is different from your average fluctuation. It re-frames so much that used to seem impossible, but if we donât change the system itself to match this advancement in technology, I guarantee itâs not gonna be the people at the top who pay the price.
The choice is not whether or not to use ChatGPT.
The choice is whether to discontinue ChatGPT so that society can continue with the relative stability it had before, or to embrace ChatGPT as the ally it could be by changing the structures that weaponize it against us.
(Okay Iâm getting off my soapbox now, I sure hope nobody else is in this abandoned soapbox factory, can you imagine how embarrassing it would be if anyone actually heard me say all that lol)
#i could have written this in a more professional tone but so could ChatGPT so you get the manic rambling version#and again this isnât an accusation of anyone and itâs not intended to make people feel guilty#itâs just me figuring out how to explain my position in a way thatâs both concise and understantable i guess?#ive had several dude-bros mock me for being supposedly anti-progress or some shit but i never know how to respond cuz im just like#bro no if anything im saying itâs not enough progress and in this particular case itâs weirdly anachronistic in a way that has the potential#to destabilize a lot of peopleâs livelihoods#im not panicking about it cuz society already went to shit ages ago#(as if it ever wasn't going to shit)#but it would be kinda nice if things didnât go even more to shit just because a bunch of supposedly âpro-progressâ humans refused to#acknowledge that their hardware was too old to run the new OS without blowing a fuse (if that makes sense)#(which it probably doesnât cuz i suck at talking but im tired so i get to stop typing now)#(âjesus christ wtf am i thinking posting this i dont wanna deal with it if anyone respondsss)#(whatever i spent like 3 hours on this so might as well)#anti capitalism#chat gpt#chatgpt#ai#tag rambles#text post#not vent
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feel the same - s.r. x bau!reader
spencer misunderstands a conversation he overhears between reader and derek. tags/cws: misunderstandings, confessions of feelings, use of 'y/n', gn!reader, fluff, mild angst, derek morgan has big brother energy wc: 1708 (much longer than I thought lmao) a/n: I'm truly obsessed with season 1 spencer as of late so I HAD to write a fic with him in mind. <3
also posted on ao3
âYou know Pretty Boy likes you, donât you?â
Spencer had been trying to get some sleep on the flight back after working a case that had drained all his energy when the sound of Morganâs voice caught his attention. Without opening his eyes, he knew exactly who he was talking to. Spencer had never outright admitted to anyone that he had developed feelings for you but it was getting harder to deny. Once Derek had started pointing out the way heâd look up when you entered a room or the way his eyes lingered as you walked away, he was becoming concerned that this crush was more obvious than heâd like it to be.Â
Heâs been trying to ignore it, telling himself itâs unprofessional when really itâs because he believes thereâs no way you could possibly feel the same. Thereâs a myriad of reasons why he wished Derek would keep his big mouth shut but honestly â that was probably the biggest.
âLikes me? How old are we?â The smooth sound of your response makes Spencer smile to himself in spite of the current situation.Â
â(Y/N), come onâŚâ Derek chuckles and is immediately met with a long stretch of silence. Spencer can picture the death glare he knows heâd see on your face if he were to look at you in this moment. âLook, you know heâs never gonna ask you out himself so maybe you should justââ
âDerek.â You interrupt with an evident sternness in your tone. âIâm not having this conversation with you. Iâve told you, itâs not happening.â Ouch. Spencer had never allowed himself to dream that you would reciprocate his feelings but he definitely wishes he had been asleep for that one. With that, he forces his eyes shut tighter than before and takes in one deep, slightly shaky breath and decides to try to go back to sleep, if only so that he doesnât have to hear you reject him even harder.
~
Spencer wakes up as the jet is landing and he quickly gathers all of his things, walking out and across the strip with much more urgency than usual. This detail doesnât go unnoticed by you, not much does â especially where Spencer is concerned â and you make a mental note to check in with him later. He had caught your eye the first day you met him which must be, what? Half a year ago now? And he had been on your mind ever since. You had bonded quickly as friends, being the two youngest members on the team. About a month ago you had finally allowed yourself to acknowledge the fact that you had developed feelings for him. Youâd sit next to him at any given opportunity, listen to his infamously long rants much longer than anyone else would, spend just a little too long staring at his lips as he talked you through his theories. It didnât take long for people to notice. Elle had her suspicions, JJ made a comment every now and then, but Derek â he wouldnât let it go. He teases you about it constantly. You havenât given him the satisfaction of admitting it, you havenât been able to deny it either.
When you eventually make your way into the building along with the rest of the team you notice that Spencer had already left. Itâs only then you start to be concerned. Itâs unlike him to leave in such a hurry, even more so to not even say goodbye. You rack your brain trying to come up for a reason for this strange behavior. Is he sick? Upset about something? Was it you? You begin to go over every interaction youâd had with him recently when you have to stop yourself before you spiral. Heâs just tired. If it was serious heâd tell you⌠right?
~
The next morning you walk in to find Spencer at his desk working on the report he didnât write last night before he had basically ran away.
âMorning, Spence!â You greet him, making an effort to sound cheerful as you lean on his desk. He doesnât look up, like heâs trying extra hard to look busy.
âMorning, (Y/L/N).â He replies without looking up. His tone seems normal, his use of your last name is what sounds the alarms in your head.
âHey⌠are you feeling alright?â You ask tentatively, not wanting to pry too much in case you really had done something wrong that you clearly werenât aware of. âI noticed you kind of left in a hurry last night.â He finally looks up and meets your eyes, easing your nerves slightly. His eyes shift away and then back to yours before a soft smile graces his lips, one that doesnât quite reach his eyes.
âIâm okay.â He responds after a while in a way that sounds like thatâs not all he wants to say. You go to reassure him, make sure he knows he can tell you anything, but stop yourself when you notice the way he tenses when you place a hand on his shoulder. Retracting your hand quickly, you begin to fidget with your fingers before running them through your hair nervously.
âSpencer⌠Iââ You start and stop and Spencer feels a little guilty as you seem to stumble over your words anxiously. âIs it me? Did I do something? Because if I did Iââ.
â(Y/N).â Spencer cuts off your panicked rambling. You take a steadying breath as he slowly rises to stand in front of you, your eyes trailing up when he towers over you. He looks around the room and sighs before focusing back on you. âCan we go somewhere to talk?â You nod and begin walking towards a storage room with Spencer following close behind, quickly checking that there's no one in there before stepping inside.
âWhatâs going on with you?â You break the silence as Spencer closes the door behind him. âYou know you can talk to me about anything.â
âIâm sorry if Iâve been acting weird.â You notice the way he dodges the question. He canât meet your eyes anymore, his gaze shifts around the room and he smiles awkwardly at you.
âSpence, thatâs notââ You interrupt yourself, trying to find a way to put your thoughts to words without overwhelming him. âI only want you to be okay. Youâve been acting differently since last night⌠If thereâs something going on I want to be there for you.â When you say that he smiles sadly. He looks down in thought as if heâs considering something.
âI heard you talking to MorganâŚâ He mumbles, still staring at his feet â wringing his hands together. You furrow your brows in confusion. Talking to Morgan? âOn the jet on the way homeâŚâ
âOh.â This isnât happening. You figure you shouldâve known Derekâs relentless teasing would be your downfall. He must know you like him now. Thereâs a reason you never wanted him to know how you felt. You couldnât stand the thought of anything ruining your friendship. Spencer visibly deflates even more in front of you at your lack of response. You begin scrambling to come up with a way to get out of this horrifically embarrassing situation.
âLook, Iâ I didnât mean to make this awkwardâŚâ Oh god. The way heâs stuttering and tripping over his words. You stare blankly at him, then duck your head, bracing for the impact of his rejection. âItâs not like I thought you would feel the same way I justââ Wait what? Your head snaps back up to see his face, eyes widened, which seems to startle him a little. âI wasnât going to say anything but I guess I just got really in my head about it.â He begins to look a little panicked. âI didnât want to make you uncomfortable, Iâm sorry if I did.â You just keep staring up at him, mouth agape in disbelief. â(Y/N)?â He says your name with a sad desperation and it reminds you that you should respond.
âSorry, Iââ You say slowly while shaking your head. âAre you saying that â Do you like me?â Now itâs Spencerâs turn to look confused, but it was all starting to make sense to you. You had thought he was acting weird because he had found out about your feelings, when in reality, it was the other way around.
âYes?â He replies hesitantly.
âI like you too.â You say simply with a shy smile but Spencer looks completely taken aback.Â
âYou do?â The way his eyes light up with a subtle excitement was adorable. Soon after, that look was replaced with skepticism. âBut I thoughtâ you told Morgan you didnât like me.â
âI told Morgan to stop teasing me about you because I didnât think thisâŚâ You gesture between the two of you. âWas ever going to happen.â Spencer let out a sigh of relief and smiled bashfully.
âYou could have just told me.â You feel his eyes scanning your face as if he were still looking for proof that you werenât messing with him.
âYou didnât tell me either.â
âI thought there was no wayâŚâ You make eye contact as he trails off in thought. âI guess it doesnât matter now.â Spencer takes a tentative step closer to you but doesnât move to touch you in any way, so you reach out to take his hands in yours, lacing your fingers together.
âWell⌠maybe if we donât have to fly out for a case today, we could go to dinner tonight?â Youâre staring down at your intertwined hands, squeezing once before looking back up. When you see his face heâs still looking down with a big dopey grin on his face and you canât help but smile right back.
âYesâ definitely.â You giggle at his obvious enthusiasm.Â
You both stay in the storage room for another couple minutes, mostly just staring starry eyed at each other. Eventually you both decide that you should get back to work. You try to hide whatever was now going between you as much as you can but like always, Derek Morgan figures you out within minutes and he, along with the rest of the team, teases you relentlessly. (You wouldnât have it any other way.)
#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid fic#criminal minds#criminal minds fic
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in the buff | jason todd
Summary: The one where you learn firsthand that Jason Todd sleeps in the nude.
Pairing: Jason Todd x gn!readerÂ
Word count: 2.7k
Warnings/tags: best friend jason, awkwardness, nudity, reader hardcore thirsting over jaytodd, love confessions, humor (attempts at it, anyway), silliness. inspired by this post!
the divider
There's been a huge (blessed) development in the drug ring case that you and Jason are working on. You can hardly sleep now.
Normally, you'd call or text Jason, even though he's usually already in the know. It's possible that you just like having an excuse to call him, but who can confirm such a thing?
But it's late, probably too late to call, considering Jason doesn't answer his phone unless it's pinged directly to his helmet after a certain time, courtesy of his family being "a buncha jackasses" (his words, obviously).
But maybe it's not too late for a visit. After all, Jason patrols late, and has insane insomnia. He very well could be awake at this late hour. And he's never minded you dropping by before.
In truth, you haven't seen Jason in a few days and you feel restless now when you go longer than a day without seeing each other. You're not quite sure why that is.
So here you are, disabling the window alarm on Jason's apartment. Partly for a case, partly for your own benefit.
It takes a few minutes but you manage to open the window without anyone calling the police or whacking you with a broom. You slide open the window mostly soundlessly. Then you wait. The room remains dark and quiet.
You're pretty proud of yourself actually. It's not that you're green when it comes to spycraft, but you're certainly no Batman.
Still, you've managed to sneak into Jason's apartment without waking him. The Red Hood. You peek in to check if he's really asleep.
And he is, dark hair stark against the white pillow. It sticks out in messy tufts. You can't see past Jason's neck and his freckled arms, illuminated by the orange streetlight outside. You put your laptop bag on the floor.
He's sleeping on his stomach, facing away from you, but you're very endeared by how he's curled up under his sheet, hands tucked under his pillow. If you went really close to his face, you could count his eyelashes. Jason has such pretty eyelashes.
That's a perfectly normal thought to have about your best friend, right? Boys have pretty eyelashes. You're just making an observation.
You're bewildered by how cold the room is, surprised that Jason can withstand such a temperature. Maybe it's a Pit thing.
You watch him for a moment longer. Guilt pools in your gut. Are you really going to wake him when he's probably just gone to bed in the last hour? It takes Jason so long to fall asleep, you know that.
...
No, you should let him sleep. You can work on the case in the morning.
You bend down to get your laptop bag. In that time, the light flicks on.
You flinch, turn around, and find yourself staring down the barrel of a gun.
Said gun is held by an extremely naked Jason Todd.
"Oh my God!" you say at the same time Jason realizes his mistake.
"What the fuck!" he shouts, grabbing a pillow to cover himself.
But not before you get an eyeful of your best friend's, er, weaponry.
"Why are you naked?" you shout, gaze darting everywhere. Good Lord, it's seared into your retinas. You're never getting the image of Jason's dick out of your brain.
"Why are you in my apartment?" Jason snaps back.
"No, my question is way more urgent," you say.
"No the hell it's not! You broke in! I'm allowed to be naked in my apartment!"
"Okay. Alright. I came because there's been a development in our case. I thought we could work on it together but when I realized you were asleep for real, I decided to leave."
Jason rolls his eyes. "You know I'm a light sleeper. I just went to bed. I was up late.â
Realization strikes you. Could it be...?
"Oh my God. Do you have someone here?" you ask, voice sinking to a whisper.
"I have you here," Jason says irritably.
"No, likeâ" You make a hole with one hand and stick a finger into it. "Y'know..."
"Jesus, no!" Jason's face twists in disgust. "C'mon!"
"Okay, chill out, Jay-Jay. It'd be fine if you did. I can keep a secret," you say, shrugging. People have sex. You know that. You've never thought about Jason having sex, but you suppose it's possible. Why not? Just because you've never had sex and you always hoped that Jason would be your first doesn't mean that he would. If he's moved on in his life, then you should too.
Jason scoffs. "Yeah, okay. You think anybody would get into bed with a headcase like me?"
Hope rekindles. You're not behind. Jason's right there with you, virginity firmly intact.
He puts the safety back on the gun, squishing the pillow against himself with his elbow. You watch in fascination at his multitasking. Jason starts to turn around to put the gun behind the headboard before clearly thinking twice about mooning you.
"So... why are you naked?" you ask, respectfully keeping your eyes north of the equator.
"If you must know, I sleep in the nude. Now turn around."
You don't turn around. "In the nude?"
Jason's eye twitches. "Yes, nude. It's better for your body and it's more comfortable and I don'tâ"
You pull a face. "Who says in the nude? How old are you, a hundred?"
"That's what you're harping on?" Jason asks. "You broke into my apartment!"
You hold up a finger. "I didn't break in, I disarmed the alarm like you taught me."
"Yeah, which was only for emergencies. This isn't an emergency. Now turn around!"
So you turn around. You hear the pillow fall and the image returns. You recite the alphabet backwards. When that doesn't work, you think about the time you helped Jason on a mission in the sewers and couldn't get the smell out of your suit for a week.
Yeah, that'll do it. You shudder.
"Can't believe you just broke in," he mumbles. "Raised in a fuckin' barn, swear to God."
"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm truly, honestly sorry, Jaybee. From the bottom of my heart. Can I look now?"
"If you dare."
"Are you decent?" you ask.
"Too easy of a joke," he says. "Yeah, the jewels are covered."
You turn slowly. Jason's got red (ha) boxers on, so you turn all the way.
Huh. Well.
You've never really thought much about what Jason's got going on underneath his armor. Certainly, you've assumed that he's got a good physique and a lot of stamina, considering what he does. You've always assumed that. But Jason's Jason. Your best friend, Jason. Your best friend, Jason, who came back really tall, yeah, and with a deep voice and a super pretty face...
Well, anyway. He's Jason. That's all.
But now? Now you get to look in depth, and... whoa.
Jason's broad, stocky, heavily muscled with a soft layer of fat on top. His arms are huge, hands proportionally big. His pecs are full with pink nipples the same shade as his lips. That's a fact you're never forgetting. Your belly flutters.
Okay, what the fuck! No. This is peak creepy behavior, leering at your best friend like this, even if he does have shoulders you could sink your teeth into and thighs you'd happily get crushed between. No! Bad.
...You look some more. He's covered in scars. This is the first time you've seen his autopsy scar in person. It's white, noticeable but healed, like most of his scars. There's a dusting of dark hair from his chest to his belly button. It thickens as it dips beneath hisâ
Mm, nope. Not thinking about that again.
"Hello-o."
Your eyes dart back to his face.
"Are you listening to me?" he asks, forehead crinkled.
"What? Yes. Sorry. Yes." Your cheeks burn.
Something crosses Jason's face, too quick for you to read. But then his expression stones over. He glances at the dresser across from the bed.
"If you gimme a sec, I'll put a shirt on so y'won't have to look at all this," he says, gesturing roughly to his body.
You blink, lost in Jasonland. "Huh?"
"I know the scars are pretty gnarly. Lemme find a shirt."
Jason goes to the dresser and digs through the top drawer. His wide back is strung tight with tension, you can tell. You hurry to him, blocking the drawer with your arm. Jason looks at you, brows rising.
"Can I help you?" he asks.
"Um."
Words. You remember words, don't you?
"You..."
You haven't been physically close to Jason in a long time. He smells like soap and detergent and is all-encompassing. Your brain feels like slush. Don't stare at his pecs.
"I didn'tâI'm not grossed out by your scars, Jason," you finally manage to say.
Jason raises an eyebrow. "Sure. You're just grossed out by everything else about me." He sighs wearily, like he's practiced this speech every night in the mirror. "Look, it's fine. I know I'm reallyâ"
"No, it's not fine! I can't bear having you think I'm repulsed by your body, Jason. That's just not true," you say.
"Well, you were starin' pretty hard, soâ"
"But it wasn'tâI wasn't staring in disgust, I wasâI..."
Jason crosses his arms. His pecs are pushed up as he does so. His stomach looks so soft. But you know he's strong. Way stronger than you. Strong enough to wield his strength against you, if you wanted him to. Strong enough to be gentle with you, too.
You wonder if he's still ticklish.
"You're doin' it again!" Jason says, and this time he really does look hurt. Fuck. Fuck! You're a shitty best friend.
"No!" You lock eyes with him. "No, no! I mean, yes, I was looking at you. But I wasn't looking in a bad, judgy way. I was, uh, taking in your physique. Because you have a... a very nice body. I've never seen you without clothes so I was looking at you. Sorry."
Yeah, you'll just go die in a hole after this.
Jason squints at you for a long moment. You start to shift in place. Sweat beads on your forehead. You lick your lips, hoping Jason can hear your honesty.
"Are you messin' with me?"
"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, why would Iâ"
"You're really telling me that you find this," Jason gestures to his body, "Good looking?"
This is worse than any physical torture. You'd prefer Batman beating you up on a roof to being here.
You rub your temple, cheeks aflame. "Oh my God. Yes, Jason, you're a good looking guy. Can we move on?"
"No, 'cause I think you're lyin', and I don't like it. You're always honest with me."
"I am being honest," you say, suddenly more annoyed than anything. Because what the fuck? "Are you kidding me? There's a whole forum dedicated to the Red Hood and how much people want you to step on them. And that's without seeing your face! I have eyes, Jason, of course I find you attractive."
And that should be the end of it. Jason's already slack-jawed like a dead fish. But no, you keep going.
"You make me nervous and I thought I had a lid on it because we knew each other as kids but it's becoming clear that I very much don't, and that probably has to do with the fact that you're the only guy I've been close to, and I never got over you. And now I'm gonna go drown myself in the Hudson. Good night."
You go to slip out the window. Maybe it'll shut on your head and knock you out. That would be a divine gift.
It doesn't, though. The universe isn't so kind. Instead, Jason catches your arm and keeps you rooted to your spot. His hand is cold. You wonder if the rest of him is warm.
"Wait, wait. Just hang on."
You groan. "Dude, I'm fucking mortified over the last five minutes. Please let me keep some of my dignity," you say without looking at him.
"Now when have I ever done that?" You can hear the smile in his voice.
And suddenly, the miserable reality of never being more than friends with Jason Todd comes crashing down. It's too late. You've always been too late.
You sag in his grip.
"We can just forget this ever happened," you say quietly. "Chalk it up to idiocy."
"Mm, yeah, we could. 'Cept I don't think you're an idiot. And I want you to hear what I have t'say first. Will ya look at me?"
Mopily, you look at him. His hand drops.
"Iâ"
"You've never slept naked," you say before he can get a word out. "That's new. Otherwise, I would've known, and then I would've used the door."
Jason rolls his eyes. "Can I speak?"
You cross your arms. "Yeah, okay."
"First of all, I don't think it's necessary for me to disclose that I sleep in the nude." You open your mouth to argue. "But I know it was a mistake. I'm not mad about that. Okay?"
You nod. "Okay."
"I won't lie and say I'm not surprised at your... reaction. I don't really... I've never... I'm not Dick or Bruce, y'know? I wasn't told my whole life what a handsome boy I am. And dying and returning didn't really help with that stuff either."
"I think you're handsome, Jason," you say quietly. "Honest."
He coughs and looks away, a tiny blush on his cheeks. "Yeah, uh, think you've made that pretty clear. For the record, I think you're really beautiful. Always thought so."
Your eyes widen. "Really?"
"Well, yeah. I mean... yeah."
"You're just saying that 'cause I saw your vein cane," you say, grinning.
"Don't call it that."
"How aboutâ"
"No."
You're both quiet.
"How 'bout pork sworâ"
"No!"
You smile, eyes squinty. Jason glares.
"Don't nickname my thing," he says.
You nod solemnly. "You're right. It's your thing. You should choose its name."
He shakes his head. "Sucha weirdo."
"Hey, I've never been with a guy. I don't know the rules of thing-naming."
Jason tilts his head. "Never?"
"Never."
"Why?"
You shrug. "Never found anyone I liked enough, I guess. I've pretty much had my heart set on you, Jason."
His face softens. "Oh."
"Yeah."
"Well, uh, me too," he says. "You're it for me, honey. I just never... I mean, really, I never thought it would actually happen with you. Not then, not now."
"Huh. You really should've flashed me earlier. We could've sped things up exponentially."
"Yeah, why didn't I think of that," Jason says dryly.
"Dunno! We all know you're more than a pretty face."
His face reddens. You grin.
"Are you shy?" you ask, dancing on your toes.
"No. Shut up."
"You're shy! I make Jason Todd shy! Oh, this is wonderful. I should break into your apartment regularly."
"It's just new for me!" he says. "Lea' me alone."
You cozy up to him, confidence renewed by the mutual confession. You wrap your arms around his neck. Jason looks at you, hands slowly coming to rest on your waist. The rest of him is warm.
"Just teasing you, Jaybee," you say.
"Hmm." He slowly nudges your cheek with his nose. "Like y'always do?"
"Like I always do," you say sweetly. "But for the record, if we ever share a bed in the future, you're gonna have to keep the soldier in his tent."
Jason lets go of you, exasperated. "Oh, forây'know what? Your visitation privileges are revoked. Get outta my apartment."
You put on the saddest face you can muster. "You're kicking me out? Into the cold?"
"It's eighty degrees."
You sigh loudly. "Okay, fine. Date tomorrow?"
"Seriously?" Jason asks, sounding genuinely surprised.
"Seriously! Why wouldn't I be serious?"
"You really wanna date me?"
"Never been more sure of anything in my life."
Jason's relief is palpable and bittersweet. You'll spend the rest of your days letting him know just how spectacular he and his pectorals are.
"Okay," he says, shy again. You don't tease him this time.
"Great!" You close the distance between you and peck him on the cheek. His blinks in surprise.
"I'll give you a proper kiss on our date," you say, winking. "Bye, Jasey-Daisy."
"Bye, honey. Don't break into anyone else's apartment on your way home."
"Never," you say, climbing out the window. "You're the only one for me, Toddy!"
#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#red hood x reader#red hood fanfiction#jason todd fanfiction#red hood x yn#jason todd x yn#batman fanfiction#dc fanfiction#jason todd imagine#red hood imagine#red hood fanfic#humor#fluff
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Iâve only had your baker! simon for one day and I already know that I would cause mass destruction if something happened to him đ no but seriously such a cute and fun read I loved it thank you so much for sharing!
He is my BABY and I am obsessed <3
Part 2 of this!
Warnings: Simon is healing đ¤ Fem!Reader.
Simonâs heart skips a beat. Itâs a scam, itâs got to be. No way such a pretty woman would dare talk to him, business move or not. Although, the more he looks through your profile and sees the amount of posts youâre tagged in, itâs easy to conclude that you are, in fact, real. Regardless, heâs still wary as he finally begins typing out a response.
â No charge? Sounds too good to be true. Whatâs the catch?
Maybe a little harsh, but heyâcan never be too careful nowadays. If thereâs one thing the military instilled in him, itâs to trust nobody. Simon flops down onto his couch, fingers anxiously tapping along his knee as he watches you type, the ellipses disappearing and reappearing again. He wonders if youâre just as nervous as he is, but if that were the case, surely you wouldnât have contacted him first.
â No catch, I promise! No offense, itâs just that your pictures are a little grainy and I donât believe they act as a great showcase for your talent. Really, I just want to show you how pretty your treats can look on camera!
Simon sucks his teeth stubbornly. He knows his pictures arenât the best, but fucking hell, must everybody point it out? Heâs about to type a scathing response and block you, but another message pops up beneath your previous one.
â Please, just a chance. Weâre in the same area, so I can just come to you, wherever you want me.
A heavy sigh escapes the big man. His therapist has been telling him heâs too uptight, suggesting that he should balance out his peace by stepping out of his comfort zone once in a while. Besides, whenâs the last time a sweet girl has given him the light of day? Heâd be a fool to pass up this opportunity. Simon pinches the crooked bridge of his nose, trying to talk some sense into himself. Itâs not like itâs a date, simply just two businesses helping each other out. If it doesnât work, he never has to see you again.
Yeah, that sounds good. If everything goes up in flames, he can simply block you and move on with his life, continuing to post shitty pictures of his desserts. His thumbs twitch before tapping the screen once again.
â Youâve beat it out of me. When are you available?
Your response comes faster than he can blink.
â Saturday?
Two days. That gives him plenty of time to prepare (and maybe get Price to order an extensive background check on you). Simon can do that, no problem.
â I can be ready for you by about half 11.
Ready for you? Fucksâ sake, what is this? Sheâs not a bloody prostitute.
â That sounds good! Just send me your address day of. Iâm looking forward to it!! :)
Simon smiles. Simon smiles, and he doesnât even realize it. If he did, he would fix it immediatelyâbut he doesnât. Instead thereâs a pep in his step when he stands from the couch, grabbing his journal and scribbling down his thoughts and ideas for what heâll make on Saturday. His therapist will be proud.
