#and if i already feel this way about someone whos one year younger than me... how do those people not feel creepy

[yearsbecomingcool]

Boys of Summer | Jason Hochberg

donate to gaza here | masterlist

pairing | jason hochberg x f!reader

synopsis | the last thing you expected when you signed up to be a counselor at camp pineway was to end up wrapped in just a towel staring in horror at the empty spot where you had placed your clothes right before your shower. luckily for you jason was ready to come to your aid…sort of…

warnings | 18+, drug usage, underage drinking/drug usage, bullying, sexual dialogue, bullying, loser x loser, cringe behavior, sexual content, making out, fingering, edging, jason and reader are hr's worst nightmare.

word count | 7.6k

a/n | i know hell of a summer isn't out till april but i'm already obsessed with jason and had to write a loser x loser scenario for him. i hate how long it took me to write this but hopefully it was worth it. @blueberrypancakesworld has some great jason fics y'all should check out as well!!! big thank you to my bestie @joeloverture for reading through this and helping me out/being super supportive while i worked on it. if y'all read for joel miller or just want some good fics pls go check out her stuff, she's my favorite person on the whole site.

taglist | @mvnqvinn @snazzynacho @imyprice @circuslxcysplace

A summer spent with spoiled rich kids who only got a job because their parents forced them sounds like your worst nightmare, and yet here you are living it. You’d grown up going to Camp Pineway, with mostly shitty memories of asshole kids and counselors who felt they weren’t paid enough to stop some bullies. You wanted to make a difference, you wanted to give those kids someone who would stand up for them, so you decided you’d come back and be a counselor for the summer. It was your summer break from college and you truly had nothing better to do in your shitty little town so it seemed like your best bet at having a social life. 

When you’d arrived you knew you were fucked. A cherry red convertible with Chris Tian in the front seat was nothing but trouble, you’d heard from your younger sibling about how much of a dickhead he and his friends were and it seemed like they’d be your fellow counselors. You felt weirdly ashamed when you hopped out of your beat up old junker, one of the back handles had fallen off last winter and you never had enough money to fix it. You prayed silently that no one would notice how shitty your car was. Something about being around people like this made you feel like you were a self conscious high schooler again. 

You felt relieved when you’d walked into the mess hall to be greeted by Jason Hochberg, he was two years older than you and had gone to school with you. He had been nerdy and awkward and somehow after all these years he still was. You bit your lip at the sight of him in his dorky outfit, his too long shorts and nerdy vest made you want to kiss him hard and stuff him in a locker all at the same time. You had always had a particular type, you could never verbalize it properly so you’d always told your friends your type was guys that would pop a boner if you shoved them too hard in the hallway. You’d softly cyber stalked his Instagram from time to time, mostly nature shots and movie reviews that got maybe 10 likes on a good day. The only photos he really had up of himself were in photo dumps from his years at Camp Pineway, he’d been a counselor there since he was eighteen and had been going for his whole childhood. He was clearly holding onto this place but you found it sort of endearing. You eyed the small bracelet stack on his arm, a couple of his favorites he’d received from campers over the years. You thought it was sweet that he held onto them. 

You’d seen him at camp when you were a kid and that sort of kickstarted your little crush. He’d gotten bullied just like you but despite that he’d always stuck up for you whenever he’d see it happening. He didn’t mind taking a few blows or insults if it kept you out of harm's way. There was one incident you’d remembered for years.

 It was your third year at camp and you were ten years old, Jason was twelve. You’d been cornered by a couple older girls, laughing at you, insulting your looks and your outfit. You had no idea what you did to provoke them, in reality you hadn’t done shit besides look like what they considered to be an easy target. They’d been harassing you for the entire week, making you scared to separate from your cabin mates. You’d been good about staying in a group but when you broke off to go to the bathroom you’d been cornered. They poked and prodded at you, making you feel smaller than you were. Tears brimmed your eyes, threatening to spill when Jason came in to save the day.

“Hey! Leave her alone!” He yelled, stomping over to the girls. He wasn’t very intimidating, he hadn’t hit his growth spurt and was standing at about 5 feet on a good day. He was dressed in cargo shorts and a Zelda t-shirt, if you looked up ‘nerd’ in the dictionary a picture of him would come up. You felt grateful to see him, no one had ever stuck up for you before.

“Fuck off, Jason,” one of the girls, Jessica, said aggressively. She turns to glare at him. She was a bit taller than him which didn’t help make him look anymore intimidating.

“She’s just a kid, she’s not bothering anyone. Go pick on someone else, Jess.” He stood there with his arms crossed, his brows furrowed in anger. 

“Who? You, you’re an even easier target than pipsqueak over here,” Jess laughs. 

“Yeah,” he nods, “Pick on me instead. Leave her alone.” 

“Fine, we will.” Jess and the other girls turn around, closing in on Jason. 

You look at him and mouth a quick ‘thank you’ before running off to find your cabin mates. 

He’d saved your ass a couple more times that summer and towards the end of camp you’d used your arts and crafts time to make him a bracelet as a thank you. A perler bead bracelet made out of the camp's colors, white and green. You’d added a little tree shaped bead and a white heart as well. You gifted it to him shyly on the last day as everyone waited for their parents to arrive to pick them up. You shyly approached him, your little hands trembling as you tapped him on the shoulder. He stood alone, lost in his own thoughts.

“Jason?” You tapped him on the shoulder softly.

He turned around and smiled when he saw you, “Hey! 

You push the bracelet towards him, “I uh…I made this for you…as a thank you for protecting me this summer.” 

He smiles softly at you, taking the bracelet and slipping it onto his wrist where a few others sit. “Thank you, this is so nice. I’m glad I could help, you didn’t deserve to be bullied like that.”

Your ride pulls up, honking the horn. “Thank you for everything, Jason. I’ll see you next summer!” You hug him quickly before running off to your moms car.

Jason gives his spiel to everyone about expectations for the summer and for the weekend, you notice a few of the others on their phones and try to not roll your eyes. Once his speech is over he makes everyone turn their phones into a basket, you’re last in line and decide you’ll take your opportunity to speak to him. His face lights up when he sees you, “I thought I recognized your name. How’ve you been?” His toothy grin makes you melt. 

You stand shyly with your hands behind your back, “I’ve been good…how about you? I mean you’re head counselor so clearly you’ve been doing pretty good.” You mentally facepalm at your own awkwardness. 

“I’ve been good, yeah…lots of responsibility now. That’s just part of getting older I guess.” 

You chew nervously at the dead skin on your lower lip, “You still looking out for the kids like me?” 

“Always,” He smiles, “I still have that bracelet you made me y’know.” He holds up his wrist for you to see and you grab him, pulling it closer to get a good look at it.

“No shit…it’s sweet that you still have it.”

“How could I ever get rid of it? It’s a good reminder to look out for other people. You were really the first person to show me that kind of appreciation so it’s special to me,” he explains, his cheeks turning pink. He always blushed so easily. 

“Hopefully you get more appreciation now, you really saved my ass that summer…and the next. Goddamn did camp suck without you there. I never really got that same courage you did to stand up for myself…” 

He reaches out, placing a hand on your shoulder comfortingly. “I only ended up with that courage after standing up for you, y’know. Who picked on you after Jessica left? She aged out of it when I did.” 

“Some rich girl in my grade, you know how things go. When one Jessica leaves another one takes her place,” you joke. 

He chuckles, moving his hand off your shoulder to push his hair back. “That’s always how it goes huh…”

Before you can respond Miley pokes her head back into the mess hall, “Why does she still have her phone? Don’t play favorites already!” Her whiny voice makes your eyes go wide in annoyance. You power down your phone and place it in the small basket Jason is holding. She scoffs and heads back out with the other counselors.

“Wow…there’s our Jessica I guess…” 

“Looks like it…why don��t you get changed? I think everyone wants to swim,” Jason suggests.

“A swim sounds perfect right now, god. I’ll see you out there.” You give him a soft smile before heading to your car to grab your bags.

You lug them to the cabin you’ve been assigned to share with Demi and Miley, as soon as you open the door they go silent and look you up and down. “So someone’s the teacher's pet already…” Miley scoffs. 

“Um…sorry if I made a bad impression already. We just knew each other as kids so we were catching up a bit, and got distracted. I’m not getting any special privileges if that's what you’re worried about.” You try to explain yourself but feel like you’re sinking into quicksand with every word that leaves your mouth. It feels like your childhood all over again. 

“It’s not a big deal, just…interesting. Were you two like…science partners or something?” The way she says it sounds so condescending it makes you want to scream.

“Oh no, he’s older than me. We just went to camp together here.” You haul your suitcase onto the bed and start to unpack your clothes into the small dresser at the end of your bed. You lay out a black bikini top and a black boyshort style pair of bottoms. The two girls eye your choice of swimwear judgingly but keep their mouths shut about it…for now.

 You all get changed into your swimsuits, Demi and Miley opting for straight bikinis over your slightly more modest attire, before heading out to the lake with everyone else. Jason had specifically told everyone no drinking or drugs but naturally no one cared enough to follow his orders. There’s a big cooler of assorted drinks sitting on the dock. Jason is seething with rage, sitting on his towel, nervously messing with the bracelets on his wrist. He’s dressed in a pair of dark green swim trunks and a Camp Pineway t-shirt. You drop your towel next to his, a pair of square shaped oversized sunglasses sitting atop your head. “Are you not going in?” You ask, sitting down next to him. You nab his sunscreen off his towel and start to apply it where you’re able to reach. 

“Not yet. I told them to not bring alcohol and here they are with an entire cooler, are you fucking kidding me?” He rants. You eye the cooler of beer and liquor they brought with them, the pineapple White Claw calls out to you like the green goblin mask but you fight the urge to pop it open. 

“They’re kids, they’re gonna be assholes. What’s more interesting to me is exactly how they got all that, none of ‘em are 21,” you say as you lather the sunscreen onto your arms and legs. 

“They’re rich, probably paid a sibling or stranger for it…who knows…” 

You hand the bottle of sunscreen to him, “Can you get my back? I can’t reach it.”

He stares down at the sunscreen bottle, reluctantly taking it from your hands. A shiver runs down your spine as he starts to apply the cold cream, rubbing it into your skin. A few of the other counselors look over, one of them wolf whistling, “Nice, Jason. Getting some action already huh?” It’s mocking and makes your cheeks start to heat up with embarrassment, Jason’s face turning bright red.

“You could only be so lucky, Bobby!” You call back. 

“My first time touching a woman was a long time ago, I think this is Jason’s first,” Bobby teases.

Jason seethes, his touch becoming a bit rougher. You turn your head back to face him, “Don’t let it get to you, they’re just assholes. Their opinions don’t mean shit.”

“If this is what I have to hear all summer I might become Jason Voorhees,” he grumbles.

“Would I be your final girl?” You tease.

“Well if I had to die by someone’s hand here I guess I’d prefer it to be yours.”

You bite your lip and smile, “He never really dies y’know, you’d come back.”

He rolls his eyes playfully, “I’d just look grosser everytime.”

“But at least you’d get to go to space and fight Freddy Krueger, that doesn’t sound too bad to me.”

He laughs and shakes his head, “You’re very familiar with Friday the 13th huh?”

“That franchise is a guilty pleasure of mine, I can’t help it.”

“It’s cool that you know so much about it, I bet you’d kill at horror trivia.”

You smile shyly, “You have no idea.”

You get up and go over to the cooler, grabbing the White Claw you had wanted earlier. “Will you kill me if I have one drink?” You turn back to Jason with a pout.

“Is my final girl breaking her pure streak already?” He teases.

You lean down to whisper in his ear, feeling a bit bold. “As long as my virginity is still intact that’s what really matters, right?” 

His face goes bright red and his body goes tense, he gulps. You want to kiss him so bad. He simply nods, “R-Right…”

You smirk and pop open the can, taking a seat next to him. His eyes flicker down to your exposed skin, it’s a view he’s looking forward to admiring for the rest of the summer. When he looks away you press the can to his exposed forearm and laughs when he jumps back. “Sorry…you’re kind of fun to mess with.” You had never really aged out of teasing and annoyance as a form of flirting, you’d spent years flicking people’s ears and throwing things at them to get their attention, it had mostly worked out for you. 

“So I’ve been told…” He mutters.

You finish your drink and stand to go into the water, “You coming or what, Voorhees?”

His cheeks turn pink at the nickname, “In a minute, promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it.” You run off the dock and jump in with a smile. You shriek at the coldness of the water and smile as the other counselors laugh along with you. You start to swim around and get yourself used to the temperature of the water. You mostly keep to yourself as the other counselors play around, it’s definitely a weird feeling to be older than the rest of them. You’re enjoying yourself as you see Jason approaching the end of the dock. You swim over to him, resting your arms on the dock as you prop yourself up.

“Coming in?”

“Maybe…is it cold?” He asks. He takes a seat at the end of the dock, dipping his feet into the water. He hisses at the cold. “How are you swimming this?”

“My body got used to it, c’mon join me. I’m lonely…” You pout playfully. 

“You don’t want to mingle with them?” He motions to the other counselors. 

“I’m scared they’re gonna ask if I have sigma rizz.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, “What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know but I heard my sibling say it the other day and felt so very old.”

“I’ll come in and save you, hold on,” He groans. He slowly lowers himself into the water, the t-shirt still on. He grits his teeth at the cold as he sinks in.

The two of you stay near the docks, observing the other counselors. Bobby sits comfortably on an inflatable with a joint perched between his fingers, taking a drag every now and then. Jason shakes his head in anger, “They brought weed too? Are you fucking kidding me?” For a minute part of you wonders if you’ve somehow snuck into a purgatory designed to torture Jason for eternity. 

You do your best to calm him, “There’s what like…ten of them? It’ll be gone before the weekend is even over, it’ll be fine. This first night is supposed to be for everyone to hang out and get to know each other right? Just let them all…chill and maybe they won’t be so rude the rest of the summer.”

“If I don’t enforce it now they won’t respect me for the rest of the summer. Trust me, I’ve been doing this for years,” Jason replies, sounding annoyed.

“I’m shocked you’re against smoking, I mean you kind of give off stoner vibes…at least your Instagram did.” As soon as you say it you realize you slipped up.

“You’ve seen my Instagram?”

You feel your face heat up, “I-It came up on my explore page after I applied here. You know how Instagram and Facebook are, I could say the word ‘cookie’ and get like a million Crumbl ads after. I-I saw you and got curious…I remembered you from camp and High School. It wasn’t like I was stalking your page or anything.” The word vomit does nothing to help your case, you’ve been caught red handed. 

“You looked through all my posts though? Didn’t you?” He cocks an eyebrow at you.

“Don’t make it weird! I was curious…I do it with everyone from my past if their stuff comes up, hell I go through my own account sometimes!”

“I think you’re the one making it weird.”

“Be nice or I’ll get the teenagers to bully you again,” you threaten. 

He rolls his eyes and splashes you with a laugh. You gasp and recoil, you wipe the water from your face and splash him back. It devolves quite quickly into a childish splash fight, the both of you laughing hard. “Truce! Truce!” He yells, holding his hands up in surrender. 

“Fineeeeee.” 

The other counselors look at the two of you in slight annoyance, it’s so clear to everyone that you’re already his favorite and it pisses them off.

“Is that like…appropriate for him to be so close to them like that?” Miley nudges Demi.

“I don’t know but it’s annoying, they’re gonna get special treatment the whole summer for sucking up to that loser. What kind of guy still works as a counselor when he’s like 30?” 

“He’s only like 24, don’t be dramatic,” Shannon says.

“Are you defending him?” Miley asks in disgust.

“The only thing I’m defending him against is the elderly allegations,” Shannon jokes.

Miley rolls her eyes and turns back to Demi, “We should teach them a lesson. Let them know what everyone else thinks of suck ups like them.”

“Yeah? What are you thinking?” Demi asks, leaning her head down for Miley to whisper to her. 

The two girls look over at you and Jason and nod.

“Hey, put that out! The rules very clearly said no drugs or alcohol, what the hell were you thinking bringing weed to a summer camp?” Jason yells at Bobby.

Bobby rolls his eyes, “You want me to put it out? Where? On the inflatable?” He scoffs.

“J-Just get rid of it and whatever other contraband you got, okay! We don’t need some kid getting into your stash and greening out!”

You bite back a smile as Jason rants. “Just make sure it’s gone before the kids show up. I’m sure you can manage that right, Bobby?”

Jason looks back at you like you’ve betrayed him, “What the hell are you doing? I’m in charge.”

“Jason, just trust me on this one, okay? They’ll get rid of it before the kids get here, I’ll make sure of it.”

Jason groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, “If it’s not I’ll have your ass for it.”

You smirk at the accidental innuendo, “It’ll be gone,” you turn to look back at Bobby as he takes another hit, “Right, Bobby?”

He salutes you, “Yes ma’am!”

You turn back to face Jason, giggling slightly. “See, it’ll be gone. Promise.”

As the sun starts to go down everyone heads back to their cabins to grab some clothes to change into, before heading to the showers. You’re one of the last to make it to the showers and you leave your clothes in a pile on the bench to change into after. You step into a stall and pull off your swimsuit, hanging it over the door to dry as you turn on the water. Your face scrunches up in annoyance as the cold water hits your skin. You step as far away from the water as you can while still staying in the stall until the water heats up. Once it heats up you take your time scrubbing yourself down, massassing your shampoo into your scalp. You turn off the water and wrap your towel around yourself, stepping out of the stall. Your brows furrowed in confusion as you look down at the bench, your clothes are gone. You look around the locker room, it’s empty except for you. You open the lockers, searching each and every locker for your clothes. You go back to your stall to see if your swimsuit is there but it’s missing as well. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me…” You mutter. Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, you can’t believe it. You’re a grown ass adult getting bullied by teenagers…

While you were in the shower Miley and Demi put their plan into motion, they’d waited for the rest of the girls to leave and stole your swimsuit from the top of your stall door, yanking it down while you were distracted. They’d swiped up your clothes and ran off with them as well, right back to your cabin. They had been oh so kind as to leave your towel untouched however. Once they stashed your clothes Demi had gone off to Jason's cabin. 

He opened the door while towel drying his hair, “Oh, Demi. What’s up?”

She explains that you’re having some issues with something in the showers and need his help.

His pale cheeks turn pink as she explains, “What does she need help with?”

“She didn’t say, but she said she really needed you to come help her so…”

“Uh, okay. I-I’ll be up there in a few.” He shuts the door and throws his towel down, quickly brushing his hair and slipping his crocs on. 

You’re pacing in the locker room, chewing nervously at your thumbnail when there’s a knock on the door. “Uh, hey. Demi said you needed some help, is everything alright?” 

You walk towards the door, groaning with your head in your hands. “My clothes…” you sigh, “my clothes are fucking gone. I-I think Demi took ‘em.” 

His eyes go wide, “Can I come in?”

“I mean…I’m in just a towel so…”

He pinches the bridge of his nose trying to think, “Fuck, okay. Um, I’ll go grab your clothes. Stay here.”

“Wasn’t planning on going anywhere…” You mumble as you hear his footsteps getting quieter. 

Jason runs off to the nurses office, it takes him a few minutes to figure out what key on his key ring fits but he gets it eventually. He grabs a camp t-shirt and black shorts they keep as extras just in case and heads back to the locker room. His mind is racing the whole jog back, he’s never had to deal with something like this before. Bullying and pranks between campers was normal, he was used to handling it, but between counselors? He felt pretty out of his depth. He stops his hand when he reaches for the door handle that leads to the locker room, he makes a fist and knocks instead. “I uh…I got you some clothes. There wasn’t any underwear I could get but-”

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” You reach a hand out and take the clothes from him, dropping your towel and slipping the clothes on. The shorts hang low on your hips and the t-shirt hangs slightly off your shoulder. You pick your towel back up to dry your hair and open the door for Jason. “You can come in now.”

He cautiously steps into the locker room, he’s chewing nervously at his lower lip. “So you think Demi took your clothes?” 

You nod, placing your hands on your hips. “Her and Miley have been acting really weird since we met. Miley already accused you of playing favorites with me…in the cabin she called me ‘teacher’s pet.’ Do you think she got Demi in on some plan to prank me?” 

“It’s definitely possible,” he nervously plays with the bracelets on his wrist. “It just seems a little extreme considering all you’ve done is get on their nerves.”

“Girls are more cutthroat than you’d think, trust me,” you say bluntly.

Jason nods, “Why don’t I walk you back to your cabin and I’ll make sure you get your clothes back, okay?”

“Thanks, Voorhees,” you use his nickname again. You slip on your slides, grateful that they had at least left those for you.

He shakes his head as he holds the door open for you, “Are you gonna call me that all summer?”

You beam up at him, clasping your hands behind your back, “Maybe.”

“Well I guess it’s not the worst thing I’ve been called…” He clicks on his flash light and the two of you start the walk to the cabins.

“Did you get hazed when you started as a counselor?” You ask as you walk next to him.

“Yeah, kind of. It’s different for guys I guess, not as calculated. The worst I got was a wedgie every now and then,” he grimaces at the memory, “I didn’t have my clothes stolen or anything like that.”

You giggle and nod, “Guess I really pissed them off then.”

“Or they’re just really mean.”

You chuckle, “That is definitely a possibility.” 

As you walk Jason can’t help but admire you. He loves how the shirt hangs off your shoulder, it falls nicely over the slope of your breasts, your nipples visible through the thin fabric. You use one hand to keep the shorts held up, they hang dangerously low on your hips and your lack of underwear does nothing to help you feel secure. You smell nice, slightly like lavender. 

“What’s kept you coming back to camp every year?”

Your question is one Jason has gotten countless times, it’s one that opens up a bottomless pit in his stomach. “I just like it here. I love being in nature and being able to mentor the kids…Pineway just feels like a second home to me.” He’s also terrified of having to move on and grow up but he’d never say that out loud. 

“Y’know I think you’d make a good park ranger. I could see you at one of the national parks, maybe doing classes for the kids, helping run day camps. It's perfect for you.”

He looks down and blushes, “You think so?”

You move a little closer to him, your arms brushing against one another. “Yeah, it’d be a good fit for you. You should really think about it.”

“Maybe I will…thank you.”

You reach the cabin, stepping carefully onto the porch. You can hear Demi and Miley talking inside. You slowly open the door, Jason following you inside. You stay close to him, a bit cautious of the two girls now. They turn to look at the two of you and Miley can’t help but laugh, “Cute clothes.”

You open your mouth to retort but Jason places a hand on your shoulder and shakes his head.

“This isn’t funny, I could report you two for harassment and stealing. Where’d you put her clothes?” Jason asks, putting on a serious tone. He stands there angrily, glaring at the girls.

“Why would we have her clothes?” Demi snarks.

“I’m not kidding Demi, this is wildly inappropriate. Hazing, bullying, harassment, whatever you want to call this shit won’t be tolerated.” Jason's hands curl into fists.

The two girls look at each other and burst into laughter, “S-Sorry, it’s so hard to take you seriously when your hands are so…y’know!” Miley laughs through tears.

Jason scowls, “Hey! I’m not fucking around! Give her back her goddamn clothes.” His anger is slightly more intimidating this time. 