Simon allows himself to be proud as well.
#MY BABY MY BABYYYY#ask me!#call of duty#cod#cod mw2#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#baker!Simon#ghost x female reader#ghost x fem!reader#baker!Simon x fem!reader
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Ęá´á´ á´ á´á´ á´á´Ęá´ (Ęá´ę°á´ á´á´á´á´Ęá´É´ x ę°!Ęá´á´á´
á´Ę)
this is part two. for part one, click here!
pairing: rafe cameron x f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20's)
word count:Â 4.6k
summary: you wait up for rafe after he leaves you for sofia
warnings: ANGST/THEMES OF DEPRESSION. please only read if you're comfortable!, reader literally sits on her couch for 2 days, forced undressing (not sexually), no smut but they shower together, rafe is trying to be good i promise, i haven't finished s4 so if i get shit wrong about his house i'm sorry, not proofread
a note: ik i just posted part 1 yesterday but like. i had to keep cooking. let me know if you want a part three! also, i think this is my longest fic to date...
please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!
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You wait for him all day. Like the good girl he expects you to be.
You shower and pamper yourself, trying to take the edge off, but itâs all for naught. You were going to be an anxious, stressed mess until you heard those three knocks. You sit, fully dressed in a simple crop top and miniskirt, watching TV. You donât dare move from this spot, just in case he decides to come home to you early.
The clock strikes one, and the waiting is too much for you. You're anxious, stressed, nervous; everything that you didn't want to be. The waiting feels like hours but also like seconds, the seconds ticking away painfully slow and too fast, the minutes and hours passing without your realization or intention.
You watch the TV with unseeing eyes, still sitting on the couch, fully dressed. And then it strikes two. And all you can do is wait some more. You donât know how long youâve been sitting there. Youâve already made it through a season of the show you were watching, mindlessly staring at the screen.
Sitting.Â
Waiting.
The sun starts to set, orange and pink hues streaking across your living room. You donât move from your spot, starting to grow even more anxious. The tag on your shirt is starting to irritate you, but you donât dare to move. You didnât want to miss him, didnât want to miss the knocks from your bedroom.Â
The sun completely sets, the only source of light coming from your TV. Itâs just a few minutes after 6:00pm, but the room feels dark, so much darker than any other night before. Your phone vibrates, dancing across the coffee table, but it isnât Rafe, so you donât answer it, not wanting to miss the three knocks. Your patience grows thin, and each second feels like an eternity. Waiting is never a pleasant thing. Waiting for him is even worse.
6 PM turns into 9 PM, and suddenly itâs midnight. Rafe never came home.
You continue to stay up, pinching your arm occasionally to wake you back up. You didnât want to miss him. You had a habit of being a heavy sleeper and sleeping in, and you knew that you would miss the knocks.Â
You grab your phone, scrolling through Sofiaâs Instagram with shaky hands. There was no point in checking Rafeâs, he barely posted. The little pink ring swims around Sofiaâs profile picture, and you click on her story.
The first story is from 12 hours ago, showing a plate from a fancy brunch spot on the mainland. The date he ditched you to take her on. The next story is from 10 hours ago, a shot of both of their hands holding cups of ice cream on a pier somewhere. He was wearing the gold Ouroboros ring you bought him, and it makes your heart clench. The next story is from 7 hours ago, a selfie of her looking frustratingly gorgeous in Rafeâs bedroom, the covers pulled up over her bare chest.
Did they fuck? Even after everything that happened last night?
The last story is from 3 hours ago, a selfie of them together outside a sushi restaurant, her arm around his neck while he looks off into the distance, a cigarette in his mouth. Heâs still wearing that stupid ring.
Did he forget about you?
It wouldnât be the first time.
You hope, foolishly, that he would text you, tell you heâs running late and that heâll be there soon. But he doesnât. You donât move to text him first, knowing he wonât respond anyway, especially if Sofia is next to him.
You set your phone down, feeling completely overwhelmed. The possibility of them sleeping together tonight makes you sick to your stomach, but you wouldnât put it past Rafe to do something like that. Especially after what he said yesterday.
Sheâs my girlfriend.
And you were just hisâŚwhat? His friend? His side chick? The other woman? A warm mouth and a tight hole that he sought out when he was done with Sofiaâs shit?
You drop your phone onto the floor, grabbing the pillow from under your head and pressing your face into it, trying to silence your sobs. It takes everything in you not to scream into the pillow, your body shaking with the force of your sobs. How could you be such an idiot? He never fails to make you feel so naĂŻve. You thought last night would change everything between the two of you, but it didnât.Â
All it did was remind you how worthless you were, that you were just his second best. Maybe the picture that you painted of him looks better in your mind.
You suddenly jump when your window slams shut. It blows open again before slamming once more, your curtains rippling with the wind. You get up, shuffling across the room. You shut the window, drawing the curtains closed, but not before looking out of them to see if Rafeâs car was parked outside.Â
It wasnât.
You lay back down, resting your head on your pillow, starting to stare at the screen again. You make it through a few more episodes of whatever the hell you put on before it suddenly shuts off. Even the showâs characters didnât want to be with you. Your head is pounding, your throat is dry, and your eyes are red-rimmed and swollen from your tears. Your heart aches, and your lungs sting with every breath you take.
You donât even move to turn the TV off or try to fix it. You just lay there, crying in the light of the TV static.
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The sun rises, and you donât get up at first.Â
You didnât want to move, just in case he showed up, but part of you knew deep down that he wouldnât be coming back anytime soon. You fix the TV before laying back down, staring mindlessly at the screen, trying to distract yourself. You reach down onto the floor, grabbing your phone. You check Sofiaâs Instagram again. The little pink circle around her picture taunts you. You click on it anyway, wiping the tears out of your eyes.
Joining the remaining stories from yesterday is one new post. A selfie of her with a clay facemask on, one eye closed as she blocks the sunlight with her hand, lounging beside Rafeâs new pool. Sheâs wearing a necklace with a diamond âRâ charm on it, as if sheâs personally rubbing it in your face.
You lock your phone, putting it down on the floor before sliding it away with a flick of your wrist. It doesnât go far, hitting one of the legs of your coffee table. You change the show on your TV, picking some true-crime documentary before laying your head back down.
You watch the show with distant eyes, feeling completely numb. You donât know why you keep checking her account, knowing it would just make you feel even worse. But you do it anyway, because maybe deep down you deserve it. You think about texting him, asking him if heâs coming over today. But you donât dare. You donât want to come off as a clingy whore.Â
Your phone buzzes from the floor, vibrating the coffee table, startling you. You stay on the couch, reaching across the floor with one hand and grabbing your phone. You eagerly turn it over, expecting it to be from Rafe, maybe a long apology text, or even just a simple âOn my way over.â The phone doesnât immediately light up. You hate that feature. You tap on the screen, your face immediately falling.
Itâs just an email from your electric company about your mid-cycle usage report.
You let out a sharp scream, chucking your phone against the wall. It doesnât shatter, but it bends around the sharp corner of the plaster.
The scream of frustration is cathartic, but it doesnât last long. Itâs quickly replaced by the feeling of loneliness that has become so common these past few days. But right now, it seems like a million times more unbearable. You start to cry again, burying your face back into your pillow.
The sun sets, and then it gets dark. You donât move.
You canât move. What if he comes back? What if this is the time he knocks? You canât miss them. You canât miss him. You curl yourself into a pathetic heap on the couch, hoping that heâll come back. He will. He has to. He has to know how miserable you are. He has to realize how badly heâs hurting you and actually care about it this time.Â
But each hour feels even more hopeless than the last. You stay up, wide awake, all night thinking about him. You donât hear a single knock. You donât see any headlights or cars pulling up into your driveway. Thereâs nothing but crickets in the distance and the sound of your heartbeat in your ears.
You barely pay attention to the show in front of you, staring with unfocused eyes at the screen. The sun starts to rise, casting a soft pink hue onto your living room. Youâve been sitting on your couch for two days, waiting for a man who probably doesnât want you. Two days. Two days of sitting here, hoping, praying that he would come back. Two days of sitting here like a fool, waiting for a man whoâs with someone else.
Yet you canât seem to find the motivation to get up. You canât. Just in case, this time, he shows up.
Your head throbs, your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You shut your eyes, burying your face in your pillow. You wish you were laying your head on his chest instead. Your thoughts are too loud, too consuming, too overwhelming. Itâs hard to think clearly, to sort things out in your head. Youâre so exhausted, mentally and physically, that you start to doze off.
You fall asleep, face buried in your mascara stained pillow.
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Your eyes suddenly shoot open when you feel your shoulder being shaken and a hand on your face.
âHey, sweetheart. Wake up, Iâm here.â Rafeâs voice is like music to your ears. Soft, low, deep. You feel his large hand against your cheek, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he tries to gently coax you awake. Heâs here. After two long days of no food, no shower, no company except your own miserable thoughts, heâs here.
âRafe?â You ask, head and body aching from two days of laying completely still on your uncomfortable Ikea couch.
âYeah, baby. Iâm here.â Rafe says, his voice soft and gentle. His fingers trail along your cheek, his hand so big against your face. He tries to hide it, but you can see the slight grimace on his face as he takes you in. âAre you okay? I tried calling you this morning, but you didnât answer.â
You glance around, trying to take in your surroundings. You finally fell asleep, and judging by the slowly setting sun, you slept for a while. âMy phone, I umâŚâ You gesture to the smashed phone laying across the room.
Rafe sighs, his brow furrowing as he glances over to your smashed phone. âIâll buy you a new one.â He says, looking back at you. His expression falls, and his eyes narrow. âHow long have you been sitting here?â
âTwo days.â You say, sitting up. Youâre still in the same crop top and miniskirt, your hair starting to feel greasy and itchy.
âJesus, baby.â Rafe exhales, shaking his head. âHave you eaten anything?â He asks, brushing your messy hair out of your face gently.
âI was waiting for you.â You say, completely ignoring his question. âYou said you would come back. I was waiting for you.â You look up at him, feeling completely and utterly pathetic.
His eyes soften, his hand moving to cup your face in his palm. âI know. And I came back, like I promised.â He says soothingly, his thumb stroking your cheek gently. âBaby, you look terrible.â
âNo, you promised me two days ago that you would come back.â You say, your voice growing thick as you start to cry again. âYou said after your brunch date with Sofia that you would come back.â
Rafe opens his mouth to speak, only to close it again. He doesnât say anything for a while, as if trying to come up with something to say. His expression shifts slightly, from sympathetic to something else, something almost akin to guilt. He sighs, finally speaking, âIâm sorry. I know. I didnât realize how late it was until it was too late to swing by here.â
âSo you left me hanging for an extra day?â You ask, reaching up to wipe away a stray tear.
âIâm sorry, alright?â He says, still gentle, but a hint of irritation is there. âI know I said Iâd-⌠I said Iâd come back, but I lost track of time, baby. I had to hang out with her for a while to keep up appearances.â
âOh, fuck you and your appearances!â You say, standing up. You lose balance, reaching down with one hand to balance yourself on the arm of the couch. âJust admit that you didnât want to see me.â
Rafe reaches out to steady you on your feet, frowning. âThatâs not-⌠I did want to see you.â He says, his voice growing sterner, more irritated. âBut I had other obligations. I had to keep up appearances. I told you that.â
âDonât expect me to believe that bullshit, Rafe.â You say. You try to pull away from him, but he tightens his grip on your arm. âYou can just dump me, you know.â
âYeah? So can you.â He snaps back, his grip on your arm tightening even more.
Your face and eyes twitch slightly, your chest aching. You feel so stupid. Your breathing starts to escalate, coming out of your nose in short puffs. âLet go of me.â
âNo.â He says, his voice hard, stern. He still grips your arm tightly, not wanting to let you go. He knows you well enough to understand that you would storm off, maybe even lock yourself in your bedroom. Both of Rafeâs hands move to your hips, pulling you closer. âSweetheart, look at me.â
âNo!â You shout, trying to pull away. You twist around, reaching down and trying to tug his hands apart. âYou canât do this to me!â
âBaby, look at me! I said, look at me!â Rafe raises his voice, finally using his strength against you, pinning you against his chest with his arms around your waist. Heâs got you pressed flush against him now, one hand grabbing your chin and forcing you to face him, your neck craning. âLook at me when Iâm talking to you, sweetheart.â
You squirm and wiggle, starting to cry. âYou canât treat me like this!â
His grip tightens, his jaw tensing as he grips your chin and face roughly. It almost feels like heâs manhandling you, forcing you to stay in place as he glares at you. His blue eyes have a hard edge to them. âI will treat you anyway I damn well please, sweetheart. Youâre in no place to make demands or tell me what I can and canât do. I said, look at me.â
You finally meet his gaze. You just sit in his grasp, sniffling as more and more tears threaten to fall. Your bottom lip trembles, and you wonder if you look as pathetic as you feel.
Rafe sighs, his expression growing soft. He loosens his grip on your face, his thumb caresses your cheek. He takes a deep breath, counting to four. âCome on, sweet girl. Letâs get you cleaned up.â In one swift motion, he picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder as he makes his way towards your bathroom.
âNo! Let go of me!â You whine, pounding your fists against his back.
âQuit it.â He snaps, reaching behind his back and grabbing both of your wrists, yanking your hands away from him as best he can. âI swear to god, sweetheart, I will spank you if you donât stop punching me in the back.â He pushes open the bathroom door, setting you down on the edge of the bathtub, your wrists still in his grip. He turns on the shower, waiting for the water to warm up before turning to you with a sigh. âTake off your clothes, sweetheart.â
âNo.â You whine, trying to tug your wrists away.
He scoffs, exasperated. âIâm tired of having to repeat myself to you, baby. Youâre gonna take a goddamn shower even if I have to force you to, so drop that attitude real quick, or Iâll strip you myself.â He leans in closer, his eyes darkening, his jaw clenching again. âYou wanna be bratty and defiant with me? I can get real bratty with you right back, sweetheart. Real bratty.â
Your eyes water and your bottom lip trembles. Rafe sighs, taking another deep breath. He had to be nicer to you. âYou gotta shower, baby, come on.â He grabs the bottom of your crop top gently, thumb rubbing along the hem.
You sniffle, wiping your cheeks. When your scalp starts to itch, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, mascara smeared, you realise heâs right. You raise your arms up.
âGood girl.â He says, sounding relieved. He reaches behind you to grab the bottom of your shirt, slowly pulling it up over your head. He can see how exhausted you are, how awful you look and how horrible you must feel. He gently drops your shirt on the floor, gently running a hand through your hair with a sigh. He reaches behind you and grabs the waist strap of your skirt. âLift your hips for me, sweetheart.â
You obey, lifting your hips.
Rafe slides the skirt off your hips and down your thighs, setting it on top of your shirt on the floor. He then grabs the waistband of your panties, kissing your hipbones as he tugs them off of your legs and adds them to the pile of discarded clothing. He then reaches forward, gently running his fingers through your hair. âYouâre so pretty, baby.â He says, his voice quiet.
âThank you.â You whisper.
He can tell that youâre still upset with him, and while heâs annoyed by it, he tries to maintain his composure, trying to be patient with you. He steps back, pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside before undoing his jeans. âCome on, pretty girl. Get in the shower while I undress.â
You nod, standing up on shaky legs and stepping into the shower. Your muscles instantly relax under the water as you step in, back facing the water.
Rafe watches you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your body before you shut the curtain. He quickly discards the rest of his clothes. Slowly, deliberately, he steps into the shower behind you, not wanting to startle you. He reaches over and moves you a little to the side, giving him room under the water to stand with you. He gently spins you around so your back is facing him, the water hitting your chest. He glances around the built-in ledges of your shower. âWhereâs your stuff?âÂ
You point to the metal shelves you stuck onto the wall, full of expensive products, all gifts from Rafe.
He glances over at the shelf, noticing how neat and precise everything is. Rafe laughs as he grabs your shampoo. âGod, you always gotta have everything organized.â He teases, pulling you against his chest with an arm wrapped around your torso, his strong hand pressed against your stomach. He kisses your shoulder before lifting your hair away from your neck to kiss there, his chest and abdomen pressed flush against your back.Â
He pours a fair amount of the shampoo into his hand, setting the bottle down. He hasnât had to actually wash his hair in so long, he forgot what a normal amount of shampoo looks like. He rubs his hands together, lathering it up before starting to gently massage into your scalp. âKeep your head tilted back so you donât get anything in your eyes.â
You tilt your head back, reaching back and putting your hands on his ribs to keep steady.
He hums in approval as his fingers work, rubbing and massaging your scalp. His body is relaxed against your naked curves, his fingers now working through your hair slowly, ensuring itâs completely lathered before he moves onto the conditioner. He keeps the conditioner in your hair while he washes your body. You reach up and grab your face wash yourself, squirting some into your hands before thoroughly washing your face, trying to get the two-day-old mascara off. Rafe keeps his arm wrapped around your upper body so you can keep leaning against him.
After rinsing yourself clean, he turns the water off, pushing the shower curtain open. He grabs a towel for himself off of the hook by the shower, stepping out. âCâmere, baby.â He says quietly.
You step out, watching as he wraps the towel tight around his waist. He grabs another from your linen closet, holding it open for you. âArms up, sweetheart.â He says, waiting for you to obey, and you do, lifting your arms.Â
Rafe quickly wraps the towel around you, gently rubbing your body to dry you off. He then pulls you close, hugging you. One hand holds the back of your head, the other resting on the small of your back. Heâs been craving the feel of your bare skin for the past two days, and it was nice to finally feel it again. âIâm sorry.â He says, quietly, sincerely. His lips graze your forehead.
âWhy couldnât you have just texted me?â You ask.
Rafe pauses, sighing. He was worried this would come up at some point. He tries to choose his words wisely, so he wonât start a fight so soon after the initial one. âBecause⌠IâŚsweetheart, I was trying to keep a low profile with her.â His voice is just above a whisper. âTexting you would have let her know there was something going on.â
You shake your head. âYou couldâve texted me and then immediately deleted the conversation. She wouldnât have noticed.â
âI thought of that,â He starts, his brow furrowing. âBut the thing isâŚshe looks at my phone sometimes. So I just didnât want to risk it, alright?â
You look away as he starts to dry your hair with the towel. âI wish things were different. I wish you could change.â
âThatâs not fair, baby.â He says, his voice holding a hint of warning. Heâs annoyed with you again, but he tries not to lash out this time, especially when taking into account how much he missed you. âYou act like I donât want things to be different.â He runs the towel over your head, gently squeezing your hair to wring out the excess water. âDo you even have enough respect to see me try?â
Your breath hitches. You watch him as he finishes with your hair, wrapping the towel around your chest.Â
âI love you, Rafe.â The words tumble out of your mouth before you realise you even said them. âOf course I have respect for you. Of course I want you to try.â
Rafe pauses, his shoulders relaxing as his expression softens. He smiles at you, his eyes looking into yours. He grabs your hips, his thumbs rubbing along the soft skin there. He sighs, closing his eyes. âThen donât act like Iâm evil when I do try.â His voice is quiet, soft. âI mean it. Stop acting like Iâm a complete ass to you, sweetheart, because I have been fucking trying.â
He didnât say he loved you. You donât care how crazy and clingy you sound at this point, you have to know. âDo you love me too?â
Rafe opens his eyes, his expression growing serious all of a sudden. He pauses for a moment, searching the gaze of your eyes. His hands on your hips move to your lower back, wrapping around you and pulling you close against his chest. His chest is warm against your bare breasts, his body firm and strong. âBaby, thatâs a stupid question.â
âYou didnât answer it.â At least just lie and say yes. Please just say that you love me more.
He sighs, his grip on you growing tighter. One of his hands moves up to the back of your neck, holding you in place. He lifts your chin up with a single finger, looking into your eyes. âLoves never meant much to me, sweetheart. I mean⌠Ward told me that he loved me, and you know exactly what he did.â Rafe brushes his thumb across your cheek. âButâŚyes, I do love you. Youâre the only one I truly love.â
âPromise?â You ask, your voice quiet.
Rafe holds that strong eye contact for a few more seconds before his face softens more, his gaze softening in his eyes. âI promise, sweetheart. I swear on my life. I donât love anyone else as much as I love you.â His other hand runs up and down your sides, fingers spreading across your skin.
âNot even Sofia?â You ask.
âEspecially not her.â He says, pulling you even closer against his chest. Heâs growing agitated again. âI told you this before. Everything with her is fake, completely fake. Iâm with her for appearances. All she is, is a pretty face.â
You want to believe him, so you do. You lay your head on his chest, wrapping your arms around his torso.
Rafe sighs, relieved that you seem to finally understand. He rubs your back, one hand wrapping around your neck to keep you held against him. He kisses the top of your head, resting his chin on top like before. âDonât ask me that question again, sweetheart.â He says, his voice gentle, yet stern. âYou know I only love you, thereâs no need for you to ask such dumb questions.â
You nod. âCan you stay tonight?â
He sighs, nodding. âYeah. I can stay tonight.â He takes your chin in his hand again, tilting your face up to look at him. âCan you promise me something, though?â
You take a deep breath. âAnything.â
His brow furrows again, his thumb rubbing along your jawline. âDonât ever doubt my love for you, alright? I canât deal with that self-loathing bullshit you pull sometimes, sweetheart, you got that?â
Your eyebrows furrow slightly. You werenât expecting that. But at this point, youâre so desperate to lay down with him that youâll do anything he wants. âI promise, Rafe.â
He smiles, kissing your forehead. âGood girl.â He says, his voice gentler. âNow, letâs get you into bed, hm?â You nod, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist as he carries you to bed. He lays down next to you, tucking you in before handing you his phone. âPick out what new phone you want.â When you look confused, he sighs. âI told you I would buy you a new one because you destroyed yours.â
Oh, yeah. This has been the longest two days of your entire life, and you werenât even sure if any of that actually happened.
Rafe unlocks his phone before handing it to you, picking something to watch from the small TV on your dresser. You scroll through his pages of unorganised apps, before finally finding Google, typing in the newest iPhone model. You buy yourself a new phone in your favourite colour, all on Rafeâs dime. Youâre tempted to text Sofia pretending to be Rafe and tell her itâs over, and to leave you alone, but you donât. Rafe loved you, and Rafe wanted you. He could dump her himself.
You lock his phone, handing it back to him. He sets it on your bedside table, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you close.
If itâs meant to be, then it will be.
*:シďžâ§*:シďžâ§*:シďžâ§*:シďžâ§*:シďžâ§*:シďžâ§*:シďžâ§*:シďžâ§*:シďžâ§*:シďžâ§*:シďžâ§*:シďž*:シďžâ§
let me know what you think my lovelies!
part 3 is here!
â
taglist: @ietss, @loves0phelia, @drewsphswife, @pillowprincess4him, @maybankslover, @theeternaloptimistt, @jumpme300, @xcinnamonmalfoyx, @matthewswifeeee. reply to this post if you would like to be tagged! italics mean i couldn't tag you! x
#keikiwrites#f!reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron outer banks#rafe cameron#obx angst#rafe obx#obx fic#obx#rafe cameron angst#angst
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wonder why iâm bitter | julie han
âŤâ・⪠âË⏠ďž. casual â chappell roan
synopsis : friends donât act like this, you would know that better than anyone else.
pairing : non-idol!julie x fem!reader
genre : smut, angst, smutty angst, if you will! heavy on the angst though sorry.
tags : they were roommates,,, making out, marking, implied possessiveness, implied jealousy, anal rimming (heyyy), strap-on sex, vaginal penetration, cunnilingus, julie is bent ova, and YESS WHO SAID BACKSHOTS, arguing, topsub!femreader, bottomdom!julie, frequent mentions of sexuality, praise kink, cheating?? could you call this cheating,, one singular l-bomb,,, yikesss
warnings : none..? i guess apart from the obvious content warnings here (angst and smut) thereâs some underlying internal homophobia themes?? but i donât think itâs that bad tbh IDK BE WARNED JUST IN CASE
word count : 3,1k
a/n : haiii!! iâm finally posting this draft OUHH it went through so many changes, like for example THE TITLEE?? i was gonna make the title be a lyric to âgoodluck, babe!â by chappell roan since i originally based the fic on that but i ended up listening to casual instead and went woaahh,, this fits so much more what the hell?!? but yeahh i think iâm happy with how it turned out! :â) i hope you guys can say the sameedckem
ALSO! first time writing anything involving anal,, while yes i do talk about it often (ahem we all know,,) i was incredibly nervous in the process and this definitely made me step out of my comfort zone, hope it isnât too apparent in this ;; but yeah, to stop rambling, thank you for reading!! i hope you like itt! :]]
âsoâŚâ julieâs friend makes a motion between the two of you with a raised eyebrow, wearing a curious smile. âwhat exactly are you two?â they ask. you thought about it for a few moments, theoretically, you two are roommates, friends at most. but, if anything, youâre more like a couple behind closed doors.Â
you shrug, thinking nothing of it, âi guess weâre kind of likeââ
âweâre just friends.â she places, wearing a polite smile at the familiar in front of her before you could even think about the rest of your sentence. when you turn to look at her, sheâs avoiding your gaze, already familiar with the type of expression youâre wearing.Â
itâs the face you always make when she pushes you away like this.
turning back to her friend, you nod slightly, âyeah. weâre friends.â trying your hardest not to let your dejection show through your smile.Â
maybe itâs all just in your imagination, perhaps you guys were never even close to being a âthingâ and you were the one who thought too much into it. but alas; no matter from which angle you looked at it, the way she displayed any ounce of affection towards you would always make you overthink what you two were exactly. anything sheâd do in the comfort of your own apartment with you was never close to anything sheâd do in public, in front of the eyes of everyone walking by. she always acts like she barely knows you whenever she is surrounded by people, whether she knows them or not.
you think about it often.
you think about her often.
you asked yourself, do you even like her like that? well, sheâs pretty chill, smart, witty and funny. sheâs also beautiful, and one hell of a tease, that much is obvious, youâve had sex with her numerous times in the past, so sexual attraction is out of the question; you already knew the answer to that. the better question probably was; does she even like you like that?
âyou done with them?â says julie, referring to the pile of kitchenware you guys left from last night on the counter as she hugs you from behind and rests her head on your shoulder, her arms wrapping all around your waist and watching you. you, on the other hand, were taken by surprise by the sudden display of affection, so much so that you lost your original train of thought. as much as you knew that she liked physical touch, it always did surprise you whenever you randomly felt her skin come in contact with yours throughout the day. getting quickly accustomed to the feeling of her lips kissing your shoulder, you hummed in response, washing and scrubbing the plate with the soaped-up sponge you were holding.
âalmost.âÂ
she whines in an exaggerated manner, âhurry uppp..â lightly tapping on your stomach and resting her head on your shoulder, before adding, âi miss you.â
you giggle, putting away the plate you were now done washing, quickly grabbing another dirty one, âiâm right here, though?â
âno like,â she left another kiss on your shoulder, âi miss you.âÂ
you smirked, getting progressively more and more amused by the girlâs foreign, yet familiar behavior towards you, feeling her embrace you even tighter.
âoh yeah? well in that case, i miss you too, julie.â
you knew exactly what the girl in question meant by âi miss youâ and you wouldâve teased her further if it werenât for how impatient she was getting, despite how cute it was. her heavily annoyed sighs giving it away, despite those also being sprinkled with a tiny bit of humor.Â
âcome onn, donât play dumb with me, smartass.â
so, you pushed the oblivious act aside and obliged, setting the plate down before facing her.
your lips danced in sync with hers as you carried her to your bed. once you got there, you gently sat her down on the edge of the mattress, lips still intertwined whilst her hands glided along the curves of your body, tracing circles with the tip of her index finger on your soft skin.Â
you didnât waste any time in laying her down moments later,, your mouth now eagerly roaming her neck and collarbone and leaving kisses down along her body, successfully marking it up. listening to her quiet hums, you proceeded to slide down her sweatpants, your hands tugging on the waistband.
now left in only her panties, you allowed your fingers to glide over the damp spot in between her legs, teasing the clothed entrance and taking in all of her reactions all at once.Â
looking at you through the light brown hair that fell perfectly on her face with hooded eyes and slightly upturned eyebrows, she whispered in a low, husky and raspy tone, âsee, baby? see how wet i am for you?â
now, julie had this certain ability to turn even the most confident person alive on this earth into a nervous wreck.
you were, obviously, no exception from her spells. if anything, you, y/n, were a prime example.
you slowly nodded at her words, entranced, feeling yourself fall more and more at her mercy with each second that passed. that earned a smirk from her, putting her hand atop yours, before continuing, âyouâre gonna be good and do something about it, right?âÂ
you nodded once again, this time more eager.Â
âwords, darling.â she whispered.
âyes,â you muttered in response, a mix of nervousness and eagerness taking over all five of your senses, âo-of course i will.â
she hummed, perfectly content with your adorable answer, before pulling you back into a hungry kiss for another long, pleasant while. that is, until she added something else between kisses, something that made you shudder.
âget the strap.âÂ
immediately reaching for the drawer next to your bed upon hearing those words, lips still connected to hers, you obeyed and pulled the cabinet open, quickly pulling out the phallic silicone object residing in it as well as the harness, too impatient to feel even embarrassed about the sudden action.Â
it didnât take long before the harness was tight around your hips, the brunette bent over in front of you at the edge of the bed with her panties pulled down to her thighs. you ravished in the sight; her perfect pink pussy sitting before you, slick and wet with desire, begging for you to finally please it properly, practically throbbing in anticipation. who were you to deny her of such pleasure?Â
you traced your index finger along her slit, your digit comfortably nestled in between her slippery folds as it slowly teased the entrance.Â
rewarded by the sweet sounds coming out of her, you wasted no more time and slowly leaned into her core, giving a long swipe of the tongue to her pussy.
âohh shitt..â overhearing her moans, you smiled against her as you were now making out with her swollen cunt, intending to taste every drop of her slick, not wasting a single one. your lips circled around her bundle of nerves, giving it small and gentle sucks whilst one of your hands massaged her ass.
subconsciously, julieâs back arched with each movement that your tongue made inside her, her head hung low on the bed as she whimpered filthy praises, her sounds just slightly muffled from the white bedsheet she had over her mouth.Â
you heard them, though.Â
thank god you heard them.
after a long while of giving more than endless attention to her pussy, you felt your mouth move upwards by itself, driven by the pure desire to make her feel even better than she already was.Â
your tongue quickly made its way to her ass, roaming and dancing around her rim, which immediately earned a sharp gasp from her part. youâve never made it a habit to eat julieâs ass, but whenever you did? it was always enough to cloud your brain with pure, raw want, and it always seemed to catch her pleasantly off-guard, since youâd always do it without any warning.Â
you attempted to relax her again by tracing slow circles around her hole with your muscle, before inserting it fully, which you could only assume worked, since you could hear her whines get longer and louder. âfuckk yes baby..â she shamelessly moaned, this time more audibly due to her raising her head up and looking back at you as best as she possibly could, âthatâs it, such a sweet girl for meâ ah..âÂ
using one of your hands, you made sure to thoroughly stimulate her clit, rubbing circles around it and even going as far as to inserting two fingers inside her dripping cunt with your other hand in the process, all whilst the muscle in your mouth flicked way within her, drilling and wriggling as you hummed against her.Â
after what felt like hours of you messily rimming her, hours of her pushing herself further onto your mouth, practically fucking herself on you, you figured it was finally time to give her whatâd she been wanting ever since she came up behind you in the kitchen.
pulling your fingers out and standing back up, you lined up your strap-on to her aching core, pressing the head against it before slowly inserting its entire length inside of her.Â
she let out a groan at the feeling of being penetrated, which progressively turned into longer and more suggestive sounds. it all sounded like music to your ears, it only made you want to please her more.
you reached for her hand, grabbing it upon contact. she squeezed yours with just as much force in return, pleasure visibly taking over her senses. it didnât take long for you to be full on thrusting into her, either, feeling her walls clench around your fake cock as she babbled praises.Â
it was a small gesture, sure, but it made you feel things you werenât quite certain on how to label.
âsuch a good girl for meââ was what she let out, a loud moan escaping her agape mouth whilst you continued pounding her, faster with each second that passed. âf-fuck y/n i love youââ
you saw her lose herself under you, you watched in⌠admiration? infatuation? whatever it was, you thought she looked mesmerizing, especially with how her brown long hair fell all over the place, how perfect she sounded, how perfect she looked.
how perfect she was.
the words âi love youâ resonated in your head.Â
âwhoâs eric?â you ask her, having thrown glances at her phone that was charging on the kitchen counter whilst washing a plate, the singular one you had left untouched due to being⌠distracted.Â
you finished washing it, then turned around, now met with a surprised julie, clothed in a pair of booty shorts and a white tank top, she was fresh out of the shower, towel drying her hair. that is, until she unexpectedly heard you speak that name, her eyes immediately darting between you and the phone, greeted by that manâs contact name and picture on the latter, an incoming phone call from his part.Â
âa guy?â she says back, in her usual sarcastic yet gentle and quiet tone, âthought that was obvious enoughââ
jealousy and inexplicable possessiveness flooded your senses; you knew most of her friends, but, you had no idea who this âericâ dude was, and that especially ate at you. why was he calling her, on a random weekday at like, 4 pm? you had checked the clock hanging on the wall to confirm the time.
âwell yeah but, i donât think i know an eric.â you stated, wary of what the girl before you was gonna say, âwho is he?â
ââŚi just told you, some dude. i met him on campus and we just exchanged contacts after he complimented me, a while ago.â she replied, slight annoyance cracking through the facade of the joking expression she wore. she ran her dominant hand through her messy and wet hair, causing it to fall back perfectly on the side of her face and her exposed shoulders.Â
she added, âsure, he makes it very clear he wants to hook up with me, but thatâs all itâll ever be i think, heâs not the type of guy youâd wanna date seriously. why do you askââÂ
âno reason.â you cut her off, cold and dry.
she furrowed her eyebrows, the previous annoyance being more and more apparent, this time only paired with confusion. ââŚwhat?âÂ
âso this is completely normal for you? like, you guys hook up and call each other sometimes and youâre just casually telling me about it? what, does he take you out on dates too?âÂ
âwhat are you, my girlfriend or something?â she scoffed, bitter and defensive, gently throwing the towel on the couch in close proximity to her, âand what if he does, whyâs it such a big deal to you?âÂ
why is it such a big deal to me?
why is it such a big deal to me?
and before you know it, youâre quickly matching her tone. âi simply donât understand how you could tell me something so casually, especially right after weââ
âlisten, letâs get this straight.â she says to you, âi know that just because you and i fuck sometimes youâre convinced that itâs gotta mean something, that weâre something, but we arenât. it doesnât fucking mean shit to either of us and you know that very well. itâs all in good fun; i donât belong to you, y/n, and i never will.âÂ
âitâs not about that?â you walked closer to her as you justified, trying to get your point across, âiâm not saying that you belong to me julie iâm just trying to say thatââ
her stare pierces right through you as she cuts you off, and you couldâve sworn you noticed her eyes being glossy. her eyebrows furrowed in anger at you, she added on, âwho i date isnât your business. weâre just friends, and thatâs all weâll ever be, end of discussion. donât try to turn our friendship into something it isnât.âÂ
friends?
âso now iâm the crazy one for not liking the fact that youâre talking to that dude?â you eventually yelled back. you didnât even notice her grabbing her things as you talked, ready to head out, despite her hair still being wet from the recent shower. you, however, noticed how she took her still ringing phone and put on her favorite puffy jacket, her soft handâs acrylic nails digging and clutching onto the mentioned cellular device as you rambled on and on, irritated beyond comprehension.Â
âweâre not fucking dating y/n, itâs all casual, i.. iâm not even into girls like thatââ she asserted herself, trying her absolute hardest to sound as convincing as possible. you heard it, though, you heard that little twinge of doubt and guilt in her voice. itâs almost like she, herself, didnât believe whatever nonsense was coming out of her mouth.Â
how funny was it to watch her say that all whilst having the fresh hickeys you left on her neck and collarbone not even a few hours ago?
perhaps eric will notice them, too.
perhaps with that, heâll realize how good you treat her, how heâll never be able to do it like you do.
how heâll never be able to make her feel as good as you do.
âsure, you arenât.â you scoffed at her words, before proceeding to add on, âsince you swear you arenât, how about you stop acting like you are? you know, instead of giving me shit for getting upset.âÂ
âsorry?ââ she laughed bitterly, those words cut deep.
let me talk, you thought, let me place a damn word.
you continued, âno, seriously! you always do this julie, you always make me feel like iâm fucking insane for seeing it the way it is, for the way i see us. youâre convinced that thereâs nothing between us, that weâre just friends, yet friends donât randomly kiss me throughout the day for whatever reason, do they? they donât fuck me and tell me that they love me in the process, do they?â as you spoke, she avoided your gaze and walked right past you, heading straight for the front door.
thatâs when you recalled a certain moment, âsure, why not, letâs say, for your sake, that completely normal friends do fuck sometimes; they donât buy you stupid lovey-dovey bullshit on valentineâs day and drive you to the middle of nowhere to stargaze, they do not take you out at night and take every opportunity to kiss you in public whenever nobodyâs looking, they donât fucking say they love you while youâre deep inside themâ i mean for fuckâs sake julie do you hear yourself??â
she stopped in her tracks in front of the door, her hand resting on the doorknob. she hates it when you read her like a book, she hates it when you call her out on being the way she acts with you, she hates it when you stare at her like thatâ she fucking hates you. she fucking hates you for making her feel the way she does, for making her question everything about herself, she hates herself for thinking about you whenever sheâs with himâ
she let out a noise, something in between a sob and a laugh, before looking back at you with tear-filled eyes, she stared at you, up and down. her eyebrows twitching slightly, she then set her eyes on the ground and bit her lip in what seems to be frustration, frustration aimed both at you and herself.
âif i knew it was gonna be like this, i wouldâve never done anything with you to begin with.â her voice was shaky.
you watched her figure as she turned the doorknob and slammed the door on you, with a loud clack. just like that, the apartment was empty, silent and once again, peaceful.
sheâd be back, of course, whether she decides to sleep somewhere else and come back the next day or sneak back in here in the middle of the night on this same day, she always comes back after a fight. still, despite knowing that, you couldnât help but feel like drowning in your own guilt, as this argument wasnât like any other other. her pained expression still vivid in your memory and terrorizing you, you were afraid that you might never see her again after that.
that was pure dramatization, however.
the only thing that occupied the deafening silence of the room was the muffled sound of julie sniffling and being on the phone with who you assumed to be that boy, already planning to meet up. then, you couldâve sworn you heard the name âeric?â being pronounced as it progressively faded in the distance as she walked away, basically confirming your theory.Â
thatâs all that filled your house and your clouded mind.
that, and the sound of your pathetic sobbing.
#smut#kpop gg#female reader#kiss of life smut#kiss of life#julie han x female reader#julie x female reader#kiof smut#julie han#kpop girl group smut#kpop smut#kpop gg smut#julie kiss of life#julie kiss of life smut#julie kiof#julie kiof smut
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Cali's Kinktober: Day 01
post cibum - "after a meal" - Kinktober Masterlist TF141 x f!reader Kinks > wet/messy, food play, objectification Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.
Your new job as a professional nyotaimori model pays all the bills and then some, but tonight, you are serving a group of soldiers who want more than just the novelty of eating fancy sushi rolls off of a naked woman. After theyâve had their fill of the nigiri and the rolls, they want you for dessert.Â
âThatâs fine, sir. We can do a seven oâclock tonight. Have you had a chance to choose your selections from the menu?â
You strained your ears as you listened to your maĂŽtre d' consult with a customer over the phone. You were prepping in the adjoining room, going through your normal routine, but the growling, Manchester accent coming through the speaker was making it difficult to focus. Â
âYeah, give us a full spread. The works. No barriers.â
It must be a big party, you thought. The full spread option included a large array of sushi and sashimi. Asking for no barriers was quite adventurous, and you felt your skin flush with excitement.Â
âYes, sir. And would you like your artist bound or unbound?â
âMm,â he thought for a minute, and you tried to send telepathic messages to the gruff stranger, âLetâs have âer tied down.â
Yes, you celebrated, already imagining the feel of the ropes crossing over the big, wooden table and pinning you to it, forcing you to stay in place all night long.
âAnd will you be including the sake option?â
âYeah, sure. Johnnyâs a bloody lush.â
Your heart began to race just imagining what sort of night you were in for. The sake option meant needing to shave your sensitive pussy completely bare, so you added that step to your process. Being a food model wasnât something anyone seemed to take seriously, but you felt like a true artist, and you wanted your guests to have an unforgettable experience when they came to dine with you⌠on you.Â
âAlright, sir, thatâs ââ
âAnd we want the additional package. Iâll pay extra. Whatever it costs. Just put it on the tab.â
âYes, sir. Would you like A, B, or C?âÂ
The additional package? How did he know about that? Youâd never performed for this man before â you would not have been able to forget that voice â and only your regulars knew about your secret options.
âA and B, but keep her mouth open, yeah? In case she gets hungryâŚâ
His dark laugh made your blood burn in your veins. Your add-on package meant that he wanted to fill your holes while you lay on the table for him. Option A was for a large glass dildo in your pussy, warmed and heavy, option B was for a bulbous anal plug made of the same body-safe glass, and option C was for a rubber ball-gag in your mouth. But, he wanted to have access to you there, and that made you almost see stars when you thought about the implications. What did your mystery Manc have planned for you?
âYes, sir. Do you know how many will be in your party tonight?â
âFour. The one with the mohawk is the birthday boy.â
âThank you, sir. I will add that to the notes. Any allergies?â
âNo.â
âAnd the name for the party?â
âRiley.â
âThank you. See you later.â
When she hung up the phone, you listened to her boots clack against the marble floor as she came into your dressing room,
âHey babes, hereâs your ticket for tonight. Table of four. Bunch of soldiers. Sure youâre up for it?â
âYeah,â you nodded, not feeling as confident as you sounded, âJust make sure to keep their drinks coming. They tip more when theyâre drunk.â
You winked at her and she laughed, closing the door behind her to let you finish grooming and cleansing your body.Â
Each swipe of your razor was another tantalizing part of your ritual. Once you were fully shaved, you cleaned your skin with special antibacterial soap before applying neutral oils that wouldnât affect the taste of the food. No perfume, no deodorant. Those were the standards. You werenât allowed to talk, or to move if you were bound by the tight ropes that pinned you to the table, and you were simply there to be a beautiful platter for the immaculately-made sushi.Â
At more traditional restaurants, your position was revered, and guests were forbidden from interacting with you directly. Youâd worked at a number of venues that hosted nyotaimori events, all with varying levels of standards and rules, but this one paid the most. This place allowed their guests to do almost anything they wanted, and those high risk situations added to the excitement and to your bank account. However, youâd never felt safer. There were cameras, guards, and highly trained staff all over the premises, and if you ever needed to press your emergency button, you could do so. You wore your panic ring at all times, and youâd used it effectively once or twice; it worked like a dream.Â
But, you had to admit, it wasnât just the money that kept you coming back here. You liked the clients. You liked feeling their hands and mouths eating off of your warm body. You enjoyed the more adventurous customers who wanted to taste you and touch you after they were done with their food. It was exhilarating, and you loved being at their mercy.Â
Just before your call time, your attendant brought you your glass dildo and anal plug from the back. They had been sanitized, and you used a little lube to insert the familiar, rigid shape into your pussy. You felt yourself already wet from anticipation, and although the glass phallus was thick and heavy, you took it with a satisfying ease.Â
The anal plug was another story. You used much more lube and began to play with your hole with your fingers before you committed to pressing it through your tight rim. The pressure from the fat dildo in your cunt made it even harder to accept, but after a few deep breaths, you felt your body relax and allow the round bulb to sit inside of your ass, pushing against all of the sensitive nerve endings inside of your stretched hole.Â
You washed your hands thoroughly and cleansed your skin again, just to be sure. Eventually, you finished with your prep and walked through the hallways to lay on your long black table. It was a chabudai, a short table where guests would sit on mats on the floor, and the dining room where you served was dimly lit, very minimally decorated, and had instrumental music playing softly through the speakers. You looked up into the corner and saw the camera light go from red to green. It was showtime.Â
Your attendant returned to perform your shibari. You were laying on your back, and she tied your wrists to your thighs, making sure to position your thumb so that you could press your panic ring easily. Then, she began to lay the ropes over your ribs, framing your breasts, using the ties to make them stand perky and proud on your chest. Finally, she fed the bindings under the table and fastened them down. You were stuck. You could bend your knees and twist your body, but that was about it.Â
âAll good, maâam?â She asked.
You nodded,
âYes, thank you. All good.â
âAlright. Iâll tell chef.â
She left you alone, and you tried your best to focus on your breathing. The dildo was nudging a very sensitive spot inside of you, and you pulsed against it, attempting to find some relief. But, you were just making it worse. Your clenching muscles were allowing it to thrust against you, and no amount of wiggling was going to grant you any reprieve. So, you stopped. You shut off your mind as much as you could, listening to the music and imagining an infinite, empty expanse in your head.Â
The door clicked open and the sushi chef came in with his two other servers. They set to work, laying slabs of salmon and octopus sashimi across your breasts in a spiral pattern, using delicate roe to dust the inner circle over your hard nipples, making it look like the pollen-covered pistil of a flower, the fish serving as your beautiful petals.Â
A row of maki trailed their way down your belly and each arm. More sashimi were laid on all the places where a roll wouldnât sit, and one of the chefâs assistants began to place thinly-sliced mango across your neck like a choker. Your legs were covered in sushi and more fruit, and finally, right in the join of your legs, you balanced a bowl with a single lotus flower inside.Â
The door cracked again, and your attendant poked her head in,
âChef, your party is here. Should we send them in?â
The chef nodded, and everyone left the room. But, this time, the silence was deafening rather than zen. Your heart was pounding. You couldnât wait to see and hear and feel what these four guests had in store for you.Â
Finally, the door opened, and you heard their jovial laughter and talking.Â
âCannae believe you got a reservation, LT! Been dyinâ to try this for the longest.â
âI know, Johnny,â you recognized that deep, Manchester accent, âWonât shut up about it.â
Johnny finally came into view. He peered down at you with a uniquely boyish wonder, staring at your face and your body like a kid at Christmas, eager to unwrap his presents. His friends surrounded him on both sides. You guessed that the wry blond was Simon, your vocal crush. You didnât know the other two, but they were just as nice to look at. One of them was enormous, over-muscled with a bit of a belly, and an odd beard. The other was like a professional athlete, chiseled and masculine, with big brown eyes and dark, smooth skin.Â
âSure is a pretty plate, huh, lads?â The beard spoke with a growling, gravely Scouse accent. He was a smoker, that was for sure.Â
âFittest table Iâve ever seen,â the athlete smiled, his full lips revealing sharp, blinding teeth.Â
âPlease, have a seat, gentlemen,â your attendant put on her best sexy customer-service voice, âFirst round is on the house.â
âOh, shit,â Johnny laughed.
He and his friends ordered an absurd amount of alcohol, and then you were left alone with your party.Â
âThink we can get started?â Johnny asked, âIs that alright with you, bonnie?â
You watched out of the corner of your eye as the bearded one hit him lazily on the arm with the back of his hand,Â
âShe isnât supposed to speak, MacTavish. Didnât you fuckinâ listen, or is all the blood thatâs meant to be in your brain stuck in your prick?â
âHere, Captain,â the athlete called the bearded one over, âTry this.â
You felt the soft wood of your restaurantâs polished chopsticks graze the side of your breast as he lifted a slab of salmon off of your skin.Â
The captain grabbed the fish with his fingers clumsily, but he slurped it down, groaning with pleasure,
âMm, thatâs not bad, Gaz.â
Johnny reached out to you, his hands steady and sure,Â
âLemme tryâŚâ
You felt his warm thumb graze over the top of your nipple, pushing some of the fresh roe onto a cut of octopus, and as he curled the fish, he let it drag over the same spot he touched, purposefully teasing you.Â
Once they started, they didnât want to stop. Their hands were roaming all over you, picking up food and feasting on what you had to offer.Â
âLook here,â Gaz commented, letting his fingers swipe up the side of your ribs, gathering up dark sauce and licking it off of his knuckle.Â
âOh, thaâ looks tasty,â Johnny smiled, leaning his head down and using his tongue to lick up the rest of the flavor, taking great pains to get as close to the side of your breast as he dared.Â
They were getting braver, but you could tell they still werenât sure what they were allowed to do.
Before long, your attendant was back, ready to get more drinks and appetizers for your men, and you listened to them politely dismiss her, too focused on their task at hand: uncovering you from your delicate morsels of sushi.Â
âMm,â Simon grunted, âNot bad, hm?â
âItâs proper tasty,â the captain agreed.Â
âIâm so glad to hear youâre enjoying yourselves,â your attendant encouraged them, âCould I interest you in a sake presentation?â
âWhaâs tha?â Johnny asked with his mouth full, excited to know more.Â
âYour artist has more than one talent, gentlemen,â she smiled coyly down at you, kneeling beside the table, carefully removing the bowl from where it was so carefully perched on your pussy.Â
The whole room stood still as your smooth, oiled vulva was revealed. Your attendant leaned over you, pouring warm sake into the divot between your closed legs and your mons, filling the space with drink. She made sure the men were looking at her with rapt attention, and she bent to suck the alcohol from your body, her mouth sucking right below your clit, slurping up the delicious sake until it was almost gone.Â
âCreepinâ Jesus,â Johnny said under his breath, âCan I do one, lass?â
âYes, sir,â she smiled, âOf course! You can do anything you like.â
âAnythingâŚâ
Johnnyâs eyes watched as she filled the crevice between your legs again, letting the sparkling fluid pool and ripple against your skin. Then, when she was done with her pour, he bent to drink from you, putting his mouth exactly where hers had been, gulping and swallowing the sweet brew, his eyes fixed on your pretty pussy until you were empty. Then, he stole a lick, shoving his tongue between your lips to tease your clit, testing the limits of what was allowed, trying to find the boundary.Â
âIâll leave the bottle, yes?â Your attendant asked, leaving it on the table without waiting for an answer.Â
âThanks, love,â the captain smiled, watching his friend hovering over your wet quim as Johnny considered going back between your legs for seconds. Â
âGo on, then, Sergeant,â Simon encouraged him, âFor what I fuckinâ paid, you better enjoy it.â
That was the only permission the mohawked birthday boy needed. He sank his hot mouth down onto your pussy and began to suckle at your clit like it was part of his meal. He laved his tongue inside of your swollen lips, licking you in rhythmic, rolling thrusts.Â
You tried your best to control your reactions, but there was only so much you could do to contain your pleasure. Gaz noticed when your eyes rolled back in your head, your lashes fluttering closed as you tried to breathe through the feeling.Â
âDelicious, arenât ya, babe?âÂ
He bent his head to your breast, feasting on the two pieces of sashimi that were left behind, using his tongue to pull them into his mouth. You could feel the warmth of his full lips on your skin as he ate from you, and every little touch was electrified by Johnnyâs feast between your legs.Â
As Gaz chewed on his bite, he used his thick finger to scoop up the fresh roe that remained on the peak of your nipple. Then, he bent over you, smiling like a demon,Â
âOpen up.â
You obeyed, and you melted into your submission. The hard, unflinching stare from those big brown eyes was enough to crush your will to dust. You felt your skin flush across your whole body as you surrendered to him, as if allowing him to control you made you even more sensitive to the touching, licking, kissing, and groping that was happening to you.
He slipped his finger past your lips, placing the roe carefully on your tongue. You felt the tiny eggs spill into your lips like beads. Just when you were about to swallow them, he grabbed your chin in his hand sharply, his face turning darkly serious,
âHey, open, I said. Thereâs a good girl. Stick that pretty tongue out for me. Say ahh, pretty girl.â
You did as you were told, and to your shock, he bent his mouth over yours and spit into your throat. You could feel the bubbling drool pooling in your cheeks and sliding to the back of your tongue, but there was nothing you could do about it. His lips turned up into that same dirty smirk as he said,Â
âSwallow.â
You took the roe into your mouth and swallowed it along with his saliva, the salt of the fish eggs mixing with the salt and alcoholic tinge in his spit. He mustâve been drinking at the bar before his party sat down at your table because the herbal scent of gin was unmistakable.Â
He pet your cheek with the back of his hand, praising you with his touch, watching your face twist with pleasure as Johnny became almost uncontrollable between your legs. The mohawked man was sucking so hard on your clit that the slurping sounds from his mouth were filling the room.Â
Gaz bent to kiss you, and you kissed him back. The softness of his lips lulled you into an even deeper sub state, and you felt like you were melting. Suddenly, he forced his tongue into your mouth and wrapped a huge palm around your jaw, holding you in place as he began to slide his slippery muscle in and out of your cheeks. It was as if he was fucking your throat with his tongue, and your mind fed you an imaginary scene of how his cock might feel in its place.Â
When he pulled away, you felt Johnny stop his kisses as well, and your body writhed without your consent, desperate to feel them tasting you again.Â
âThis is the best fuckinâ birthday Iâve ever had,â Johnny smiled, wiping a hand across his shining mouth.Â
The man whoâd made the booking, Simon, sat beside his friend and pointed between your legs,
âPour us one, Johnny.âÂ
âAye. Here ya go, lads. SlĂ inte mhath.â
You watched as he poured sake into the divot between your legs again, but he over-indulged. He began to pour it across your belly as well, letting it pool in your belly button and settle in the dip of your sternum.Â
The captain was the first to take a sip. He lapped at the pool of sake that splattered across your mons and lips like a hound, aiming to taste you more than he was the alcohol. Then, he followed Johnnyâs trail, dragging his hot tongue along the swell of your tummy, aiming for the well of spirits in your belly button. He hovered over it when he found it, and as he leaned down to drink from you, you could feel the tickle of his mustache, making you squirm.