Miley groans and pulls your clothes out from under her bed. She tosses them to you and you frantically check to make sure all of it is there. “There. Happy now? Take a fucking joke.”

Your brows furrow, “Where the hell is my underwear?”

The two girls erupt into laughter once again, there’s tears streaming down their cheeks as they hold their stomachs in laughter. You and Jason stand there uncomfortably until they calm down. “I’d check the flag pole if I was you,” sneers Demi.

Your face falls and it feels like your stomach has dropped out of your body, you can’t pick your eyes up from the floor. You can feel your breathing begin to grow ragged as you realize what they’ve done. Your whole body feels warm with embarrassment. You’ve been humiliated plenty of times in your life but this takes the cake for the worst. You drop your clothes and run out of the cabin.

Jason points at the girls, “You’re both in a lot of fucking trouble when I get back.” He runs outside after you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He pulls you into his chest as you begin to cry. He rubs your back and whispers softly to try and calm you down. “It’s gonna be okay, you won’t have to spend another second alone with them for the rest of the summer and they’re on probation for the rest of the summer, okay? Seriously, one more incident and they’re out. I’m calling the camp director in the morning.” As he holds you he looks over at the nearby flag pole that sits in the middle of the cabins. Where the flag once was now waves a smaller white piece of cloth. He immediately knows what it is. He’s quite possibly the angriest he’s ever been in his life, but for your sake he calms himself. “I’m gonna get your underwear down. I’ll be right back.” He runs over to the flagpole, hoisting your underwear down as quickly as possible so no one will see. He stuffs your underwear into his pocket and puts the flag back up.

“Come on, you’re going to my cabin. I’ll go get your stuff in a bit,” Jason wraps his arm around you and starts to lead you to his cabin. One of the perks of being head counselor is that he doesn’t have to share with everyone else. He leads you to the small cabin and you get comfortable on one of the bunks, curling into yourself and crying softly. He sits on the bed, rubbing your back comfortingly. “They’re just a bunch of assholes, you don’t deserve this. They went way too far.” 

“I didn’t even do anything,” You whine. You feel like a kid again, you want to quit and go home but you know you can’t. 

“I know. It’s stupid, they’re stupid. I’ve got you, okay? I’ll switch your cabin assignment, get you away from them. But at least for tonight you’re with me. I’m gonna go get your stuff.” He pats your back and stands, heading for the door. 

On the short walk to your cabin he tries to calm himself, he knows better than to blow up at Miley and Demi but goddammit would he love to. He slips in the door, making his way to your bunk, gathering your things quickly. “What are you doing with her shit?” Miley asks, sitting up on her bunk.

“Taking it to my cabin. You two can’t be trusted near her.”

“I thought male and female counselors weren’t allowed to-”

Jason cuts Demi off, “This is an exception. It’s just for tonight. You’ll room with someone else starting tomorrow, probably Shannon.” He tries to keep the conversation short, if he gets a chance to blow up he will.

“You just wanna get in her pants…” Miley mumbles.

“Shut the fuck up. I could call your parents and tell them what you’ve done, I promise you no amount of money will stop me from making sure you’re both punished for what you did. Grow the fuck up. You both go to college this fall right?”

They nod.

“Then act like it. You do this shit in college and you don’t just get suspended. You get kicked out. I’m sure mommy and daddy will offer a generous donation to save your ass but it can only happen so many times before they decide to stop paying up. I don’t want another problem from either one of you this whole summer, got it?” Jason has never had to yell at anyone like this the entire time he’s worked at the camp, he’s seething. If he could find replacements for the two on such short notice he’d have them packing by midnight.

The two girls nod shamefully, “G-Got it…”

“Good.” He gathers the rest of your things and carries them back to his cabin. You help him bring them inside and open up your suitcase to change. You don’t want to put on the clothes you’d originally picked out, they feel tainted now. You decide on an old band t-shirt and some old flannel pajama shorts you’d bought years ago. 

“Can you uh…turn around? I really don’t want to walk all the way back to the showers to change.” You ask shyly, holding up your clothes.

Jason turns around quickly, even going as far as covering his eyes, “Just let me know when you’re decent.”

You strip off the clothes he’d given you earlier and trade them for your own. “You can turn around now.”

He turns back around with his eyes still covered and you roll your eyes. You stroll up to him and pull his hands off his eyes, “You’re such a dork.” He smiles down at you, for a second he feels like he’s in one of those cheesy rom coms he secretly watches. 

“It doesn’t sound so mean when you say it,” he chuckles. 

“Good. It should sound like a compliment, I like dorks. You’re so yourself without being ashamed of it, I like it.” For a moment you both stare at one another, admiring the features of your faces up close. You notice his beauty marks that litter his cheeks, you admire the gaps in his teeth. He’s so beautiful as he is. 

He moves his hands to your waist experimentally. His touches, as innocent as they are, make your body feel as if it’s been set ablaze. You want him bad. 

“You were my hero again today, maybe instead of a park ranger you could consider superhero as your career,” you joke. He runs his thumb up and down your side, smiling softly.

“Maybe you should stop getting yourself into trouble and I won’t have to come save you.”

“Isn’t that what a final girl is supposed to do?” You tease, referencing your earlier conversation.

“I suppose. But, I still haven’t seen you trip over nothing while running. You broke the rules a little earlier by having that drink y’know.” His grip on your waist tightens, he pulls you a bit closer to him. 

“Are you gonna punish me for it, Mr. Voorhees?” You internally cringe at yourself and pray to the universe that he will somehow find that sexy.

“Maybe I will.” 

He leans in and kisses you softly, pulling your body flush against his as he does. What starts off innocent pretty quickly picks up steam. It’s been a long time since you’ve so much as even kissed someone, you’re pretty pent up. Your hands find their way into his hair as you pull him closer to you, you want him as close as humanly possible. When his hand starts to slide up your shirt you know you want to be even closer. He squeezes your breast and rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. He laughs when you pull away from the kiss to whine pathetically. You didn’t know he had this in him. You tug at his hair and smirk when he whimpers. You can see what this is turning into, tit for tat. He makes you whine, you make him whimper. You do whatever you can to elicit a sweet sound from one another. Eventually you’re able to shove him down onto the couch. He sits with his head against the back of the couch, his legs spread. You bite your lip and move to stand between his legs. He leans forward and lifts your shirt, starting to kiss your stomach and hips.

“Y’know, I might’ve lied about some of my final girl qualifications,” you laugh, looking down at him.

“Yeah? Like what?”

“I’m not a virgin…”

He scoffs, “Really? Could’ve fooled me.”

You roll your eyes and playfully whack the top of his head, “Don’t be a dick.”

He pulls you into his lap and pulls off your shirt, starting to kiss your neck. He turns you around in his lap so that your back is against his chest. He spreads your legs apart and starts to tease you over your shorts. You melt into his touch, whining and moaning softly. You’re practically putty in his hands. You can feel him pressed against your back, he’s painfully hard. You wanna touch him but you’re too caught up in what he’s doing to you.  “We shouldn’t be doing this, think about how much trouble I’d get in if anyone found out,” Jason mutters as he shoves his hand down your panties. He starts to massage your clit and you’re practically melting.

“N-No one’ll find out…promise…please just…” You can barely form a sentence, this is the last thing you would’ve expected from him. You had imagined a messy makeout session, a few minutes of grinding before he loses control and comes in his pants. 

“Please what? What do you need?” He sounds completely calm and collected, it’s like he’s maintaining his composure just to fuck with you. 

“Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you! You know what I need! Goddammit, just-”

He cuts you off by tugging down your shorts and underwear, your cunt exposed to the cool air of the cabin. He hooks his ankles around yours, keeping your legs spread for him. He looks down at your cunt and smiles, resting his head on your shoulder. He runs his finger up your slit, spreading your lips in the process. You whine, your hips bucking up. “Is this what you want?” He raises his fingers to your mouth, tapping your bottom lip for you to open up. You slowly open your mouth and he slides his fingers in. He doesn’t even tell you what to do, you start to suck on his fingers. He pulls them away once he’s satisfied and moves his hand back down to your cunt. He spreads you open against, watching your head tilt back as he sinks two fingers into your depth. He smirks when he hears your soft whimpers. He starts to slowly pump his fingers inside of you, “If you keep making these pretty little noises I might have to keep you in here with me all summer.”

“Please…fuck…just have me look pretty and play with me, better than the actual job,” you mumble, turning to look at him. You lean down to capture his lips in a bruising kiss, enjoying the way your noses knock against one another. You’ve been admiring his nose all day, fighting the urge to run a finger down the slope. You wonder how it would feel against your clit, his tongue buried deep inside of you. 

“It’d be nice to have a pretty little stress toy like you in my cabin to come back to after a long day, these motherfuckers are gonna give me greys before I turn 30.” You get a look on your face like you’re about to make a snide comment and Jason shuts it down by massaging your clit. A moan spills out of your lips instead. 

“You figured out how to handle me that quick?”

He rolls his eyes and starts to kiss your neck, he takes his time finding all the spots that make you whine extra loud. He nibbles here and there but knows better than to leave marks, at least in such visible places. He picks up the pace as he pumps his fingers in and out of you. He loves how you whimper his name, pleading for more, pleading for his cock. “I didn’t pack condoms, but maybe if you’re good you can have my tongue later.”

You move your head to the side, giving him more access to your neck. “And if I’m bad?”

“Then you can try to get yourself off on my thigh while you jack me off.”

“Oh fuck me…” you mumble, your head rolling back. 

He moves his mouth to your breasts, starting to bite and suck at the sensitive flesh of your nipples. “Already told you I can’t do that yet. Gotta be patient, gotta be good, ‘kay?”

You jut out your bottom lip, pouting, and nod. “‘Kay…”

He nips at your nipple and you yelp, “Good.” He leans down and spits on your clit, massaging it into your clit with his thumb. He speeds up his motions, trying harder and harder to get you what you want. “You wanna make a mess for me, don’t you? If you get it on the couch you’re licking it up. Better pray none of it even hits the floor…” This morning you could’ve never imagined he had it in him to speak to you like this, his coy attitude was just a red herring for what was to come. He’s working his fingers inside of you, curling them just right to hit the spot. Your eyes screw shut as you mumble pathetically, “Oh fuck Jason…g-god…fuck please make me come, please…wanna make a mess for you…”

Just as he’s about to take you over the edge there’s a knock at the door. You both freeze and he slaps a hand over your mouth. Never in his life has he been so grateful for the window coverings in the cabin. 

“Hey! Jason, is she in there? I heard what happened, I just want to make sure y’all are gonna eat.” It’s Chris. God you want to kill him right now. 

Jason smirks, “I’ll be out in a minute. Just making sure she’s okay.”

“Well…uh, see you in the mess hall then!” You hear his footsteps quiet down.

You and Jason look at each other and erupt into giggles. “You wanna play a game with me, final girl?”

“Are you impersonating Jigsaw now too? I think you’re getting your franchises mixed up.”

He rolls his eyes, “God you’re more of a nerd than me. You should feel lucky you weren’t wearing that underwear when they hoisted them up the flagpole.”

You slap his chest, “Hey! Asshole! I’m not like that bitch Cindy in Sleepaway Camp III, you wouldn’t let them do that to me.”

He laughs, kissing you again, “Nerd.”

“You can’t call me a nerd when your fingers are inside me.”

He pulls his fingers out of you and flicks your clit, causing you to yelp. “Is that better nerd?”

You roll your eyes and he brings his fingers to your lips, “Go on, clean me up.” You suck your slick off his fingers. He pulls them out of your mouth once he’s satisfied and wipes your saliva on your cheek. You narrow your eyes at him playfully.

“You’re not gonna finish me off? I was so close…” You pout.

“That’s the game. Sit through dinner without being a whiny little brat and I’ll give you whatever you want. I’ll make sure you come as many times as you want tonight, just behave during dinner. Think you can do that?” He explains.

You groan, “Fineeeee. But you owe me a lot of orgasms, and I mean a lot. It’s fucked up to leave a girl hanging like that.”

“I’m blue balling myself too.” He grabs your hand and presses it against his shorts, you can feel just how hard he is through his shorts. “We both have to behave during dinner, it’s an even playing field.”

You smirk, “Deal. How do you plan to hide that though?”

“I’ll think of awful things until it goes away.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Does that really work.”

“Sometimes.”

You squeeze him through his shorts before standing to get redressed, “You better pray it does tonight because I’ll be across the table thinking about how your nose would feel against my clit after dinner.”

“You’re HR’s worst nightmare…” He mumbles, watching as you redress.

“You’re the one who kissed me, I don’t wanna hear it. I’ll keep my mouth shut as long as you do the same,” you say as you pull your shirt over your head,

“Deal.” He gets up from the couch and readjusts himself through his shorts. 

You both share a mirror, trying to fix your hair and doing everything possible to make it less obvious that you two were just going at it. Once you’re satisfied you head for the door. As soon as you step out of the door he slaps your ass, causing you to yelp and jump. “Prick!”

“You love it.” 

[timeisacephalopod]

I saw a post the other day that kinda pushed back on the way all coming of age movies are about sexuality and all high school stories basically center around who wants to fuck who and how that's like. Not really all coming of age and high school stories should offer since you know. Youth isn't about who you have a crush on and probably coming of age stories in particular should be far more diverse in subject matter than they are.

Honestly as someone who, when I was 'coming of age' age, hated coming of age stories and still do for the exact reason listed above (see the weird scene in It where we all sexualize a 13 year old girl because boys have crushes and surely there's no other way to portray this than feeling a child up with a camera to demonstrate boys have ~feelings~ Bev gets no equivalent scene because she's the object of affection rather than the subject feeling desire) I also wish there was diversity in those stories. And coming of age stories about adults- we don't stop going through huge life moments that change everything forever, but back to kids. When I was a kid I could have desperately used a coming of age story where the character has a sick and dying parent who does die by the end of the story and what happens after that. Granted I did just fine without it, but even without being asexual it's always irked me that coming of age stories don't seem to appreciate that kids have way larger problems and way better stories to tell then first crushes and first kisses for shit sake give kids who went through what I did as a kid some kind of story about what happens when your parent gets cancer and how complicated that is and stop assuming the biggest thing that happens around puberty is discovering sexuality that, if you were queer, you probably already noticed what you felt wasn't in a coming of age story anyway.

[sunuism]

its still weird to me that sunwoo and haechan are the same age bc for all the time ive been an nctzen ive just seen haechan as a baby, even though hes only one year younger than me, but ive never thought of sunwoo as someone whos actually younger...

[uchiha-gaeshi]

Issues with Writing a Self-Insert #1

In case y'all didn't know, I've been going through a reflective period recently, and I've noticed that fear of what others think has held me back in almost every single aspect of my life, and unfortunately fandom is no exception.

I remember when I was like 14 and I tried to write fanfiction for the first time (I don't remember even what fandom I was writing for). Unfortunately, I could barely type a single paragraph without immediately deleting all that I wrote and being overly critical of my lack of writing ability. Even at that age, in the privacy of my dorm room, I couldn't shake off the fear of failure (and I mean howw?? I wasn't the only 14 year old trying to write Wattpad fanfiction). I remember comparing myself to some of my peers who had an amazing talent for writing. For me, I didn't get jealous, but rather I got intimidated, so intimidated that instead of continuing on with something and being imperfect at it, I'd just drop the entire activity altogether.

Because of this habit, I missed out on a lot of potential opportunities for growth during this time. I guess I saw people who were amazing, assumed that they popped out of the womb like that or something, and just....gave up. If I could go back in time, I would tell young me to embrace the cringe, embrace the mess. So what if people laugh or look at you funny or immediately stop whispering to each other once they see you? It sucks, but you will find your people, and you will survive. Trying to be palatable to everyone just means that you stifle yourself.

Years later, I wanted to get back into fanfiction, but this time with very little creative writing experience. What held me back was the fear that someone would read something that I wrote and ridicule it for being something that only an angsty teen would write, except that I am no longer an angsty teen but an unfortunately angsty adult riddled with insecurity, and that reality would just make that hypothetical comment sting even more (that's another thing about me. I create hypothetical ways for people to roast me in order to talk myself out of doing stuff).

[teeskzagain]

"i'm popular with older sisters."

• synopsis: in which the lines have started to blur between your long-term neighbor, sim jake.

• warnings: heavily suggestive content (as in this is one step away from being just straight smut basically), jake calls reader "noona", dry humping, hickies/neck markings, slight dirty talk, desperate!jake

• wc: 1.1k

• a/n: im thinking of expanding this idea into a one shot, but please let me know if i should.

» imagine younger!neighbor jake, who one day barges into your house, ready to hang out with you and your family- he'd been bored with nothing else to do.

» neighbor!jake, who roams around the living room and kitchen in search of someone, before finally working his way upstairs (there was no one around) and sees that your door is open. immediately, he beelines straight down the hall.

» imagine younger!neighbor jake, who wastes no time storming into your room, excited that you're home, only to get told off harshly by you. you're on the phone with a friend, back resting against the bed frame as you wave at him to go away.

» after scolding him and returning back to your conversation, imagine younger!neighbor jake's reaction. his face would contort unpleasantly, nose turning upright at your dismissive attitude. he'd stand at your door frame, mumbling out, "noona." over and over again as a means of regaining your attention. though, you would just ignore him.

» imagine neighbor!jake, who doesn't appreciate how you're acting towards him, stalking up to the end of the bed. his whines of, "get off the phone." combined with, "just talk to me instead." begin to irritate you, with you purposely keeping your gaze away from him.

» younger!neighbor jake didn't like being ignored. which is why seconds later, he's crawling onto your bed and swiftly engulfing you with his body. after the many years spent together, he already knows what gets you the most distracted.

» imagine neighbor!jake who, as your busy yelling and fighting him off of you, begins to bury his head deep into your neck. he produces little groans into the crevice, saying such verbage as, "noona, i miss you so much. please, just missed you so much."

» imagine neighbor!jake smothering you with his weight when he starts to press his full lips against your skin, trying anything to get your attention. you fumble your phone in an attempt to hang up the call because absolutely no way would you let anyone know about this. no. no one could ever know. “we are not doing this right now.” you hiss softly once you know your friend is unable to hear the scuffle going on.

» "why not?" neighbor!jake rumbles into your skin, "don't you love it when i-" without any hesitation, he starts to nip at your skin and instinctively a sharp inhale has you levitating. his arms wrap tighter around your torso as you now begin to feel trapped underneath him. wrestling you deeper into the mattress, he can't help the light rut his pelvis does into your side. the need to just have you becoming ever so consuming.

» imagine younger!neighbor jake, who in actuality, came over to your house because he's been missing you a little more than a neighbor truly should. while, yes, he was missing the comforting presence you would always bring to him. your caring tendencies in an almost sisterly way.

» imagine neighbor!jake, who's true reason for visiting, was because he began to miss you. he started to miss your thick, velvet walls that always feel so fucking good around his strained cock. the tiny whimpers you would produce when you were overstimulated. how much cum he would squirt out because only you could ever get him so aroused. he's longing for it, and now he needs this asap.

» "jake...." murmuring, you feel your head roll to the side as neighbor!jake uses a hand to push it out the way, needing an even greater space to kiss and mark you up, "we need...to stop. we need to stop this now. my parents are gonna be home-ah...soon."

» younger!neighbor jake is too much in a daze to even register your concern. fuck, how could he pay attention? despite your protests, you're already whining softly into the air, the little huffs of your chest has both you and him heaving up and down. this is how it always starts. it starts with your refusal to engage, your mature attitude that battles his easy going one, before eventually you begin to falter.

» imagine neighbor!jake slowly pulling his head back to gage you from above, and then recieving all the confirmation he needs. his noona. so fucking pretty, the way you're eyes are shut tightly because you always get aroused so fast. you want this, no matter how many times you try to deny. the evidence is all of your face. god, he feels his cock buzzing because of that pretty face. you just make him so damn horny. after admiring you, he lowers himself once more and goes back to producing fat, lazy hickies all over your neck and grinding his tip against you.

» imagine younger!neighbor jake, who's cock is pulsing so hard that he's seconds away from cumming on himself. raking his dick into your body, the sloppy kisses, all of it acts as the perfect foreplay for him. but what really does it for him, is when your legs involuntarily widens and closes to cage him in, solidifying the unspoken agreement between you two.

» a tiny smile starts to spread across neighbor!jake's face as he switches between splotching you red and huskily speaking, "you ready now?" he lands a larger kiss on the middle of your throat, "i'll be quick, noona." his throaty voice vibrates just perfectly into your ears. "just how you like it."

» imagine younger!neighbor jake, who's moments from stuffing you raw, muttering sweet nothings into your skin. he grabs a handful of your pants fabric and quietly pulls it down to reveal your commando state. when he brushes his fingertips against your bare clit, you have to bite your lip to stop a shuddered moan from leaving. his hazy eyes look up to your contorted face, "kinda wish you wouldn't hold back. i wanna hear your pretty moans. i wanna hear your soft pleads. let me hear you-"

» as you go to let out a throaty mewl, imagine younger!neighbor jake's dismay when he suddenly hears the front door opening then closing and indistinct talking emerges from downstairs. with an, ‘oh fuck’, the two of you jump and scramble apart, the sounds of footsteps echoing around. someone starts to make their way upstairs as you both go from a state of startling shock to sheer panic.

"Y/N! We're home!"

*

*

*

*

[yanderenightmare]

Bakugou Katsuki

♡ TW: omegaverse, size difference, reader's second gender is omega, so there are mentions of pregnancy, somewhat subjugating omega politics, old-fashioned high-class politics of sorts

♡ prequel to this

♡ GN reader

His eyes are garnet and slim—you can’t make up your mind if they’re judgemental or just assessing. Either would be allowed, of course. The point of the date is for him to decide if you’re sufficient or not.

And yet, you’re the one taking him in. His main is ashen blonde, boyishly spikey and wild—not fine-kempt and slick like you’d pictured. He didn’t have any grey hair either, or stubble, or wrinkles. Though he’s still much bigger and burlier than they are, he can’t be any older than the eldest males back at the institution.

He’s obviously an Alpha, and still, it’s so odd.

“You’re young,” you end up saying.

His nose scrunches. “No younger than you.”

It must have sounded accusatory, even when you only meant to point it out for yourself. You probably ought to have said it silently, inside yourself, and not out loud like you did.

And so you apologize, “I’m sorry, I was—I was just expecting someone older…” You try smiling, but the thought of him actually having been older makes your throat tight, and you swallow thickly instead. “Much older.”

He sighs, looks off to the side instead of at you. His brows tighten—you probably want someone who’s already got a house and a car and a boat on a lake, not to mention a good salary and not the intern pay he’ll be living off of for at least the next year or so. His foot taps beneath the table. You feel it in the floorboards. “You disappointed or somethin’?” he grumbles through grit teeth and a slim frown.

Your eyes widen, and you shake your head, blruting, “No!” You even jump out of your chair, both hands slamming flat on the table, making the napkin-wrapped cutlery clatter within their confines. 

Quickly, but too late, you realize you’re causing a scene. Cheeks burning, you look around before settling down again—you’re not making a very good first impression so far.