His filthy, gravelly chuckle made your blood run cold. It seemed that he enjoyed forcing your body to respond to his touch.Â
âTicklish, love?â He returned to your lower belly, letting the bristles of his beard tease you until your breathing became ragged, your lungs trying to suck in, doing your best to pull away from him and yet not being able to escape.Â
Your tormentor shoved Gaz around the table so that he could tease your breast with his bearded mouth, and Gaz followed suit, both of them fighting for the puddle of sake between your breasts before suckling on your tight nipples. They had such different agendas. Where Gaz seemed to suck because he wanted to see you squirming from pleasure, the captain seemed hell-bent on keeping you from it.Â
You could feel him biting into your delicate flesh with his sharp teeth, causing just enough pain to pull you out of your relaxed, pleasure-induced haze. Then, when he could see your eyes flash with just a hint of apprehension, he would retreat, rewarding your responsiveness with a long, deep suck or hungry, flat licks with his tongue, a barely-there smile twisting across his cheeks as he did.Â
You felt something brush against your leg, and Simon was using a napkin from the table to wipe the rest of the food off of your legs, not giving a shit about the hundreds of pounds worth of sushi being gathered up in the cloth. Dinner, apparently, was over.Â
Your mind raced. This was far and beyond the bravest party youâd ever served before. They worked on you as a team, giving each other silent feedback, and when Simon finally bent to drink from between your legs, your mind was throbbing from the overstimulation.Â
You werenât supposed to, but you began to let long, cracking moans escape from your throat. Anything you did to hold them back was just making them worse, and your voice only seemed to spur these men to double down on their efforts.Â
Simon did not eat you like Johnny did. His Scottish companion ate you out like you were the food, but the Manc was more like his captain. He wanted to see where your buttons were, and when he found them, he began to press them just like a lad playing with a shiny new toy.Â
His tongue found the body of your clit and swirled around it, avoiding the searing head, swollen and sensitive to the point of discomfort. Instead, he pushed the tip of his tongue just below it, lifting it up, making the hood stretch just enough to apply its pressure.Â
You bucked your hips, the sake that rested in your thighs sloshing out, ignored by your new master. He didnât give you a smug grin like his bearded boss. In fact, you could barely tell what emotion he was feeling. It wasnât until you met his gaze that you noticed the fire behind his eyes.Â
Only then did he begin to drink from you, emptying the alcohol from your body, letting his tongue venture down into the crevice of your thighs and licking between them as if they were your cunt. He had gone deep enough to feel the edge of your dildo, and when he found it, he turned to the others, getting their attention,
âHad them do something special for Johnny. Wanna see your surprise?â
Johnny had been busy sharing a nipple with Gaz, leaving hungry little hickies across your skin. But, when Simon called him over, he seemed all too eager to return between your legs.
âAye,â he smiled rakishly, âGonnae spoil me, Si.â
All four men shifted to the foot of the table, their eyes wide and focused on you like hyenas with a wounded gazelle, selfish and ready for their next taste of you.
Simon took your legs and lifted them up, bending your thighs at the hip, showing the others how two fat, glass dildos were shoved deep inside of your holes.Â
âOh, bonnieâŚâ Johnny reached forward, grabbing the dildo stuck in your pussy gently between his fingers and giving it just the slightest twist, âFor me? Such a good lass, innit she?â
Simon reached down below Johnnyâs hand and began to tug at the anal plug. The resistance was driving you mad. You tried to relax, but he was not waiting on you, and the pressure began to build and build until finally, your muscle relented and you felt the heavy bulb slip wetly out of your asshole, soaking in lube.
âBloody hell,â Gaz murmured, not wasting any time, sticking a long finger into the gaping hole left behind by the plug, testing the stretch of your ass with his strong hands.Â
Simon pressed it back in, forcing Gaz away, slowly fucking the heavy toy back into you, letting it sink inside of your body with a sloppy pop, pushing on it just a little harder than he needed to so that it would feel like it was thrusting inside of you.Â
Then, Johnny did the same with the dildo in your swollen pussy. He didnât pull it all the way out, choosing instead to fuck you with it, shoving it into your hole with wet, slicking sounds, marvelling at the sight.Â
You were so drunk from the pleasure that you hadnât noticed their captain sneaking around to the head of the table. He startled you, grabbing you beneath your arms and yanking you and your ropes up, strong enough to move you even though you were tied down. He had pulled you far enough that your head hung off the edge, and you found yourself staring at his black slacks, amazed at the thickness of his thighs. Then, you watched him roll down his zipper, stroking his cock until it gleamed with his precome.Â
You felt his other hand supporting the back of your head, holding you at just the angle he wanted. Then, he purred his command to you,
âLet me in, pretty girl.â
You allowed your muscles to weaken, opening you mouth wide, unsure if you could pry your mouth open enough for his girth to fit inside of you. He chuckled in that same, devilish way, slapping his sticky head against your lips twice before feeding his head into your cheeks, settling at the back of your throat, letting you gag and cough around him all you wanted and doing fuck-all about it.Â
Between your legs, you felt the dildo slip out of your pussy, replaced with eager fingers and a tongue. Now that you had the captainâs thick cock to block your noises, you let yourself whine against him like a gag, moaning and crying out from the overwhelming feeling of being used.Â
âOh, fuck. Thatâs it, lads,â he grunted, âMake her scream for me.â
Both of his hands were cradling your head as he fucked your throat, guiding his fat dick in and out of you like a piston. You breathed when you could, but it was only just enough, and you felt yourself going light-headed.Â
A mouth found your nipple again, and a hand rolled itself beside your clit, making frantic circles from above. Then, below your thighs, a round prodding cockhead pressed its way into your lubricated walls, making your dildo seem like nothing more than a thick finger or two. You were being well-stretched, and your body flooded your cunt with wetness to try and ease his way, doing everything it could to make it easier for whoever it was to fit his prick into your warm body.
He rested your ankles against his neck, and your bare feet scraped the side of his head. Buzzed hair. It was the birthday boy afterall.Â
âMmmph, fuckinâ hell, bonnie. Too tight. Too goddamn tight. FuckâŚâ
As he pumped himself into you, his movements made free and fast by the lube and your dripping cunt, your whole body began to jerk across the table. These men werenât just large; they were stronger than you couldâve ever imagined, and you felt like you were nothing more than a mere toy to them.Â
The fingers teasing your clit were sending your mind into a panicked orgasm, and your whole body convulsed as you let yourself tumble into the swirling madness of your bliss, your eyes wrenched shut and flashes of rainbow light dancing across them as you came violently.Â
Apparently, that was enough to send the captain over his edge because as you were trapped in the throes of your orgasm, he shoved himself all the way inside of you and began to pulse hot shots of his come into your belly. You were desperate for air, but there was nothing you could do. They were in control of you, and you were ashamed by how much you enjoyed being at their mercy.Â
âOhhh, Capân. She loves thaâ, dontcha, lass?â
âKnew she would,â the captain slipped out of your throat, smiling down at you as you gasped wetly for a breath, âFilthy little slag.â
You watched as he shifted to the side of you, his thighs leaving your line of sight, being immediately replaced by a pair of dark jeans. You knew it was Gaz when his wide thumb reached down to wipe the drool and come from your lips, lovingly cleaning up after his captainâs mess.Â
âBeing so good for us. Still hungry, baby?â
You couldnât answer him, but he didnât care. He tugged his long, curved rod out of his pants and let his balls rest on your mouth. You started to suckle on one of them, taking it into your mouth and letting it roll between your lips.
âYeah, she is. Mmff-fuck, thaâs it.â
Gaz lifted your head up with his hand to help you reach, stroking his huge shaft with the other, jerking off as you did your best to pleasure him, trying to be careful with his sensitive sack.Â
Johnnyâs thrusts became frantic. Simon and his captain were taking turns pouring sake across your belly and sucking it off of you, and you were dizzy from the feeling of being fucked with your heavy plug inside of you. When you began to come again, it hit you slowly, building and building in waves, making you tremble from the suffocating joy of it.Â
You cried out, and your mouth was open wide in a silent oh. Gaz took the chance to feed you his cockhead, giving you something to scream around. You felt Johnny pause deep inside of you, his cock nestled as close to your womb as he could get, and he began to fill you with his come, shamelessly bending himself over you to fit his rod down to its root in your wetness.Â
âChrist, bonnie! Come for me. Fuck, fuck, fuck! HnnghâŚâÂ
He slid himself out of you, but almost immediately, someone filled your empty hole with your dildo, keeping his load sealed safe inside.Â
Gaz was still jerking his cock as he rested his tip inside your mouth, and you could feel him shuddering above you, his fingers twisted and tugging at the base of your scalp.Â
âSuck on me harder. Yesss,â he groaned, âJust like that⌠mmfgh. Good⌠girlâŚâÂ
You felt him throbbing, pulsing, and ready to come. Then, just when you were ready to taste him, he pulled out and painted your mouth, chin, and neck white with his seed. There was so much of it, and whatever your tongue could reach, you licked it up, sucking him clean when he let you have the tip one more time before he smeared the remnants of his dripping cream across your cheek.Â
Suddenly, Gazâs hands returned to the back of your head and lifted it up. At the same time, another man yanked your whole body back down the table, making the wood creak from the stress. Now, you could see what was happening to you.Â
Simon was holding your thighs, playing with your pussy, making sure your dildo was nice and snug. Then, he removed your anal plug again, twisting it out with a steady tug. When you made a whimpering cry, he looked up at you, and you saw that same light in his gaze, a hunger unlike that of his other friends. Something uncanny and secret about his message that you failed to decode.Â
He began to pry open your asshole with his fingers, exploring just past the rim. First, it was just one, but then it was two. They twisted, curling inside of you, plunging deeper and deeper and testing how pliant you were. Your plug was pretty large, so you werenât usually concerned about a manâs cock being a challenge. But, the way he was preparing your hole made your whole body tense with anticipation, worried about what was going to happen to you.Â
You watched him rest your heels on his shoulder, just like his friend had done, and his tattooed hand held your thighs as the other placed his swollen head at the rim of your asshole, teasing it, barely even touching you.Â
You thought he would plunge inside, but he never did. He just kept painting little warm circles around you, pressing on the outside yet never allowing himself to slip into your ass.Â
âMnghâŚâ You whined, twisting your hips as much as you could, begging for it.Â
âWhatâs that? Speak up, love. Canât hear ya.â
You looked at him with pleading eyes, knowing you werenât allowed to break your ceremonial rule but desperate just the same. He let himself smile softly down at you, planting his head at your hole and using the weight of his cock to rest it there.Â
âCâmon, sweetheart. Tell me you want it. Itâll be our little secret.â
His friends were kneeling around you, spent but still groping your body, licking and kissing you lazily, enjoying watching Simon torment you.
âShe doesnae wanna break the rules, Si. Good lass thaâ she is,â Johnny cooed, letting his fingers rest on either side of your clit, drawing deep ovals and watching your face twist in desperation.
âLet him hear it, love. We wonât tell,â the captain whispered in your ear, using his fingers to slide Gazâs come from your chin into your mouth, making you taste his salty seed. He kept his fingers inside of your lips, pushing them all the way to the back of your throat, letting you suck on them, âThaâs right. Our perfect little slut.â
Your mind went blank, and all you could focus on was the feeling of relief that would come to you if you just broke your ruleâŚ
The captain removed his hand, returning to your tits to suck on them and pinch your nipples. Then, Simon pressed forward just a little more, giving you his head before immediately taking it away, leaving you hollow.
â... pleaseâŚâ You whispered, your voice so shallow and small.Â
âWhat? Cannae hear you, bonnie,â the Scot smiled, moving his hand faster between your pussy lips.Â
âI think I heard something, did you?â Gaz joked, raising his eyebrows at Simon, smacking your ass cheek with the palm of his hand.Â
âSay it,â Simon growled.Â
His team was all smiles, but he was dead on. You locked eyes with him and said it again.
âPlease.â
âFuck,â Simonâs eyes rolled back in his head, the whites peeking through his long lashes, and he sank himself deep into your asshole in one punishing thrust.Â
He was as thick as your plug, but he was so much longer, and you had never felt so stretched out in your whole life. As he began to fuck you, he wrapped his hand around the dildo in your pussy, covered in come and lube, and he fucked you in time with his own prick, making it seem like he was in both places at once.Â
âYou ready for more?â Simon asked you breathlessly, checking in with you.Â
You nodded, fuck-drunk but just as submissive as ever. Whatever he asked for, you were ready to give it to him.Â
When he saw your shallow nods, he began to fuck you at an incredible pace. Your whole body was shuddering every time he slammed himself forward, and the strength of his thrusts was making you feel like his cock was even bigger than you thought, your poor asshole stretched past the point of comfort.Â
âSheâs takinâ it so good, Si,â Johnny sighed, watching your face go slack as his friend railed himself into you.
You werenât even moaning. You were barely breathing. Your mind only had one goal: making you come and come and come.Â
âSpread her legs,â Simon commanded his team.Â
You heard the schnick of a knifeâs blade being unsheathed, and then the ropes around your ankles were sliced away. Gaz and Johnny pulled your knees up to your chest, forcing you open for him like a book.Â
Johnny bent down over your pussy and spat onto your slit, smearing it with his fingers. Then, he slapped you gently a few times, increasing the pain each time his hand came down until you were literally screaming from it. But, it didnât hurt. It just made you come even harder. The pleasure was muting the pain to an incredible degree. You wanted him to give you more, but you were too far gone to ask.Â
The captain was kissing your mouth, using his hands to feed you come again, and you couldnât even kiss him back. Your body was frozen, your muscles tight and stuck in a loop of pleasure. You were coming in cyclical waves, unsure of where one started or ended, just suspended in blissful torment, sucking in breaths when your lungs allowed you to.Â
Then, Simonâs movements stuttered, and he slowed, sinking into you as deep as he could fit before pulling out in one swift movement and jerking his cock right in front of your swollen, punished pussy.
He slid the dildo out of you, leaving you feeling empty to the point of grief, and you watched as he hovered at your entrance, shooting his load into your already-filled cunt. Rope after rope of milky come seared its way into you, messy but accurate. Then, he replaced the dildo and sat back on his heels, out of breath.Â
His friends let your legs back down, and they all moved away from you, leaving little kisses on your body as they retreated.Â
Once they recovered, they had one more shot of sake together, and Johnny poured one into your mouth.Â
âThere ya go, bonnie. Job well done, aye? This birthday party willnae be topped anytime soon.â
You swallowed the shot, tasting just not the alcohol but the remnants of Gazâs come as well when it slid down your throat in tandem.Â
âDonât worry, pretty girl,â the captain said, âYou donât have to say your goodbyes yet.â
Simon peered down at you over his shoulder,
âRiverbend street, apartment six, right?â
Your eyes went wide. How did he know where you lived?Â
But, before you could ask him, they let themselves out, leaving you stunned, full of their come, and thrilled about what you would find when you finally made it home tonight.
#cali's kinktober#kinktober 2024#cod kinktober#call of duty kinktober#graviora manent#by the californicationist#captain john price#captain price x you#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x reader#johnny soap mactavish#soap x reader#simon ghost riley#ghost x reader#x female reader#x fem!reader#tf 141 x reader#tf141
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IMPERFECT FOR YOU (18+)
you, doing a friend a favor, have to tutor miya osamu. but instead of learning about chemistry, heâs more interested in learning about you.
WC: 5.8k (send an ambulance)
WARNINGS: explicit drug (marijuana) usage, dubcon (sex under the influence), mentions of female anatomy and female identifying reader, use of âbabyâ as petname, this is severely under-edited iâm so sorry
TAGS: frat/popular!osamu x nerdy/unpopular!reader, f!reader, porn with (some) plot, college au, post-timeskip, smut, hair-pulling, cunnilingus, petnames, reader has anxiety somebody pls give her a hug, if you get a magnifying glass osamu has a corruption kink
NOTE: i needed a palate cleanser so i can get back into writing so thus this was born. i intend to make this a mini-series (maybe?) or maybe just blurbs/headcanon series, who knows! let me know what you guys want <3
âAbsolutely not.â
âCâmon,â Your friend whines, folding her hands together in mock begging, giving you the best puppy eyes she could muster even throwing in a quivering lip for her dramatic performance. âHeâs a perfectly nice guy!â
âSo what youâre telling me, this guyââ You begin, dumping a sugar packet into your coffee.
âWho Iâm tutoring.â
âRight. The guy you tutor, who never comes to classââ
You stir your coffee. She nervously chuckles.
âWho is on the verge of failingââ
You stab your straw into the cup. She lets out a tense âmhmâ.
âAnd needs to pass this final to avoid being on academic probationââ
You raise the straw to your mouth. She nervously fiddles with her fingers.
â... Needs to be tutored by me instead?â
You take a sip of your coffee as your friend shrinks into the booth seat.Â
âWell, you didnât have to put it like that,â she grumbles through a slurp of her drink.
You should have known that when your best friend offered to take you out to your favorite cafe, on her, she was up to something. And you knew that when she bought you your favorite muffin, she was going to be asking you something ridiculous. The last time you were offered a free muffin, you ended up having to pretend to her parents that you were dying in the emergency room so that she could sneak out to her hookupâs place.Â
The plan almost worked until they came to visit you out of concern, only to find you both not there. She was grounded for another two months.
You turn to her.
âAnd why canât you do it?â Your friend was supposed to be the one tutoring him, so you were confused about why it suddenly had to be you instead.
âBecause,â She grumbles as if it were obvious. âIâm already busy trying to pass my own exams, that stupid research paper for Professor Takeda is driving me crazy, babysitting my piece of shit brotherââ
Translation: Iâm in over my head.
âBesides, everyone knows youâre a genius and youâll pass no matter what, so why not take on a charity case in your free time, huh?âÂ
She grins at you, not bothering to hide her obvious attempt at fluffing your ego to convince you.
âDoes this guy even have a shot at passing?â You sigh, taking a sip of your latte. âI mean, if he doesnât bother to come to class, how much effort do you think heâs gonna putââ
âHeâs a smart guy, trust me! Itâs just⌠yâknow how college is.â
Right, heâs a college guy. He was probably knee-deep in parties instead of his textbooks.
âWhyâs it on you to let this guy pass? I mean, itâs not your problemââ
âWell, his brother sorta said if Iâd help him, Iâd be invited to all the frat parties on campus this semesterâŚâ There it is.
She trails off but still stares at you with pleading eyes, and you notice her sliding her muffin towards you.
âYouâre not gonna let up on this, are you?â You ask as you inspect the blueberry-crusted pastry now on your plate.Â
âNope,â she replies, popping the âpâ and grinning with her coffee straw dangling in her mouth. âDoes it help that heâs super cute?â
You sigh again and pinch your nose bridge. She takes your lack of response as a victory.
âGreat! I already told him that youâd come by tonight. Iâll send you his address and phone numberââ
âYou told him I was coming before you even knew Iâd agree?!â
âWell, what else were you gonna do tonight? And donât tell me youâre gonna watch that shitty soap opera again.â
Again, you donât have an answer. Maybe because sheâs already said it for you. But itâs not shitty! Itâs romantic, moving, thrillingâ okay, yeah, youâre starting to hear yourself. Maybe you shouldnât stay in tonight.
âFine, where does he live?â
âYou have to be fucking kidding me.â
At no point did your friend mention to you that the address she was sending you to would be a frat house.
You thought it was odd that the address was in the dead center of campusâ but you figured that whoever you were tutoring happened to get an apartment with a great location. It shouldâve been obvious to you that this area would be Greek life housing when you realize all the houses on the block were way too nice to be afforded by a typical college student. You have never stepped foot on this end of campus. Well, you hadnât, until now.
You shouldâve stayed home, nose-deep in the romance novel weighing down in your bag. But now, youâre standing on the front porch of one of the most popular fratâs on campus.
âIâm gonna kill you,â you sneer into the phone pressed to your ear.
âQuit your yapping! Itâs not like thereâs a party going on or something.â You could practically see your friend rolling her eyes through the phone.
You anxiously dart your eyes throughout the house exterior. Itâs massive, obviously well-funded based on how nearly every window seems to be polished, and definitely better than the shitty dorm you lived in a few blocks away. You couldnât help but dread imagining how many frat brothers lived inside.
âIâm gonna leaveââ
âHey brat, put that down!â She screeches to presumably her younger brother on the other end of the line. âUgh, gotta go. Have fun!â
âWait!--â
She already ends the call before you can say anything else, and you fume at her contact information staring back at you. Seriously, if somebody axe-murdered you here, youâd make sure to haunt your friend for the rest of her life.
You weigh your decisionsâ a part of you wants to bolt back to your dorm, imagining the comfortable blanket and pillow resting on your bed practically awaiting your return, or you could not chicken out and actually fulfill the promise you made to your friend.
Damnit, you knew you had to pick the latter. Youâd feel really shitty if you didnât.
Besides, youâd never hear the end of it if you ran out with your tail between your legs.
You ready yourself to knock on the door, admittedly through a few deep breaths first, and as your fist is about to meet the wood of the door, it swings open from the inside. Had you been a second quicker, you probably would have tapped your tutee in the face.
Except, now that youâre looking at him, heâs quite tall. It would be more at his chest than anything. His broad chest was covered in a tight black shirt, with strong shoulders⌠In fact, you couldnât even see his face if you were simply staring forward.Â
âYa the tutor?â He states simply, breaking your train of thought.
You look at him to notice that thereâs a face attached to the chest you were staring at. You look up, and dammit, your friend was right. He was super cute.
His hair is dark, with heavy gray eyesâ bored and lazily staring at you, dumbfounded on his doorstep Thereâs a series of tattoos snaking beneath his shirt and piercings you couldnât even begin to countâ you nearly forget that you have to respond.
âUhmâ yeah, thatâs me,â you reply, trying to regain your mental footing. âYouâre Osamu, right?âÂ
âMhm, come on in,â he says, sticking his hands into loose gray sweatpantsâŚ. You should really stop staring. Or at least pretend you have a semblance of class.
You step inside and slip off your shoes as you briefly inspect your surroundings. The frat house is above all else, what you expected. Minus for the fact it actually seemed clean despite the typical frat stereotypes you heardâ though, youâre sure their cushy funding got them cleaning services. Thereâs no way a bunch of college guys living together could keep a big house like this clean without some help.
However, that makes you take note that there is a lack of frat brothers in the frat house.
âAre ya just gonna stand there and stare or come inside?â Osamu remarks and your spine grows twice as stiff. You nod quickly and follow him inside and he leads you to what seems like a living room areaâ some couches and chairs around a TV and coffee table.
Osamu gestures for you to sit and you cautiously sit down, as if the couch had a trap door, leading you to fall into whatever scary basement sat beneath the house.
âWhereâsââ You clear your throat, hoping you can keep a firm voice. â-- the rest of your brothers?â
âAll of âem left on a trip for the weekend, somethinâ âbout a party at another school, but I gotta stay back and study for this damn final.â
You quickly pull out the textbooks and notebooks from your bag and place them on the table to ignore Osamu, who takes a seat beside you. He makes you unbearably nervous like youâre about to drop on a rollercoaster. But Osamu is⌠Heâs⌠stoic? No, thatâs not right. Maybe calm was the right word. You wouldnât knowâ youâre anything but calm right now.
No, because, quite frankly Osamu looks like he was plucked straight out of one of the daydream sequences you fall asleep to. And you feel like your heart is about to burst out of your chest from how fast it was racing.
âSo, you need help with medicinal chemistry?â You notice your voice is an octave higher than what it usually is.
âYeah, I missed too many classes and now I donât have a fucking clue whatâs going on,â he sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Whatever you do, do not look at the way his arms are flexing or the distinctive veins charting throughout his forearms.
âWe can startââ you flipped through your textbook to avoid staring at his arms any longer, âwith the chapter on structure-based relationshipsââ
âYer not who I thought Yuki would send.â
âIâm sorry?â You sputter back, and you think that your glasses pivot off your face. You were taken aback, did he think you were somebody else? Was he expecting someone else or?--
âSheâs one of my brotherâs friends. And my brother⌠Well, I donât think ya would hang out with the likes of him.â
Oh, thatâs what it was.
He was disappointed that you werenât⌠someone more interesting, like your friend, or the people he knew in his frat, orâŚ
It doesnât matter. You shouldâve expected this. After all, youâre just the tutor he has to tolerate for a few lessons until he passes his final.Â
But still, you feel some sort of rejection. You couldnât blame him, his Friday night was being wasted on some nerd who couldnât even look him properly in the eye because she wasnât used to being near cute guys, let alone one of the most attractive guys she had seen in, well, ever.
âDonât look like that, I think thatâs a good thing.â
âI look like what?â Your hand flies to your face, instinctively going to hide it.
âLike I kicked yer puppy,â he muses.Â
You look back at him, and you see that heâs almost amused by your nerves. Your cheeks burn and you feel the need to wrap the cardigan you had on tighter around you, as if the wooly cotton would act as some sort of shield. But Osamuâs still right beside you, and you feel as if heâs intercepting some sort of barrier between you. But he sits still next to you.
âI like it, ya seem chill, and better than the damn morons Iâm always âround. Yer a nice change of pace.â
A nice change of pace? You didnât think that anyone would find your company⌠enjoyable.