You take a breath, confessing, “I mean, I’m happy,” You place your hands in your lap and then start fiddling with them. “This way, we can be together for a long time…” Your voice is breathy as you let out a somewhat apologetic sigh, smiling some. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t dare look up to gauge his expression.

You end up laughing nervously in the silence, feeling the joke arise before you're able to dispel it. “I was afraid I was gonna have to be your nurse soon.”

His foot stops tapping. Then he scoffs.

You perk up again, fumbling over your newest mistake, already apologizing a second time so far, “I’m sorry, that was rude. You’re just not what I was expecting—I’m a little caught off guard, is all.”

He huffs, then grins. “That’s okay. You don’t gotta apologize.”

You both sit in silence after that. You pick your nails more. All the questions you’ve prepared are useless given his age—he doesn’t have an answer to how many kids he wants from you. Probably. It somehow feels strange asking him when he isn’t in his thirties or forties or early fifties.

You look at him in askance. It really is odd.

“You can ask—if you’re curious,” he sanctions.

You really want to, but you’ve made enough mistakes already. Your teachers wouldn’t be proud if they witnessed you acting so childish and not as the proper little lady they’ve trained you to be. 

“No, I shouldn’t.” You shake your head and look down at your lap.

“Come on, you don’t gotta worry about being rude with me,” he insists.

You bite your lip, feeling fidgety in your chair, peering up at him. “You sure?”

“Hit me.” 

The question leaps from your tongue before you have the mind to regret it. “How can you afford this?”

He leans back in his chair. “I can’t—not yet. My folks are paying.”

You hum—that makes more sense. “They must be nice,” you say.

“They try,” he agrees.

There’s a silence again. You don’t have anything appropriate to ask. You were more prepared to talk when spoken to, to answer his questions about your health and hobbies, all silly things that make you cute and likable, but given he’s your age, none of it seems any interesting. It seems he doesn’t have much to ask, either.

“I was unsure about this,” he declares after a while. “To be honest with you, it was all my mom’s idea. I didn’t ask for it…” With a pause, he picks up the menu that had been lying undisturbed in wait for his decision. “But, she tends to be right about most things. So, I think I’ll take the offer this once.”

He lets you decide without ordering for you. Neither of you decide to drink, even though you’re both old enough. The conversation is awkward, but you giggle a couple of times and he smirks in turn. You hadn’t anticipated it—this feeling. You’d anticipated the nerves and the tension—but not this other thing, this sweet fluttering feeling blossoming in your belly, flirty and fizzy. Is this what they call butterflies?

He’s left asking himself the same question.

♡ BAKUGOU KATSUKI masterlist ♡ BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA masterlist

[sugarplum217]

Essence Of Loyalty (Pt.1)

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black Plus Size Female Reader

Warnings: MDNI (18+) contains sexual explicit content, heavy smut, spit play, oral sex, A VERY HEAVY USE OF “daddy” and “mama”, unprotected sex, cursing, major dirty talk, creampie, mentions of murder, lots of heavy sexual flirtation, detailed sexual acts , fluff

AuthorsNote: Please excuse any mistakes or grammatical errors. I hope you enjoy the story and remember to be kind and if you want to be tagged in the next part let me know.

Summary: Everyone and their mama has been trying to either set you up on a date with someone or continuously remind you that your clock is ticking away. That you weren’t getting any younger and your looks would eventually fade. What they didn’t know is that you already had your special someone. In fact you’ve had him a while. You know how that saying goes, “Good things come to those who wait” and for you in this instance. It was nothing but the waiting game for your special someone to finally walk into your life. The question is .. would it be acceptable for everyone else?

You never expected to fall in love with a man behind bars. It started as nothing more than a random click—some late-night curiosity fueled by boredom and an ad that popped up between Facebook posts. Find love where you least expect it. Meet single men looking for companionship. You damn near scrolled past it, but something made you stop. Maybe it was the way the words “love” and “companionship” stood out, teasing something you didn’t realize you were craving. Maybe it was just the boredom, the same mundane routine of work, home, sleep, repeat, stretching on like a treadmill you couldn’t step off. Either way, you clicked. Scrolling through the profiles felt like flipping through a catalog you had no business browsing. Men of all ages and backgrounds, some looking for friendship, others for love. But none of them caught your attention. That is—until you saw him. Inmate 07541, Terrance Richmond. Baby, that mugshot stopped you cold. Rich buttery light caramel skin, sharp jawline, and full lips that looked like they could whisper secrets straight into your soul. His nose was strong, his features chiseled, but it was those damn piercing uniquely colored eyes that did it. Deep-set, hooded, with a stare so intense you could feel it through the screen. Something about them made your heart stutter—like he was looking at you, past you, into you. There was no forced smile, no tough-guy posturing. Just that stare. You hesitated, hovering over the message button. What the hell were you doing? Messaging a man serving time? A man who, according to his bio, had been locked up since he was 18? Still, curiosity won. You typed out a casual introduction—something light, something safe—and hit send. Then you pushed it to the back of your mind, fully expecting no response, but he wrote back. And not just some half-assed, one-line reply. He wrote you back.

That first message turned into another. And another. Emails became long letters, paragraphs bleeding into pages, until you found yourself rushing home from work just to see his name in your inbox. You learned everything about him—the way he used to play football before his life changed, the music he listened to, the books he read to escape the four walls of his cell. He told you about his past, the pain, the betrayal, the night everything changed. And you told him about yours—how life felt like it was happening at you instead of for you. How you wanted more, but you didn’t know what more even looked like. Then came the sweet video calls. The first time you saw him move, saw that sharp jaw flex when he smiled, heard that deep, velvety voice rumble straight through the screen—you were done. Hooked. Gone. Two years later, here you were. In a relationship—a real one, even if nobody knew. And in a few days, he’d be free. And that? That scared you more than anything.

“You always got an excuse, girl. What is tea?”Sonya’s voice snapped you back to the present, and you blinked, realizing your fork had been hovering over your plate for way too long. It was lunchtime at Taste Of The South Cafe, your usual Friday spot with the girls. The table was cluttered with half-empty margarita glasses, plates of fried catfish and mac and cheese, and the scent of honey butter croissants floating in the air. Normally, this was your escape from the monotony of work. But today? You were ready to go.

“I just wanna relax,” You half way lied, pushing your food around. Sonya wasn’t buying it. Neither was Deja.

“Girl, please,” Deja scoffed. “Every time we plan a girls’ night, your ass come up with something. What’s up? You sneakin’ around with somebody?”

“Ain’t nobody sneakin’.” You forced a laugh, shaking your head. 

“Then why you always rushin’ home like you got a man waitin’ on you?” Sonya arched a brow, swirling her margarita.

“Because I do.” You thought to yourself. But you didn’t say that. Instead, you shrugged, hoping they’d let it go. They didn’t.

“You sure it ain’t that new dude in accounting?” Deja pressed. “The one with the Audi and the beard? Girl, he is fine.”

“Not my type,” You said quickly.

Sonya snorted. “And what is your type? Because last time I checked, you were single as hell.”

You just smiled, keeping your real thoughts locked up tight. Because your type wasn’t something you could explain to them. Your type wasn’t sitting in an office, making six figures, and posting gym selfies on Instagram. Your type was locked behind bars. A man who had spent more of his life inside than out. A man whose voice alone made your thighs clench, whose absence felt like a missing limb. But they wouldn’t get that. So you just laughed it off, switched the subject, and counted down the hours until you could talk to him. The day dragged. By the time you made it to your car, your feet were aching, your patience was shot, and you were tired. But none of that mattered. Because in just a few minutes, he’d be calling. The drive home was full of bumper-to-bumper traffic and the usual call from your mama.

“Hey ma” You greeted, honking the car in front of you to move their ass. 

“Hey my baby. You comin’ to dinner this weekend?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” You make a face, thanking god she can’t see you.

“Good. Your sister’s bringing her fiancé.” She said, her tone laced with excitement. Of course, she was. Your older sister had the picture-perfect life—a man, a ring, a timeline that fit neatly into the family’s expectations.

“And he’s bringing his brother,” You mother added casually.

You sighed. “Ma—”

“Just be open-minded! You’re a beautiful girl, and you ain’t gettin’ any younger.” She reminded for the hundredth time. You gritted your teeth, gripping the steering wheel. If only she knew. But you decided to let it go. 

“I’ll see you Saturday.” You shook your head, hanging up.By the time you got home, it was 6:59pm. You barely had time to drop your purse before your phone lit up with that Incoming Call from your ‘Big Daddy’. You squealed, feeling your heart flip. 

You snatched it up, answering with a smile. “Hey, baby.”

“Damn, I needed to hear your voice.” A low chuckle rumbled through the speaker, deep enough to send heat pooling between your thighs. 

You melted instantly. “Long day?”

“Long as hell,” He sighed. “But I knew I’d be hearin’ from you, so I got through it.”

Your chest tightened. “I missed you.”

“Yeah? I missed you more baby” He smirked. You could hear it in his voice. “Tell me about your day, baby.”

So you did. You told him everything—lunch with your nosy-ass friends, your mama trying to set you up. And he listened quietly like always when it came to your day and what crazy ass story you had ready for him. That was one of the many things you loved about Terry, how he could just listen and never get tired of you talking. 

“Don’t sweat that shit, baby. You got a man.” He chuckled, low and smooth. That possessiveness made your toes curl.

“Yeah?” you teased. “I got a man?”

“Hell yeah,” He murmured. “And in a few days, you gon’ have me in every way possible.”

Your breath hitched and your body got hot. Because in just a few days, Terry Richmond would be free. And you would finally be his.  You adjusted the phone against your ear, stretching out on the couch, letting his voice roll over you like thick honey.

“You talkin’ real reckless, Mr. Terrance,” you teased, biting your lip. “What makes you think you gettin’ all this good good so easy?”

A deep, knowing chuckle rumbled through the receiver, sending shivers down your spine. “Baby,” He drawled, voice rich and slow like he was savoring every syllable. “Don’t play wit’ me. You and I both know the second I touch down, I’ma have you laid out for me, just how I like it.”

“Oh yeah?” Your thighs pressed together at the promise in his tone.

“Hell yeah. First thing I’m doin’ is spreadin’ them thighs, makin’ up for lost time. You know I been starvin’ for you. Ain’t had a taste of sweet pussy in years. I need my plate, ma.” He stated, making your breath hitch and heat coil in your lower belly. 

“Terry…” You breathed, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Say my name just like that when I’m between them legs,” He murmured. “Matter fact, scream it. I’ma put my mouth on every inch of you. Them thighs? Mine. Them hips? Mine. That spot you say makes you weak right under your belly button? I’m kissin’ it first. And you already know where I’m endin’ up.”

Your body responded to his words instantly, your nipples tightening against the fabric of your blouse. The ache between your thighs grew unbearable. You were so tempted to rub on your clit as he talked to you, but you knew big daddy’s rules. You weren’t allowed to touch yourself at all unless he gave the permission and could listen to you without any interruptions. 

“You talkin’ crazy,” You whispered, your voice thick with need.

“Nah, baby, I’m talkin’ facts. You gon’ see. Soon as I get out, you ain’t leavin’ that bed for at least three days.” He chuckled. 

“Oh, so I’m just gonna be held hostage?” You let out a shaky laugh, your fingers toying with the hem of your skirt.

“Damn right,” He said without hesitation. “Ain’t no way I been locked up this long just to finally get my hands on you and let you go. Shit, you gon’ be beggin’ me to let you breathe.”

Your stomach flipped. You wanted that. Needed that. But then, reality settled back in. The system didn’t make things easy.

“Speaking of that…What did your lawyer say about your release date? Will you be out on my birthday like we want?” You exhaled, shifting the phone closer to your ear. It was silence for a moment. The weight of it pressed heavy between you, thick and uncertain. You held your breath preparing for the worst case scenario possible. 

“They still pushin’ for my original release date, but you know how this shit go. Paperwork, red tape, all that. My lawyer confident, though. He say if everything lines up, I should be out right on time. Maybe even a couple days before.” Terry let out a slow breath.

“For real?” Your chest tightened with cautious hope. 

“For real, baby. But…” He hesitated. “You know they been tryin’ to trip me up in here. COs, some of these jealous-ass inmates. They know I’m close to freedom, and they hate that shit. I gotta keep my head low, stay out the way, but it’s hard sometimes. Real hard.”

“They still on that bullshit?” Your jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” He muttered. “They hate a nigga like me gettin’ a second chance. And these lame ass inmates tryna set me up don’t help either.”

“Terry, I swear to God if they—”You closed your eyes, frustration bubbling inside you.

“Relax, mama,” He said, voice dropping into that deep, soothing register that always made you weak. “Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me from comin’ home to you. I promise you that. I done made it through too much to let these motherfuckers take my freedom again.”

“Baby, please promise me you won’t do nothin’ to mess this up. I need you here. I need you home.” You frowned, Terry remained silent allowing you to vent because he knew this was becoming harder everyday for you to cope with. You swallowed hard, throat tight.

“I just…” You hesitated, then admitted softly, “I just need you here. I don’t want anything messin’ this up. My 28th birthday… Terry, all I want is you.”

“I know, ma. Trust me, I know.” His voice softened, turning serious. “You the only thing keepin’ me sane in here. The only thing keepin’ me goin’. I promise you, I ain’t lettin’ nothin’ get in the way of me comin’ home to you.”

“Okay,” you whispered. “I trust you.” You inhaled deeply, letting his words settle over you. 

“You got me for life baby,” He said assuring you, voice thick with emotion. “I swear to you, baby. If I gotta fight every damn day until that judge signs my release, I’ma do it. ‘Cause you worth it. We worth it.”

“You better mean that,” You whispered. Tears pricked your eyes, but you blinked them away.

“I do. And when I’m finally out, when I got you in my arms, I’ma make sure you never question that again.”

“I love you so much.” You exhaled shakily.

“I love you more, baby.” He bit his lip, feeling his heart speed up. 

“You swear you gonna come home to me, Terry?” You exhaled, stretching your legs out on the couch, your free hand absently trailing over your bare thigh. 

“Baby, listen to me.” His voice came through the receiver, deep and unwavering. “I need you to hear me when I say this. Ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ me from comin’ home to you. I done wasted enough years locked up, dreamin’ about what it feel like to be free, to wake up next to a woman who actually give a damn about me. I ain’t lettin’ no CO, no hating-ass inmate, no system take that from me.”

You closed your eyes, soaking in his words. A small tear escaped your eyes as you just let him talk and calm all of your fears. 

“And you really think I’m about to let you be out here spendin’ another birthday without me? Nah, ma. That ain’t happenin’.” He let out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating through your chest. “Matter fact, you should start gettin’ ready now, ‘cause soon as I step through that door, I’m givin’ you somethin’ to celebrate.”

“Oh yeah? What you givin’ me, Terry?” A slow smile spread across your lips. 

“Ain’t it obvious? My last name, first of all.” He stated matter of factly. 

“Boy, stop playin’.” Your breath caught in your throat.

“Who playin’?” He challenged. “You really think I been doin’ all this talkin’, dreamin’ about you, makin’ plans, just to be out here on some casual shit? Nah, baby. You my woman. And when I get home, I’m puttin’ a ring on that pretty lil’ finger. You ain’t gon’ be nobody else’s but mine.”

Heat spread through your chest, settling deep in your belly. He always had a way of making you feel claimed, but this? This was different. This felt all too real and that he was promising you the moon and the stars and would actually reach up in the damn sky and get it for you. 

“Terry…” You purred slightly. 

“Say it again,” He murmured, voice dropping to that low, dangerous octave that always did something to you. “Say my name just like that.”

“Terry.” Your lips parted, slowing your words down for him. 

“Mmm,” He groaned. “That’s what I wanna hear every morning, every night. That’s what I wanna hear when I’m makin’ love to you, when I’m in it so deep you forget how to say anything else.”

“You tryna kill me, huh?” You sucked in a breath, your thighs pressing together instinctively. 

“Nah, ma. Just tryna remind you who you belong to.” He smirked, licking his lips. 

You chewed your lip, heart pounding against your ribs. The thought of him finally being here, of feeling him, touching him, owning him in the flesh—it was almost too much.

“Terry…” You started, voice soft, hesitant.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He adjusted the phone on his ear, eyebrows furrowing. You hesitated a moment afraid to tell him what’s really been on your mind. Afraid he wouldn’t understand but truth was Terry was more than understanding when it came to you. 

“I just… I keep thinking about what’s gonna happen once you’re really here. Like, when it’s not just phone calls and emails. When it’s real. When it’s us.” You honestly confessed, sighing. You heard a brief pause making your stomach tighten out of angst. You held your breath afraid he’d be upset but after a few seconds, he then spoke gently. 

”That’s what you scared of?” He asked, voice soft. 

You swallowed. “Not scared, just… it’s gonna be different. You been inside since you were 18, Terry. That’s—” You did the math in your head, stomach twisting. “Seventeen years. That’s a long time.”

“I know,” He said simply. “You think I don’t know that? Every damn day, I been countin’ down to this moment. I know it’s gon’ be an adjustment. I ain’t naive to that, baby. But what I do know is that I want this. You. I ain’t spent two years fallin’ in love with you for nothin’. And I damn sure ain’t finna let somethin’ as small as a transition period shake me.”

You exhaled, nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “I just want you to be happy, Terry.”

“I am happy, ma. You make me happy.” He professed from his heart, making your heart squeeze and stomach flutter. 

“Now,” He continued, voice laced with that familiar hunger. “Can we get back to what I was sayin’? ‘Cause I still got a whole list of things I plan to do to you soon as I get out.”

“Oh yeah? Go ‘head then, baby. I’m listenin’.” Your stomach flipped.

Terry exhaled through the receiver, the sound slow and deliberate. “Aight, so… First thing I’m doin’ soon as I step through that door? I’m droppin’ my bag, pullin’ you close, and kissin’ you like I been starvin’ for it.”

“Mmmm.” You bit your lip, already picturing the scene.

“Ain’t gon’ be no soft, sweet shit neither. Nah,” He rumbled. “I’m talkin’ about deep, wet, tongue all in your mouth, my hands locked around that waist, pullin’ you so tight you feel my dick pressin’ up against you.”

“Damn, Big Daddy. Can I at least take my heels off first?” You let out a breathy laugh.

“Hell nah,” He said smoothly. “Matter fact, leave ‘em on. I want you just like that. Fresh off work, tight lil’ skirt ridin’ up, them pretty ass legs wrapped ‘round my waist while I pin you up against the door.”

“Oh shit..” Your entire body heated at the image. You had to fan yourself, and cross your legs to avoid any wetness seeping out. 

“You know how long I been dreamin’ about that, baby?” His voice dropped an octave, turning into something dark, possessive. “Seventeen years. Seventeen years I been locked in this hellhole, surrounded by nothin’ but concrete and steel, knowin’ I ain’t got a real woman to touch, to taste, to claim. And then you came along…”

“B-Baby..” A soft gasp slipped from your lips. You squeezed your thighs shut tighter, already soaking your panties. 

“And now all I can think about is how you gon’ feel underneath me. How soft your skin is. How good you smell. How sweet you taste.” He growled lowly in your ear. 

“Shit.” You cursed, shifting on the couch, thighs pressing together.

“Mmm,” He hummed knowingly. “You wet for me, ain’t you?”

“Terry—” You swallowed.

“Nah, don’t try to play it off now,” He interrupted. “I know you, ma. I know you sittin’ there, grippin’ that phone tight, breathin’ all heavy, body heatin’ up just listenin’ to me talk. I don’t even need to be there to know how bad you want me.”

“You lucky you locked up.” You let out a shaky breath, tilting your head back against the couch. 

“Lucky? Nah, baby. Unlucky. ‘Cause if I was home right now, I’d have you laid out, ass up, back arched, moanin’ my name so loud the neighbors call the cops.”He chuckled, voice dripping with amusement.

“Boy, stop!” You laughed, shaking your head. “You talk all that shit, I hope you got the stamina to back it up.”

Terry clicked his tongue. “Oh, you doubtin’ me? That’s crazy. Lemme find out my baby think I ain’t gon’ put in work.”

“I mean, it has been a long time, Big Papa,” You teased.

“Aight,” He drawled, tone dangerous. “Keep playin’ with me. You gon’ be beggin’ me to let you breathe when I’m done with you.”

Your stomach flipped at the way he said it, so smooth and confident like he had zero doubt in his ability to back up every single word. The next few hours passed in a blur, the two of you tangled in conversation like it was your own little world. Terry told you about the meals he was craving—real food, not that processed mess they served on metal trays. He wanted collard greens, mac and cheese, cornbread, fried chicken, all made by you. “I need a home-cooked meal, baby. Something made with love,” He said, his voice full of longing. You laughed and promised to have a whole spread waiting for him. Then the conversation shifted to the small things—how he couldn’t wait to sleep in a real bed, how he wanted to go outside at night just to feel the wind on his face without fences in the way, how he wanted to sit on the couch with you and watch a movie with your legs draped over his lap. “Shit like that, ma,” He murmured. “The simple stuff. That’s what I miss the most.”

And you listened, hanging onto his every word, feeling your heart swell with each confession. The world had taken so much from him, stripped him of so many years, but somehow, he still had softness in him. He still had love to give. You found yourself telling him about all the things you wanted to do together, too—how you wanted to take him out to eat at a real restaurant, go on a drive late at night just because, lay up with him on a Sunday morning while the smell of breakfast filled the apartment. The more you talked, the more the reality of him coming home settled deep inside you. “You really gon’ take care of me, huh?” he asked, his voice low and full of something tender. “You damn right,” you whispered. “Somebody gotta make up for all that time you lost.”

If someone had told you years ago that you’d fall in love with a man behind bars, you would’ve laughed in their face. You always wanted love, prayed for it even, but you never imagined it would come in the form of Terry Richmond—a man with a past heavier than most, a man who had seen the worst parts of life and still found a way to hold onto his soul. He was the most fascinating, most alluring man you’d ever known, and you had never been more open with anyone in your life. You craved him in ways that scared you sometimes. You wanted to be the one to feed him, to run him a hot bath and wash years of struggle off his skin. You wanted to rub his shoulders, his chest, his back, to remind him that he was human, that he was home. And the way he talked to you, the way he poured into you, made you feel like you were already his sanctuary.

After you finally got off the phone, you moved into your nighttime routine, taking your time washing your face, patting your skin dry, smoothing your serums in like a ritual. You stared at yourself in the mirror, thinking about how your life was about to change. In just a few days, he’d be here, in your space, in your bed, in your life outside of those prison walls. As you reached for your bonnet and wrapped it securely around your head, your phone buzzed on the counter. FaceTime. Mama. You sighed, knowing she’d scold you if you didn’t answer, so you slid your thumb across the screen and propped the phone up.

“Hey, Mama,” You greeted, already bracing yourself.

“Hey, baby,” She said, peering at you through the screen. “Just callin’ to say goodnight and check on you before you went to bed.”  

“I’m alright , Mama. Just gettin’ ready for bed. Doing my usual routine.” You smiled. 

“Mm-hmm,” She hummed, then her face lit up. “Oh! Guess who I ran into today? You remember Kiana Perkins from high school?”

You frowned, digging through your memory. “Kiana Perkins… oh yeah, the one who used to run track?”