âPlease,â you laugh. The idea of you being chill momentarily makes you forget about your nerves. If only Osamu knew half the thoughts racing through your mind. âIâm a goody-two-shoes, and definitely not chill.â
âWhat, ya a good girl or somethinâ?âÂ
You falter. You glance back at him and notice that his eyes still havenât left you.
âWhat?â You say, but it comes out more like a squeak. Youâre not dumb, you could hear the indication ever so slightly tinged in his voice.
âYa just interest me, I guess. Wanna know âbout ya.â You hear slight amusement in his tone.Â
âSo tell me, what makes you a goody two shoes?â
âI, uhmââ You barely are processing an answer with the way his dark-rimmed eyes bore at you. âWell, I havenât ever smokedââ
âWeed orâ?â
You shake your head. âNeither.â
âYa drink?â
âSometimes. Not often. I donât go to parties or anything like that, and drinking alone is kinda depressing soââ
He snorts. You arenât sure why you were answering his sudden questions, you were just here to tutor him in chemical structures. But something about his presence beside you is commanding and you feel the need to comply.
âMaybe we can change that sometime.â
You barely compute what he just said before he turns to the textbook in front of you.
âSo whatâs this âbout structure activity?â
Osamuâs smarter than what you expect for a student possibly facing academic probation. Honestly, you question if he had ever needed you in the first place. Heâs quick to pick up on the topics you lay out, and he probably could have self-taught himself most of the material if he applied himself.Â
Or showed up to class, but you keep that thought to yourself.
âThatâs pretty much all of chapter five,â you say, closing the textbook in front of you.
âI honestly think if you just kept studying on your own, you donât need me to tutor you, I can send you some videos too if youâd like, but I think that youâre fineââ
âNah, Iâd prefer if ya came over.â
He says it simply in a lazy drawl. But for you, it sends your brain into overdrive. You feel like a computer whose code has an error but keeps trying to run its system.Â
âOhâ Alrightâ I can come around sometime next week then.â You barely maintain to keep your composure. You just needed to be on auto-pilot until you got home, where you could properly freak out in the sanctity of your own room.
âYa okay with late nights? Stupid frat schedule keeps me busier than Iâd like to be.â He asks.
You nod your head. âMhm, Iâm fine being over late.â
âThat too much for ya?â And thereâs a lazy smile across his lips. âYa got a bedtime or something?â
You give him another small laugh. âNo, I usually stay up late anyway.â
âYa stay up late? Doinâ what?âÂ
There it is again. That sliver of amusement in his tone, as if he knows something that you donât. But he keeps his calm demeanor, the one that makes you question if youâre just reading too much into things.
âReading, watching shows, yâknow, the normal stuff.â
Reading the stack of romance novels piled in your dorm until you see the sun peak through your blinds, watching soap operas until the screen asks âAre you still watching?â because they assumed you left it open when in reality youâve watched about five hours worth of television, dreaming, and wondering if someday you could attain even a fraction of the romance you see in fiction.
Yeah, the normal stuff.
At least for you, anyway. But hell would freeze over before you admit that.Â
Especially to Osamu, who you couldnât help but feel a twinge of a flutter in your chest for.
âThatâs all ya got planned for Friday night?â He hums, fingers absentmindedly twirling a pencil in his free hand.
âYup,â you reply, softly. Great, now he probably thinks youâre a loser just like everyone else. You should have just told him you were going to head to a party, like any other normal college student your age.
âYa wanna do somethinâ with me, then? Iâm bored as hell being in this house all alone.â
For a moment, you think that you hear him wrong. Certainly, a guy, as hot, as intimidating, andâ and so many things youâre not, and certainly couldnât match to, was offering to hang out with you. No way, this doesnât happen. Not to girls like you.
âYou wanna hang out with me? Like right now?â
âWould ya prefer a different time, then?â His tone though, doesnât suggest that he wants to reschedule. Itâs painfully sardonic. It seems like it would be now, or not at all.
âN-no. IâdâŚâ
For once, you have a chance to not have a nose in a book. To not spend your weekend alone wondering if that was going to be the rest of your college life. You have the chance to do something for yourself.Â
And something as simple as hanging out with a cute guy on a Friday night could be the start of that.
You sit up straighter and hold your head up. Something is tickling in your chest as you look back at Osamu, finally meeting back those eyes that couldnât seem to stop studying you.
âYeah, Iâd like to.â
Something is screaming inside you. This is unfamiliar territory. This is foreign. Leave now. Abort mission. But you shove it down, you werenât stopping while you were already ahead. New is good, you told yourself. But you still feel the urge to bolt out the door to cower under your covers.
You had put all your school supplies back into your bag and nestled yourself into the corner of the couch, making yourself as small as can be. Osamu said you two could âwatch a movie and chillâ. You could do something as simple as a movie, right?Â
âYa comfy?â He asks.
âYeah, thank you,â you say quietly, as if speaking up would take up more space in the room.
âI can tell that yer nervous,â he comments. It was that obvious, huh?
âYeah, I donâtâŚâ you pause to collect yourself, âusually do this.â
âHang out with guys only after a few hours of meeting âem?â He laughs, relaxing himself on the couch.
âHang out with guys,â you mutter under your breath.
âWhatâd ya say?â He says, looking over at you questioningly. It seems he heard you.
âI donât hang out with guys, at all,â you replied, tone clearer now, âmuch less cute onesââ
Shit, shit, shit. You didnât mean to say the last part.
âYa think Iâm cute?â
You wondered if you sank deeper into the couch, thatâd youâd disappear completely.
âI mean, yeahâ youâre attractive, of course.â He has to know that, right? A guy like him definitely knows heâs attractive. âAnd usually⌠guys like you donât hang out with⌠people like me, thatâs all.â
Youâre not sure where the sudden gust of courage comes from, considering you were so anxious moments agoâ but the question spills out from your mouth before you can think twice about it.
âWhyâd you want me to hang out with you?â You ask suddenly, turning to him.
âMaybe âcause I think yer cute,â he states simply as if it were an easy answer, leaning back and looking back at the TV.
You havenât been paying attention to whatever movie Osamu turned onâ What was this? Some slasher flick?-- Something with a girl shrieking at the top of her lungs while obviously fake blood pours out of her. Itâs ridiculous and you would laugh if there wasnât a weight weighing on your mindâ the weight is also sitting right next to you.
No, you canât notice the terrible special effects when you know Osmau is beside youâ warm and taking up the majority of the space on the already small couch youâre both sitting on.
You canât help but have your brain go into overdrive over what Osamu said. Did he just call you cute and then drop the topic? What were you supposed to do? Just watch the movie and just not address it? Is this what guys did? Is that how you flirt?-- you have a lack of answers. Mostly due to a lack of experience.
You spend the first thirty minutes of the movie wondering if you were just imagining Osamu slowly inching towards your half of the couch. By the time the first half of the movie is through and the killer is on his third victim, you decide youâre right when you realize that Osamuâs thigh is ghosting yours.
Now you really canât deny it.Â
A part of you thinks Osamu wants to be closer to you.Â
But also, he could just be doing it subconsciously.
Itâs probably the latter, but maybeâŚ
âI can hear yer heartbeat from here,â Osamu practically chuckles from beside you.
âWhat?â
You try not to stammer it. You fail, anyway.
âI can tell that yer nervous, relax. I donât bite.â
No, youâre certain that Osamu doesnât bite. But you know that heâs close to you. Which could be worse. In fact, that is worse.
Itâs worse because your senses are going haywire from how close he is.
You can tell he smells good. He smells better than whatever cologne sample youâve ever smelled in a store or magazine. He smells likeâ whatâs the term? Musky? Woody? You arenât sure, you just know itâs slowly becoming your favorite scent.
You can feel his body heat, warm and consuming. You can hear his breathsâ low and steady. You focus on all these other things to ignore the fact heâs boring his dark eyes straight into you.
âI got something for ya,â Osamu suddenly remarks. âStay right there.â
You barely process what he says before he removes himself from the couch, and heads out of the living room.
Your brain isnât able to overanalyze like it usually does because Osamu is back in about a minute. Your defenses are still up. What could he possibly have for you? Your mind is sprawling with questions as Osamu plops himself right back beside you.
âCâmere, this should help yer nerves,â Osamu hums, as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him.
You donât ignore the way you feel his hands skimming over the sliver of exposed skin between your sweater and jeans, like hot coals brushing against you.
 âYa never smoked before, right?â
âNo, Iâve neverâŚâ You realize that what he was holding in between his fingers was a freshly rolled blunt.
âWould ya like to try?â
You couldnât lie, youâve always been curious to try, especially since your friends were always talking about how âamazingâ it made them feel and how it would do wonders for your nerves.Â
You look at the blunt between his fingers cautiously and peek back at him.
âItâll be okay, I got ya, nothing to worry yer pretty little head about.âÂ
Pretty. Did he call you pretty? He has you?-- Fuck it, you needed something to put out the fires of your nerves.
âOkay, letâs do it,â you nod meekly.
âAttagirl,â Osamu grinned lazily. You donât even bother to think about that comment, either. If you did, youâd be dead in a minute.
You watch as Osamu digs around the coffee table for a lighter, which is conveniently laid out on the table, as if ready for this moment. You watch as he flicks a flame to the blunt. He languidly takes a hit, and the smoke that hits the air is pungent. Youâre glad thereâs a window cracked open so the smell doesnât collect in the room.Â
You should be studying his motions to mimic them for when it's your turn, but instead, you drink in the fact that he looks oh so fucking attractive.Â
He leans back on the couch, and you watch the way he tips his head back to blow out the smoke into the air above. You study the way veins flow through his neck and the way his Adamâs apple bobs as he exhales. You feelâ fuzzy, warm. Are you high already? Thereâs a heat creeping from your chest, and you think you feel dizzy.
Yeah, youâre high. Totally. That has to be it.
When Osamu takes a look back at you, you avert your stare to your lapâ reminding yourself that youâre acting odd. Cool girls donât gawk at a guy smoking a blunt, they wouldâ Well, you have no idea what they would do actually because youâre not cool.
And thatâs obvious from the way you look at the blunt in Osamuâs hand like heâs handing you an unpinned grenade.
Osamu clocks in on the terror painted on your face. Itâs so obvious somebody ten miles away could probably sense the nerves emitting from your body. Youâre hoping you arenât giving the deer-in-headlights look you usually have.
But you definitely are.
Osamuâs face softens at you.
âDo ya still wanna try? Ya donât have to if ya donât wannaââ
âNono! I wanna try it.â you nearly jump at Osamuâs words. Youâre a lot of thingsâ nervous, nerdy, probably weird if you asked the guy who sat next to you in chemistry, but maybe thatâs because heâs seen you write in three separate color-coded planners before.Â
âAlright,â Osamu chuckles as he watches you take the packed roll from him.
But youâre not a quitter.
Thereâs a sudden adrenaline rush for you, almost like youâre taking a shot of tequila. You pinch the blunt and raise it to your lips before taking a hitâ your very first.
You make sure not to inhale much. Youâre already on the verge of coughing from the taste alone. You pull it away, letting out a meek cough, as smoke expels from your mouth. It tastes shitty and gross, like you expected. But you feel good?Â
âNot bad,â Osamu muses, and you realize he was watching you the entire time.
Osamu looks at you. Heâs been looking at you a lot tonight, you realize.
But that doesnât mean anything.
âI have no idea how you donât cough,â you say, as you pass the blunt back to him.Â
âTaste bad?â He grins lazily. His arm is still around your waist. It feels good, too.
âHorrible.â It doesnât stop you from inhaling more of the sour smoke.
âLook at ya,â Osamu chuckles. âLike it, donât ya?â
Youâre making Osamu smile, laugh even. And it makes your head spin even faster. Itâs so good.
Good, good, good.Â
Everything feels so fucking good.
Osamu makes you feel good.
âWhat are ya mumbling about?â Osamu asks plucking the blunt from your fingertips, and you snap out of it. Well, almost, the feeling is still pooling in your chest, headâ everywhere.
âI justâ I feelââ
âFeel what?â
You start giggling. Doesnât Osamu feel it too?
But maybe he does because heâs smiling at you. Itâs not the same giddy heart-melting feely smile you have plastered on, itâs more relaxed. But you almost could see⌠a bit of amusement.
âFigures ya would be a lightweight for yer first timeâ probably shouldnât have given ya the strong shit, butâs all I had.â
âI wanna do it again,â you sleepily smile waiting for Osamu to pass you the blunt.Â
But he doesnât. Instead, Osamu pauses to look at you again. This time he seems⌠inquisitive. He looks at the roll between his fingers, and you can tell that heâs calculating something in his headâ then he looks at you.
âYa wanna try something?â
His voice is low and thereâs that tone of interest again.Â
âTry what?â
âItâs a⌠different way to take a hit.â
It doesnât take much to convince you and you nod at him. You just wanted more. More of the good feeling, more of Osamu.
You expect him to pass you the blunt, maybe with some sort of instructions, but instead, he takes another hit. Youâre about to ask whatever question you had before Osamu reaches for your chin and takes it firmly.
Despite your brain being foggy, your brain is working overtime. Osamu is touching youâ staring at you. And now his face is ghosting yours. Youâre close enough to notice the slightest freckle ghosting his left cheek. Were you always this warm? No, youâre burning. Thereâs a fire sweeping in your chest, your head, your faceâ everywhere. Youâre so warmâ Osamuâs so warm.
And thereâs a moment where you zero in. Osamu isnât exhaling.
You realize what he wants to do.
The smoke inside his mouth isnât for himâ it's for you.
Your lip doesnât even quiver in the way it usually does whenever you blurt out something nervously. Instead, your lips part invitingly, and you barely even register Osamu has closed the distance until his lips are brushing against yours and thereâs a wisp of smoke pooling from his mouth to yours.
Osamu still had one hand steadied on your chin and the other was caging you into the couch corner. The further the smoke spills into your mouth, the more you sink into the couch. You barely even register thereâs no more smoke to inhale because your back hits the seat of the couch, and Osamuâs on top of you.
âThereâs a freckle on your left châ mmph!â
Osamuâs mashing his lips into yours in an instant. You didnât even think there could be any more room for Osamu to close inâ he was already so close to youâ but you were wrong.Â
The kissingâ itâs sloppy, depraved, even. Your glasses press against your face painfully from how quickly Osamu pounced on you, so you pull them off your face, not even caring where you throw them. You both feverishly want more, more, more. Osamuâs grabbing at your hips, his hands big and pawing at you. Your own hands are mapping the outline of his shoulders through his shirt. Osamuâs large body dwarfs your own, his weight resting on you. Your hands feverishly grabbed at him as your lips chased after the feeling youâve been relishingâ the good feelingâ the feeling is pouring straight into your lips like rushing water and youâre drinking it in. It marries itself with the dizzy euphoric feeling clouding in your mind. So, so good.
Heâs everywhereâ you feel him everywhere. Your head is spinning. Osamuâs lipsâ coated in saliva mixing with your chapstick, pull you in even further. You donât even know how youâre breathing, you havenât gone for air in what feels like years.
But Osamu, selfishly, wants more. And so do you. So you donât protest when you feel him rut his hips directly into yoursâ the throbbing bulge in his pants hitting that sweet spot you werenât even aware was wanting for more. You moan feverishly against Osamuâs lips, the sound barely spilling out against him.
Osamu pulls himself off your lips, burying his face into the crook of your neck so you can feel every rugged heavy breath against your skin.
âFuck, baby.â Heâs panting, his hips grinding deeper into yours. The sweatpants heâs wearing, the jeans you have on, itâs too many layers. Youâre unashamedly pawing at Osamuâs pants, begging for him to take them off so you can feel more.
ââSamu, please,â you whine. You donât even think of the nervous, shy, girl who walked into the apartment a few hours ago. She had been replaced with someone more desperate, unashamed in being so greedy for more.
Osamu doesnât need to ask what youâre asking for, before shrugging off his pants and kicking them off somewhere on the floor. And in a moment, heâs unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off you like itâs burning you. Osamuâs already dark eyesâ grow even darker at the sight of the wet spot growing on your panties and your sweater riding up your stomach.
âPlease, please,â you cry with moans of his name in the absence of movement.
âTell me what ya want,â Osamu pants.
âWanna feel good.â
âFuck,â he groans, before lowering his face to meet your stomach. He trails wet, firm kisses along your stomach, trailing down until his face is centered with your dripping cuntâ clearly begging for more the way it clenches when you feel his hot breath ghosting the outside of your panties.
You absentmindedly grab at his hair, pushing him further to your aching cunt, encouraging him to continueâ practically pleading the way you attempt to grind your pussy into him.
Osamu yanks off whatever panties you had on, and you swear you hear fabric ripping. But you couldnât care less when you feel Osamuâs tongue languidly lick a stripe against your slit before beginning to circle your clit.
Your back arches off the couch and your wanton moans fill the empty air. You hope that Osamuâs didnât have thin walls. But when Osamu suddenly slips a finger into yourâ itâs suddenly the least of your worries.Â
The combination of Osamuâs tongue suckling at your clit and his now two fingers pumping in and out of you sends you into ecstasy. Every nerve in your body was vibrating as your head clouded between the weed running through your system and Osamu buried in his pussy eating you out like his life depended on it. Fuck what you smoked, Osamu was the real drug.
Thereâs a moment where your nerves pinch togetherâ and everything in your chest collects, all those funny feelings turning hot and heavy in your lower stomach, before you cum. And you cum, hard.
You grab Osamuâs hair at the roots with a moanâ no, scream, almost reflective of the horror movie actress you were making fun of earlier, as you coated Osamuâs face with slick. You donât even realize how much it was until Osamu raises his head and his mouth reflects glossily.
Youâre swimming in the hazy cloud of pleasure for a while, until your breathing steadies and youâre settling into the couch with heavy pants.
âNot bad for yer first time, right?â Osamu chuckles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
âWhat?â H-how did he knowâ
âYer first time smoking?â Osamu smirks as he pulls himself up so he can sit on the couch.
âOh, y-yeah,â you mumble, pulling your sweater down so you can cover your lower half.
You avert your gaze from Osamu, embarrassed by the lack of clothes you had on. You felt a tinge more sober nowâ enough to realize that it was way past the time you thought youâd stay. The movie credits werenât even playing anymoreâ the TV had just gone into sleep mode. Osamu notices this too when he takes a glance out the window.
You think about what he said. Your first time was good. And maybe⌠Maybe you should try having more firsts.
âItâs late, ya shouldnât be walkinâ home at this hourââ So thatâs whyâŚ
âYa wanna just crash here?â
You let Osamu take another first.
âYeah, Iâd like that.â
LIKES, REBLOGS, COMMENTS, & TAGS ARE APPRECIATED + HELP ENCOURAGE YOUR LOCAL WRITER (ME)! âĄ
#guys iâm being so serious when i say writing this fic made me lose my sanity#miya osamu x reader#osamu x reader#miya osamu smut#osamu smut#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu smut#miya osamu x you#osamu x you#haikyuu x you#miya osamu imagine#osamu imagine#haikyuu fluff#worl: imperfect for you
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hewoo! sorry for bothering u, but I'm just really into sukuita and humm... maybe u could write something about how sukuna loves to have his little brat yuuji sitting on his lap? just if u want of course! god I love those two so muchđđ
Suku-nii's Best Boy
an. with my returning sukuita fever i present you this lil hybrid fic ;) hope you like it @wukxon
Tiger!Cub Yuji in his big brother Tiger!Hybrid Suku-nii âs lap, all sobby and snotty as he complains of his ongoing teething process.
-
The little Tiger!Cub Yuji had been found by his aniki on the kitchen floor, whines spilling out his tiny babbling mouth out of discomfort when Sukuna comes to check up on him.
Big brother Sukuna wasn't the type to hoist a little cub up on his hip and coo to lul him quite, instead just propping him up on his feet by his underarms so his little yuji stands in front of him instead. The action reduces the cub's sobbing into sniffling, as he peeps up at Suku-nii with big watery golden-brown eyes.
Sukuna bends his knees to come closer to his tiny brother's height, inspecting while pulling his cheek âHuh, what is it little snot?â
â...hurtsâ Yuji pouts, water brimming the brink of his doey eyes again when he projects baby arms towards his big brother, making grabby hands. âChuku-nii... uwpâ his pout too big for a more coherent sound.
NowâTiger!Hybrid Sukuna knows he's a tough man, but he would rather die than not scoop his little brother Yuji who pleads his comfort so purely, which he does a moment and a sigh later. Sukuna saunters to the couch, bothered Yuji clutched to his side.
âWhere does it hurt,â the little cub now seated in his lap, Sukuna wipes the tear streams off his little brother's fluffy-soft fat cheeks âtell me brat?â his tone softer than his words.
âAa!!â Yuji opens his tiny mouth, an acusatory finger pointed towards his small buccal cavity. The bigger feline hums, taking the smaller one's face in his palmsâthumbs pushing on the cheeks to pry open his mouth wider. Little pointy canines could be seen halfway out into joining the cub's set of teeth.
Sukuna frowns, gently pressing on one of the cub's canines causing Yuji to flinch away with an angry whine. The elder hums again in confirmation, cupping Yuji's sulky face and dragging it closer. He's teethingâSukuna concludes. The elder bounces his seated tiny body on his knees for distraction.
He brings a finger near the younger's mouth, pushing it slowly on the cub's lips for him to take. âWe will get some toys for your sore jaw, 'dori.â he grins watching his troubled little Yuji who depends on him so much.
Tiger!Cub Yuji nibbles on his Aniki's finger, leaving small tents of his canines and droll on the skin. His tiny palm forgetting to loosen the grip to his Suku-nii's shirt.
Sukuna might have a hunch or so for why his little brother has gotten more attached to him rather than their any other relative or friendâwho comprehensibly wanted Yuji's attention more than him,, but he never really understood.
Whatever the case... he has already grown affectionate to the stinkingly adorable and clingy brat in his lap for life is what he knows.
masterlist! sukuita hcs!
an. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH AAAAAđ hope y'all like it, thank you for reading, likes & rbs are appreciated <333
tags. @anubisisthebomb @dianagracesworld @stellagrangerreads12 @momochina-sama @xxkay15xx @ruins-posts @dianagracesworld @pupkashi
#sukuna x yuji#tiger hybrid sukuna#tiger hybrid yuji#sukuna headcanons#ryomen sukuna headcanons#ryomen sukuna#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#yuji headcanons#itadori headcanons#yuji itadori#itadori yuji#yuji x sukuna#yuji x reader#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#sukuita#fluff hcs#domestic fluff#sukuna fluff#yuji fluff#jjk headcanons#sukuna fanfic#tiger hybrid#sukuita fluff#big brother sukuna#baby yuuji#sukuna x yuuji#yuji x y/n
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tags: fluff, just fluff, kenma being a #streamer. i love streamer kenma it scratches that itch in me that craves a parasocial kind of love.
"Kenmaaaa" you drawled while opening the door, leaning heavily against the doorframe of your boyfriend's office room.
It took you five seconds to register where Kenma was sitting, which was in front of the computer unsurprisingly, and the camera that had a red light on. The second monitor to his left was showcasing Kenma on the screen while the third one had an onslaught of comments popping up.
oh shi--
You jumped back, mostly out of surprise.
"Yes, honey?" Kenma spoke, one side of his headphones off as he turned towards you. "The camera won't pick up on you, don't worry."
You crept back in, feeling nervous even though the camera wasn't even on you.
"Sorry, I didn't realise you were streaming."
"Nothing to apologise for. What's up? Need me for something?" He urged you forward and you padded your way inside, the only comfort being in proximity to your boyfriend.
"I-uh- didn't feel like cooking so I thought we could order something?" You were halfway through your sentence when Kenma picked up his phone. He was nodding along, opening an app in it.
"What are you feeling?" He murmured, completely ignoring the eruption of comments blasting on his screen. There was a lot of yelling. You tried not to look at it but it drew you in, most of it was gibberish and question marks. You could make out the words 'WHAT' and 'DATING???' a lot.
"I'm not sure? Feeling indecisive today." You probably had an idea but it had vanished a couple of minutes back.
"Want burgers? Pizza?" Kenma didn't even seem to care at that point, solely focused on his phone. He did take a hold of your hand though, running his thumb through your knuckles.
THAT caught on camera and the gibberish got louder and faster.
"Burgers sound good." You snapped back to him, letting his hand ground you.
"That burger place you like?"
"Yes please."
"Honey mustard one?"
"Yes."
"Mh-hmmm." Kenma dragged out the sound before placing in his own order.
"Wanna get ice cream? Been craving it." He worked quick to add it in, knowing what you wanted but still asking in case you changed your mind.
"I can pay for the---"
"Shut the fuck up." Kenma murmured with only an upward glance at you, a small smile on his face when you pouted.
You finally took a look at the main monitor, a pretty sunset with the main character looking off into the distance on the screen. "What game you playin?"
"It's a fantasy game. Pretty new, haven't even started yet. You'd like it, it's very pretty." Kenma turned the monitor a bit so you could see it, pressing play so some more of the graphics would come on screen. You let out a little gasp, taking it all in.
When you realised that there were a lot of people waiting, you blinked out of your revery and threw an apologetic look at Kenma.
"Sorry, you were busy and--"
"Never too busy for you." Kenma murmured again and scooted towards you till he was just out of frame, his lips puckering up while he craned his neck upwards, too lazy to stand up.
You laughed and gave him a peck on the lips, then the nose and then the forehead. He grinned widely, adjusting back into the same position he was in before.
"I'll talk to you later, okay?" You call out and walk back.
"Okay, baby."
You were about to close the door when you head a very disgruntled, 'shut the fuck up.' from Kenma. Curious about what he would say, you listened in from the hallway.
"Yeah I am dating someone. No, I'm not saying their name....we've been dating for a while now. I am not soft for them....okay chat keep the screenshots between us....what do you mean they're already on twitter??? Ya'll are annoying. No, Kuroo I'm not buying you food. Yeah, they are special, dumbass."
You grinned so wide your cheeks hurt, already scrolling through twitter to see if people actually posted anything...
.....Kenma's name was trending
And oh the thread of pictures after pictures, of his eyes turning into liquid, his smile, the hand holding yours that. It was enough in the frame for his thumb to be seen. The person that posted it was SCREAMING about how soft he is.
Then there was a screenshot of him tilting his head upwards and your hair was the only thing that showed up as you kissed him. There was a fire hazard in the comments. It made you chortle. You saved all of them to use as leverage. Seeing as Kuroo was retweeting some of them, he had them too.