“Yes, her! Baby, she married now, got two babies, livin’ all happy with her husband. She showed me pictures and everything. And I just… I don’t know, baby, it got me thinkin’.” She started in on you. 

“Mama—” You groaned internally.

She held up a hand. “I know what you ‘bout to say, but hear me out. You not gettin’ any younger, baby. I just want you to have somebody. You always been my dumplin’, my soft-hearted baby, and I just—” She sighed. “I just want you to be loved, baby. I want somebody to take care of you for once.”

You bit your lip, heart squeezing at her words, but she didn’t know. She didn’t know that you did have somebody. That you had Terry. That soon, you wouldn’t be coming home to an empty bed anymore. You leaned back against the bathroom counter, swallowing the lump in your throat as your mother continued, her voice full of concern. 

“You know, I just don’t want you to end up like me, raising a family all on your own. You’ve got so much to offer, baby, don’t let it go to waste.” She paused, waiting for you to respond, but you were caught in a whirlwind of emotions. You wanted to tell her the truth, but you couldn’t—not yet. Terry was still behind those walls, and the world wasn’t ready for your truth. Not yet.

“I hear you, Mama,” You said softly, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “But I’m good. I’m happy with how things are right now.”

She eyed you, her brow furrowing, but she didn’t push it. “Alright,” she finally said, her tone softening. “Just don’t wait too long, baby. Time don’t wait for nobody.”

“I won’t, Mama. Promise,” You replied, though you knew the promise wasn’t to her. It was to yourself. You weren’t going to waste any more time. The conversation moved on, and you couldn’t help but feel a little guilty for not telling her about Terry. She didn’t know that every night, you fell asleep with thoughts of him, that his voice had become the lullaby you never knew you needed. You thought about his touch, his words, the way he made you feel like you were the only woman in the world. But for now, it was a secret. Your secret. You wrapped up the call with your mother, promising to be at Sunday dinner over the weekend, and hung up. The air felt thick now, like the weight of your own desires had settled in your chest. You finished getting ready for bed, your mind racing with thoughts of Terry, wondering if he was thinking about you too, wondering how much longer you’d have to wait before he was finally home. As you slipped under the

covers, your mind drifted to your happy place and that was Terry. Eventually after saying a quick silent prayer for him and his safety like you did every night, you finally went to sleep. 

The morning light seeped through the blinds, casting long golden streaks across your bedroom. You lay there for a moment, tangled in your silk sheets, staring at the ceiling with a heavy mind. The anticipation sat on your chest like a weight. Today could be the day you got answers—real answers—about Terry’s release. No more guesswork, no more waiting in limbo. Either he’d be home in time for your birthday, or he wouldn’t. And if it was up to you, there wouldn’t be a wouldn’t. Your phone vibrated on the nightstand, shaking you from your thoughts. The number was unfamiliar, but you knew who it had to be before you even swiped to answer.

“Hello?” Your voice was groggy, thick with sleep, but there was an urgency beneath it.

“Good morning, this is Michael Walker, Terry Richmond’s attorney.” The voice on the other end was smooth, professional, but you caught that slight edge—like he was bracing himself for a conversation you might not want to have. “I wanted to give you an update on his case. Do you have a moment?”

“Of course. What’s the update?” You pushed yourself upright, resting your back against the headboard.

Michael exhaled. “So here’s where we are. We’re still waiting on the judge’s final decision regarding his release. As you know, we’ve been pushing hard for full release instead of parole, but the system moves at its own pace. Right now, it’s looking like one of two things will happen—either the judge will sign off on his release, and he’ll be free to come home, or he’ll be granted parole with conditions.”

Your stomach twisted at the word “conditions.” That could mean anything. A curfew. Mandatory check-ins. Restrictions on where he could go, what he could do. You wanted Terry free—not still tangled in the system’s web.

“Is there a chance he’ll be home by my birthday?” You asked, your voice smaller than you intended.

Michael hesitated. That damn hesitation. You hated it. “That’s what we’re aiming for,” He said finally. “But it’s all in the judge’s hands. We’re doing everything we can to make it happen, but we need to be realistic.”

Your fingers tightened around the phone. “I just… I need him home.” The words left you before you could stop them, more vulnerable than you wanted to sound.

“I get it,” Michael said, and for the first time, there was something softer in his tone. “But here’s the thing—you need to make sure Terry understands how important it is for him to stay in line right now. He’s close. So damn close. But if he gets into it with the COs, if he so much as breathes wrong in there, it could delay everything. Or worse.”

A lump formed in your throat. Terry had been through hell in that prison. You knew how hard it was for him to bite his tongue, to play the game when the guards disrespected him just for breathing. You also knew how much some of those inmates hated to see another Black man about to touch freedom. Envy was a dangerous thing.

“I’ll talk to him,” You said firmly. “I’ll make sure he knows.”

“Good,” Michael replied. “I’ll keep you posted on any updates. Until then, just keep him focused on what’s waiting for him on the outside.”

And that’s exactly what you planned to do. Because he was coming home. To you. To the life y’all had spent two years dreaming up. And you weren’t about to let anything or anyone take that away. The weight of everything that needed to be done before Terry came home sat on your shoulders like a mix of excitement and pressure. There was so much to prepare, so much to buy, so much to perfect before your man walked through that door and took his rightful place in your life. Clothes, toiletries, shoes, cologne—he was stepping into a world he hadn’t been a part of since he was barely legal, and you were determined to make sure he had everything he needed to start fresh. And then there was you. Your own upkeep was just as important. You wanted to look good good for him. A fresh Brazilian wax so your skin was baby smooth, eyebrows snatched, lashes full and fluttery, and your hair? Oh, that had to be flawless—not just for your birthday but because you already knew he was going to have it all over the place by the end of the night. You could already hear the headboard knocking, already feel his breath on your skin, already picture the way he’d grip you like he was making up for lost time. The thought alone made your stomach tighten with anticipation.

But beyond all the surface-level preparation, there was a deeper feeling swirling inside you. Letting a man you’d only seen through a screen and heard through a receiver move into your home was a huge step. Some would call it crazy. Hell, a part of you knew it was risky, but love had never been about playing it safe. And with Terry? It had never felt like a risk. It felt right. He was your soulmate—plain and simple. The man you wanted to

wake up to, fall asleep with, build a family with. You’d spent two years loving him from a distance, and now, you were stepping into a reality where he was yours in every way. You weren’t naive to the adjustments that would come with it, but you also weren’t afraid. He was worth it.

With a stretch and a soft sigh, you finally pulled yourself out of bed, the silk of your nightgown clinging to your curves as you padded across your bedroom. It barely covered your ass, the hem rising with each step, and you lazily reached for your robe, wrapping it around you before making your way into the kitchen. The house was still, quiet, but soon, it would be filled with his presence. Him walking around shirtless, his deep voice filling up every room, his scent lingering on the furniture. You couldn’t wait. As you reached for the fridge, your eyes landed on the Polaroid photo of him taped to the door—one of the few glimpses of him outside of a call or a video chat. He had sent it during one of the rare inmate photo days, his expression serious but his eyes still burning with something that made your stomach flip. Damn, you fine. You ran a finger over the image, smiling to yourself before pulling out the eggs and milk.

The one thing people probably wouldn’t understand was why you had never visited him in prison. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. God knew you had begged to. But Terry? Terry was territorial to his core. It had taken months of back-and-forth, of pleading and arguing, before you finally accepted that he wasn’t going to let you step foot in that visiting room. He didn’t want no prison guards or inmates looking at his woman—studying you, lusting after you, imagining things about you that only he was allowed to. You belonged to him, and the thought of other men—especially those locked up with him—laying their eyes on you sent him into a rage he didn’t even try to hide. It wasn’t just possessiveness; it was protection. He had seen too many things go left in that place, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be a part of any of it. So, you let it go, trusting that the day would come when you wouldn’t have to love him from a distance. That day was almost here.

You were in the middle of whisking the batter for your waffles when your phone vibrated on the counter. Without hesitation, you snatched it up, already knowing who it was.

“Good morning, beautiful,” Terry’s deep, raspy voice sent a warmth down your spine. His morning voice was dangerous.

“Mmm, good morning, baby,” You hummed, tucking the phone between your ear and shoulder as you continued mixing. “How’d you sleep?”

“Would’ve slept better with you underneath me,” He murmured, the smirk in his tone evident. “What my baby got planned for today?”

You bit your lip, smiling. “Just a quick Target and BJ’s run to stock the house up for you, then I gotta get my nails done. Oh, and I gotta swing by the post office to pick up my bundles that came in.”

He chuckled, low and knowing. “Mmm, you tryna get fine for Big Daddy?”

“Mmhmm.” You giggled, rolling your eyes even though he couldn’t see you.

“Damn, girl…” His voice dropped a little lower, and you could almost see him licking his lips on the other end. “Ima eat that pussy like crazy, baby girl.”

Your breath hitched, a heat sparking between your thighs. “Terry!” You squealed, laughing. “Stop being nasty!”

“Nah, I’m deadass serious.” His tone was dark, full of hunger. “You don’t even know what you got coming.”

You took a steadying breath, trying to shake off the goosebumps crawling up your skin. “Listen, nasty man, we need to talk.” Your tone shifted, getting serious. “Your attorney called me this morning. We need to discuss what he told me.”

“What he say?” There was a pause before he answered with a serious tone. 

You exhaled. “Baby…” You gripped the phone tighter, staring at the batter as if it had the answers. “It’s about your release.”

Terry was silent for a moment, and you could feel the shift in his energy through the phone. That easy, teasing tone from before was gone, replaced by something heavier—something cautious.

“What about it?” His voice was lower now, tight with restraint.

You sighed, setting the whisk down and gripping the edge of the counter. “He said they’re still waiting on the judge to sign off, and it could go either way. Either parole or full release.” You paused, running your tongue over your lips. “I asked if you’d be home by my birthday, and he said that’s what they’re pushing for, but the judge has to approve it first and it appears the judge is taking their sweet ass time. Same shit you told me last night.” 

“Man… I been waiting years for this moment. If they try to stall this shit…” Terry sucked his teeth, exhaling sharply through his nose.

“Baby, don’t even put that energy in the air,” You cut in quickly, gripping the phone. “It’s gonna happen. You just gotta hold tight.”

“I’m tryna hold tight, ma, but you don’t understand. I been locked down since I was eighteen. Half my life. I done played by they rules, kept my nose clean, did everything I was supposed to do. And now, when it’s finally my time to touch down, they wanna drag they feet?” His frustration was raw, and you didn’t blame him one bit.

“That’s why we gotta be smart about this,” You soothed, lowering your voice. “Your attorney said you need to walk a fine line, Terry. These COs and some of them inmates? They don’t want to see you win, baby. You getting out means they lose power over you. And if you let ‘em get under your skin, if you give them any reason to stall this—”

“I know, baby,” He gritted, cutting you off. “I ain’t stupid.”

“I never said you were,” You softened, biting your lip. “But you know they’ll do anything to keep a black man locked up. You know that. You can’t afford to slip.”

Another deep sigh. “I just wanna be with you, ma,” He admitted, his voice quieter now, the vulnerability cutting through all the frustration. “That’s all I been holding on to. You. Us. The life we ‘bout to have.”

“And you will be with me, Terry. Soon. I promise.” Your heart clenched, and you closed your eyes for a second.

“You the only thing keeping me sane right now, baby,” He muttered. “You really are.”

“And you the only man I want. Ain’t nothing gon’ change that.” You swallowed hard, that warmth creeping back into your chest.

He went quiet for a beat, then, “Damn, you really love me, huh?”

“Boy, you already know.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Say it,” He murmured.

“I love you, Terrance Richmond.” You bit your lip, smiling. 

A deep exhale came through the line, like those words alone were enough to ground him. “I love you too, ma. More than you even know.”

“You better love me with your fine self.” You giggled, continuing to whisk the batter. He chuckled lowly, the sound making your ears perk up at the nostalgic sound.

“You know I want a baby soon as possible, right? Just like we talked about.” Terry’s voice dipped even lower, that familiar edge of possession curling around his words. 

“I know, baby.” You bit your lip, warmth spreading through your belly at the certainty in his tone.

“Nah,” He pressed. “I mean, soon as I get home, I’m filling you up. I ain’t playing.”

A giggle bubbled out of you. “Well, that’s good to know,”  You teased, twisting a strand of hair between your fingers. “Because I already got off my birth control, and I’m ovulating real soon.”

Silence. Then a sharp inhale from Terry. “You serious?”

“Mmhmm.” A smirk played on your lips 

“Good,” He growled. “‘Cause I ain’t pulling out. I want you pregnant, mama. You carrying my son or my baby girl. I already see it.”

A deep shudder rolled through you at the sheer conviction in his voice. There was no hesitation, no doubt—he wanted this, just like you did. Now you knew having a baby before a ring wasn’t the most conventional thing. You were raised better than that, taught that marriage first was the way to go, that being someone’s “baby mama” wasn’t the move. But Terry? He wasn’t that type of man. This wasn’t some half-thought-out, heat-of-the-moment decision. You knew exactly what you were signing up for. From the moment you told him you wanted his baby, he made it crystal clear—both you and that child would have his last name. There would be no question, no hesitation. You weren’t about to be just someone’s BM. You were his woman, his future wife.

The plan was already in motion—soon as he got out, y’all were hitting the courthouse and making it official. No long engagement, no drawn-out wedding planning stress. He wanted to be your husband immediately. And once he was settled, once he was back on his feet, working and bringing in real money, then he’d give you that big wedding, the

one with the flowers, the dress, the family all gathered to watch you walk down the aisle. But for now? The paper, the commitment, you—that’s what mattered most to him.

It wasn’t like you weren’t set up already. You made damn good money, and your degree in business administration had you sitting pretty in a high-paying corporate consulting job, helping multi-million-dollar firms streamline their operations. Your salary was more than enough to hold things down while Terry got back on his feet, and you’d already mapped out a business plan to help him reintegrate. Finding a job after doing seventeen years inside wasn’t easy, but you had resources, connections, a plan. You weren’t just bringing him home—you were making sure he stayed home. You were building a life with this man, and every step of it felt right.

“You think your family gon’ like me?” Terry exhaled through the phone, his deep voice softening just a little. Your smile, bright and easy just seconds ago, slowly faded. It was a fair question. A real one. But it wasn’t an easy one to answer. You knew your mama. Sweet, nurturing, and warm when she wanted to be, but judgmental as hell. A devout Christian woman—saved, sanctified, and filled with the Holy Ghost. She wasn’t fond of anything remotely sinful, and Terry… well, Terry was the walking definition of sinful.

There was no denying he was a fine-ass man. That wasn’t the issue. Standing tall at 6’3”, with those piercing hazel eyes that seemed to shift between ocean-gray and a stormy blue-green depending on the light. Rich, light caramel skin that deepened into a golden bronze in the summer but softened into a fairer hue in the colder months. A strong, chiseled jawline that made him look both dangerous and regal. His lips? Plump, full, always looking like they were ready to be kissed—or used for something far nastier. His short-cropped curly fro was just long enough to grab, and those thick, corded muscles? Yeah. His time behind bars didn’t just sculpt his body—it turned him into a damn statue, cut from flesh instead of marble. His tattoos, inked along his thick arms, added to his edge. Especially that sleeve—his latest one, a masterpiece he got done while inside.

He was the kind of man that turned heads when he walked into a room. The kind that made women cross their legs and bite their lip. But he wasn’t the “good, God-fearing man” your mother had envisioned for you. Terry was the complete opposite. And yet, his heart was the purest thing about him. Despite his past, despite the anger and the hurt buried deep in his soul, he was a good man. A gentle soul trapped in an exterior so hard, so intimidating, most people never got to see the real him.

You inhaled sharply, trying to find the right words. “Baby, I gotta be honest with you.”

“Mmhmm?” His voice was calm. 

You sighed. “I don’t know. My mama… she can be a bit much. And the fact that I’ve been hiding this—hiding us—for the past two years? Oh, she gon’ have a fit. And my sister? Whew, she gon’ have a mouth full too. You’d probably have better luck with my aunties than my own mama.”

Terry chuckled, a deep, warm sound that made your stomach flutter. “I get it, baby. I do.” His voice was soft, understanding. “But I ain’t going nowhere. She can side-eye me, throw oil on me, pray over me ‘til she blue in the face—I’m still gon’ be here. And I’ma do whatever I can to make her love me. To make her see I ain’t some monster. ‘Cause I want this, ma. I want us. I want your family to be my family, too.”

That made you smile. A big one. The kind that deepened your dimples and warmed you from the inside out. But there was something else weighing on you. Something heavy. Something you knew Terry wouldn’t want to talk about, but you had to ask.

You hesitated before carefully pushing forward. “Baby… you gon’ reach out to your mama once you’re free?”

“Nah, Y/N. I’m not.” He answered, his voice, tight and clipped. 

You swallowed. “Baby—”

“Ain’t like she gave a fuck about me in the first place,” he cut you off, his voice colder now. “I’m in here ‘cause of her. You know that.”

“I know. I do. But, baby… you gotta forgive. Not for her. For you. You need peace, Terry. You deserve that.” You exhaled slowly. His breathing was heavier now, like he was trying to keep himself from slipping into that dark place. You hated when he went there. When the bitterness and resentment started to eat away at him.

“I got peace, baby. I got you.” His voice softened just a little, but you could still hear the hurt beneath it. “That’s all I need.”

“I hear you baby.” You softly replied. You decided to respect his wishes and let the conversation about his mother rest. He had been through enough, and you weren’t about to push him into something he wasn’t ready for. Instead, you brightened up, shifting the energy as you let out a little squeal.

“Oh! Baby, my birthday dress came!” You announced excitedly, twirling a loose curl around your finger. “I can’t wait for you to see me in it.”

Terry’s smirk was damn near audible through the phone. “Oh yeah?” His voice dropped an octave, turning rich and smooth like warm honey. “That’s cool, baby… ‘cause I can’t wait to take that shit off you.”

“It is literally nine in the morning, and you already on go.” You chuckled, shaking your head.

“Because I got this pretty, brown-eyed woman waiting on me,” He murmured. “And I can’t stop staring at her picture, picturing our life together beyond these walls. I just need my woman bad.” He let out a breath, voice thick with longing. “I wanna turn your body inside out, have you laid up exhausted, and then make you breakfast in the morning while you recover, boo.”

“Leave the cooking to me, Richmond. Don’t need you burning our house up.” You smirked, scratching your head. You hadn’t even realized you said it like that—our house—until the words left your lips. But Terry caught it instantly. His heart swelled, warmth spreading through his chest like wildfire.

“Our,” He repeated, grinning through the phone. “I like the sound of that. And don’t worry, baby. I could never destroy anything of ours.” His words settled over you like a warm embrace, making your stomach flutter.

Terry cleared his throat after a beat. “So, your girls still takin’ you out for your birthday?”

“Mmhmm,” You confirmed, stretching lazily. “We’re hitting this grown and sexy lounge. Got a section, a table, should be real nice. I just wanted something low-key. Nothing too crazy.”

Terry hummed in approval. “That’s what’s up. You think your girls gon’ accept me?”

You snorted. “They’re gonna love you. Especially Deja. Sonya, though… she might take a minute. She’s Miss Fake Bougie, swearing she a real housewife of Atlanta. But deep down, she’s chill. Just real protective of me.”

Terry let out a low chuckle. “Aight, sounds like a plan, baby girl. Long as they ain’t plotting to run me off, we cool.”

“Never that.” You smiled, resting your chin in your hand, leaning on the countertop.

“Mm. Aight, tell me this, then—what’s the first meal I’m getting when I come home?” He inquired, with a devious smirk. 

“Well, I was thinking… me.” Your voice became real seductive, tilting your head. 

Terry’s laughter rumbled through the phone, low and sinful. “Ain’t no thinking, that’s a guarantee. But just to be safe, cook us something for after, ‘cause we gon’ need the strength.”

“Terry, you so damn silly.” You burst out laughing, shaking your head at him.

“You love it,” He teased, and he wasn’t wrong. Because behind all that reserved, stoic energy, Terry Richmond was a damn goofball at heart. And he was your goofball. The conversation between you and Terry continued, the two of you just vibing, killing time before you had to finally pull yourself away and get in the shower. He told you about a wild dream he had last night—some crazy mix of old memories and future fantasies of the two of you together.

“Man, I swear, I had the realest dream, baby,” He said, voice lazy and deep. “We was laid up in this big-ass house, had the baby in the crib next to us… you was wearin’ my T-shirt, lookin’ all sexy with your lil’ bonnet on, and I just kept pullin’ you closer, not even tryna let you sleep.”

“So you gon’ keep me up even in your dreams?” You laughed, rolling onto your side, twirling the bedsheets between your fingers. 

“Hell yeah,” He said without hesitation. “I been starvin’, baby. Soon as I touch down, I’m eatin’ you up, kissin’ on you, makin’ love to you every chance I get. You gon’ be sick of me.”

“Never that daddy,” You murmured, feeling warmth spread through your body at just the thought of how it would feel to finally have him home.

“Bet,” He chuckled, then let out a deep sigh. “I just be sittin’ in this cell picturing it, picturing us—you in the tub, all soaped up, candles lit, slow jams playin’… me right behind you, holdin’ you close, runnin’ my hands all over that soft ass skin, kissing up your neck… licking on your nipples..”

Your breath hitched, already envisioning the exact same thing. You had put together a playlist for his arrival—nothing but the smoothest 90s and early 2000s R&B, songs that made you wanna melt into somebody’s arms.

“You wanna know what I was thinking about?” You asked, biting your lip.

“What, baby?”  He feigned innocence.

“How you gon’ be sneakin’ into the shower while I’m tryna get ready for work,” you giggled. “Talkin’ about, ‘lemme wake you up the right way’—like I don’t have places to be!”

Terry laughed but then hummed in approval. “Shit, I am waking you up the right way. Gon’ have you walkin’ into work with a smile so big, they gon’ know somebody put it there.”

Your stomach flipped at the thought, heat rising to your cheeks. You were so gone for this man. “You just wait, Richmond,”You teased, sighing dramatically. “You about to be a full-time distraction.”

“That’s my plan, baby.” He grinned through the phone. 

After a few more minutes of sweet talk, you finally sighed. “Alright, I need to get in the shower before I lay here and talk to you all day.”

“I ain’t stoppin’ you,” Terry teased. “I just wanna hear the water runnin’. Let me close my eyes and imagine it.”

“Boy, bye!” You laughed, shaking your head before reluctantly hanging up.

—

The hot water cascaded over your skin as you leaned against the shower wall, letting the warmth soak into your muscles. Your mind was racing with all the intimate moments you’d been daydreaming about since Terry’s release date became a real possibility. Late nights soaking in the tub together, his strong arms wrapped around you, his lips trailing along your shoulder. Waking up to him pulling you into his body, whispering in your ear before making love to you first thing in the morning. The idea of sharing a home, a bed, a life with him made your stomach flip with anticipation. You had been living alone for so long, moving on your own schedule, answering to no one. But now, there would be him. His things mixed with yours, his scent lingering in your sheets, his presence filling the empty spaces. And you couldn’t wait.

Once you finished luxuriating, you stepped out, wrapping yourself in a plush towel. You took your time getting dressed—pulling on a pair of black leggings that hugged your curves and a Nike sports bra, slipping into your most comfortable sneakers. You tied your hair into a sleek bun, then grabbed a baseball cap to shield your eyes from the Georgia sun. After grabbing your Louis Vuitton Speedy 30, you were just about to head out the door when your phone rang and you saw it was Sonya.

You sighed before answering, already bracing yourself. “What’s up, girl?”

“Mm, what you got going on today?” She asked, her tone full of suspicion, like she knew you were up to something.

“Just about to make a quick Target and BJ’s run,” You said casually, hoping she’d just let it go.

“Oh, perfect! I need to hit Target anyway! I’ll meet you there.” She stated. You internally cringed. Sonya didn’t know about Terry yet. And you definitely didn’t need her up in your cart asking a hundred questions about all the men’s products you were grabbing.

“Girl, I’m moving quick today,” You abruptly said, trying to throw her off. “Gotta be in and out, no time for browsing.”

“Please, you never just ‘run in’ anywhere,” Sonya scoffed. “I’ll keep up.”

“Sonya…” You huffed, rubbing your temple. 

“What?” She laughed. “Why you sound so stressed? You tryna move funny or somethin’?”

“You know I move funny, that ain’t new.”You let out a dry laugh. 

“Mhm, and that’s exactly why I’m coming.” She snickered. 

You sighed dramatically, knowing there was no way out of this now. “Fine, I’ll see you there,” You relented, already planning how you were going to strategically avoid letting her see all the things you were picking up for Terry. You hurried up and grabbed your car keys and your Stanley cup from your kitchen counter before heading right out the door to your car. You hit the unlock button on your key fob and heard the chirp. Sliding into the plush leather seat of your Mercedes-Benz, you place your Stanley cup in the cupholder before pressing the push-to-start button. The engine purrs to life, and before you can even adjust the air, the CarPlay screen lights up, immediately blasting the smooth, honeyed vocals of Maxwell’s “Fortunate” through the speakers.

Your heart leaps in excitement. “SING IT, MAXWELL!” You squeal, gripping the steering wheel and swaying your shoulders as if you’re right there on stage with him. 

This is your song. Terry’s song. The one he always sings to you over the phone—completely off-key but with so much passion, like he’s pouring every piece of himself into it. You can still hear him now—“I never sang a song with all my might…”—his deep, rough voice twisting the lyrics into something that sounds nothing like Maxwell, but you never cared. It was him. It was you. It was love. You pull out of the driveway, easing onto the streets of Atlanta, the sun gleaming against the hood of your Benz. The beat of the song wraps around you, filling every inch of the car with warmth. With one hand on the wheel and the other tapping rhythmically against your thigh, you let the city move around you, the skyline stretching high above as you feel the music, feel the love behind every lyric. Terry is coming home. Soon. And as Maxwell’s voice croons through the speakers, you let yourself dream—of slow dances in the living room, of his arms pulling you close as you sway to this very song, of him pressing soft kisses along your shoulder while mumbling the lyrics into your ear.You exhale, your lips curling into a soft, knowing smile. It’s only a matter of time.

Pulling into the Target parking lot, you let out a long, heavy sigh, gripping the wheel as you mentally prepared yourself for Sonya. You loved your girl—no doubt about it. Sonya was one of those ride-or-die friends who would cut up with you on a Saturday night and pray with you on Sunday morning. But she was also the kind of woman who didn’t know the meaning of boundaries. She always had to be up in the mix, tasting the flavor, giving unsolicited advice even when it wasn’t needed. And it wasn’t that you didn’t want to share Terry with your girls—because you did. He was your man, and you were proud of him.

But you wanted to make sure this was real. That this was happening. That he was actually going to be home before you started bragging and boasting about him to your family and friends. You couldn’t count how many times you’d gotten excited about a brotha, only for him to turn out to be a disappointment. And every time, you had to do the walk of shame, explaining to everyone that it didn’t work out. You hated the look of disappointment on your mother’s face, the I told you so smirk on your sister’s lips, and God forbid Sonya’s infamous, “I knew that nigga wasn’t shit.” speeches. And then there was Deja, who always chimed in with, “Girl, want me to get my cousin to kill him?”

You loved your girls, but the last two years had been a sacred kind of peace. You had cultivated this private, intense, deeply intimate relationship with Terry while he was behind bars, and there was something pure about keeping it just between the two of you. You knew that sometimes, outside influence could ruin a good thing, and you weren’t ready to share your world just yet. But if things aligned perfectly—if the odds were in your favor, if the judge signed off, and if God was looking out for you—then they would meet him the night of your birthday outing. You just hoped everything would fall into place. You hopped out of the car, grabbing your Louis Vuitton Speedy 30 from the passenger seat and slinging it over your arm. Just as you shut the door, you spotted Sonya standing near the entrance, her arms crossed, her stance already radiating irritation. You took a deep inhale, bracing yourself, then walked over, greeting her with a quick hug.

“Girl, what’s wrong with you?” You asked, noticing her sour expression.

“Chile, my damn hairstylist just sent me that infamous ‘Hey boo’ text, and I just know it’s about to be some bullshit.” Sonya sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes.

“That’s why I told you to stop going to her, Sonya. She’s unprofessional as hell and always canceling on you at the last minute.” You snorted and shook your head. 

“I know, I know,” She whined dramatically, throwing her hands up. “But girl, she know how to lay my damn wigs. She makes that lace look like scalp! I do not wanna go to nobody else!”

You laughed, grabbing a cart and rolling into the store with her. You weren’t even five steps inside before you gave her a knowing look and smirked. “I don’t even know why you waste your time getting them wigs laid, knowing Omar gon’ pull that shit right off your head and have your lace looking crazy by the end of the night.”

“You ain’t lying, girl. You really ain’t lying.” Sonya stuck her tongue out at you before giggling, clearly thinking about how wild her and her man got. 

You shook your head, laughing as you made your way toward the laundry aisle, grabbing detergent, fabric softener, and some cleaning products. You wanted the house to be

perfect for Terry’s homecoming—fresh sheets, the scent of lavender and vanilla in the air, everything spotless for his arrival.

As you reached for a bottle of Febreze, Sonya nudged you. “So… you excited for your birthday?”

“Yeah… I really am.” You smiled, biting your lip as you nodded. Truth be told you were more excited for Terry’s arrival than your own birthday. For as long as you could remember you weren’t the most excited to celebrate your birthday. To you, it was just another day and another reminder that you were leaving your glorious twenties and getting closer to hitting your dirty thirties. That is until Terry came into your life and shifted your perspective on life itself. He taught you that every birthday should be celebrated and that life is too short to not celebrate the breath in your lungs and waking up everyday. Especially with his circumstances and how his life got snatched from him because he chose to do the right thing and defend his mother’s honor against her abuser, but in the end it wasn’t so honorable and his dreams and young life got cut short with the snap of a finger. So this year you chose to have a better outlook on your birthday, thanks to your baby Terry. 

 You continued to move swiftly through Target, pushing your cart with concentration, mentally checking off everything Terry will need once he’s home. You start with the Dove Men+Care bar soap, grabbing a few packs because you know the fresh, clean scent will suit him. Next is the Old Spice body wash—the deep, rich, masculine fragrance makes you weak in the knees, so you know it’ll be perfect for him. You toss it in the cart, followed by men’s deodorant, mouthwash, and toothpaste—because even though you’ve never stood close enough to breathe him in, you already decided that your man will smell fresh, clean, and irresistible.

You head down the haircare aisle, running your fingers over the different bottles before settling on a moisturizing shampoo and conditioner. You know prison air is dry as hell, and you’re not about to have your man coming home with his hair brittle and neglected. A large jar of Palmer’s whipped cocoa butter goes into the cart next—you love how smooth and rich it feels against your skin, and you can already picture yourself rubbing it into his arms, his shoulders, his hands… making sure he’s soft and well taken care of. Just as you’re reaching for a pack of Dude Wipes, Sonya turns from the next aisle, glancing over at your cart. She tilts her head, her perfectly arched brows raising as she takes in all the men’s products sitting inside.

“Uh-uh. Who’s all this for?” She asks, crossing her arms. Your heart skips a beat.

“Oh!” You force out a laugh, thinking quick. “My sister’s in town with her fiancé, and they’re staying at my mom’s house. She needed some stuff to keep there for him.”

Sonya narrows her eyes for a second, then shrugs. “Oh okay, that makes sense. I was about to say, girl, you got a whole grown man’s starter kit in there.”

You laugh nervously, nodding as you grip the handle of your cart, pushing forward. Just when you think you’re in the clear, your phone buzzes in your purse. You glance down and see the caller ID: Terry’s lawyer. Your stomach instantly tightens. He already called earlier—so why is he calling again?

“Hey, hold on,” You tell Sonya, trying to keep your voice light. “I gotta take this real quick.”

“Cool, I’ll meet you at checkout.” Sonya waves you off, already distracted by something on the next shelf. Stepping out of the aisle, you answer, pressing the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” You answer, voice low. 

“We’ve got a problem,” His lawyer says, his voice urgent.Your body stiffens.

“What? What happened?” You held your breath. 

“There’s been an incident in the prison yard. Terry was involved.” He deeply sighs. Your heart  plummets straight to your ass because you told this nigga—.

“WHAT?!” You shout, loud enough that people around you turn their heads. You clamp a hand over your mouth, forcing yourself to breathe, to stay calm.

“I’m still gathering details,” His lawyer continues, “ But from what I’m hearing, there was some kind of altercation. If the judge catches wind of this, his release could be revoked… or at the very least, stalled.”

The words ring in your ears, drowning out the noise of the store. Revoked?! Stalled?!Your hands start to tremble on the cart handle, your vision blurring with tears. Just when you thought you were so close to having him home—just when everything was falling into place—here comes some bullshit.

“Please… just tell me he’s okay,” you whisper, your voice cracking. You swallow hard, gripping the phone tighter.

“I really don’t know. I’m working on it. I’ll call you back when I know more.” He sighed again, sounding defeated. Then the line goes dead, making you tear up. You stood frozen in the middle of Target, your world spinning, your stomach in knots. And just like that, everything you had been dreaming of, praying for, feels like it’s slipping right through your fingers.

This couldn't be happening right now, not right now....

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[oldsoul007]

wicked game

older!joel miller x younger!reader

summary: A magnetic, off-limits fling between you and your rugged, older neighbor Joel turns into something deeper as you both struggle with unspoken feelings, stolen moments, and the weight of reality.

a/n: 20 year age gap, wholesome, fluff, suggestive scenes

joel miller masterlist

I stepped out of the house into the crisp morning air, my purse slung over my shoulder and a mental checklist of errands already playing on repeat in my head. The sun was still low enough to cast a soft, golden light over the neighborhood, making everything feel calm and picturesque. I was halfway down my front steps when a familiar melody stopped me in my tracks.

“The world was on fire, and no one could save me but you…”

I froze, my fingers tightening on the strap of my bag. Wicked Game. That song always hit me in the chest, like a gentle nudge from the past, stirring emotions I didn’t even know I was still carrying. But it wasn’t just the music that caught my attention. Across the street, someone was working on a car, and it was hard not to notice him.

He had his back to me, bent over the open hood, his hands moving with practiced ease. He wore a faded flannel with the sleeves rolled up, revealing forearms that were strong and dusted with just the right amount of hair. His salt-and-pepper hair looked perfectly unkempt, like it belonged to someone who didn’t care too much but somehow always pulled off the look.

I told myself not to stare. I really did. But the way the golden light caught the broad lines of his shoulders, the subtle flex of his muscles as he worked… it was impossible to look away.

The song drifted through the air like it was soundtracking the whole moment, making it feel too cinematic to be real. I shifted awkwardly, my steps faltering. Just then, as if he could sense my presence, he straightened, wiping his hands on a grease-smudged rag.

When he turned and his eyes met mine, my breath hitched. His gaze was dark and intense, cutting through the cool morning air like a warm breeze. He had a rugged, weathered face—handsome in the way only experience and age could make someone. His stubble was a little thicker than a five o’clock shadow, and his mouth curved into a crooked smile, like he knew exactly why I’d stopped.

“Morning,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, sending a flutter through my chest.

“Morning,” I replied, my voice higher than I intended, betraying just how off guard I felt.

He nodded toward the car, his smile widening slightly. “Sorry about the noise,” he said, his tone casual, like we’d done this a hundred times before. “Didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” I said quickly, hoping I didn’t sound too eager. “I like the song.”

He cocked his head slightly, like he was trying to gauge if I was just being polite or if I really meant it. “Chris Isaak, huh?” His smile deepened, a flicker of something playful crossing his face. “Not bad.”

“Yeah,” I said, forcing myself to sound normal even though my pulse was anything but. “Classic.”

He stepped closer, just enough that I could see the grease on his hands and the faint lines around his eyes that only made him more attractive. He held out a hand, grease and all. “I’m Joel,” he said, his voice warm and unhurried.

I hesitated for half a second before shaking his hand. His grip was firm, his skin rough, and somehow it felt more grounding than intimidating. “Y/n,” I said, trying not to notice the way my cheeks flushed under his gaze.

“Well, y/n,” he said, drawing back and tossing the rag onto the hood of the car, “nice to meet a neighbor who appreciates good music. I hope to see you around.”

I nodded, managing a small smile before turning away, though I could still feel his eyes on me as I walked down the sidewalk. The music faded into the background as I moved farther away, but the moment stayed with me, warm and lingering, like sunlight clinging to my skin.

As I reached the corner, I realized I hadn’t checked my list once. And suddenly, I wasn’t in such a rush to finish my errands after all.

It started out small, almost imperceptible. The first few times I saw Joel, it was nothing more than a casual glance—him working on his car, me watering my plants. He’d nod, give me a polite, “Morning,” or “Evenin’,” and I’d nod back, my stomach fluttering for no good reason.

At first, I chalked it up to curiosity. He was new to the neighborhood, and Joel wasn’t the kind of guy you didn’t notice. Broad-shouldered and quiet, with those deep brown eyes that always seemed to carry a weight he didn’t talk about, he exuded a ruggedness that felt out of place on our quiet little street.

But the more I saw him, the harder it became to ignore the way my eyes lingered. Whether he was fixing something in his garage, leaning over that damn car of his, or sitting on his porch with a beer in hand, I couldn’t help but watch him. And sometimes—more often than I expected—I’d catch him watching me too.

It wasn’t obvious, not at first. A glance held a second too long. A shift in his posture when I walked by. But over time, it became undeniable. The way his eyes would follow me when I stepped out to water the flowers, or the way I’d find excuses to linger outside just a little longer, hoping for a moment to cross paths with him.

One evening, as I was locking up my car, I felt his gaze on me. I turned, and sure enough, he was standing by his car, a rag in his hands, watching me. His expression wasn’t overtly flirty—if anything, it was unreadable—but the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine.

I gave him a small wave, trying to act casual, and he nodded, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile.

After that, it felt like every time I stepped outside, he was there. Fixing something, tinkering with his car, or just mowing the lawn. I’d try not to stare, but it was a losing battle. And every time I caught him looking back, it felt like a silent conversation was happening between us, one neither of us dared to speak aloud.

It was subtle, this dance we were doing, but it was there—undeniable, electric. And it was only a matter of time before one of us made a move.

It was a Friday night when everything shifted. I was sitting on my front steps with a beer, the summer air warm and heavy, when I noticed Joel crossing the street toward me. He had a toolbox in one hand and a look of determination on his face.

“Your porch light’s out,” he said as he stopped in front of me, nodding toward the darkened bulb above my door. “Figured I’d come fix it before you trip over somethin’ out here.”

I blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard, then glanced at the light. “Oh, I didn’t even notice. But you don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he interrupted, his voice firm but kind. He set the toolbox down and looked at me, his lips curving into a small, easy smile. “Unless you’re gonna send me packin’.”

I shook my head, smiling back. “I wouldn’t dream of it. Want a drink while you play handyman?”

He chuckled, low and deep. “Sure, why not?”

Two cold beers were clutched in my hands, the bottles slick with condensation, and by the time I returned, he’d already swapped the old bulb for a new one. The soft glow illuminated his face as he turned to me, brushing his hands off on his jeans.

“All done,” he said, taking the bottle I offered. “You’re safe now.”

“Guess I owe you one,” I teased, sitting on the step.

“Nah,” he replied, settling next to me. “I like keepin’ busy.”

I didn’t know when it had started, this thing between us. It wasn’t outright flirting—not yet—but there was a magnetism to Joel that made it impossible not to feel drawn in. He was older, quieter, but there was something about the way he carried himself, steady and unshakable, that made me feel safe. And curious.

“So,” I started, swirling my beer, “you’ve been here, what, a few weeks now?”

“’Bout a month,” he replied, leaning back on the step with that relaxed, effortless posture that always seemed to belong to him.

“And I still don’t know much about you,” I said, giving him a small smile.

He glanced over at me, his eyes catching the soft glow of the porch light. “What d’you wanna know?”

I hesitated, not wanting to pry too much, but the words tumbled out before I could stop them. “I don’t know… why’d you move here? What’s your story?”

Joel’s lips quirked into a faint smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He took a sip of his beer, staring out at the darkened street before answering.

“Well, I’m divorced,” he said simply, his voice low and even, like he’d said it a hundred times before.

I blinked, caught off guard by how casually he said it. “Oh,” I said softly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted gently, turning to look at me. “Trust me, best decision of my life and it was a long time ago. Been on my own for… hell, must be close to fifteen years now.”

Fifteen years. I tried to imagine what that would feel like—building a life with someone only for it to fall apart, then starting over again. Joel didn’t seem bitter about it, though. Just… resolved.

“Do you have kids?” I asked, leaning forward slightly, unable to hide my curiosity.

His face softened at that, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. Two girls.”

“Really?” I asked, my eyebrows lifting.

He nodded, and for a moment, I thought I saw a flicker of pride in his expression. “Sarah’s the older one. She’s in med school. Ellie’s still in undergrad—astromony major. Both of ’em are smarter than I’ll ever be.”

The way he talked about them made my chest tighten, like he was letting me see a piece of himself he didn’t share often. There was so much warmth in his voice when he said their names, like they were the best parts of his life.

“You must be so proud,” I said softly.

“More than you could know,” he replied, his voice quiet.

I smiled, leaning back against the porch railing. “So, two daughters, huh? That explains a lot.”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just… you have that dad energy,” I teased, grinning at him.

“Dad energy?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“You know,” I said, gesturing vaguely. “The whole rugged, protective, slightly grumpy thing. It fits.”

He laughed at that, a low, rumbling sound that made my stomach flutter. “Grumpy, huh?”

I shrugged, my grin widening. “If the shoe fits.”

Joel shook his head, still chuckling as he took another sip of his beer. But there was something in his expression—something lighter, more open—that made me feel like I’d broken through a wall I hadn’t even known was there.

And as we sat there in the quiet of the night, our conversation drifting back to safer, lighter topics, I couldn’t help but wonder how someone like Joel, with all his layers and contradictions, had ended up here—just across the street from me.

And why I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

We talked for hours—about everything and nothing. He told me about his work, about his daughters, Sarah, and Ellie and the things he used to do before life got complicated. I told him about my job, my friends, and the reasons I’d moved here.

At some point, the conversation drifted into quieter territory. The night was still, the air thick with something unspoken. Joel leaned back against the railing, his arm brushing mine, and I felt my pulse quicken.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” he said softly, his voice low and rough.

I turned to look at him, my heart thudding in my chest. His eyes were on mine, dark and intense, the space between us feeling smaller than it should have.

“Joel…” I started, but before I could finish, he leaned in.

It wasn’t rushed or tentative—it was deliberate. His lips met mine, firm and warm, and I forgot how to breathe. My glass slipped from my hand, forgotten, as I leaned into him, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

His hands found my waist, pulling me closer, and I let myself sink into the kiss, into him. He tasted like beer and something darker, something that made my head spin. When we finally broke apart, his forehead rested against mine, both of us breathing heavily.

“Y/n,” he murmured, his voice husky and raw, “tell me to stop if this ain’t what you want.”

I shook my head, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That was all it took. He pulled me into his lap, his hands roaming up my back as our lips met again, hungrier this time. My mind was a blur of heat and sensation as his touch ignited something I hadn’t felt in a long time.

Somehow, we ended up inside my house, the door clicking shut behind us. I barely had time to take in my surroundings before his lips were on mine again, his hands pulling at my shirt as I fumbled with the buttons on his.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he muttered against my skin, his voice thick with want.

We stumbled into my bedroom, clothes disappearing in a flurry of hands and whispered words.

When we finally came together, it was everything—tender and passionate, slow and consuming. He held me like I was the only thing that mattered, his touch reverent but possessive.

Afterward, we lay tangled in my sheets, the room dark and quiet except for the sound of our breathing. His arm was draped over me, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my skin.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long,” he murmured, his voice soft and low.

I smiled, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "It was worth the wait."

And as I drifted off to sleep in his arms, I couldn't help but feel like something had shifted. Like maybe, just maybe, l'd found something-or someone-I wasn't ready to let go of.

What began as stolen moments quickly intensified. Some nights, I’d hear the rumble of his car pulling into the driveway and find myself slipping into something casual yet enticing. He’d knock softly on my door, and I’d let him in without a word, his hands finding my waist almost immediately.

Other times, Joel would invite me over under the pretense of needing help with something—though neither of us was fooled. We’d end up tangled together on his couch, my fingers threading through his hair as his lips traced the curve of my neck.

It was never more than the two of us sharing our time and bodies, but it worked. Joel was guarded, reluctant to open up about his past, and I respected that. I didn’t ask for more than he could give, content with the way he made me feel in the moment—desired, cherished, even if only temporarily.

And Joel? He couldn’t seem to stay away. There was something about him—the way he laughed, the way he didn’t push me to be more than I was ready to be. It felt easy, natural.

But as effortless as it seemed, there were nights when he lingered a little longer, his fingers brushing my skin softly as if memorizing me. And there were mornings when I woke to find him still there, his arm draped over my waist, his breathing steady in the early light.

We both knew it was a fling, but neither of us could deny the way it was starting to feel like something more.

After that first time, it became a rhythm. A pattern.

It was never planned, not really. Joel and I never talked about what we were doing or set expectations. But somehow, it kept happening.

A knock on my door late at night. A quiet, unspoken agreement in the way his eyes lingered on mine, the way his hand would find my waist as soon as the door closed behind him.

Sometimes it was me crossing the street, catching him in his garage working on that car of his. The way he'd straighten up, wiping his hands on a rag and giving me that slow, crooked smile-it made my chest tighten every time.

"You need somethin'?" he'd ask, his tone easy, casual, but his eyes told a different story.

"Always," I'd reply, tilting my head, my lips already curving into a smile.

It was always like that. Quiet. Unrushed. No promises.

It wasn't every night, but it was often enough that it started to feel like a routine.

The nights with Joel were magnetic, impossible to resist.