A/N: second day in a row im posting kenma hehehehehehhehehehhe hyperfixation tyme
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for @steddie-week day 5 | exes to lovers
fully and completely inspired by @emchant3d's divorced dad's post [x] from a few weeks ago bc i did not once stop thinking abt it
tags: modern day, artist!eddie, finance guy!steve, steddie as rich gay divorcees, sort of an accidental parent trap situation
They were too young, Steve thinks in retrospect â married at twenty-three, their daughter born when they were twenty-five, and then divorced before his twenty-seventh birthday.
He gets to think retrospectively because in a few years itâll be a full decade since the papers for that last bit got signed. Now, Steve is thirty-four and sweating his ass off in a red polo and crisp jeans, the stiflingly hot July sun beating down on him as he scans the perimeter of a crowded playground for a familiar head of curly brown hair â not his nine-year-old. He found Rosalind already, wreaking havoc on the jungle gym. No, heâs looking for his ex (-husband, technically, but Steve usually stops at ex; the -husband part just makes him sad these days).
Itâs custody swap day, which is either his favorite or least favorite day of the week depending on who the swap is favoring.
Today itâs favoring him which is why heâs slowly making his way around the edge of a playground in Bushwick, keeping an eye out for his ex, Eddie.
âSteve,â he hears from somewhere behind him. Steve turns towards the sound and sees not that curly head of hair heâd expected. Eddieâs hair is completely buzzed (which, for the record, was not the case last week when Steve dropped Rozzy off with him) and heâs wearing a paint-splattered white t-shirt tucked into old jeans and all that combined is making it reeeally hard for Steve to pretend heâs not crushing hard on the guy he divorced eight years ago.
âDude,â Steve started, eyeing Eddieâs hair (or lack thereof) as he made his way to the section of fence that Eddie was occupying, âWhatââ
âYeah, yeah,â Eddie rolled his eyes, âRozzy already hit me with all the good zingers so youâre too late.â
âNo, I donât ââ Steve stopped, âItâsâŚnot a bad look, justâŚyou know. Why the change?â
Eddie looked away.
âLong story,â he replied as Steve remembered (yet again) that he doesnât get full access to Eddieâs world the way he used to.
Luckily for Steve, Rozzy runs up to them and spares him from having to figure out a response for that.
âWe should get pizza,â she says. Steveâs eyebrows fly up.
âWe should get pizza?â he repeats.
âPlease,â she adds, her eyes shining, âAt Dadâs? And we play Mario Kart? Dad said Iâm getting good at 200!â
âHe said that?â Steve asked, and he glances over Rosalind's head to see that Eddie is making a so-so gesture with his hand.
Heâs never been all that good at saying no to his daughter (or anyone), so it doesnât take much more convincing on Rozzyâs part for the three of them to head off in the direction of Eddieâs loft, with a pitstop planned for the pizza shop down the block.
They actually have a nice time.
Itâs true that Rozzy is getting better at 200cc â good might be a bit generous, but Steveâs fine with that (he doesnât know if his ego could handle getting crushed by a fourth-grader).
Just as theyâre finishing their second grand prix (the Star Cup, because Rozzy likes the dolphin race), one of the other kids in the building knocks on the door and invites Rozzy over for a sleepover, which Steve agrees to because he remembers the illicit kind of joy in a summertime Monday night sleepover.
Eddie doesn't show Steve the door after Rozzy's gone. Rather, he pulls a bottle of wine from the fridge â an expensive SĂŠmillon he says was given to him by a client.
âSo the art biz is still going well, I assume,â Steve comments as Eddie pulls two vintage wine glasses out of a cabinet and pours them each a healthy serving.
Conversation about work manages to sustain them through the first few glasses (Eddie actually remembered that itâs been just over a year since Steve left his dadâs Fortune 1000 for a CFO position at a marketing company that had just graduated from small to midsize status). They work through the second quarter of the bottle talking about Rozzy, and the third vanishes even quicker while Steve spills some of the latest Harrington family drama.
While Eddie is updating him on how Wayne is doing, Steve finds that he isnât really listening, distracted in the way he canât help but notice how Eddieâs paint-stained t-shirt is actually more like an undershirt, and a size too small for him, the torso and sleeves tight around lean muscle, and thereâs a thin silver chain around his neck and a scruff of facial hair around his jaw, and â
Steve doesnât immediately realize when Eddie stopped talking. When he does, when his eyes finally unstick themselves from the buzzcut and drop back down to Eddieâs, he sees that Eddie is staring at him too.
Eddieâs tongue darts out to wet his lip.
âAsk me again why I buzzed my hair,â he tells him.
âWhyâd you buzz your hair,â Steve asks, because heâs obedient like that (and because he really does want to know).
âSteveââ Eddie stops, a giggly, wine-induced hiccup of a laugh slipping out before he shakes his head, âAn entire can of paint tipped ovââ He cuts himself off with another half-hysterical laugh, barely managing to say, âSpilled on my head,â before he was completely doubled over, and Steve is laughing too because he can totally picture it and because he had a bit more wine than he planned to and this is honestly the first time that he and Eddie have hung out without their daughter inâŚSteve doesnât even know how long.
âSteve,â Eddie says again when they finally both recover, and his tone is completely different this time around and thereâs a vulnerability in his eyes that wasnât there before and something is happening, something is happening, âPlease donât kill me for saying this, butâŚfuck, itâs really kinda pathetic how badly I still want it to be you and me.â
Steve thinks he tries to respond, but then he was too busy kissing Eddie to do anything else, too busy scraping fingernails over Eddieâs scalp, too busy choking back a moan as Eddie sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, too busy tugging Eddieâs shirt out of his waistband to shove a hand up underneath and finding that heâs built more solidly than Steve remembers from the last time they touched like this, but something is telling him thatâs true about Eddie â true about himself too â in more ways than one.
And if Rosalind comes home the next morning ready to ask how sheâs getting back to Daddyâs house only to find that heâs already there, stealing Dadâs mug out of his hand for a sip of coffee when his own is right thereâŚthatâs a conversation for another day.
part 2
#i have SO MANY Feelings about this#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie week 2024#literally incapable of writing them as anything other than girl-dads srry
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guard dog || lucy bronze x reader ||
lucy cheers you up when the internet has it out for you.
"i think i'm gonna go lighter with my hair."
you had no idea the trouble those words were going to cause you. lucy had tried hard to keep you out of the spotlight, but it wasn't as easy as when you first started dating. you'd been with lucy since college, and over the years, fans had taken notice of you frequenting lucy's games. it wasn't until the euros, however, that lucy had finally confirmed your relationship.
it wasn't good for you to be on any social media when it felt like every other post was about you. you had dealt with a bit from fans before, but this was worse than you could have ever imagined. it was one thing to be accused of cheating by strangers, but it was the constant affirmations of things that you already thought about your relationship and yourself that got to you.
lucy was amazing, and you had never felt like you were right for her. she was always too smart or too ind for you. she was out of your league attractive. lucy bronze was too good for you, and it felt like millions of people agreed with that.
"hey, are you okay?" lucy's brows furrowed as she watched you lean forward. you were starting to hyperventilate as the world felt like it closed in on you. lucy rushed over to kneel beside you and tilt your head to look at her. "hey, what's going on?"
"i didn't cheat on you, i swear." it was something lucy already knew. you knew that she was well aware that you would never even think to do something like that, but it was all you could say. you needed to reassure her in case she saw the pictures and didn't recognize herself.
"i know that, i never said you did." lucy would have laughed if you weren't obviously so upset. "talk to me, what's going on?"
"the pictures after you got your hair done, when we met for lunch. i took your car, and they don't know what the other looked like. your hair was different, they think i'm cheating. they know that i don't deserve you," you rambled. lucy pulled you into her arms and held you against her chest. she ran her hands through your hair as she pressed gentle kisses to your temple.
"hey, it's okay. i will get this sorted out, i promise. can you go downstairs and pick out a takeout menu for us? i know that you were gonna cook, but not if you're upset. i want you to just relax for the night," lucy said. she gave you a squeeze before she let you go downstairs.
it wasn't easy, but you managed to take your mind off of everything after lucy hijacked your phone. lucy ordered your favorite takeout, even if she knew a few places that served the same thing that she liked better. you were truly pampered in a way that you hadn't been in a while. lucy was a busy woman at barcelona, not that she had ever been anything else. this was just different, and things often took up a lot more of her time than either of you expected.
"am i done with phone jail?" you asked lucy as the two of you laid out on the couch the next afternoon. lucy had helped you with breakfast in the morning, although you didn't let her lay a finger on your coffee. the two of you had spent most of the day catching up on the american sports that you had been missing out on.
"i don't know. do you promise not to make fun of me if you see anything too sappy?" lucy asked you. she looked a bit ashamed of herself, as if she had done something hastily last night. you knew that lucy could be fiercely protective over you. she had nearly beaten up one of her teammates when the two of you moved here and the girl had gotten too friendly with you for lucy's taste.
"that depends on what you did. lucy please tell me that you didn't say anything to get yourself in trouble." you stared at lucy, who just handed you back your phone. she tried to shift away from you, but you threw your weight down more securely on top of her. you opened up instagram to see that lucy had tagged you in a post. "aw baby."
you swiped through the pictures, each one from a different milestone in your relationship. they weren't necessarily your favorite pictures, but you knew that they were lucy's. there wasn't a single one where one of you didn't have a lovestruck look on your faces. most of them were lucy staring at you, but you definitely took note of the few thrown in where you looking at her like she was your everything.
"shut up," lucy grumbled. you looked at her with fresh tears in your eyes, and lucy just sighed to herself. "fuck, this wasn't supposed to make you cry."
"i love you so much," you said as you cupped her cheeks. lucy let you kiss her, but she tried to hide her face immediately once you were done. "you're so sweet. thank you for this."
"just stay off of twitter for a while," lucy told you. you nodded your head, but as soon as you went into one of your text chains with the few of her teammates you had befriended over the years, you saw what she wanted to hide from you. lucy was a woman of few words most of the time, but when she had something to say, she made sure to get her point across. you thought she was being a bit harsh, but lucy's message was sure to shut everybody up about getting at you.
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Hi bwaby ~ Iâm new to your page and I love your yandere posts ^^ Iâm reading the ones youâve written for Kurapika. I saw your requests were open.
How do you think hxh yanderes would respond to their captive s/o having a panic/anxiety attacks when their captor tries to get intimate? How would they go about that?
đ¤ ur work đ¤đ¤đ¤ thnx
Yandere!HXH respond to you panicking during intimacy
!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!
warnings: dubcon, panic attack, bad aftercare, forced cuddling, slight manipulation/coercion with Chrollo(it backfires), vomit in Chrolloâs, Feitan is emotionally distant, Kurapika is unstable
A/N: just a little note that none of my yanderes will ever rape the reader. I just include dubious consent because being captive blurs the lines of consent. Can you really consent when youâre captive? I donât know, so I include it just in case, even though in my eyes reader is always consenting during these acts. Iâm not comfortable with writing out rape, so this situation is the farthest I go.
characters included: Kurapika, Leorio, Chrollo, Feitan, Illumi
Yandere NSFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @aliceattheart @pannacottababy
âźď¸If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!âźď¸
Kurapika
First of all, Kurapika is VERY hesitant to initiate any intimacy after he takes you away. He wants you to get used to your captivity before he starts anything.
Kurapika is also the only yandere on this list that wonât be overly pushy in terms of physical contact most if the time, and honestly heâs okay if you never love him again⌠even if he really wants you to love him and give him lots of affection. He knows he did something unforgivable by taking you away from your life, and heâs willing to be hated by you if it means youâll be safe.
Now, when you do eventually initiate some kind of intimacy he is over the moon. He would do anything for you, desperate to please you and make the experience as good as possible. Kurapika wants your love, your physical touch, and he wants it willingly.
So when he initiates, kissing along your neck with his hand gently rubbing your clothed cunt, he stops immediately when you start to panic. âMy angel? Are you okay?â
Heâs quick to pull away and give you space. His hands shake and he feels guilt and panic rise in his own chest. Did he just ruin all of the progress the two of you had?
But you calm down after a little, and lean against him. âI⌠Iâm sorry, I just⌠I got really anxious.â
Heâs quick to wrap his arms around you, tentatively smoothing out your hair. âDonât apologize⌠shh, just relax. We donât have to do anything.â
Kurapika spends the rest of the night just a bit unstable, terrified that heâll do something to upset you. He just loves you so much and he doesnât want to lose your love and affection when he just got it back. The next day he makes sure to pamper you more than usual, and heâs almost a bit clingy⌠as if heâs scared heâll lose you.
Leorio
Heâs pretty handsy, though most of his touches are just affectionate in nature. When you cuddle, he has his hand in your ass or thigh, kneading at the soft flesh.
Leorio likes to have you in his lap as often as possible, where he can move you as he pleases as cover you in kisses as he holds you as close as possible.
Heâs eager to get back to sex after he takes you, though he wonât push⌠too much. Leorio is just super clingy and youâre already sitting pretty on his lap, the only thing separating you from his is that pretty skirt youâre wearing!
It was a normal day, with you sitting in his lap after he tugged you his way. But this time, instead of the usual soft squish heâd give your thigh or kisses to your cheek or the top of your head, Leorio started moving you back and forth against the bulge firming in his pants.
You instantly froze, feeling his warm breath on your neck. When you began to panic and cry, Leorio paused for a moment. âPrincess? Something wrong?â
When you started to struggle, he gently set you down. The air was thick and heavy with tension and awkward energy. He scratched the back of his neck, his boner gone. âYou alright?â
You shook your head. âI⌠I donât want to, Leorio⌠Iâm scaredâŚâ
He felt his heart break a little, but he was quick to reach out and gently ruffle your hair. âDonât be scared⌠I wonât⌠do anything to you that you donât wantâŚâ
But it felt a bit hypocritical, considering he did steal you from your old life against your will. Leorio had standards though, and one of those was not assaulting people.
That night, he was way less clingy than usual, giving you some space and time to process things⌠but you joined him in bed for snuggles later.
Chrollo
He kept telling you he wanted to make your first time with him special, that heâd buy you flowers and pretty lingerie to wear. He even suggested getting a nicer hotel than usual, which was shocking because the hotels you usually stayed in with him were beyond luxurious.
So when the special night came, he took you out to a fancy dinner, letting you order whatever you wanted. You had become very complacent, accepting the fact youâd never be able to escape him⌠not even in death.
So you are your food, and you bathed before putting on the set of lingerie he surely paid a high price for, and sat on the bed, waiting for him to get back from a meeting with some phantom troupe members that were in town.
The wait already had you anxious, but the way he kept going on and on about how perfect he made everything and how much effort he put into this night put a lot of pressure on you to do well.
And that was on purpose. He wanted you to know just how much he had done for you⌠how much he craved and adored you. With him, you would be endlessly pampered and loved⌠all you had to do was be a good girl and do as he said.
So by the time he got back, you were already anxiously fidgeting with your lacy black lingerie, biting your lip.
Now⌠he didnât want to make you anxious, just a little nervous. He thought it would be cute to see you squeak like a timid little mouse as he took you⌠he didnât want you to stiffly lie down and tear up when he unbuttoned his shirt.
And he hadnât expected you to throw up from the stress of it all.
He felt a bit guilty, you were crying and muttering apologies as he called for room service, trying to clean it up yourself. Had he instilled that much fear in you that you shook in terror at the thought of upsetting you? Thatâs not what Chrollo wanted⌠despite his sly and manipulative nature, he wanted you to genuinely love him and see him as someone that protected and took care of you.
So once you calmed down a little, he pulled you in and snuggled you, kissing the top of your head. âI..: apologize. Weâll do this at your pace.â
You couldnât really break away from his grip⌠and you didnât want to anger him, so you let him hold you close and gently rock you.
Feitan
Feitan already is absolute garbage with intimacy, so itâs rare heâll initiate anything. Heâs both insecure and emotionally distant, but also longs for your affection and physical touch.
But he also HATES physical touch⌠so being his darling is a confusing experience where youâre constantly walking on eggshells.
The rare instances when he tries to be intimate with you, you almost leap with joy. Heâs the only other human you have physical contact with, and youâve almost gone crazy without touch and affection.
Heâs very insecure and sensitive to rejection, so when he touches you, even if itâs just subpar, you praise him endlessly with soft whimpers and moans. Heâs pretty skilled with his fingers considering he was a virgin before he met you.
So when heâs got his hands on your hips and ready to push his cock into your pretty pussy, instead of the usual happy whines you make⌠you instead whimper and shy away from him.
Heâs tortured many people, so he can recognize the signs of a panic attack easily. You donât know what came over you, but you just started to break down, crying and rocking yourself.
Feitan froze up, not knowing what to do. Heâs not used to comforting others, and he already feels the harsh sting of rejection from your reaction. Was he that bad?
But⌠heâs able to push that away. He puts a blanket over your naked form and gently rubs your back while looking the other way.
â⌠donât have to. Just say when donât want it.â
And thatâs all you get. He doesnât kiss away your tears or clean you up⌠but itâs a big step forward. For Feitan, comforting another human being is hard, so the fact heâs trying for you proves that you mean something to him.
#requests open#x reader#anime x reader#tw dubcon#yandere!kurapika#yandere chrollo#yandere leorio#yandere kurapika#yandere hxh#reader insert#headcanon#hxh x reader#hxh imagines#smut requests#hunter x hunter x reader#anime x chubby reader#chubby!reader#chubby reader#fem!reader#female reader#fem reader#kurapika x reader#chrollo imagine#chrollo x reader#leorio x reader#kurapika smut#leorio smut#x reader smut#feitan x reader#yandere feitan
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đđđđđđ | Joel Miller x reader â Series Masterlist (part ii)
â masterlist | requests? | ao3 | update blog | fic rec | ko-fi
summary | The temptation with Joel is unavoidable, one consequential choice leading to several, but with time, you find that healing is easier with someone just as broken as you.
author's note | I DID NOT FORGET THEM I SWEAR. i know the first part was posted in july and i abandoned my baby i'm horrible. BUT, the writing bug is back in full force and this chapter was already halfway done so PLEASE ENJOY. i missed these two dearly.
content warning | 18+ smut, DDDNE - this is very loosely stepcest, so if that's not your thing, ignore. that's the only warning i'm giving on that, additional warnings: no outbreak, step-uncle!joel, age gap (20/late 40s), religious trauma, parental trauma, no one's making good choices here, lowkey religion kink?? if you get it, you get. fingering, unprotected piv sex, semi-public sex, mentions of deconstruction, alcohol tw, this is packed with so much stuff i'm sorry
word count â11k
PART ONE, PART THREE (tbd)
The tweed sweater is more grating than the sound of your motherâs voice as you approach the doorstep of the Millerâs home. Itâs fucking itchy, scratching at your neck in desperation to strip yourself of your more modest church clothes the moment you crosses the threshold. Your mother seems to notice your fidgeting, swatting at your hand with a look of unmistaken warning.
Cut it out.Â
Your hand drops to your side, fingers curling into your palm as they dig into the skin. The pain squeezes at your vocal cords, keeping you quiet. Tommy always looks slightly ridiculous when you step out for church on Sundaysâstarched jeans and perfectly ironed plaid button up to match, paired with an egregious belt buckle and cowboy boots.Â
The thing was though, he fit in perfectly. And you couldnât hate Tommy, it was nearly impossible.
Once inside, youâre already beelining for the attic with your shoes slipped off by the door and ready to strip down the layers of clothes to quell the sticky heat that was lingering on your skin. But, thereâs a creak to your left and a voice you hadnât heard since the night before, underâŚmore nefarious pretenses. But, he didnât know that. You shouldnât either.
Your eyes canât meet his own as he rounds the corner, damp hair dripping droplets of water onto his clothed shoulders. He doesnât speak to you, but he does look you over. Thereâs a smugness in his expression, amusement at your outfit like he knows. A perfect, modest length appropriate dress with that ugly fucking sweater your mom insisted on you wearing. You hate it, it was smeared all over your face, lips pulled into a tight line as your mother began barraging both of the brothers at once.
âSheâll come with,â You attention focuses back on the conversation halfway through, sneaking a small peak at Joelâs tired features, scratching at his beard with his other hand settled against his hips, so desperately wanting to escape the conversation, âI donât need her being a nuisance while Joelâs trying to sleep.â
âShe lives here,â Tommy points out, âIâm sure she can keep quiet. Do you wanna tag along?â
âNo,â you respond with evident distaste, but there was also the creeping worry of being alone with Joel again, unsure how to approach your unfavorable behavior with him, âIâd really rather not, if thatâs okay.â
Tommy offers a shrug to your mother, reminiscent of a told you so, before heâs cracking a joke at Joelâs expense, who still hadnât spoken a word.
âKeep this loner some company anyways, he needs it,â Tommy jests.
âWell, weâll be out until the evening,â your mother adds, almost like it was a bad thing which wasnât nearly the case, in factâit was a heavy weight off your chest, âso call if you need anything and sweetheart, mind your manners.â
âSheâll be alright,â Joel interjects suddenly, âainât never caused any problems with me.â
Your mother nods despite her inclination to make a comment or prove a point and after a tense goodbye and a hug that was far too tight, sheâs dragging Tommy out the front door again and it shuts with a deafening click as Joel still remained in his previous position, eying the floor for a time before his eye meet your own as yank at the buttons of your sweater and shrug it off your shoulders.
The events over the past few weeks were clawing at your gut, that nervous and fluttering feeling driving you to silenceâgirl, always testinâ meâit was a constant echo in your head. That, flurried with his grunts and the sight of his hand gripping his cock. And your teasing words were no better, inviting him in and welcoming the temptation.
You had to cut the cordâthis wasnât you. It was wrong, sinful, the shame sitting on your tongue and bitter to swallow. It didnât matter that it didnât feel wrong, factually, it was. You would be shamed, frowned upon, rejected by your own mother if she even caught a whiff of your advances toward Joel. But, heâd lied for you when he didnât have to and that was more confusing than it needed to be.Â
Joel clears his throat, âIâm gonna head to bed, worked a fifteen hour shift and Iâm barely standinâ right now,â Your gaze flicks up as you kneel on the couch, settling into the cushion but leaning yourself slightly over the arm, âyou gonna be alright?â
You nod silently and watch as he returns the motion and turns on his heels, the floorboards creaking under the weight and there was no chance like nowâsay it, just apologize.
âJoel,â you say louder than needed, but it does the trick, âIâyou lied for me to my mother, you didnât have to and IâmâŚsorry for the way Iâve been acting. I know that doesnât change anything, but Iââ
Thereâs a flickering of guilt across his own face that youâre familiar with, knowing heâs dreamt of you in the exact ways youâve suggested and while he doesnât audibly admit it, his thoughts almost project, eyes racking over your chest for a beat to long as they press together under your thin top and peek through the deep cut in your shirt.
âNo harm done,â He lies, his eyes noticeable flicking back up toward your gaze and you donât react, neither does he, âno sense in pissing her off more than she already is with you all the time, right?â
âRight,â you mumble dejectedly, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you settle into the cushion more permanently, âjustâŚthank you.â
âYouâre welcome,â he replies assuredly, knowing heâd done you a favor with the expectation that it might absolve him of some of his own guilt about the entire situationâbut just as Joel was being disingenuous, he suspected you were too.
Save your own ass and all that.
It didnât matter and Joel knew it was better to move beyond it entirely.
Except his dreams are invaded with the sight of your tits, pert and perfect as he squeezed them under his grip and he swears he can feel the warmth of your skin, your smell, but the deep slumber quickly pulls him under.
-
Thereâs only so much to occupy your day, having made a few snacks for yourself and wandered aimlessly around Joelâs home, even managed a short nap amongst his soft snoring from his cracked bedroom door, occasionally looking around the corner or over your shoulder to find him sleeping deeply. By high noon, youâre restless. It was hot. Wicked summer heat. You decided to change into your swimsuit and head outside, grabbing a towel and a bottle of newly purchased sunscreen.
Thereâs a few reclining lawn chairs on Joelâs back deck luckily, snagging one as you drag it toward the lawn and into the sun, squinting at the blistering UV as you bring your sunglasses down your face and allow them to make home on the bridge of your nose. The neighbors have their sprinklers going, giving their gardens a much needed drink during the non-stop dry spell that Austin seemed to be under, the spray hits your skin gingerly as you settle into a good spot and take a seat, spreading the sunscreen out sparingly over your arms and legs, resigned to the fact that you wouldnât be able to reach your back appropriately, but that didnât matter.Â
You untied the back of your top, both at your spine and neck and reclined the chair out completely before resting on your stomach, eyes closed to the quiet hum of afternoon summer and kids playing a few houses down, the soft buzz of dragonflies and bees amongst the foliage.
It was the simple luxuries you enjoyed that werenât possible with your mother hovering around you, but that was why you had so much appreciation for Tommy, keeping her busy beyond her means and knowing that she was happier when occupied with other thingsâlike him, or the possibilities and expectations that would come with their new life when they did find a place together.
You knew you werenât going with them, but that was another mountain to climb trying to explain to your mother, knowing it wouldnât bode well and would end in an all out brawl if you dropped it on her nowâin due time, you think.Â
Your tendency to fastrack through missed opportunities and experiences were your own downfall, but the newfound freedom was exhilarating, breathing in deep as you closed your eyes and relaxed, several minutes passing before you heard a creak at the backdoor.Â
But even then, you donât move.
You know itâs Joel when the grill lid whines in protest, utensils clinging behind you.Â
He doesnât say a word and forces himself to keep his eyes on the dirtied grill as he scrubs it down ignoring your occasional fidgeting and the soft creaks of the reclined chair, his eyes catching the soft skin of your back, the curve of your breasts as press out at your side, squeezed against the towel you were laying on and the strings dangling toward the grass that Joel had neglected for the past couple weeks and heâs only realizing his wandering eyes when his hand slips through the slit in the grill and drops the sponge into the ash, cursing loudly to himself.
âWas I being too loud?â
Joel tosses the sponge to the side and opens the tray to dump out the remaining remnants of ash from their last cookout, walking toward the dumpster near the gate leading to the front yard, no further than a few yards from you as he mumbles a quiet, âNo. Wasnât you.â
Weird. Your brow furrows for a moment before you reaching for the bottle of sunscreen, taking advantage of the extra pair of hands as you offer the bottle to his empty ones, the plastic cap hitting his stomach as you press it against him, hands pressed tight over your swim top to keep your breasts covered, despite how much the material failed to hide.
âJust my back,â you explain, âI canât reach it. WellâI can, but Iâm definitely missing some spots.â
Joelâs fingers curl around the bottle but he doesnât pull and your fingers havenât left either, grazing against the denim at his waist and you sigh in subtle frustration.Â
âJoel, it isnât a trick,â you promise, âbesides, with your hands itâll take like, two seconds.â
He makes a face at that, halfway between amused and mortified. You shove the bottle deeper against his stomach, insistent as you raise your eyebrows.
âOh, come on,â You beg, âItâs sunscreen, get over it.â
There it was. The snark you couldnât hide, like second nature with him. He snatches the bottle with his tongue slipping under his top lip as he snaked it over his teeth and popped the cap with his thumb, flashing a content smile in his direction as you settle back on your stomach, pushing down at the strings of your bottoms slightly to offer the full expanse of your back.
Joel, poor Joel, swallows around the lump in his throat and tries indefinitely to ignore the everlasting bulge that grew in your presence, a side effect of inappropriate thoughts and your sharp tongue. Heâs pathetic and he knows it.Â
He kneels down between your split legs, one knee on the cheap plastic and his other foot planted firmly in the grass as he hovers. It was as close as he could allow himself, a few inches forward and he would have his thigh pressed against your center, the swell of your pussy grinding against his jeans and he wouldnât be able to resist, pulling at the loose ties and diving into the sweet divine.Â
You clear your throat, turning your cheek to rest against the back of your palm as you wait with the cold tip of your cross necklace snug between your lips, a self-satisfied smile growing on your face as the warmth of his hand contrasts the cool sunscreen, a broad stripe up your back from tailbone to neck as his fingers fold over your shoulder and drag against the chain before heâs tossing the bottle into the grass to make use of his other hand, spreading the sunscreen out evenly on the full expanse of your back.
A pseudo massage masked in the way his thumbs rub along the center of your skin, fingers rubbing in the sunscreen along your side, just along the curve of your hips before theyâre back up at your shoulders and the muscle is being squeezed gently under his grip.
âYouâre tense, kid,â Joel notes, pulling away to wipe his cream covered hands on the towel, catching your gaze.
âWith a mother like mine, wouldnât you be?â
Joel pauses briefly, a silent acknowledgment as he stands, vehemently ignoring the way your legs slip together and your ass pushes up into the air slightly as you reposition yourself.
He grimaces at how sticky his hands feel still, reaching for the spout on the siding and gripping the hose in his hand as the water pours out, hot for a moment as it slips out before it rushes out ice cool, wetting his hands generously.
âCanât stand getting a little messy, can you?â You tease when you hear the water run behind you, lifting up on your forearm to peer at the older man, his face still frozen in a tight grimace but his eyes briefly turning up toward you.
What a little shit.Â
His thumb slides over the opening on the hose and transforms the flow into a forceful spray as he lifts stream and at the chair you were lounging in, forcing you up in a matter of seconds while Joel rendered you drenched, top forgotten as you slip your arm over your breasts in attempt to retain some decency.
The cause of action only dawns on Joel in the aftermath, watching you sopping wet as you stomp toward him and attempt to yank the hose from his grip, the option for turning the spout off forgottenâit couldnât be that simple.
Joel quickly extends the main end of the hose from your grip with a tug of a smirk and you huff, hard through your nose as you twist and press your back against his chest as you wrestle for his arm, in a wrestle for the hose his arm finds home against your chest and you gradually fall to your knees, tackled by Joel in a manner that is surprisingly gentle despite your frustration.
But, somehow you end up chest to chest and none of the effort is worth it, even as you turn the house on him and the water soaks his clothes and your chest, hose slapping into the grass as you toss it aside, breath catching as your heart raced from the exertion.
Joel makes the mistake of shifting to move, his knees hiking behind the curve of your ass and pushing his clothed cock against your core, only separated by a couple layers of clothes, his denim against your think bikini tied lazily at your waist and his eyes drag down by pure coincidence as he tries to find his grip against the grassy surface.
There it wasâhis eyes on your chest, your eyes on him, and his cock hard against your cunt in an unignorable way.Â
Joel quickly scrambles to his feet with a frustrated clear of his throat, ignoring you like a quick spreading plaque as he left his tasks behind to disappear as quickly as he had resurfaced and you reach blindly for your top, draping it over your chest hastily as you tried and failed to piece together what the hell had just transpired.Â
It was like a shot of adrenaline in your bloodstream as you sat up, the world spinning in a way that made you woozyâyou turned toward the back door, slightly ajar from the force Joel used to shut it, slamming against the frame before it popped back open.
He could deny you all he wanted, but his body couldnât lieâwondering if he was running off to finish himself like he had the night before, almost daring to chase after him.
But instead, you hide.
Decisive and calculated, youâd wait him out.
Like meek prey, heâd seek you out if the hunger struck.Â
â
After a swift shower you barricade yourself upstairs, the murmuring voices below lulling you to sleep as you skip dinnerâyou couldnât speak to Joel, wouldnât.Â
He lies for you, despite knowing that your avoidance of dinner was entirely his own fault.
Sort of.
It was a double-edged sword, both parties responsible.
 But, Joel feels the guilt faster, easier, and he drowns it away in a six pack of beers Tommy brings home as he and his brother, and his soon-to-be sister in law enjoyed a quiet dinner, the occasional complaint slipping from your motherâs lips as she ate.
âShe wasnât feeling too good,â Joel fibs, wiping at his mouth with a napkin, crumbling the flimsy material in his fist, âI can bring her a plate up later, after I clean upââ
âOh, please,â She holds her hand up to interrupt, politely refusing, âweâll clean up, wonât we?â
Tommy squints, eyeing the table full of dirtied dishes but nods regardless.Â
Always the yes man. Joel smirks, a flippant chuckle under his breath.
Joel tips back the final bottle of beer and swallows it down, having learned to manage his alcohol well after years of casual drinking that had slowly morphed into a crutch. He gets the buzz, the warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest but otherwise it was undetectable, aside from the hasty decision making to find a reason to bother you after the wrestling match that afternoon.Â
He quietly piled the food onto a plate, working around the kitchen and squeezing past the other two bodies before heâs yanking at the cord to the attic stairs, your body lunging up at the sound, nearly jumping out of your own skin as the light peeks through and the hard, heavy footsteps follow.
Joel hears the both of them, Tommy and your mother, as they finish up in the kitchen and trail off into their own respective room in the house, pulling at the handle with his unoccupied hand to seal out the creeping light from downstairs. He slides the plate of food on the dresser shoved against the nearest wall before his head is turning toward you, watching as you rubbed at your eyes, faking the grogginess from a deep sleep you never managed to fall into, running both hands through the front of your hair before theyâre flattening out against your duvet, wondering which one of you should speak first.
Both hands shoved into his front pockets, he turns to you fully. Heâs changed from earlier, denim traded for a soft cloth; sweats, paired with his usual dark washed shirt.
Relaxed. He looksâŚrelaxed. His eyes are undeniably softer, too. His lips rubbing together tight before his tongue slips out to wet them and heâs still standing, waitingâfor what, youâre not sure.
âIâll eat it later,â you appease his lingering presence, taken aback as the words seem to bring him back to life, socked feet soft against the wood floors but the intent is heavy and intimidating, âI will, I promiseââ
You werenât lying, you would.Â
But, then the bed creaks as he takes a seat and your legs widen to make room for him, the blanket slipping down your thighs and revealing bare legs under a long t-shirt, having changed out of your damp clothes too.Â
Closer, you can see the flush in his chest. Cheeks warm and hot, youâre sure if you touched him it would be confirmed. Drunk? It didnât seem likely, but he had definitely been drinking, a deep but quiet sigh coming from his chest before he spoke.
âDonât apologize,â you began before he could get the words out, âgodâdonât, justâŚâ
âI was gonna ask if youâre feelinâ alright,â Joel begins, turning toward you hesitantly, a fist curled and stamped into the mattress, watching the muscle of his bicep and forearm flex with the action, core clenching at the sight of it.
You nod lazily, âHow was dinner?â
He knows youâre not asking about the food.
âTypical,â He responds lightly, âyour mom loves carryinâ the conversation, doesnât she?â
âShe just enjoys the sound of her own voice.â
Joel chuckles quietly, hand unfurling and his fingers grazing against your knee. For a moment, you think it could be an accident, but as you find a surge of confidence and drag your fingers over his own, pulling his hand up to your face curiously, making a show to smell his hand with a light quip thrown his way.
âGot all the sunscreen off finally,â You joke and the stretched out glimpse of you flashes through Joelâs mind, his fingers pulling at tied strings, the nylon falling against thick blades of grass, âdid you enjoy your shower?â
Joel quirks his brow, curious.
Right, he didnât know. A momentary lapse of judgment letting the words slip.
âYou know, was itâŚpeaceful? Nice?âÂ
No additional expletives groaned out under the steady stream, fist wrapped around his cock? Selfishly your eyes wandered toward the no longer tented material, having caught quite the eyeful earlierâand felt it just the same.
His hand slowly drops to the bedsheet, thumb grazing the cream material while the rest of his fingers curl over your knee, your own hand placed atop it, an unspoken but welcomed touch.
He was losing his mind, surely.
He shouldnât be doing this, shouldnât have sat down.Â
But, Joel lied for you and that was the first mistake.
âI lied for you, again,â He comes clean, emphasis on his final word as his eye flicks up despite his downturned gaze, watching your thumb rub into the spot between his own and pointer finger, âmakinâ habit of it, it seems.â
A soft breath mingles between the space, tight and tense, too intimidated to confront him head on now, shaking your head at his words, âYou were the one who said my secret was safe, remember?â
His large hand flexes around yours as he presses the back of your hand into the sheets, held prison under his grip, âYou know I never meant it like thatââ
âDidnât you?â You counter, turning your eyes up toward him cautiously, daring him to confess.
Our secret, alright?
It was the gatewayâone small lie unfolding into many and soon it would be like breathing, second nature.Â
âWhy are you still here?â Thereâs a softness in your tone that beckons a confession, but Joelâs hard-headed.Â
So, he retaliates.
âWhy havenât you asked me to leave?â His eyebrows raise, a subtle smile pulling at his lips that was brought up by the inhibitions of alcohol, mostly Joel but there was something lingering.
The words float through your head, climb up your throat, but you canât force them to leave your mouth, eyes softening under his gaze as a warm, careful hand caresses up your thigh, fingertips grazing your clothed cunt, the wet heat undeniable as it seeps through your underwear.
You can smell the beer on his breath but it doesnât stop your hand from clawing up his chest and behind his neck, allowing him to pull your leg over his lap, spread wide on your bed as he fit between them, âYouâve been drinking,â it was obvious, but Joel shakes his head, tongue licking at his bottom lip as his left hand squeezes at your calf, âhavenât you?â
âThat bother you?â He wondersâheâs mostly unaffected, you can tell. The creeping flush to his face a mix of the alcohol and you, heâs just as in his right mind as you, the inside of his palm reaching further to cup your cunt, rubbing gently with the heel of his palm.
A breathy sigh and a head shake in return as your legs spread wider, hips canting into his touch as your hand falls to your side, exposing your clothed chest to him, breasts peeking through the sheer fabric of your top while your other hand grips Joelâs neck harder, blunt fingernails digging into the skin.
âWhat are you doing?â You ask carefully, not wanting to startle him.Â
It doesnât even seem to phase him, though. His hand moves forward slightly to push your shirt up your stomach before it slipped beyond the fabric of your underwear and against your bare skin, two fingers sliding between your folds to press into your sticky slick.
âGiving you what you want,â Like it was obvious; the constant taunting, ill-mannered behavior, his own resolve finally breaking and the guilt he was feeling disappearing in an instant now that he has you like this, a clandestine sight, ââsâwhat you wanted, right?â
You nod, a subtle jerk of your head.
At the notion, his hands are in two different directionsâone hand is tracing the chain that wore like armor, a dainty necklace your mother had gifted you when you were young that was the only significance you had to show for with her, your undying faith. He slips the necklace around and between your shoulder blades, out of sight. His other hand slips between your thighs until theyâre finding home against your cunt. Absent fingers drifting deeper between your shoulder blades, delicate touches tracing along your spine over soft skin until heâs back at the nape of your neck and squeezing, determined fingers rubbing slowly at your sensitive clit, a stuttered and quiet gasp falling from your lips.
Heâs not the first man to touch you like this, but he was skilled. No fumbling hands and hesitant touches, there was surety in his movements and his gaze that didnât shy from yours in embarrassment or lack of care.
Joel Miller was in the mood to watch you fall apart for his own entertainment.
âShh,â He reminds you, a soft command, âdonât need them gettinâ curious.â
You shake your head in agreement, a plethora of sins being committed in the act of one greedy and selfish desire, âMoâMore,â You plead, feeling his fingers slide down the center of your cunt before theyâre breaching your tight hole and pressing inside. Joel grunts as you pull at his short curls, his tongue resting wanting over his bottom teeth, yearning for a taste.
âTake it off,â He demands, âwanna see those pretty tits, darlinâ.â
Your skin prickles with anticipation, separating from him briefly to pull your shirt over your head and Joel, in a moment of blind lust, takes the advantage of you on your back to yank your panties down your ankles and balling them up, thrown haphazardly near the top of your bed as he settles on his knees between your outstretched legsâ
God, heâs going to hell.
And you want to kiss him, the feeling so strong it sends an ache down your core, releasing a shaky breath as he squeezes at your thighs before his fingers continue, dipping inside of you with ease. Luckily, with this position, heâs got a free hand to rub at your clit, thumb pressed firmly against the nub and drawing soft, mewling sounds from your lips.Â
Itâs intoxicating, the subtle smell of barley and fresh soap. Heâs speaking to you in some far off, distant place, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he sets an inescapable pace. Theyâre goading words, encouraging and bordering the line of patronizing but you canât commit them to memory, only coming as another soft command falls from his lips.
Because he sees your fingers itching, needy, âTouch yourself,â He murmurs, his touch somehow more tender as his fingers pump inside of you, thumb working quick circles of your clit as you hands drag feather-light of your breasts, a tickle at the center of your chest before youâre squeezing the flesh under your grip and moaning louder as he changes the angle of his fingers inside of you, deep and undeniably precise. Thick fingers keep you full and satisfied.
He can hear your breath quickening, a silent warning when your brain wasnât catching up with the rest of your body, words a complete loss. His fingers slip out of you, wet slick smearing over your mouth as he leans forward to muffle the unintentional cry that falls from your lips as he pulls you over the edge with a mere motion of his thumb, your eyes squeezing shut as you come.
The pleasure blooms inside, teeth digging gently into the skin of his palm as you selfishly savor the feeling, Joel only moving away when your eyes fall back on himâback to reality.
âHowâs that for a mess?â Joel doesnât miss a beat, turning your earlier jab back on you as you notice the gleam on his fingers, thin strings of slick hang between his fingers as he separates them and you pull at his wrist, knowing that Joel would follow through the rest of the way, pressing his fingers to your lips as you clean him, tongue dragging along the digits diligently.
You swear you hear Joel groan, but it was muffled by your own squeak as Joel grabbed at your chin, flesh pinched between his fingers, âEat your damn dinner,â He demands, but you quickly muffle him with the fabric of your underwear, shoving it into his mouth before you move dangerously close to his face, still under the stern grip of his hand.
âNo problem,â You appease him, âand a suggestionââ
Pulling the fabric from his mouth, you arenât amiss as he pockets it, his eyebrows raising in question.
âDouble check your doors next time you decide to jerk off to me.â
Because if anything, you wanted him to be more deliberate.
Joelâs flush deepens, shame flashing in his eyes for a brief moment before you break out into a playful smile as you sing softly, âGoodnight, Joel.â
Joelâs never had a harder time falling asleep, night creeping into dawn before the slumber finally takes him, riddled with a guilt that is indescribable.Â
â
Breakfast is quiet.
Too quiet.
You pick lazily at the fresh blueberry muffins your mother had baked that morning, watching as Tommy conversed with Joel across the living room, both of them nursing steaming cups of coffee. Your mother notices your trailing gaze, mistaking it for you spacing out as she perks up, speaking from beside you as she pours more orange juice into your empty glass.
âI was thinking we could do something in town today,â She begins, âall of usâJoel, too. Tommy mentioned theyâve got a fair going on downtownâfood, music, plenty to keep you interested.â
You slip the blueberry beyond your lips and chomp down, âWhatâs the occasion? Big news? Donât tell me your pregnantââ
Your name comes out as a stark warning, the plastic bottle of orange juice crunching under her grip, âThat is notâno, Iâm not. But, Tommy and IâŚmay have put an offer down on a house, if youâre that curious. We were gonna drive by on the way there and show it to you.â
You shake your head nonchalantly, âJoel was actually going to take me to that cowboy museum a couple towns overâI forgot to ask, but you donât care, right?â
Joel perks up at the mention of his name, his conversation with Tommy stalling.
âI mean, Iâll be with Joel,â You remind her, âIâll be safe, wonât I?â
Your head turns over your shoulder, catching Joelâs surprised expression and watching as it slowly morphs into understanding, silently following the path you had so carefully constructed as he approaches the counter at your side, pressing his mug into the counter.
âI shoulda mentioned it,â He lies through his teeth, âslipped my mind, but itâs alright with you?â
She swallows. Tense.Â
Tommy interjects then and chuckles, clapping a hand over his brotherâs shoulder.
âHistory of cowboys?â He asks, âOh come on, sweetheart. Let âem go, they can always meet up with us after.â
She folds for Tommy, of course. Flashing an apprehensive smile that you knew too well, eyes flitting toward the pair of brotherâs with a cynical regard, catching Joelâs tight expression for a brief moment. You had lied, big deal.
 It wasnât the worst thing youâve done as of late, watching the leisurely swagger of Joelâs walk as he steps toward the coffee pot, offering a sturdy goodbye over his shoulder as the lovebirds make their escape, leaving you both under the thick cloud of unspoken tension.
With disregard, he walks past you and sips noisily at his coffee, taking a seat on the couch with the low hum of the morning news as your sock covered feet pat softly against the floor. Your thigh presses against the arm hanging over the couch as you squeeze by, but youâre stopped by Joelâs foot pressing into the coffee table, blocking your path.
âYou make plans for somethinâ Iâm unaware of?âÂ
You huff out a soft laugh through your nose before you shove at his foot gently, knocking it to the ground before youâre climbing over his lap, mug screeching against the table as Joel scrambles to place it down, his hands falling against your hips instinctively as you settle over him, tight shorts crawling up your thighs and settling in the crease of your hips.
His touch is intimateâand warm, god his hands were always so warm. Your fingers scratch testingly at his patchy facial hair, a delicate touch that extends to his mused morning hair, untouched and still riddled with sleep. Then heâs inhaling hard as your lips press to his without preamble, his mouth opening in a quiet sigh and your tongue find the opportunity and slips beyond his lips, dragging over his teeth as it swipes against his own tongue and for a few minutes he melts into you, returning the kiss back feverishly.
But, like a fragile towerâthe moment snaps and collapses in on itself as Joel shoves you away, a large hand pressed against your collarbone as you yelp at the sudden movement, slightly disappointed as you frown.
âStop,â he breaths out harsh, his hand fisting in your shirt as he peers up you through a half-lidded gaze, âyouâwe canât keep doinâ this, kid.â
âNo oneâs here,â you murmur, pushing at his hand but it doesnât budge, so you settle for his thighs, cotton material smooth to the touch as you fingers climb until they can settle near his groin, rubbing your clothed cunt against his hardened cock, a noticeable tent in his pants, âif you worried about getting caught.â
âI know youâre doing this to get back at your mother,â Joel begins, but he never gets the chance to finish.
âAnd if I was doing this for me?â You counter, âBecause I want to? What would you say then?â
Thereâs a long beat of silence, Joelâs hands pressing into your hips again to keep you still, frozen in place and unable to chase the pleasure you were so desperately after.
âNaive,â He offers, âchildishâdownright stupid, if you think about it. Iâm twice your age and if the other reason wasnât obvious, wellââ
âWeâre not blood related,â you argue, âit isnât nearly the same thing and you know it.â
You lean forward, crowding into his space once more, the ghost of his breath across your lips as he eyes follow, his head leaning back as you move in, hesitant.Â
âBesides, I think youâve ruined all other men for me,â You goad, a salacious grin spreading across your face, âyour fingersâJoel, theyâreââ
At a loss for words, you sigh, hips dropping against his groin pointedly, he grunts and you can see the hard line of his jaw as he clenches his teeth.
âIâm not the one, darlinâ. You canât compare me to themâIâm old, Iâve lived. Donât think you gotta settle for me.â
Joel has sequestered himself to lonelinessâafter his separation from his wife, the loss of his daughter, he was content being alone. Living alone. Dying alone.Â
Drowned out by bad decisions and alcohol, heâs found himself regretting his choices once again, but not for the reasons he had hoped.
He didnât regret youâhis actions with you, but how the repercussions would affect you if your mother found out, his brother. There was no coming back, no explanation that could justify his actions.
But youâre sitting, pouting in his lap as your finger twirls around the string of his sleep pants and he knows that lookâmore, give me more.
Nothing would satiate that hunger.
âIâm not a virgin, you know,â you add as if it may magically heal things, but the next words out of your mouth have Joel squeezing at the flesh of your hips, words that make his cock pulse under his clothes, âI think you enjoy corrupting me, too. My mom put me on birth control the second she was able, afraid Iâd turn out like her.â
Luckily, you hadnât. Sheâd never let you live that down.
You press in further, a hand climbing up to press against the column of Joelâs throat, lips sliding against his as you whisper, âDo you wanna ruin me, Joel?â
All you get in response is a growl, deep and intense as he surges forward, kissing you soundly to shut you up.
It was a weight off your chest, a sharp breath as he slips his tongue into your mouth as you part your lips as his fingers pull at the base of your scalp, a sharp sting of pain drowned out by pleasure.
âUpstairs,â he ordered, mouth down your neck hungrily, âin your room, now.â
The heated, dark look in his eyes tells you that you werenât going alone, his footsteps trailing behind you.
-
He splits you open with his thighs, already bare underneath him as heâs stripped himself of everything but his pants, sans his underwear he definitely wasnât wearing, an unreadable expression on his face. Pinched, his brow furrowed as he lingered around you, hands pressing into the mattress but not you, careful that his hands didnât stray too far again.
âShould I say my morning prayers?â You tease, your pointer finger trailing down the center of his chest, both of your eyes following the digit until it hooks into the waistband of his underwear, âAbsolve you of some guilt?â
âIt ainât guilt,â Joel retorts, dark eyes flicking up toward you, âyou really think all that prayinâ actually works?â
You shrug, âI dunno what I think anymoreâwhat do you believe in, Joel?â
Joel chuckles lowly, ignoring your hand as it slips beyond the material to touch him, his cock heavy in your hands, feeling the surreality of the moment hit you all at once as his hips keen into the touch, a subtle gesture as his fists settle into the space beside your head.
âAinât never believe in nothing,â He responds quieter, âeasier that way.â
You hum softly, nodding absently to his response as you force the final piece of clothing down his hips, his eyes never really leaving youâwandering, maybe, but you have his full attention.
âCome on, Joel,â You squander, giving his cock a light squeeze before your hand trails up his chest, fingers forming to the lines of his jaw as your fingers glide over his scruff, âEasier?â
âYouâre brainwashed,â He admits, pausing to slip his hand between your bodies and drifting over your cunt before he slips two fingers inside of you without warning, a gasp ripping from your throat but quickly settling as his fingers work inside of you meticulously, dragging with gentle pressure against your walls, âcanât think for yourself without feelinâ guilt, can you?â
Heâs making a mockery of the beliefs youâve been under for yearsâyou get it, you do. But, it seems to strike a nerve when you dig deeper, unsure why, amongst your building pleasure the taunting scripture slips from your lips in an attempt to rile him further.
âIf we confess our sins, he is faithful and justââ Your voice wavers as Joelâs attention snaps to your soft words, eyes locked on his unreadable expression, â and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousnââ
A tight squeeze at the cross around your neck does him in.
A familiar sound slips beyond his lips, a hungry and deep set growl as he breaks from you, manhandling you with force onto your stomach and in an attempt to muffle your antics and silence you, a hand pressed against the back of your neck, face pressed into the soft fluff of your pillow as his voice rumbles behind you.
âAinât gonna listen to that shit,â Joel gripes, his free hand binding to your waist as he lifts your hips up, back arched and ass up, breathing out a soft noise of protest as he squeezes at your skin, ââyou done?â
You shake your head weakly, a small laugh bubbling from your chest as the full expanse of his hand slides over your cheek, pressing your face deeper into the pillow, his thumb tracing along the corner of your mouth.
âThereâs no savinâ yourself from this, sweetheart,â Joel acknowledges, a vague but somehow crystal clear way of checking in, assuring there was consent to follow throughâthat you wanted this.
âI know,â You mumble around the finger that glides over your lip, a calloused thumb against soft, fleshy lips.
Joel presses inside of you with a low groan, mixed with a tight hiss as you clench around him instinctively, your eyes drifting shut as his cock fits inside your tight walls, both hands drifting to the pillow under your head and gripping tight as he begins a slow, steady snap of his hips in utter silence, forceful exhales coming from his nose as he fucks you from behind, noting the way your lips drift apart when he presses just a little too deep, the skin between your eyes scrunching up at the bridge of your nose.
His thumb presses inside of your mouth, against the inside of your cheek before pressing against your tongue, effectively silencing you, âGo on,â Joel taunts, âkeep prayinâ.â
Your eyes roll back as the hand gripping your waist travels over your stomach and toward your cunt, his middle finger drifting featherlight over your clit in slow circles, your grip in the weak cloth fabric growing tighterâyou make an attempt, unintelligible mumbles around his thick finger, followed by a deep snicker of amusement from the man behind you, inside of you.
âDonât try and convince me you believe that shit,â Joel tells you, ânot when youâre begginâ me to fuck you like thisââve never been a saint, either.â
Eventually, your mind goes blank, a welcomed numbness as Joel fucks you into the mattress above a squeak boxspring in a home that didnât belong to you, in a room that has only been yours for a short time, giving in to a forbidden temptation with a man whoâs challenged every belief youâve ever known.
He notices your attention drifting, removing his hand from your mouth, smearing the saliva over your breasts as he jostles you upright, your back pressed tight against his chest as you move against him lazily, feeling the deep, full snap of his hips as he breathes hot and heavy into your neck.
âJust this time,â He promises you, âno more teasinâ, or lyingââ
The preaching to you was rich, given his own actions. He must be speaking to himself, committing himself to it aloud. You nod regardless, knowing now that youâve learned his weakness.