Sometimes it started slow, like a smoldering fire. He’d show up at my door, leaning against the frame, his dark eyes holding mine like he knew exactly what I was thinking. I’d step aside to let him in, the faint scent of leather and soap drifting past as he walked by. He wouldn’t say much—he never did—but the way he looked at me, the way his gaze lingered on my lips, said everything.

The door would barely click shut before his hands found my waist, pulling me to him with a quiet urgency. His lips would capture mine, firm and deliberate, his calloused hands sliding under the hem of my shirt, fingers rough against my skin.

He kissed like he didn’t know when he’d get the chance again, his lips devouring mine with a hunger that left me breathless. My back would hit the wall, and he’d pin me there, his body pressed against mine, warm and solid, making it impossible to think about anything but him.

Other times, it wasn’t so rushed.

I’d wander across the street under the cover of darkness, my heart pounding even though we’d done this so many times before. I’d find him in the garage, his hands deep in some repair, grease smudged across his arms. He’d glance up when I walked in, his expression softening into that crooked, lazy smile that made my stomach twist.

“You work too much,” I’d tease, leaning against the workbench as he wiped his hands on a rag.

Joel would smirk, tossing the rag aside before closing the distance between us. “And you think I should take a break?”

“Maybe,” I’d reply, my voice lighter than I felt.

And then his hands would slide around my waist, pulling me flush against him. He’d kiss me slow, like we had all the time in the world, his lips soft but insistent, teasing me until I was gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

When his hands roamed lower, gripping my thighs, he’d lift me effortlessly onto the workbench, stepping between my legs, his body fitting perfectly against mine. His kisses would grow deeper, more possessive, until I was arching into him, the tools and the world around us forgotten.

The nights he stayed over were different.

He’d let himself into my house, the quiet creak of the door waking me, and I’d turn to see him standing there, his hair messy from the ride, his flannel hanging loose over a plain shirt.

“You’re late,” I’d whisper, pretending to be annoyed, but the grin pulling at my lips gave me away.

Joel would shrug, his voice low and gravelly. “Had to finish somethin’. But I’m here now.”

And then he’d crawl into bed beside me, his hand trailing over my hip, pulling me close. His lips would skim the side of my neck, soft and deliberate, his breath warm against my skin. It always started gentle on those nights, his hands slow as they explored me, his touch careful, like he wanted to memorize every inch of me.

I’d lose myself in the way his mouth moved against mine, the way he murmured my name like it was a prayer. The room would fill with the sound of our breaths, the quiet creak of the bed as he pressed me into the mattress, his weight grounding me in the moment.

It wasn’t just the way he touched me or the way he made my body hum with anticipation—it was the way he made me feel seen. Like I wasn’t just someone he wanted for the night but someone he couldn't seem to stay away from, no matter how hard he tried.

And as much as I wanted to keep pretending it was nothing, that it was just two people finding comfort in each other, I couldn't deny the way he was starting to feel like more.

The morning light filtered through the curtains, soft and golden, as I stretched under the covers. Joel was already up, sitting on the edge of the bed with his boots half on, the laces dangling as he reached down to tie them.

I watched him quietly for a moment, taking in the way his shoulders hunched slightly, the way his hair was still a little messy from the night before. He must have felt my gaze because he turned, his eyes meeting mine, and his lips quirked into that crooked smile that never failed to disarm me.

“You’re up early,” he said, his voice low and rough from sleep.

“Could say the same about you,” I replied, my voice soft as I sat up, pulling the sheet around me.

Joel shook his head, finishing his boots before standing. “Got a lot to do today.”

I hated this part—the goodbye. Even though I knew he’d be back, it always felt like the space between us stretched further than it should.

Joel must have noticed the flicker of disappointment in my face because he crossed the room in just a few steps, his presence warm and solid as he stood in front of me.

“Hey,” he murmured, his hand brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?” I asked, trying to keep my tone light, though my chest tightened.

He didn’t answer, not with words. Instead, he leaned down, his lips brushing mine in a kiss that was softer than I expected. It wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was deliberate, slow, like he wanted to make every second count.

Then, without a word, he shifted lower, his lips finding the curve of my jaw. He kissed a line down my neck, lingering there for a moment as his hands slid to my waist, holding me gently.

“Joel,” I whispered, my voice catching as he continued his path, his mouth pressing soft, warm kisses across my collarbone, then down my arm.

When he reached my wrist, he paused, turning my hand over to press a kiss to my palm, then to the tips of my fingers.

It wasn’t just physical—it felt like something more. Like he was trying to say something he couldn’t put into words.

When he finally straightened, his dark eyes met mine, and I felt like he could see straight through me. “I’ll see you later,” he said, his voice rough but steady.

I nodded, my throat tight as I watched him grab his jacket and head for the door. He paused in the doorway, glancing back at me one more time before he left, and I couldn’t help but smile.

Joel didn’t have to say goodbye like that—but he did. And it was those little things, those quiet moments that told me more than any words ever could.

My mom called me three times that morning to remind me about dinner, as if I’d forgotten the weekly ritual of overcooked chicken and her latest gossip updates. By the time I pulled into my parents’ driveway, the sun was setting, casting a soft orange glow over the neighborhood. I smoothed down my dress, grabbed the bottle of wine I’d brought, and headed inside.

“Y/n! You’re just in time,” my mom called from the kitchen, her voice bright and cheerful. The smell of rosemary and garlic wafted through the air.

“Hey, Mom,” I called back, setting the wine on the counter.

I could hear my dad laughing with someone in the dining room, his deep voice carrying through the house. A guest, maybe? Mom hadn’t mentioned anyone else joining us.

I walked into the dining room, my casual smile freezing on my face when I saw him.

Joel.

He was standing next to my dad, holding a beer, his flannel rolled up at the sleeves like always. He turned at the sound of my footsteps, and for a split second, I saw the same shock mirrored in his eyes before he quickly masked it.

“Y/n!” My dad grinned, clapping Joel on the shoulder. “This is Joel, my buddy from the hardware store. We got to talking the other day, and I figured I’d invite him over. Thought you two might’ve crossed paths in the neighborhood!”

Joel’s lips curved into a polite smile, but I could see the tension in his jaw. “Good to meet you, y/n,” he said, his voice perfectly even, his hand extended.

I stared at him for a second too long before snapping out of it and shaking his hand. His touch lingered for just a moment, his thumb brushing against mine in a way that made my stomach twist.

“Nice to meet you,” I managed, forcing a polite smile, my voice tighter than I intended.

“Joel just moved in a few weeks ago,” my dad continued, oblivious to the storm brewing between us. “Seems like a good guy. Figured we’d make him feel welcome.”

“Oh, he’s definitely that,” I said, my tone a little sharper than I meant. Joel raised an eyebrow at me, but he didn’t say a word.

Dinner was a blur of awkward silences and stolen glances. Joel was calm and collected, answering my parents’ questions with ease, like he hadn’t been in my bed less than 24 hours ago. I, on the other hand, felt like I was about to combust.

“Mom,” I said sharply, nearly choking on my wine. My face burned as I glanced at Joel, who was watching me with an infuriatingly calm expression.

“Oh, come on,” she said with a laugh, waving a hand. “I’m just joking! But seriously, sweetie, you’ve had…what? A handful of boyfriends?”

“More than a handful,” my dad chimed in with a chuckle. “You’d think we were running a speed-dating service out of the house at one point.”

I wanted the floor to swallow me whole. “Okay, that’s enough,” I said quickly, forcing a tight smile as I stared daggers at my parents. “We don’t need to go down memory lane right now.”

“Oh, lighten up, y/n,” my mom teased, clearly oblivious to the tension in the room.

I dared a glance at Joel, expecting him to look awkward or uncomfortable. Instead, he was hiding a smirk, his dark eyes glinting with amusement. I shot him a glare, silently daring him to say anything, but he just shrugged innocently.

Dinner couldn’t end fast enough.

When my mom asked me to grab dessert from the kitchen, I jumped at the excuse to escape. But as I reached for the pie on the counter, I heard footsteps behind me.

“Y/n.”

I turned to see Joel standing in the doorway, his expression somewhere between amused and exasperated.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I hissed, keeping my voice low.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he shot back, leaning against the doorframe like he had all the time in the world.

“This is my parents’ house, Joel. What are you doing here?”

“Your dad invited me,” he said simply, his dark eyes scanning my face. “Didn’t think it’d be a problem.”

“A problem?” I repeated, my voice rising slightly before I forced it back down. “You didn’t think to maybe mention that you’re best buddies with my dad?”

“Didn’t know it was your dad,” he said, his voice low and steady, though there was a flicker of something like amusement in his eyes. “Until I walked in and saw you.”

I stared at him, my cheeks burning. “So what, we just pretend we don’t know each other?”

“Seems like the best option,” he said, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. “Unless you wanna tell your parents the whole story.”

I glared at him, hating how calm he was. “This isn’t funny, Joel.”

“Never said it was,” he said, stepping closer, his voice softening. “But you’re the one who’s gotta decide how to handle it.”

Before I could respond, my mom’s voice called out from the dining room. “Y/n! Everything okay in there?”

I swallowed hard, grabbing the pie and pushing past him. “This isn’t over,” I muttered under my breath.

“Looking forward to it,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as I brushed past him.

As I walked back into the dining room, my face carefully neutral, I couldn’t help but glance over my shoulder. Joel followed a moment later, cool and composed, like nothing had happened.

But when our eyes met across the table, I knew this was only the beginning of a much more complicated mess.

Later, after we’d finished and everyone was saying their goodbyes, Joel and I stepped out into the warm night air together. My parents stood at the door, still chatting about something, so Joel and I started walking toward our cars, the silence between us heavy.

Once we were far enough away, Joel glanced at me, his voice low and teasing. “So… how many guys?”

I stopped in my tracks, my mouth dropping open. “Excuse me?”

He turned to face me, a lopsided grin on his face, the kind that made my stomach flip no matter how annoyed I was. “Your mom brought it up,” he said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “I’m just curious.”

I crossed my arms, glaring at him. “I am not answering that.”

“Why not?” His grin widened. “You embarrassed or something?”

“No,” I shot back, even though my face was practically on fire. “It’s just none of your business.”

Joel chuckled, stepping closer. “Fair enough. But if you’re not telling, then I guess it’s only fair you ask me.”

“Oh, really?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Fine. How many women have you been with?”

He didn’t hesitate. “Two.”

I blinked. “Two?”

“Yeah,” he said casually, slipping his hands into his pockets.

I stared at him, completely baffled. “Two? That’s it?”

Joel’s brow furrowed slightly, as if he didn’t understand why I was so surprised. “Yeah. Why’s that so hard to believe?”

I laughed, the sound escaping before I could stop it. “Joel, have they seen you? You look like that, and you’re telling me only two women?”

He smirked, leaning slightly closer. “What can I say? I’ve always been a quality over quantity kinda guy.”

The way he said it, his voice low and laced with humor, sent a shiver down my spine. I quickly looked away, trying to collect myself.

“Well,” I muttered, still trying to process his answer. “I guess that makes you… selective.”

“You could say that,” he said, his smirk softening into something warmer, something that made my chest tighten.

I shook my head, refusing to let him get the upper hand in this conversation. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

He chuckled. “And you’re dodgin’ the question. But I’ll let it slide… for now.”

As we reached our cars, I could still feel the heat of his gaze on me, that teasing smile lingering on his lips. And as much as I hated to admit it, I knew I’d be thinking about this conversation long after he drove away.

The air was thick with the lingering heat of the day as I stepped onto my porch that night, a glass of wine in hand, hoping the cool breeze would clear my head. Running into Joel at my parents' house earlier had thrown me. I hadn't expected to see him there, standing in their kitchen like he belonged, casually sipping a beer while talking to my dad like they were old friends.

It had been almost too much-the way his eyes found mine across the room, the flicker of something unreadable passing over his face.

The way my mother had smiled, oblivious, as she chatted away, completely unaware of the tension humming between us.

I had barely spoken to him then, just a brief exchange, a nod, a polite smile. But it had been enough.

Now, as I sat in the quiet of my porch, the cicadas buzzing in the trees, I heard it-the unmistakable rumble of his truck pulling into his driveway.

I should've looked away, should've ignored the way my pulse jumped at the sound. But I didn't.

Instead, I watched as he stepped out, his movements slow, deliberate. He didn't go inside. He stood there for a second, hands on his hips, looking over at me like he was debating something.

Then, without hesitation, he crossed the street.

I didn't move, didn't say anything as he walked up the steps, stopping just in front of me. His eyes searched mine, and for a moment, neither of us spoke.

"You left fast earlier," he said, his voice low, rough.

I swallowed, gripping my glass a little tighter.

"Didn't expect to see you there."

"Yeah, well," he exhaled, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "Didn't expect to see you either."

There was something else in his voice, something unspoken.

A question. A challenge.

I should've told him to go home. That whatever this thing between us was, it didn't need to spill over into the rest of my life. But I didn't.

Instead, I stood, stepping closer, letting the space between us disappear. His gaze dropped to my lips, and that was all it took.

Joel reached for me, his hands firm but careful as he pulled me to him, his lips crashing into mine like he'd been holding back all damn day.

I sighed against his mouth, my fingers gripping the front of his shirt, anchoring myself as his hands slid to my hips, pressing me flush against him.

The kiss was different tonight-deeper, more desperate, like the sight of me earlier had unraveled something in him. He groaned softly when I tugged at the hair at the nape of his neck, his hands gripping tighter as he walked me backward, until my back hit the wall beside the front door.

"Joel," I murmured against his lips, my voice barely there, but he didn't stop. Didn't pull away.

"Mm?" He hummed, his lips trailing down my jaw, my throat, his hands slipping under the hem of my shirt, fingers warm and rough against my skin.

I shivered, tilting my head to give him more, to let him take whatever he wanted, because God, I wanted this, wanted him.

"We should go inside," I whispered, barely recognizing my own voice.

Joel exhaled sharply, his forehead pressing against mine for the briefest second before he pulled back, grabbing my hand and leading me inside, the door clicking shut behind us.

The second we were alone, it was like we couldn't get close enough. Clothes were pushed aside, hands roaming, mouths meeting over and over like we were making up for the time lost earlier.

He lifted me effortlessly, carrying me through the dark toward my bedroom, his lips never leaving my skin. When he laid me down, his body pressing into mine, I knew this wouldn't be like the other nights.

Tonight, it felt different.

Tonight, it felt inevitable.

The room was quiet except for the steady hum of the ceiling fan and the sound of our breathing, still heavy from the way we’d just spent the last hour tangled together.

Joel lay beside me, one arm resting behind his head, his bare chest rising and falling in the dim light. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, the scent of him—woodsmoke, leather, and something distinctly Joel—lingering in the sheets.

I turned onto my side, propping myself up on my elbow as I trailed my fingers along his arm. His eyes were closed, but I knew he wasn’t asleep.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked softly, watching as his brows furrowed just slightly.

Joel let out a slow breath before finally opening his eyes, staring up at the ceiling. “Nothin’,” he muttered.

I didn’t buy it. “You sure about that?”

For a long moment, he didn’t answer. Then, he shifted, rolling onto his side to face me. His dark eyes held something I couldn’t quite place, something heavier than usual.

He hesitated, then ran a hand over his face. “I’m too old for you, y/n.”

I blinked, caught off guard by the sudden confession. A slow smirk tugged at my lips. “That didn’t seem to stop you before.”

Joel exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “That was different.”

“Different how?” I challenged, pushing myself up slightly, looking down at him. “Because I don’t remember you thinking twice about it when you were kissing me against my front door.”

His jaw tightened, and I could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was wrestling with something.

I softened, reaching out to trace a finger along the scar on his shoulder. “Joel,” I murmured, “what’s this really about?”

He let out a humorless chuckle, shifting onto his back again. “Your parents.”

That made me pause. “What about them?”

Joel sighed, rubbing a hand over his chest. “I sat in their kitchen, y/n. Drank a damn beer with your old man, listened to your mom talk about how she just wants you to be happy.” He shook his head. “Felt like I was lyin’ straight to their faces.”

I stared at him, my heart tightening. “You weren’t lying.”

“Ain’t that simple.”

“Yes, it is,” I argued, sitting up fully now, the sheets pooling around my waist. “You think they’d hate you if they knew?”

Joel didn’t answer right away, just looked at me, his gaze heavy, unreadable. “I think they’d wonder why a man like me is in their daughter’s bed.”

I swallowed hard, my throat tightening. “You think too much.”

Joel huffed, shaking his head. “And you don’t think enough.”

That stung, but I refused to back down. “You act like this is something I just fell into, like I didn’t make this choice. I know what I want, Joel.”

His eyes searched mine, like he was trying to figure out if he could believe that. If he could believe me.

After a long pause, he sighed, sitting up beside me. His hand reached out, fingertips grazing my knee before curling into a loose fist. “I don’t wanna be the reason you regret anything.”

I stared at him, my chest tightening at the way he said it—so serious, so damn certain that he was the problem. That he was something I’d one day wish I could undo.

I reached for his hand, lacing my fingers through his, squeezing tight. “If I regret anything, it’ll be not seeing where this goes.”

Joel let out a breath, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. His eyes softened just slightly, but there was still hesitation there, still that damn weight he always carried.

I shifted closer, leaning in until my lips brushed against his. “You gonna kiss me, or keep thinking yourself out of it?”

He sighed against my mouth, shaking his head, but then his hand was at my waist, pulling me into his lap, and all that hesitation melted away as he kissed me slow and deep—like he knew this was a bad idea but couldn’t stop himself.

And I had no plans to stop him, either.

[greengoblinswifey]

Silent Desires—Brother’s!Bsf Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— you’re the cool older sister who never paid much attention to your brother's shy best friend, Nicholas—until one night, you overhear a surprising conversation. learning he's never been with anyone, you find yourself more than ready to make him have a good first time.

warnings— tiny age gap(reader is 2 years older), sub!nicholas then slight dom!nicholas, dom!reader, fingering, choking, oral(m receiving), loss of virginity, unprotected sex, creampie, praise kink, fluff, aftercare, L bomb.

a/n— yes this is long i fear i got carried away..

Part two

Nicholas had been coming over to your house since he and your younger brother became best friends in high school. He was the quiet, shy kid who seemed uncomfortable in his own skin whenever you were around. Being two years older, you didn’t pay much attention to your brother's friends, considering them too young and immature for your taste. You’d laugh sometimes at how Nicholas would get flustered, barely managing a stammered “hi” before rushing off whenever you entered the room.

Whenever you did make an appearance, Nicholas would steal glances, awkwardly trying to start a conversation. His brown eyes would light up whenever you laughed, especially when you teased him just to see his cheeks turn red. Though you didn't think of him seriously, you’d caught him staring more times than you could count. There was something innocent, almost sweet, about his crush.

One Saturday afternoon, you were heading downstairs to the basement, your mom needed your younger brother's help with some boxes in the garage. As you reached the basement door, you overheard Nicholas and your brother talking.

“Dude, you’re seriously still a virgin?” your brother asked, laughing.

Nicholas sighed. “Yeah, I mean, I got head once, but I didn’t even, you know, finish.”

Your brother cracked up, slapping Nicholas on the shoulder. “Bro, you need to get laid. I don’t get why you haven’t yet. Is it, like, nerves or something?”

Nicholas hesitated. “I just, it’s hard to find someone I actually want to, you know, do it with.”

“Fine, then who would you want?” your brother challenged, still laughing.

“Uh, what if it’s your sister,” Nicholas mumbled.

Your brother’s laugh stopped short as he punched Nicholas playfully on the arm. “Are you serious? She’d never go for you. You’re not her type. She’d never go for a guy like you,” he teased.

Nicholas shrugged, cheeks turning red. “Maybe, but I think she likes to 'dabble in snow,' if you know what I mean.”

Right then, you stepped in, smiling as you leaned against the doorframe. “Yo, mom wants your help with some boxes, get up there now.”

Your brother was already on his way up, not noticing the tension lingering in the room as Nicholas struggled to form a coherent sentence.

“You know, I heard what you just said.”

Nicholas turned bright red, stammering, “I, uh, I didn’t mean—”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Oh, you didn’t mean it? Could’ve fooled me.”

“Listen,” you said, lowering your voice, “when my brother goes to bed tonight, come to my room if you mean it.”

Nicholas blinked, wide-eyed, nodding slightly, his usual flustered self almost in disbelief. "Y-yeah, okay."

After overhearing Nicholas’s admission in the basement, you couldn’t help but laugh to yourself. You’d always thought of him as your brother’s quiet, shy friend, but the idea that he’d harbored these thoughts about you all along made you see him in a new light. For the first time, you couldn’t deny the thought that there was something a little bit attractive about him. The way he hid his muscular build under baggy sweaters and how flustered he’d get whenever you were around. A small thrill ran through you as you headed back to your room, feeling a surge of boldness. You lay in bed, the sheets pulled loosely around you, scrolling on your phone, fully confident that Nicholas wouldn’t turn down the “opportunity of a lifetime,” as you jokingly thought of it.

Around 2 a.m., you heard a soft knock at the door, followed by his low voice, “It’s me, uh, can I come in?” You recognized the nerves in his tone and couldn’t help but smile as you called out, “Yes, it’s open.”

Nicholas opened the door and stepped inside, looking both eager and hesitant as he glanced at you, lying there with nothing but your sheet covering your naked body. “I see you meant what you said,” you teased, watching him nod slowly, standing stiffly near the door.

“Don’t be shy, baby. Come over here,” you said, patting the bed beside you. He moved closer, each step cautious, and as he sat down, you leaned in, pressing a light kiss to his neck, feeling him shiver beneath your touch.

With a soft laugh, you asked, “So, how long have you been thinking about this? About me?”

He swallowed, cheeks flushed, before he answered, “Years. I always, I’ve always had this huge crush on you. You’d walk around in those tiny shorts, or just your silk robe, and— and I’d know you weren’t wearing anything under it.” His voice trailed off, almost embarrassed.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confessed, nervously running a hand through his hair. “I barely ever got to see you, but whenever I did, it felt like everything was just, thrown at me all at once.” He paused, glancing down as he added, “You’d leave me, um, painfully hard, just being around you. Just smelling your perfume lingering in the air.” He let out a sheepish laugh. “I even, fuck—jacked off to the smell of your body wash in the bathroom once. I was so ashamed, but I— I couldn’t help it. You were just so hot and intimidating.”

You laughed, nudging him. “Intimidating, huh? And here I thought you just didn’t have much to say.”

He chuckled nervously, his hand brushing over yours. “It’s more like, I didn’t know how to talk to you. You’re my best friend’s older sister, and besides you usually go for white guys, right?”

“True,” you teased, amused by his observation.

As Nicholas sat there, looking nervous yet hopeful, he stammered, “Well, I think maybe now I have a chance with you—”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Who told you that?”

He flushed immediately, stuttering, “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t know, I thought—”

Before he could finish, you silenced him by tossing the sheets off, revealing yourself fully naked. His eyes widened, clearly mesmerized, as you slid onto his lap, leaning in to trail kisses down his neck. As you left a mark, he whispered, “Your brother’s gonna see that and ask questions.”

“Let him see,” you said between bites.

When you moved up to his lips, his hands awkwardly rested by his sides. You pulled back just enough to murmur, “You know, you can touch me, right?”

He swallowed, nodding shyly. Gently, you took his hands, guiding them up to your neck. His fingers brushed lightly over your skin, and as he started to grip a bit more firmly, your eyes rolled back with a soft moan, catching him by surprise. “Didn’t know people were into that.” he murmured, half in awe.

You smirked, whispering, “I’m into a lot of things. You’ll just have to find out.”

“Please,” he whispered, voice thick with anticipation.

You placed his hands on your chest, guiding his touch as he squeezed, muttering, “I’ve always thought you had the most gorgeous—um, you know,” his voice faltered, “especially in those low-cut tops.”

You laughed softly, running his hand lower until his fingers brushed against your pussy, guiding him to explore. “Go ahead baby, play with my clit,” you encouraged.

He grew bolder, his touch becoming more certain as he asked, stuttering slightly, “Does- does this feel good?”

“Mm-hmm,” you sighed, “keep going, baby.”

He slid a finger inside, whispering, “You’re so- so small, and wet. I love how you feel.” His confidence grew as you moaned encouragement, and as the tension built, you gripped his shoulders, locking eyes with him as you came all over his thick fingers.

The look in your eyes, intense and dazed, left him breathless, and he knew it was a look he’d never forget.

“That was my first time doing that,” he said.

“Yeah? Well you did good baby, making me cum like that,” you murmured, half surprised and biting your lip. You took his fingers and put them up to his lips and he sucked the remnants of your juices off clean.

“Mm- you taste so good,” he hummed.

“That’s a good boy, next time you’ll get to taste my pussy, yeah?”

You could feel his cock jump in his sweats, whether it be from you calling him a good boy or confirming there would be a next time.

As you tugged at Nicholas' sweater, he hesitated, a little nervous, but let you pull it off. Your eyes widened as you took in what was hidden underneath. Defined abs, chiseled pecs, and strong, sculpted arms, he looked like he’d been carved from fucking marble. You smirked, knowing he’d been hiding something impressive.

“God, you’re hot,” you murmured, running your hands over his chest. “You shouldn’t be hiding this from me.”

He flushed but smiled shyly, glancing at you with a hint of admiration. “Have you seen yourself?” he replied softly. “It’s like Aphrodite herself sculpted you, you’re beautiful.”

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him, before sliding down, your movements deliberate as he watched, breathless. Pulling down his sweats and boxers, he sprang free, hard and already leaking. You couldn’t help the genuine look of surprise that crossed your face as you took him in, rock hard, thick and long, all for you.

“Glad I’m the first,” you said with a smirk, your fingers wrapping around him. “And I’m gonna make sure I’m the last. No one else is gonna compare.”

Nicholas swallowed, his voice shaky as he said, “I- I know you overheard me tell your brother, I, uh, I’ve only had, you know, that once, and it didn’t, it didn’t make me—cum.” He stumbled over the words, looking both embarrassed and apologetic. “But not that I think you won’t!” he added quickly, almost panicked. “Just, a heads up.”

You laughed softly before leaning in, taking him into your mouth in one smooth motion, leaving him stunned. He was big, and you could feel the fullness as you took him deep, the sound of your gagging only spurring him on more. His moans grew louder, until you paused, pulling back briefly to whisper, “Keep it down a bit baby, or you’ll wake my brother.”

He nodded, barely able to keep his voice under control as you returned, intensifying your rhythm, you played with his balls and bobbed your head faster. His hands gripped your head lightly, and you guided them, whispering, “Hold me down.” His fingers pressed gently, sending him over the edge as he shivered, releasing into your mouth with a low groan.

After a moment, he pulled you up, his expression one of awe as he kissed you, tasting himself. “Thank you,” he murmured, voice thick with gratitude and amazement. “That was incredible. You’re so good at this.”

You smirked. “I know.”

As you gazed down at Nicholas, you asked softly, “Are you ready?”

He met your eyes, his gaze both nervous and full of longing. “Yes,” he whispered, “I wouldn’t want anyone else to be my first.”

You leaned forward, brushing a reassuring kiss along his neck, feeling him tremble. His hands settled on your waist as you eased yourself close, and he let out a shaky breath, his cheeks flushed.

“Are you sure?” you asked, searching his face.

He nodded, smiling with a bit more confidence. “With you, I’m sure, b-but I don’t have a condom.”

“It’s okay, I’m on the pill, and I want you to feel all of me.

You moved slowly, kissing his neck and quietly praising him as you felt him fill you inch by inch. He whimpered loudly, the cute sounds he made going straight to your core as you moved your hips on his cock.

“You’re so big baby, making me feel so good.” He moaned in response, his jaw agape as he struggled to contain himself. “You’re such a good boy moaning for me like this baby.”

You continued grinding on him, completely lost in the feeling of him being so deep inside you, he was stretching you more than anyone else had.

“Baby, lay back,” you panted, wanting to show him something different. He immediately complied and you began bouncing on his hard length, your tits doing the same as you did.

“Oh my fucking god,” he whimpered, staring up at the sight before him. He felt like he was going to explode watching you on top of him.

“C-choke me sweetheart,” you begged, your pace faltering but still bouncing on him as hard as you could.

“Huh- are you s-sure?” he asked, clearly surprised by your request. You nodded frantically and he obeyed. As he did, you began bouncing faster, his name on your lips like a prayer. The sound of Nicholas’ loud moans and skin slapping began filling your room and it was too late to worry about if your brother was hearing the commotion.

“I-I’m sorry, I’m not gonna last,” he moaned out, his hand still around your throat.

“It’s okay baby, me too, I want you to.”

As soon as the words left your lips, Nicholas’ grip on your neck tightened lightly and he released deep inside your pussy just as you creamed all over his cock. You both shivered and you fell on top of him, his cock still deep inside you.

“You did so good baby, I’m so proud of you,” you praised, kissing him all over, “but I’m not done with you yet.”

You switched positions, arching your back beautifully, you spread yourself for him and he watched in awe as his cum leaked from your pussy onto the sheets.

“Show me what you got sweetheart.”

His cheeks flushed but he complied, slipping inside your slippery walls and stretching you once more. The pace he went made him hit your sweet spot continuously and it was now your turn to be a whimpering mess. Feeling bold and proud of himself, Nicholas pulled you back by the neck making you arch off him.

“Do I make you feel good? You love how my cock feels as I’m pounding into you?”

You struggled to form coherent words, only moaning in response as his thrusts got harder and sloppier.

“Words baby, use your words.”

“Y-yes, you make me feel so good, so so good.”

“That’s a good girl, now rub your clit.” You obeyed, rubbing your clit and sending even more jolts of pleasure through your body. “Cum for me, now.” You complied once more, shuddering under him as you came hard in his grip.

He laid you back down on the bed and you arched again. “Hold my hands behind my back,” you begged. He hesitated at first, shocked at how kinky the request was and you allowing him to restrict you but he did as he was told, holding your hands behind your back as he pounded into your tight pussy. Looking down at your ass slapping against him, his cock disappearing inside your pussy that was just sucking him in and how he had your hands firmly behind you, he couldn’t take it anymore. With a loud moan of your name, his warm load filled you up and he fell beside you, panting heavily.

He put his head on your chest as one of his hands went to caress your tits before he went to your bathroom and brought a rag to clean the both of you. Afterwards he came back laying his head on your chest once more.

You traced light circles on his back, and he looked up at you, gratitude and awe clear in his expression. “Thank you for everything,” he murmured. “I couldn’t have imagined it any better.”

You kissed his forehead gently. “You did great,” you whispered back, meeting his shy smile, “I’m proud of you.”

In the soft silence as you drifted to sleep, you heard him murmur, almost to himself, “I’ve always loved you—fuck I love you so much.”

[saeist]

“set me up with rin”

you slammed your hands against the hard wood table. scaring the shit out of shidou and aiku

“jesus fuck!” shidou puts a hand on his chest

“feisty. i like it!” aiku reacts, doing a little finger gun

“you didn’t say the magic word” sae murmurs, completely unbothered by your whole ruckus. you could say he’s used to it at this point

your eyes widened hearing sae’s response. did he finally agree to help you out?

“pretty please” you bat your eyelashes at your best friend, who wasn’t even looking at you by the way. he was currently reading something off what seems to be the latest edition of a sports magazine

sae silently flips the magazine onto the next page before looking at you dead in the eye. you watch his mouth open, ready to hear a certain sentence you’ve been wanting to hear for the past few weeks

“no.” he says flatly before turning his attention back to the magazine

both shidou and aiku break into boisterous laughter. only to be silenced by the librarian

“shh!” the librarian shushes. “one more ruckus from your table and i’m kicking the four of you out!” she whisper-yells, typing away on her computer

you dramatically slide into the seat next to sae, leaning on his shoulder as you reach over to tug his hand

“sae c’mon! you know i like him! so do me a favor as your favorite friend and set me up with your cute little brother” you cried out, tugging on his hand again and again

sae clicks his tongue in annoyance and snatches his hand back

“that’s exactly why i won’t set you up with him” sae grimaces

“and that is?!”

“that you like my little brother” sae says casually. closing the damned magazine and tossing it to shidou who was busy laughing at something on his phone with aiku

“that’s barely a reason” you point out, “would it kill you to help your friend that's desperate for a lover?" you add, dramatically falling limp onto his lap

sae pinches the bridge of his nose in sheer annoyance. he's heard of this dramatic monologue of yours for a hot minute. ever since he introduced you to his brother, you have not shut up about him since.

it was a mistake on sae's end. he shouldn't have brought you, along with shidou and aiku along for dinner back at his place but it was his mom who pestered him into bringing you guys over for dinner as his mother wanted to meet who sae's friends at college were

"i didn't know y/n-chan was into younger men" shidou quips, poking your nose as you glared daggers at his face

"rin is just like a year younger than sae, let alone me" you retort

"point still stands, y/n-chan" aiku chimes in a sing-song voice, "why do you like him anyway and not the hotter, better and wiser older brother here?" he continues

you dreamily sigh, still on sae's lap as you think about rin

"well first of all, he's a cutie. second, he gives me tsundere vibes but then again, his brother right here is the same kind so i'm pretty sure it runs in the family and... i guess that's about it" you list off the nice things you can say about rin from the top of your head, "no offense sae, i think you're hot and all but just not my type" you poke your tongue at your best friend who only flicks your forehead in retaliation

"that's it?" shidou asks, feeling a little anti climactic about the whole thing. to him it sounded like you had a good reasons on why you were crushing hard on the other itoshi

"oh! and the fact that he's 6'1" you clasp your hands together, "and also that he's trying so hard to be the star player at our local college team and i find it really cute" you gush

"he obviously doesn't have a choice but to try and beat his hotter and better older brother. right, rin?" sae nudges someone beside him.

wait a second, did he just call out to rin?

you quickly scramble off sae's lap, bumping your head against the table in the process

both aiku and shidou let out an "oof, that's gotta hurt" making you more embarrassed than you already are. you glared at them for a brief second before turning your head to the side to see rin looking all confused and to be honest, a little weirded out

"hey rin. what brings you here?" you sweetly wave at the younger itoshi in front of you.

from the corner of your eye, you can see sae rolling his eyes and mumbling "dumbass" under his breath. before you can smack sae, rin speaks up

"my brother" rin nods his head towards sae who only gives him a look of annoyance before motioning him to spit out whatever he came for

"coach says there's been a change of plans regarding the away games and wants to have a team meeting later at the field" rin reports all stoic

sae huffs, "you couldn't just texted me this information or?"

"you blocked my number, remember?" rin rolls his eyes, gripping on his sling bag.

you let out a little gasp and smacked sae on his shoulder upon hearing the news that your best friend has blocked his little brother's number.

"sae! why would you block your brother?!" you nag, wagging your finger in front of sae's face. sae swats your hand away before he attempts to grab rin for pushing him under the bus like that when you're around

"anyway, that's all. also, mom wants you home for dinner. bye guys, bye y/n" rin shyly waves at you before he trudges away out of the library, away from his brother's impending wrath

as rin disappears from sight, suddenly an idea pops into your mind. it's just a simple favor. the next time you see him, you'll ask rin for his help, and maybe, just maybe, it will lead to something more.

"that little runt.. he's gonna get it from me" sae hisses, pulling out his phone to probably unblock rin now that you know that he got his brother blocked. sae looks over at your face in case you were about to yell his ear off but instead he was greeted with a little smile on your face

oh no. he knows that devious smile of yours

"my dearest beloved sae.. put in a good word for me to rin, would ya?" you wink

[the-offside-rule]

Joe Burrow (Cinccinati Bengals) - Game Day and Grammys

Requested: no but someone asked about NFL imagines and the Pro Bowl and Grammys were on so how could I miss this opportunity?

Prompt: Joe Burrow x singer!girlfriend

Warnings: none other than it being long and full of fluff

NFL requests are open ♡

Y/n sat in the plush chair of her hotel suite, a stylist curling sections of her hair while another dabbed powder on her already flawless face. The room buzzed with quiet excitement—her team murmuring about last-minute dress fittings, run-throughs, and camera angles. After all, tonight was the biggest night of her career. Five Grammy nominations. Five.

But her attention? Completely divided. On the sleek flatscreen across the room, the Pro Bowl was in full swing. Her boyfriend, Joe Burrow, was out there, tossing passes and leading drives while she got glammed up for music’s biggest stage. She’d wished she could be there, but the Grammys and the game fell on the same night, and there was no way to be in two places at once.

Her phone vibrated in her lap. Another text from Joe.

Joe: This is so much fun. Wish you were here

She grinned, typing back quickly.

Y/n: Wish I was too. But you better be focused, Burrow. No interceptions.

Another buzz.

Joe: No INTs. Just vibes. Also… scored a touchdown. No big deal.

Y/n let out a laugh, her lips quirking as she typed her reply.

Y/n: A touchdown?? Damn, you haven’t scored one of those in a while.

Her stylist stifled a giggle behind her. "Good news?" She smirked. "Joe just ran one in himself." Her phone buzzed again.

Joe: Wow. The slander.

Joe: But fair.

Joe: Good luck tonight, superstar.

Joe: Ja'Marr said if you win two tonight, that makes it 9 grammys you have ever won

Joe: And guess what my number is?

Y/n chuckled at the coincidence. No matter where they were, no matter what they were doing, they were always supporting each other.

Y/n: Alright, QB1. Ill get the Grammy's you worry about not getting tagged.

With one last glance at the game, she turned back to the mirror, ready to take on her own championship night.

The flashbulbs were blinding as Y/n posed on the red carpet, her dress hugging her perfectly while she effortlessly smiled at the cameras. The energy was electric; reporters calling out her name, fans screaming behind the barricades. She was used to this, but tonight felt different. Bigger.

As she moved down the carpet, she began her interviews, each asking the same old question that she had rehearsed about a million times. How does it feel to be nominated 5 times? She had been nominated for Album of the Year, Song of the Year, Record of the Year, Pop Vocal Album and Music Video of the Year. She had been to the grammys before but she had only ever been nominated twice each year. Granted, she did win them, racking up an astonishing 7 grammys in just 4 years, but her once edgey music had shifted to softer love songs, all thanks to a certain quarter back.

She smiled as she moved on down the carpet to her last interviewer, a little kid who she had seen on tik tok time and time again. "Oh my gosh, hello!" She smiled as she did her best to get down onto the kid's level. Her calf were killing her from the heels standing, nevermind squatting down. "You look beautiful. I love the dress." She said. "Thank you! And you look so beautiful too." The child replied. "I have a few questions for you if thats okay?"

"Of course! I would love to hear them." Y/n said warmly as she held her own microphone. "So, obviously this is your record for the most amount of Gammys that you have been nominated for. If you could go back in time and tell your younger self that this would be happening, what would you say?" Finally a way to answer the question of how she felt about being nominated that didn't involve her rehearsed answer. "I think I would tell my younger self to keep going, to believe in myself and don't put the guitar down because it's gotten me this far." Y/n replied. "Your album Nine Sunday Mornings was a very abrupt change in your music. It was more edgey and angsty the last time you were here-" Y/n laughed at the very blunt question. "Why do you think this change happened or is it because you just got bored of that genre?" Now that was a good question.

"I mean, as you said it was a big change. I mean any love song I wrote before was scrapped because I thought it was too sappy so I stuck to breakup songs or rage songs. I think the change came in meeting Joe. From the songs right down to the title it's all him. I remember the very night I met him I stayed up nearly all night writing about the like 5 minute encounter we had and now it's nominated tonight so. I have to give credit where credit is due." She answered. "Have you been keeping up with the Pro Bowl?" Y/n laughed, adjusting the Grammy-branded microphone in her hand. "Of course! I have it on in my hotel room. Joe keeps texting me updates, so I think I might have a better play-by-play than some of the commentators."

Her manager tapped her shoulder to tell her to make her way inside, so she bid the mini-reporter farewell and walked in to the packed venue.

Once inside, Y/n glanced around, trying to spot her team. The Grammys were always a production, but tonight, the room felt even bigger. Row after row of tables and glowing stage lights. She turned in circles, scanning the room. Where were they? Her manager, her producer, anyone?

"Y/n?"

She spun around to see Jack approaching, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. "Hey, are you okay?" She let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. "Yeah, I just… I can’t find my seat. I have no idea where my team is." Before Jack could respond, a familiar voice chimed in.

"She can sit with us!"

Y/n turned to see Taylor Swift standing a few feet away, a warm smile on her face. Taylor, dressed in an elegant yet edgy ensemble, motioned toward her table. "If you don’t mind sitting with us, of course." Y/n hesitated for a second. She didn’t want to intrude- Taylor was with her own crew, and this was a huge night for her, too. "Are you sure?" She asked cautiously.

"Of course! Come on." Taylor said, looping an arm around her gently as they started walking toward the table. "Besides, we have a lot to talk about. I can't believe this is the first time we're meeting." Y/n chuckled, relaxing a little as she took a seat beside her. "Are you going to the Super Bowl?" Taylor asked after a moment.

Y/n shook her head. "No, I’ve never actually been. I told myself I wouldn’t go until Joe is the one playing in it." Taylor’s brows lifted in amusement. "Oh that is goals."

"Plus, I’m heading to his family’s house to watch it with them." She added. "I think it’ll be more special that way." Taylor smiled knowingly. "There’s nothing like watching a game with the people who love him most. Honestly, I think you guys are gonna be there next year." Y/n nodded, already picturing herself in the Burrow family’s living room, wearing one of Joe’s sweatshirts, surrounded by his parents and siblings. It felt right. "Honestly, I don't wanna be too picky but I want a Bengals and 49ers Superbowl. That would cure the world, I think."

"That would be a good one."

Just then, the lights dimmed, signaling the start of the show. Y/n took a deep breath, ready to take on the night—Grammys, football updates, and all.

Joe stretched his arms over his head as he stepped into the hotel lobby, still buzzing from the Pro Bowl. The game had been fun, a rare chance to play a little looser, joke around with the guys, and even run in a touchdown himself—something Y/n was sure to remind him about later. His teammates followed behind him, still hyped up from the day. "Alright." Ja’Marr announced, clapping his hands. "Let’s turn on the Grammys. Gotta see Y/n win some trophies since Joe isn’t bringing any silverwear home."

Joe grinned as he nudged Ja'Marr for that dig, leading the way to the suite where they all piled onto the couches, flipping the TV on just in time to catch the ceremony in full swing. The room filled with snacks, drinks, and casual conversation, but anytime Y/n appeared on the screen, the guys would nudge Joe, who was watching intently, phone in hand, ready to text her.

Then came Best Pop-Vocal Album of the Year.

Joe sat forward, hands clasped as they listed the nominees. He knew how much work Y/n had put into this album—how many late nights, how many times she’d called him exhausted but excited, how much of her heart was poured into every track.

"And the Grammy goes to…"

Not her.

Joe exhaled, lips pressing together as he watched her smile and clap for the winner. She was graceful as ever, but he knew her well enough to see the flicker of disappointment in her eyes. "She said she was gonna be surprised if she got that one. She like, knew Sabrina was winning that hands down."

Then came Record of the Year.

Not her again.

"She got robbed." Russell Wilson muttered. "Bro, you're gonna be the first one singing Not Like Us at the halftime show next weekend." Lamar Jackson replied. "She's in like the toughest categories." James Cook added. Joe didn’t say anything, just shook his head. He hated seeing her not get what she deserved, but he knew Y/n. Knew she’d keep smiling, keep pushing forward. And damn it, he’d keep cheering her on, just like she always did for him.

It didn't matter. 2 down, 3 to go. Music Video of the Year.

Joe sat up straight. He knew this one mattered to her, too. Her video had been a passion project, something she’d fought to bring to life exactly the way she envisioned it. The competition was stacked—the other nominees had incredible visuals, and any of them could take it. Y/n sat at her table, her hands clasped in her lap, holding her breath. Joe could practically feel her nerves through the screen.

"She’s got this." He murmured. "She’s got this, she’s got this, she’s got this, come on, baby."

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n!"

Y/n gasped, letting out the breath she’d been holding. Taylor pulled her into a tight hug as the entire table erupted into cheers. Joe leapt off the couch, throwing his hands in the air. "Let's go! Yes! Wooh!" The suite exploded with excitement- Ja’Marr was shouting, some of the guys were recording Joe’s reaction, and others were laughing as Joe jumped up, singing along to the snippet of Y/n’s song that played as she made her way to the stage.

On the screen, Y/n’s smile was blinding, eyes slightly glossy as she accepted her award. Joe grinned, pride swelling in his chest. She’d done it. Just like she always did. "Oh my god, wow." She began. "I’ll be honest, I did not expect Music Video of the Year. There had been some amazing Music Videos so I just wanted to congratulate my fellow nominees and their directors." Joe clapped as he listened to her. "I want to thank my team, the fans, my family and all of you who voted for the video. My boyfriend Joe of course, who may or may not be still playing his game of tag football but I'm gonna thank him anyway." His face grew red. "I think that's all I have to say to be honest. Maybe I'll see you up here again pretty soon."

Joe lounged back on the couch, finally feeling like he could relax a little after all the emotional whiplash of the night ao far and he was still buzzing from it. "She’s performing next." Ja’Marr pointed out, nodding toward the TV. Joe sat up again, straightening his hoodie as the camera panned to the stage. The lights dimmed, and then—there she was.

His girl.

Y/n stood center stage, bathed in golden light, singing a balld version of her nominated song. She wore the most stunning outfit—a gold sparkling, elegant number that hugged her perfectly. She looked ethereal. "Jesus Christ." Joe muttered under his breath before saying a little louder, "Her outfit is so pretty." Some of the guys laughed. "Yeah, it is." Ja'Marr teased with a smirk. "You good over there, Burrow?" Russell asked, causing all the other guys to take notice of his blushing face and tease him further.

Joe just waved them off, eyes locked on the screen. Then, just as the song picked up, she reached down, grabbed the edges of her outfit, and-

Riiiipppp

The elegant gown was gone, revealing a bold, dazzling second outfit underneath—sleek, fun, and perfect for dancing. "Oh my God." Joe groaned, immediately hiding his face in his hands as the entire room exploded. The guys were shouting, laughing, some recording his reaction as they all clapped and cheered. "Ayyy! Okay, Y/n!" Ja'Marr called.