Because, like you, it was the unavoidable temptation.
âAnother secret?â You tease, feeling the crest of your orgasm building in your gut as he squeezes at your breast, his soft groans evolving into throaty moans, a boisterous surprise to somehow whoâs always so forlorn, an empty house with no reason to hide his deep and selfish need for pleasure, you giggle quietly through the force of your orgasm as you both collapse on the mattress, Joelâs hands barely catching himself to avoid the weight of his body pressing into you as he pulls out of you slowly, the bed creaking underneath the movement.
You feel candescent, shirt barely covering your body as you haphazardly drape it over yourself, watching as Joel pulled his sweatpants back up over his hips, his eyes catching on you in a way youâve never witnessed, his come literally dripping down your thighs and he senses the shift in your expression, immediate guilt flushing your body and showing in the way your body curls in on itself, avoiding the eye contact he was offering.Â
He sees it, the way your brain is programmed to feel immediate guilt, shame, and as much as heâd like to think of a way to fix it, he knows that was something you had to work through on your own.
A shower would work for now, though.Â
Wash away the sin until the inevitable happens.
-
There is some normalcy that returns to your life as your classes resume, finding that time away from the Miller household was refreshing in a way. Tension with your mother was unavoidable, the wedding on the horizon and the impending truth threatening to come to lightâyour mother had done an excellent job as sheltering you, brainwashing you, and scaring you into behaving out of fear that you might be stuck down.Â
It all seemed small and finite now, that craving to break Joel down for your own pleasure, seeing the shell of a man he was now.
And he, of course, couldnât even follow through with his own promise to himself.
Though, as you return for the short weekends, he doesnât always seem likeâŚJoel.
He drinks more, itching toward the end of September soon and a couple months back at school and when you arenât buried in the sheets of your twin bed or locked away in the darkness of his room when youâre both home alone, he reeks of alcohol and silence.
He doesnât seem angry or upset, but the sadness is like a wave.
It makes it easier to keep your distance, something Joel acts like he wants, but then heâs seeking you out in the dark again, bourbon on his tongue and you return the messy kiss he presses to your lips, trying to silence your own thoughts by occupying yourself with him.
But, he does sense your hesitancy.
âIâll go,â He speaks into the darkness, a hand cradling your head as he squeezes at the base of your neck, a comforting gesture despite the cloud that shrouded him, âif you want me to.â
Youâve barely seen him all day, both of the brothers overwhelmingly forlorn, but you donât pry.
âNo, no,â You insist, hushed against his mouth as you seek out his eyes, glossed over and hooded, his shoulders twitching when your fingers curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, âyou justâyou seem tired.â
It was a loaded word, one that Joel doesnât touch or elaborate on. But, he was tired, physically. Taking on more shifts before the holidays approach, begging to keep himself occupied alongside his brother who was stressing for his own reasons. Heâd come to you seeking a weird dichotomy of comfort and it made you feel warm inside, but a tinge of warning couldnât be ignored.
âJust sleep here,â You suggest, âIâll wake you early, before theyâre up.â
Without protest, he nods.
You canât explain how easily your bodies mold together on the too small mattress, like this was something youâve done for years, staring up blankly at the ceiling as Joel snored quietly beside you.
â
âHey, kiddo,â Tommy boasts from the kitchen counter as descend the stairs, making your pass through the fridge before youâre gone for another week, âschool treatinâ you alright?â
âItâs fine,â You shrug noncommittally, ripping a banana from its bunch and reaching for the half empty jug of orange juice, pouring half a cup to sate your stomach, âhowâs mom?â
Tommy feels the heaviness around the question, tensing as he sips at his coffee, âStressed over the wedding, all the planning, ya knowââ
âYeah,â Itâs lazy and short, but Tommy knows your relationship with her is less than favorable lately, sensing your desire for freedom and answers, truth rather than careful lies your mother has constructed around you for your safety, âuh, can I ask a question, actually?â
Tommy nods, hearing the faint creaking of the floorboard somewhere distant in the house.Â
âIsâŚJoel okay?âÂ
Tommy seems surprised, but he masks it quickly.
âOh, heâŚusually getsâŚworse around the anniversary of Sarahâs death,â Your eyes wander, clearly missing crucial information but your eyes drift toward the closed bedroom door that was vehemently off limits, always wondering but never questioning, âshitâwe ainât mentioned her to you?â
You shake your head.
âShe died about five years ago, raisinâ her alone had always been tough on Joel but her dyingâŚitâs been hard.â
âHis daughter?â
He had a daughter.
Iâm old, Iâve lived, the words echoing in your head.
âHeâŚnever mentioned her, youâve neverâŚâ
âHe wonât,â Tommy tells you, âcanât even bring her up to him most daysâI thought Iâd mentioned it to you but it mustâve slipped my mind, Iâm sorry, kiddo.â
âNo, donâtâŚdonât apologize.â You assure him, taking a sip of the tart juice and peeling slowly at the peel of your banana, âI guess that explains the bottles on the table when I come home every weekend.â
And the alcohol on his breath when he kisses you.
Tommy notes the way you so easily call the house home now, smiling slightly. But, heâs always been aware of his brotherâsâŚproblem, not sure how to help or fix the situation without an implosion happening.
In the distance, you can hear your mother calling out for Tommy, his eyes drifting toward the sound.
âHave a good week,â He pressed a gentle kiss at the crown of your head, squeezing at your shoulder before leaning over to speak under his breath, ââyou should talk to your mom before you plan on taking that offer, by the way.â
Your attention perks up, his finger drifting toward the envelope hidden under a stack of placemats on the kitchen table before heâs interrupted by another shout from your mother, âI can handle the fallout for you, kiddo. Donât worry.â
Tommy retreats and eventually, you do too. Snatching the letter up and stowing it away in your bag, you arenât able read through it until later that night, Joelâs unsaved number lingering on the phone screen in your missed calls.
It was an internship at your dream job in Dallas, a flat rate pay out with six months of lodging covered while you got on your feetâbut more importantly it was an escape.Â
You should be upset at Tommy for prying, opening the letter before you had a chance to peek at it yourself, but heâs sensed the tension for months. He loved your mother, but he cared for you, even in the tumultuous months heâs been around you both.Â
You were strong, independent, and far better off blossoming on your own without the hard grip of your mother and her undying but fickle faith.Â
The second call from Joel startles you back to reality, answering with a shaky finger.
âDidnât say goodbye this morning,â Joel greets, only sounding slightly bitter.
Youâre quiet for longer than Joel is comfortable with and he almost speaks again, apologizes, but you cut him off.
âSorryâŚmy mom, it seemed like she was already on her reign of terror and I didnâtâŚsheâs hard to be around anymore.â
âIâm just messinâ with you, kid,â He replies, letting out a soft huff as he sat down in his worn-in recliner.
âAre they home?â
âLeft about an hour ago, theyâre movinâ stuff into the house, I guess? I donât know,â Joel sounds disinterested and you share the sentiment, but then thereâs a distinct snap of a bottle cap that you try to ignore.
Joel hears your lips part on the other end, âItâs been a long day,â It was the first time heâs outright acknowledged it, which was a step, but not what you needed.
âTommy told me,â You blurt in frustration, âabout her.â
âListen, I donât need you judginâ me either. I get it enough from Tommy as isââ
âIâm notâŚI wasnât,â You respond, confused, âI just, I wish youâd mentioned her, at least. Not that you owe that to meâŚbutââ
Joel clears his throat and the bottle scuffs the table, undrank as he settles back into his seat.
âI got my own baggage, ainât no sense dragging you into that,â Joel defends, ânot with all you have going on.â
âIf you can fuck me, you can talk to me too,â
It silences him effectively, âIâm not a child. Iâm not your child. Iâm an adultââ
âWhere is this cominâ from? Iâve never said thatââ
âI donât know,â You sigh in exasperation, âItâs been a long day, Joel. Iâm gonna head to bed, okay?â
You donât wait for his response, hanging up on him with a frustrated finality, mad at yourself and him, reasons unclearâyou havenât prayed in months, but you find the urge as the guilt creeps in, wondering if Joel was the corruptor your mother had always warned you about.
Theyâll come at your weakest and test your faith, and if you break, youâre just as feeble as the rest of the world without faith to guide them.
-
The week drags and youâd much rather be somewhere else, but you find yourself turning the doorknob to the Miller home and a Happy Birthday balloon floating into the open doorway, a contorted look of confusion on your face as your eyes land on the three adults in the living room.
âAre we celebrating early?â You look at your mother, whoâs birthday is approaching in a couple weeks, but sheâs quickly shaking her head.
âItâs Joelâs birthday, honey.â
âOh,â Your eyes glide over the three of them until they land on Joel, âHappy Birthday?â
Joel hates the attention, clearly.Â
The next few hours are spent together at a fancy restaurant Tommy decides to treat everyone too, a nice gesture for his brotherâs birthday, but it doesnât dissipate the underlying frustration.
And Tommy, being a pushover for the sake of allowing his brother to enjoy his birthday, drinks alongside himâfour beers down and a couple shots later, dinner finished and skipping dessert, everyone is heading back to the car in silence, though Joel does look considerably lighter in his expression, his normally furrowed brow now relaxed.
Your mother is quick to drag Tommy to their shared room when youâre home, giving you a gentle hug that you havenât felt in months, strange and unsettling to your psyche. Joel relaxes onto the couch, kicking his boots off toward the edge of the rug before heâs searching around blindly for the remote, thumbing the button to turn on the television.
It illuminates the dim room and you find yourself standing there, unmoving, suddenly feeling completely out of place in a home youâve grown comfortable in.
âYouâre quiet,â Joel notes, not looking at you while he fumbles with his watch, twisting in on his wrist as he places a sock covered foot against the coffee table.
âAnd youâre drunk,â You retorted, the again unsaid but implied.
âBelieve it âr not, I can handle myself. I know my limit,â Joel responds, âIâve been cuttinâ back, I donât need you tellinâ me what I can handle. Youâre young, you wouldnât understand anyways.â
âGuess so,â You reply lamely, stripping off your shirt down to the thin spaghetti top, the thick September heat seeping inside the Miller home, even as the sun setâand you can feel Joelâs eyes on you before you look at him, eyes lingering longer than they should.
There were often moments where he would fend off your advances, quiet moments at home alone when you would slip into his lap or behind him and heâd let you down easily, but he wasnât always that strongâa weak man with temptation dangling in his face. Heâs always been in the wrong from the beginning, allowing any of this to develop and further.
But, youâre feeling vindictive tonightâupset and angry at yourself, angry at Joelâno, frustrated.Â
And with Tommy and your mother turned in for the night, absolutely no sign of them resurfacing until morning, nothing was stopping you as Joelâs eyes bored into you and the slow rise and fall of your chest.
Heâs always been cautious and safe, never while the house was occupied, only in quiet and enclosed spaces that he could lock the doorsâthat in the chance you might get caught he could lie or evade and not face the consequences, but even as you grow closer and climb into his lap, he doesnât stop you.
Your hands grip his hair immediately, yanking his head back as you press your ass into his thighs and bring your lips to his jaw, mouthing against the line of his neck and around, pulling at the collar of his shirt to nip at his chest, nothing but his shallow breaths and the soft hum of the television to fill the air, the solid press of his hard cock against your inner thigh a warning sign.
You could end it here, leave him with the guilt that continued to grow within him.Â
You could drag him to his room, ride him over his sheets like he desired, a clandestine sight that would have any man on his kneesâor so heâs told you.Â
Or, you seduce him here.
He was already nearly there, reaching for you as he leaned forward when you pulled back, pressing a hand into his chest, âIâm leaving, after the wedding,â Joel pauses, the furrow in his brow returning faintly, âI got an offer for an internship.â
âWell..thatâs good, ainât it?â
His hands squeeze at your sides as they travel and settle there, ignoring the obvious danger that the two could walk out at any moment, focused solely on you. It shouldnât make you feel good, but it does. You shouldnât want this, but you craved it.
âNo, likeâIâm leaving that night. To Dallas.â A long pause follows and Joel waits, watching as you glance down the hall, âI donât know how to tell her.â
âDo you want to?â Joel asks.
You sigh softly, playing with the hem of his collar, âNo, I donât. Tommy told me he could deal with the fallout, butââ
âTommy knows?â
You look at him with a tired roll of your eyes and a faint smile, âYes, he does. He snooped and read the letterâheâs known Iâve wanted this opportunity for a while.â
âI didnât think you two talked that much,â Joel replies honestly.
âWe donât, not always,â You admit, ânot with my mom aroundâand he told me, about your drinking problem.â
Joel huffs quietly, scratching at his cheek as he looks away.
âI justâthis isnâtâŚlike, it isnât also because of that, right?â You ask, âDoes drinking make you feel less guilty about it?â
You know it isnât the entire reason, but there is some suspicion. Given the constant lingering taste on his lip after the first instance together and the several that followed, a burgeoning problem of his own melding with the dangerous secrets youâve been trying to keep.
âThereâs no guilt,â It was the most confident youâve heard Joel to beâŚever. Not an ounce of hesitation in his tone, âWeâre adults, we made a choice. But, I think there is a point where we have to realize this canât work.â
âCan I ask you a question?â
Joel awaits quietly, not giving you a nod but his eyes turn up in wait, his thumbs slipping under the fabric of your shirt to press into warm flesh.
âIf they werenât togetherâif your brother wasnât going to be my stepdad, would you have thought twice? If we had met at a bar or something?â
âI donât know,â Joel answers, unsure.
You sigh deeply, leaning into his eyeline to capture his lips, an unexpected kiss that grabs his attention, his hands climbing higher under your shirt in search of skin.
âI think you do,â You mumble against his mouth, âI also think you were vulnerable and you saw that I was too and you wanted to feel a little less lonely.â
Joel canât find the words to respond, feeling like youâve seen straight through him.
âSo, let me help a little more,â You soothe his rapidly beating heart with your sultry tone, unbuttoning your jeans with slow movements, only removing yourself from him briefly to strip your jeans and underwear off before you return to his lap.
You wait until he finally got with the program and unbuttoned his own jeans, shifting them just far enough down his thighs that theyâre out of the way, grabbing for the blanket draped over the couch to wrap around you and you almost protest, but the concentrated look on his face as returns your gaze short-circuits your thinking, fisting his cock as he slides it between your wet folds, pressing inside of you slowly, your slow breaths mingling together in each otherâs mouth.
âQuiet,â He reminds you, âwe have to be quiet.â
Easier said than done, you giggle against his lips.
âSays you,â You tease, lifting your hips slowly as he follows the movement, allowing you to lead, your hands pressing into the back of the couch, âI like hearing how bad you want it,â
Joelâs hand dwarfs your mouth as he covers it, eyes narrowing at your pointed choice of words and he snaps his hips into you harshly without warning, forcing out a yelp into his palm as your hands tighten into the cushion, canting your hips as you lift them in time with his thrusts.
Heâs got his teeth digging into his bottom lip in an attempt to silence himself, eventually grabbing for your hand and covering his own mouth in desperation, wrapping his free hand around your back and pulling you to his chest, foreheads pressed against each other as you meld together, different emotions swirling as he commits this feeling, and your body, to memory.
Joel feels the familiar, cold touch of your dangle chain necklace, plain silver cross interlocked at the center of it, at this angle it nudges his nose with every thrust, a dainty piece of jewelry that he always took the time to tuck behind your neckâheâs never seen you without it.
He thinks for a moment, considering his action before heâs reaching to tuck it behind your head.
But, your hand stops him, placing it back center before youâre reaching behind to unclasp the necklace from your body, dangling it over the empty cushion beside you.
âItâs okay,â You can sense Joelâs confusion, worryâ âIâm starting to figure things out for myself,â Itâs intimate, the way youâre talking to him now, voice barely above a whisper as his hips rock gently to keep a slow place, brushing a stray lock of hair away from your face, âbesidesâŚthe things I want you to do to me, itâs blasphemy, really.â
Joel snorts at that, finding the sudden burst of energy to snake his hands under your thighs, lifting you up slightly as he scoots himself further down the couch, feet planted flat on the ground and allowing you proper leverage to use his body just the way you desire.
It takes very little time to work him up, a deep growl suppressed behind clenched teeth as your fingers dig into his cheek where your hand is still tight over his mouth, riding him with a clear determination, his eyes softening and pleadingâheâs right there and you can see it.
His eyes flutter, hand squeezing and kneading at your thigh in silent prayer.Â
Rich, you think. Maybe youâve been worshiping wrong your entire life.
Your climax comes slowly, alongside his. Itâs quiet, a long moment of drawn out sighs poured into each otherâs skin, his achy groan a light reprieve to the moment as you climb off of him.
âStaying or going?â He asks after youâve stood, blanket wrapped around your body.
âDepends,â Your finger dangle in front of his face, watching as he works his jeans back up his thighs, belt sitting unbuckled in his lap, âyour room or mine?â
Joel nods with a smile, nudging you toward the hall.
â
Joelâs dangling the silver necklace in his hand as you exit the bathroom, hair damp and dressed in only a shirtâhis shirt, climbing onto his bed while he approaches with an extended hand.
You take it silently, passing it off to his bedside table without a word.
âSo, when do we have the talk?â You ask curiously, ripping the bandaid off immediately.
âNot tonight, if you donât want to.â
Your brow pinches together as he slips under the blanket beside you, throwing the cover back to beckon you underneath. You oblige, sliding onto your knees to lean against his chest, forearm covering his abdomen as you rest your chin on your arm.
âI was thinking about starting deconstruction therapy,â You admit, scratching a fingernail at the patchy and fading emblem on his shirt, âItâsâŚsilly, I know. But, I think it might help. Iâm doubtingâwell, everything. I just need someone to talk to. A professional, I mean.â
âThat really what you want?â Joel asks curiously, his fingers wrapping around your wrist gently, rubbing his thumb into the skin, âIt ainât because of me, is it?â
âI think Iâve been questioning things long before you, or even Tommy. Iâm telling you becauseâI donât know, I guess I want to hold myself accountable. So I donât chicken out. Besides, you seem pretty good at keeping secrets.â
Joel shakes his head slightly in amusement, heaving out a long sigh as his eyes turn toward the ceiling, still favoring your touch as he continues to rub slow circles into your skin.
âIâŚalso think you should get some help,â You add gently, âtalk to someone about Sarahâdoesnât have to be me. I mean, Tommy is terrified to mention her, and thinks youâll blow up on him. YouâreâŚyouâre an alcoholic, you know that? My mom was too, before she met Tommy.â
Joel keeps quiet, chewing at his bottom lip. It wasnât a horrible sign, so you continue.
âShe hid it really well, youâŚnot so much.â
âSo, holdinâ each other accountable then, huh?â Joel inquires, eyebrow raised.
âI can forgive your lapse in judgement when it came to meâthe sex isâŚgood,â You pause, considering your words, âreallyâŚreally fucking good, but I think weâre using it to avoid things.â
âThink you can fix me?â Joel asks, with a tone of honesty in his voice, âSweetheart, Iâve been broken for a long time.â
âMend,â You emphasize, âyou can healâso can I. I think we both owe it to ourselvesâ
His hand engulfed the side of your face, the hot press of his skin against your cheek as you smiled against the touch, watching as he slowly returned the gesture.
âI think we do, sweetheart.â
Iâll try, for youâhe thinks silently but doesnât say. It doesnât matter that his fatal attraction had turned into something of lasting admiration, because that would never work.Â
But, for you, heâd try.
#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller x y/n#the last of us#the last of us fic#the last of us fanfiction#joel miller fic#joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal#pedro pascal characters#my writing#absolution
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hold me tight
Written for @steddieangstyaugust Day 20: âI didnât know where else to go.â
tags: post Starcourt, friends to lovers, requited unrequited love.
rated: T | word count: 1k4 | ao3
This was stupid, Steve told himself. Absolutely stupid. It wasn't like Eddie was his friend or anything.
They just happened to spend many sleepless nights together smoking and talking about everything and nothing. They just met up at Skull Rock almost every day so Steve could decompress by listening to Eddie's ramblings about DnD, Hell Fire Club, and Corroded Coffin. They just told each other a lot of secrets and held hands to offer each other comfort. They just shared multiple inside jokes that not even their own friends would know.
They justâ
Okay, maybe Steve had downplayed it. Because at this point, Eddie might be his only real friend in this town.
And it was just Steve's luck to catch feelings for him and lose him in the process.
See, since his young age, Steve had always been self-aware enough to know what he wanted. Whether it was toys, food, or people. He just never made his liking obvious in case his parents decided to hold them over him.
Hence, nonchalance had always been his default façade. It was the "Kill two birds with one stone", helped him protect his secrets, helped him conceal his most vulnerable part, and helped him remain indestructible under scrutinizing eyes.
And for a long time, Steve thought he was so smart, hiding his true self behind the garnished mask he had created.
Until he met Nancy, until he got his heart broken that night in Tina's bathroom, until he stumbled on Eddie and realized that the mask he wore made him look exactly like what he always hated.
Bullshit.
And now, standing on the Munson Trailer's porch, Steve tried to not turn on his heels and run away or puke his guts out because he was too scared of facing rejection again.
But he also didn't want to be alone right now, and call it his moment of weakness, he just wanted to be held and reassured that everything would be alright even when he probably didn't deserve it.
Selfishly, though, he knew Eddie wouldn't say no to him, not when he was in such a pitiful state, not when they used to be good friends up until Steve ruined it all. And perhaps, it was the thought that gave him enough courage to rap his knuckles on the door.
"D'you know what time is it, man? If you're here to ask for weedsâ Holy shit!"
Against his better judgment, Steve shrank in himself, ashamed that he was causing trouble for Eddie once more, making himself as small as possible and bracing for another rejection.
"Uhm, hi?" He smiled weakly.
Wordlessly, Eddie guided him inside, led him to the couch, and sat him down.
After handing him a glass of water, which he sipped slowly, Eddie started cleaning the cuts on his face, movements gentle as if afraid of hurting him.
Though it wasn't much and Steve knew any decent human being would treat him with the same sympathy, his heart still didn't get the memo and started somersaulting in his chest.
He watched the soft yellow light cast on Eddie's face, illuminating those dark brown eyes like stars, shining on the plump lips being worried between those sharp white teeth.
He glanced down, taking in the sleeveless black tee and gray sweatpants, the crimson guitar pick dangling on Eddie's chest as he leaned forward slightly, the tattoos on the pale arms, the long fingers, void of rings.
"What happened?" Eddie asked, sounding genuinely worried, after a moment of tense silence.
Instead of answering the question, Steve only shrugged and grimaced slightly.
"Sorry for waking you up this late. It's just," he averted his gaze to avoid Eddie's intense look. "I didn't know where else to go."
"You're always welcome here, Sweetheart," said Eddie kindly. "And you can wake me up whenever. We're already past that, aren't we?"
Eddie was right.
It wasn't rare for the older boy to climb through Steve's window at random hours and invite himself into Steve's bed so they could cuddle until morning. And it wasn't new for Steve to do so to Eddie, either.
Over just a few months, they had grown impossibly close and Steve would dare to say Eddie was the one who understood him the most and vice versa.
Except, it was never that simple, wasn't it?
It wasn't as if Steve hadn't kissed Eddie in a completely un-platonic way. It wasn't as if they hadn't seen each other since the day Eddie ran away from him, confused and terrified, leaving Steve with even more nightmares.
He sighed, suddenly feeling tired. Who was he kidding anyway? It was a huge mistake to come here after all.
"Yeah," he sniffed. "But I thought I wouldn't be welcomed anymore after what I did to you."
"Steve," said Eddie sharply.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he squeezed his eyes shut and raked his fingers through his sticky hair, using the dull aches to ground himself. "Iâ Tonight's been a lot. People died, Eddie. And all I could think about was you. As much as I regret driving you away, I'd kiss you again and again even if I were allowed to come back to that day to fix my mistake. Because it had kept you safe and away from me, from dangers. And I swear I'm not trying to make you forgive me out of pity. I know I had screwed up big time. So I'm gonna be out of your hair sooâ"
Steve let out a gasp when Eddie suddenly kissed him, staring in shock as Eddie pressed another one on the corner of his mouth, tasting his blood and pain.
"Whatâ"
"I'm aware this is far from the appropriate answer you deserve," Eddie brushed a hair out of Steve's forehead, smiling sadly. "But I couldn't find any way more obvious to tell you the kiss was never a mistake. Because I've been dreaming about it for months and you had granted me exactly what I wanted."
Steve was confused. Because why would Eddie say that? Why would he kiss Steve then when all Steve wanted was to make it right? Why would he look so sad when he had already shattered Steve's heart into pieces?
"Why?" Steve asked softly, unable to hold a grudge when Eddie was looking at him like he hung the moon and stars, overwhelming and nothing he had feared at all.
"I was scared," said Eddie bluntly without needing him to elaborate, always understanding him beyond words. "That's not an excuse for the way I acted with you. I was an ass for going radio silence and leaving you in the dark. As your friend, I should've known to communicate better. But I didn't and I caused you all this pain just because I panicked over a kiss I've been wanting since the first time I saw you."
"I'm really sorry, Sweetheart," said Eddie quietly, hand cradling his face gently like one would hold something precious. "For having been an idiot and a coward. For breaking your trust. For running away. For hurting you."
Leaning into the touch, Steve closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the smell of old weeds, leather, citrus, and cigarettes, feeling oddly homesick even though he was already home.
He wanted to get mad at Eddie, to demand some kind of compensation for his battered heart; and yet, he was tired, in pain, and about to keel over now the drug in his system had worn off.
However, he was in no shape to hold a serious conversation at the moment and he knew Eddie had noticed it too.
"Let's go take a shower first, okay?" Eddie leaned in and kissed his shoulder. It was so random but Steve still felt his cheeks warm at the intimate gesture.
Somehow, he didn't have the energy to feel embarrassed about it and ended up having Eddie wash his hair for him.
âââ
After making a call to check in with Robin as promised, he padded into Eddie's room and joined the older boy beneath the quilts and blankets, smiling softly as he thought about all the time he had been in Eddie's bed when he couldn't stand his parents' arguments.
When Eddie pulled him closer, he went willingly and melted into those arms, feeling warm and safe for the first time after two months of staying apart from his best friend.
"I love you," he mumbled into Eddie's chest, too relaxed and sleepy to care about the consequences. Go big or go home, right?
And when Steve finally drifted off, he heard something almost sounded like, "I love you, too."
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