Joe shook his head, chuckling as his ears burned. He peeked through his fingers just in time to see her seamlessly transition into the next part of the performance, moving with ease, completely in her element. She was dancing, smiling, engaging the crowd like she was born for this moment. "I didn't know she could move like that! Damn!" Trey said.

Joe dropped his hands, watching as Y/n held the mic out, getting the entire crowd to sing along with her. She looked so happy, completely in control of the stage, like she was having the time of her life. Joe smiled. His teammates might have been teasing him, but he didn’t care. He was just so damn proud of her. As the song ended,she looked aroukd for the camera that would be zooming in on her. She spotted it and winked, before blowing a kiss right to it. Joe reached for the imaginaru kiss and put it to his heart as the guys teased him even further for it.

Joe sat back against the couch, his arm draped over the back as the next category came up—Song of the Year.

"Alright, this one’s huge." Ja’Marr said, leaning forward. Joe nodded, eyes locked on the screen. Y/n had poured everything into this song and she loved it the most for reason unknown to him, and even though she’d already won Music Video of the Year, he wanted this for her. Badly.

The nominees were stacked— some of the biggest songs of the year, including Y/n’s. The room quieted as the presenter opened the envelope.

"nd the Grammy goes to… Kendrick Lamar, Not Like Us!"

Joe exhaled, shaking his head, but before he could react, he spotted Y/n on screen, grinning and dancing along to the snippet of Not Like Us that played through the venue speakers. Joe burst out laughing. "She doesn’t seem too bothered." Trey snickered. "Bro, she looks kinda tipsy."

The whole room chuckled as they watched Y/n dancing up out of her seat singing along as Kendrick made his way to the stage. She was still clapping and smiling, showing nothing but love for the win, and Joe couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly cool she was about it. "She’s just vibin'." Joe said with a smirk, shaking his head.

And then finally came Album of the Year.

Her final nomination.

Joe sat up one last time, his heart pounding a little harder. He could see Y/n on screen, hands clasped together, her lips pressed tight as she waited. The tension in the room was thick, even through the television.

The presenter opened the envelope.

"And the Grammy goes to… Y/n Y/l/n, Nine Sunday Mornings!"

She didn’t move.

She didn’t react at first—just sat there, eyes wide, mouth slightly open. Joe felt like the air had been sucked out of the room before he erupted. "Yes! Let's go baby!" He jumped up again, fists in the air as his teammates laughed, recording his reaction for the second time that night. "That’s my girl! That’s my girl!" He cheered, pacing the room as the suite filled with whoops and applause.

Back on the screen, Y/n finally stood, still in complete shock. As she made her way up to the stage, she kept shaking her head, her mouth open as if she still couldn’t believe it. She took the award in her hands, staring down at it, blinking before looking around. The crowd chuckled. She looked up at the mic, then back at the award. "What?" She squeaked.

Laughter rippled through the audience. Joe grinned, shaking his head. He could practically hear her thoughts—How? Against all those incredible albums? She took a deep breath, exhaling sharply, still looking down at the trophy. "I—I don’t even know what to say, honestly I'm a little drunk so-" Joe smiled proudly, watching her collect herself and begin her speech. She had done it. Two Grammys in one night. And even though he wasn’t there in person, he cheered for her just as loudly as she did for him on Sundays.

"I want to thank the incredible Jack Antanoff for helping me produce this album first and foremost, my team also. But there is one person in particular who I will ramble on about because he was the inspiration for every single song I wrote since the 9th of December 2023, when we first met." Joe felt his eyes watering upon hearing it. He didn’t lile seeing her cry, it often meant he would cry too. "The album itself is a hommage to the fact that it took just nine sunday mornings for us to decide we wanted to become a couple and honestly, those 9 Sunday mornings were the best I could have ever lived through because I got to fall in love with the love of my life." Joe wiped his eyes, lookong down as Ja'Marr patted his back in support. "Joe, wherever you are, I wanted you to know that this award is for you, you can put it right next to the Heisman and my other 8 Grammy's."

Joe chuckled lightly as her little dig. "And just in case this wasnt a clincidence enough already- I'm going to shout out Ja'Marr Chase for this information- this is my ninth Grammy, and its for Cinccinati's number 9." The microphone cut out, singalling that her time for speaking was up. She mouthed a very animated 'I love you' to the camera before smiling and heading off the stage.

As soon as Y/n sat back down at her table, she reached for her phone. Her hands were slightly shaking—part adrenaline, part sheer excitement. The night had been a whirlwind, and there was only one person she needed to talk to right now. She hit Joe’s contact, pressing the phone to her ear as the Grammys continued around her. The line barely rang once before he picked up.

"Baby!" She let out a breathless laugh. "Joe!"

"Oh my God!" He said, and she could hear the pure excitement in his voice. "You were insane. I mean first of all, two Grammys? And then that performance? What was that outfit change? You’re trying to kill me?" Y/n giggled, running a hand through her hair. "Did you like it?"

"Like it? Babe, I almost had a heart attack. These guys aren't gonna let me live it down." She laughed again, picturing Joe hiding his face in his hands while all his guys teased him. "I was just thinking about you the whole time." She admitted, voice a little softer now. "I figured you were watching."

"Of course I was watching." He said immediately. "Are you kidding? We had the Grammys on as soon as we got back. I was cheering for you all night." Y/n smiled, glancing down at her awards sitting in front of her. "It still doesn’t feel real. I mean…Album of the Year? What?"

"You earned that, Y/n. No one deserved it more." She bit her lip, warmth spreading through her chest. "I mean, Billie should have won it." She replied. "Oh my God, I'm gonna cry again."

"No, don't cry." He said quickly. "Not unless it’s happy tears." She laughed, leaning back in her chair. "How was the Pro Bowl? I feel like I barely got to ask you." Joe chuckled. "It was fun. I mean we lost, but it was fun."

"What was the score?" She asked. "Like 76 to 63 or somethin' like that?" He looked around for nods of approval. "Did I mention I scored?" Y/n chuckled. "Yeah and as I said before I haven’t seen you do that in a while."

"Okay, woah." He deadpanned, and she could hear his teammates laughing in the background. "I’m kidding." She teased. "I’m proud of you."

"I'm proud of you too, baby." Y/n exhaled, her whole body finally starting to relax after the chaos of the night. "I just wish you were here."

"Yeah, I know." Joe said softly. "But I’ll see you tomorrow. And then we can celebrate properly." She grinned. "Deal."

"I love you, Baby."

"Love you too, Shiesty "

As she hung up, she clutched her phone to her chest, still smiling. It had been a night to remember— and she couldn’t wait to get home to him.

[from-izzy]

[17:07] | enhypen park sunghoon

Sunghoon grunts at the reminder of your true visit, yet still makes love to your collarbones to cherish every second with you. “Not yet…” he pleads that time will go slower. 

pairing » enhypen park sunghoon x fem!reader

trope/au » established relationship au, (not so) secret relationship au, non-idol au

genre » fluffy fluff with slight suggestive themes (nothing like this), lovesick and cute sunghoon, boyfriend sunghoon, reader helping with sunghoon's sister's dinner dance prep!

word count; estimated reading time » 1293; ~5 mins

warnings (lmk if i missed anything!) » getting caught during making out by sunghoon's sister, kissing on lower abdomen/body, sunghoon lifts reader, reader implied to be smaller than sunghoon

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 enhypen masterlist

my debut to enhablr...? i see clips of sunghoon and heeseung and they make me wanna get into enha 🥹 i'm sure the fandom knows that sunghoon has a sister but i didn't use her real name for this fic; it just makes me more comfortable in this way. hope you all enjoy!!

You don't usually knock on the Park’s residence house since Sunghoon would usually open it for you as per his invite, or help you sneak in through the side window. But today is a bit different since today is Serin’s dinner dance at her school, and she asked you for help with makeup and outfits. In a heartbeat, you agreed, especially since the event has been a special one for you since the day Sunghoon asked you to be his.

Sunghoon knows about you coming over to help his sister, but knowing that your visit today isn't for him puts a frown on his face. His relationship with you is still private, which is something that you both want at the current moment. But after a year of dating, he can't wait to formally introduce his once best friend to his family who is already very fond of you. 

“Thank you so much for coming!” The door opens to reveal the younger girl. “Come in!”

You chuckle at her excited nature. You know Serin has been a delightful one since a long time ago, and you're glad to be part of a wonderful event for her. A few steps into the house, you see Sunghoon by the couch, resting his chin on his arm as he pouts at you. 

“Hey,” you greet him casually, sneaking in a wink behind Serin.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes away playfully, turning around to the television as he sulks and sinks into the couch. 

“Oppa! Don't be rude!” Serin defends you. “But whatever, guess I'll have her to myself.”

If it was anyone other than his beloved sister saying those words, Sunghoon would cling to your side, sweep you off your feet and claim your lips with his. “Whatever,” Sunghoon dismisses her with a hand wave. 

Upstairs, Serin had all her makeup and dress options ready for your second opinion. It wasn't long until you chose the one you thought suited her the best, helping her change and adjusting it to fit nicely on her body. Just as so, it didn't take long until your numerous hair and makeup suggestions were chosen by her. 

“You're gonna be the prettiest girl in the room,” you blend the pink blush across her cheeks. 

“Of course, I am. You're the one giving me the makeup after all,” you chuckle at her words, adding the finishing touches and setting spray onto her face. “Don't tell Sunghoon this, but I'm going with a date.”

You gasp at the information. “Really?! That's so cute! Let me see a picture!”

Serin skips over to make sure the bedroom door is locked before sitting on the edge of her bed, patting the empty space beside her for you. The younger swipes through the many pictures in her gallery, recounting the main parts of that day spent together. 

You know what it feels like to be attracted to someone. To like someone, and ultimately, to be head over heels in love with someone. Looking through the pictures of her and her partner for the dance, you could tell that it wasn't puppy love or a short-lived crush. How'd you know? Her eyes sparkle with minimal lighting as they cuddle in the picture tells you everything her heart feels.

“Don't tell Sunghoon please,” a pout overtakes her face. “You know how protective he is, and I promise I will tell him soon.”

You squint your eyes in suspicion, humming in contemplation. The younger pleads once more, a pinky out hanging in the air, waiting for yours. In the end, you gave in, knowing well that you weren't going to not agree from the start. You understand where she's coming from since your brother is the same as well.

“Alright, go get the rest of your things ready!” You nudged your shoulder against hers and excused yourself from her room. 

As soon as the door clicks securely shut, your fingertips on the metal knob don't even get a chance to properly let go when they're replaced with warmth instead. A hand grasps the side of your waist, pulling you next door where the meaning behind another click of this door differs greatly. 

You yelp at the soft tug, a hand protecting the back of your head when your body hits the door. The room is barely lit, only the moon and the street lights shining through from the still-opened curtains beside you giving the luminance enough for you to face your blushing boyfriend. 

Sunghoon sighs deeply with how he manages to finally have alone time with you successfully without getting caught. His lips finally attach to yours, drowning out the giggling and pleasurable moaning slipping out from the both of you. Your eyelids flutter shut, brushing against his skin gently as he shudders at the way your nose nudges his as you kiss him feverishly. As the situation escalates, the hood around his head falls, giving your hand access to his beautiful locks.

The grip on the side of your body tightens only slightly as your boyfriend pulls you closer to his chest that your hands rest on. Sunghoon leaves your lips, travelling to your ears to huskily whisper, “Hi baby girl,” he kisses your ear after, kissing along your jawline and neck as you gasp at him.

“H-Hoon-” you hiss at the pressure he puts on a sensitive part of your neck, messing and tugging on his hair. “Your sister is going to be ready at any time now.”

Sunghoon grunts at the reminder of your true visit, yet still makes love to your collarbones to cherish every second with you. “Not yet…” he pleads that time will go slower. 

The hand behind your head joins the other side of your body, slithering down to the back of your thighs as Sunghoon kneels, continuing to trail his kisses to your clothed stomach. With a swift motion, he carries you by your thighs, standing up and walking towards his bed. He never spared a moment where his lips didn't touch your heated body. There was no time for your heart to calm its racing pace, the adrenaline of staying quiet hitting you both. 

Now seated on his bed with you straddling his built thighs, you take this moment to fully open your eyes, seeing the white light shine upon his red cheeks. His palm cups the apple of your cheeks, foreheads resting as you catch your breaths. 

“Can't get enough of you,” he mutters. “I just want and need you all the time…”

Sunghoon is cute when he's lovesick like this, your cheeks instantly heating more than before at his confession. You hum, “I love you, Hoon.”

“I love you much more.”

His orbs sparkle upon yours sincerely for a second until his open lips come closer to claim yours again. You're millimetres apart when the door opens unexpectedly behind you. Your body reacts first, jumping away from Sunghoon, pushing him flat onto the bed as you pull your clothes to straighten the creases of the makeout. 

Serin covers her eyes even if you both are detached, the split second burning into her memory. “I knew you guys were together, but I didn't know it was getting spicy here!”

Sunghoon’s body springs up from the mattress, “You knew yet you still came in?!”

“Wait, that's what you're worried about?!” you exclaim with wide eyes at your boyfriend. “You knew all this time?!” Questioning the grinning sister at the door.

“I know I just kind of exposed you, but don't expose me!” Serin shouts as she retreats to a safer part of the house.

“What does that mean?!” The clueless brother runs out to interrogate his sibling while you're left dumbfounded at what just happened in the last few seconds. 

navi/masterlist!! 🤍 enhypen masterlist

tags: @k-films @k-films @kflixnet @starlit-network @kstrucknet @haneul-and-clouds @sunlightwoo @hursheys

[auraisereigh]

"For Her, Always"

oneshot

Garrick Tavis x Riorson reader Request: Garrick x riorson little sister (she is a 2 year with Bohdi they are bff) they fell in love when they were little and now she is a rider but they hide what they feel to not upset Xaden, but the some guy flirts with her and we get MAD JELOUS Garrick and he hurts the guy on challenges, Xaden notices and they have a talk so then reader and Garrick can be together (Love confession Bridgerton style) wc: 6.8 ☆ no specific spoilers. Uses pronouns: she/her.

Masterlist ☆ Dragon guide ☆ Star's story ☆ Empyrean guide ☆ Support me

If there was one thing about Garrick Travis then it was that he was attractive, always had been- even when he was younger. I would be lying if I said I didn't feel something for him. And maybe, just maybe, I would have said something by now if it wasn't for the fact that he's best friends with my brother.

Xaden.

He has enough on his mind. Adding to that is the last thing on my mind. Even if that means I'll have to keep my feelings to myself. Even if that means my heart will keep yearning for what I can't have. At least I can still stare at him. From a distance, in the practice room. It's better than nothing I suppose.

"You're staring." Bodhi muzes next to me. I shoot a small glare his way as I continue to wrap my hands for sparring. "Am not." I respond tense.

Second year is more difficult and stressfull than it seemed. RSC hanging over my head. Xaden has done his part in preparing me but that didn't make it less terrifying and seeing as it's unpredictable when leadership would come and get us, well, that just makes it worse.

Not that I have seen a lot of Xaden lately, he's been occupied with a certain Sorrengail.

That thought brings me back to where I am. Xaden is training the youngest Sorrengail on one of the mats in the corners, Garrick not far away from them as he practices with his sword.

And I'd hate to admit it but I am staring.

After I finish wrapping my hands I stand and pick up my daggers. They had always been my preferred weapon. Light but easy to use.

I go through my usual warm up routine. Swinging them around. It's all going smoothly until I hear a voice call out. "Looking good, beautiful."

I glance toward the voice, only to find Oren—the overconfident third-year with a cocky grin plastered on his face—walking toward me. He’s twirling his sword as if to show off, his steps relaxed.

“Your technique’s good, but I think you’re missing something,” he says, a smirk on his face.

I raise an eyebrow at him, unimpressed. “And what would that be?” He shrugs, a look of mischief appears in his eyes. “A partner. You know, someone to make things more… interesting.” He takes a step closer, lowering his voice. “Maybe someone who can keep up with you.”

I roll my eyes and focus back on my daggers, spinning one lazily between my fingers. “I’m perfectly fine. Thanks though.” I reply sarcastic, focusing back on my daggers. In the corner of my eye i catch Garrick's gaze.

But Oren doesn’t back down. “Come on, beautiful. You’ve got moves, but I bet I could teach you a thing or two. Maybe over a Meal?” His grin widens. I shake off the shiver that runs through my spine. An uncomfortable look on my face.

"Back off Oren." Bodhi's voice cuts through the tension. "She's already got someone to spar with." Bodhi's voice is on the cold side, almost as sharp as my brother Xaden's.

I give Bodhi a grateful smile as Oren retreats a step, his hands up in surrender. The smirk on his face is still present and I can tell he's not finished. For now maybe. But not forever.

♤

I stand by the surrounding crowd. All our eyes are on the mat, at the fight that is happening. It's a good match-- the matches before this one were a little meh but this one is actually good, we might be onto something.

The match ends after the second year taps out. From the corner of my eye I can see Garrick talking to Emmeterio. Why would he talk to him?

"Next match. Seifert and Travis." Emmeterio announces and my heart jumpes in my throat. That can't be a coincidence can it? Garrick against Oren not even a day after the small incident in the sparring room.

I can feel Xaden's eyes on me but I don't turn to face him. My eyes are solely on Garrick as he takes his place on the mat. His face holds the sole emotion of anger.

Oren charges first but Garrick side steps him, around his attack. Oren tries again but Garrick takes a hold of his arm, twisting it and Oren let's out a groan.

I can see Garrick say something to Oren but it's too quiet for me to hear. Garrick starts twisting his arm at an unnatural angle. He puts his leg between Oren's and he falls backwards on the mat. I knew Garrick was a good fighter but he's really good.

Garrick easily straddles Oren, a dagger at his throat and I wouldn't wish the look upon Garricks face to anyone. Not even my worst enemy.

He moves his dagger slightly, enough to draw blood but not enough to seriously injure him. I hold my breath at the sight. There is no way Garrick would actually kill him right?

He presses the blad harder against Oren's neck. I hear the familiar tap against the mat, he taps out. I let out the breath I'd been holding, Garrick slowly gets off him. He takes a step backwards, his dagger still in his hand.

I also take a step back, most people in this room night not know what this means but some do. I can feel bodhi's and Xaden's eyes in my back, burning holes.

I can see Xaden follow Garrick out of the sparring room and I don't hesitate to follow. I follow them quietly until they stop in a dark alley.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Xaden snaps at Garrick. His voice full of authority. I stay hidden behind the wall.

"He was flirting with her last night." I hear Garrick argue, frustration laced in his tone. "I'm aware of that. I saw it to but she can defend herself." Xaden voice grows bored.

"You're telling me you don't care that an asshole was flirting with your sister?" The frustration in his voice grows harsher.

“Of course I care,” Xaden snaps. “But I trust her to handle it. You, however, handled it as though you were issuing a challenge. That’s not protecting her—it’s claiming her.”

Garrick falls silent for a moment, his heavy breathing the only sound in the alley. “Maybe I am,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a weight I’ve never heard before. My breath catches in my throat.

“You don’t get to do that unless you’re willing to back it up,” Xaden warns, his tone razor-sharp. “You don’t get to make her your responsibility unless she’s choosing you. So tell me, Garrick, what exactly are your intentions?”

There’s a long pause before Garrick speaks, but when he does, his voice is steady. “My intentions are to love her. To protect her. To be the one she can turn to for the rest of her life. If that’s claiming her, so be it. I’ve loved her for longer than I care to admit, and I’m done hiding it.”

I press my hand to my mouth, trying to contain the gasp that threatens to escape. Did he just say…?

“And what about her?” Xaden challenges. “Have you even thought about what she wants? Or is this just about you?”

“It’s about her,” Garrick snaps back. “It’s always been about her.” “Then maybe you should say something to her instead of throwing daggers at every man who looks her way,” Xaden retorts. “Because this whole display? It’s not going to win her over. Talk to her. And for both your sakes, stop making me the middleman.”

I hear footsteps retreating, the sound of Xaden walking away. My heart pounds as I realize I’m now alone with Garrick, hidden just around the corner.

I take a shaky breath, stepping out of the shadows. “You could’ve just asked me,” I say softly.

Garrick whirls around, his eyes wide with shock. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” I admit, stepping closer. “Is it true? What you said?”

He looks away, running a hand through his hair. “It doesn’t matter—” “It does matter,” I cut him off, my voice trembling. “Because I’ve spent so long trying to convince myself that what I feel for you is one-sided. That you could never see me as anything more than Xaden’s little sister. And now you’re telling me that you… that you’ve felt the same way?”

His gaze snaps to mine, his expression a mix of hope and disbelief. “You… you feel the same?”

I nod, my chest tightening as the words spill out. “I’ve been in love with you for years, Garrick. But I thought you’d never… I thought it wasn’t possible.”

He takes a step toward me, his hand reaching out to cup my cheek. “You have no idea how hard it’s been, keeping my distance. Watching you with Oren last night, I just… I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“And today?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “On the mat?” “I wanted him to know,” he admits, his thumb brushing against my skin. “That you’re not just some girl to flirt with. That you’re… everything to me.”

I can’t help the tears that well in my eyes as I lean into his touch. “Then stop keeping your distance,” I whisper. “I’m right here.”

He doesn’t hesitate. His lips find mine in a kiss that’s both fierce and tender, years of longing and unspoken words pouring into that one moment. His arms wrap around me, pulling me close, and for the first time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

When we finally pull apart, his forehead rests against mine, his breath warm against my skin. “You’re my everything,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you.”

I smile, my heart lighter than it’s ever been. “You’ve already done enough,” I whisper. “But I wouldn’t mind seeing you try.”

♤

[talaok]

Like a Virgin

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader

summary: It's been a really long time since Joel has felt the feel of anything else besides his own fist, and once you remind him how good the real thing is... let's just say it's hard for him to live up to his full potential.

warnings: smut| unprotected p in v sex, premature ejaculation, very touch-starved Joel, and allusion to oral sex (f receiving)

a/n: I don't know what to say lmao this is a thing for me ok, don't judge (and also you can't tell me this isn't accurate, like this man hasn't gotten laid since the moon landing probably, and you expect him to last? no way babe). Also I'm sorry about the title it's funny to me lol

Now this wasn't like him.

He hadn't done this in a long time.

The last time he had sex with a woman he'd just met (or any woman to be completely honest) he was 25 years younger and the world hadn't gone to shit yet... so yeah, a long time indeed.

But you were so fucking beautiful, such a pretty face with such pretty eyes, and god but that mouth of yours-

And plus you were new to Jackson, you didn't know yet about all the scary stories folks liked to tell about him, and you were kind and funny, and... did he mention hot already?

Just one night of letting loose, that's what he'd told himself, and then he was gonna go back to his old closed-off self, but for now... for now, he was too busy throwing you on his bed to think about anything else.

You were getting rid of your clothes and he followed your lead more than willingly, almost ripping the buttons off his flannel in the rush.

He bent down to kiss your neck as his hands hurried to your tits.

God, he'd forgotten how good it felt to touch a woman.

And when you let out a little whimper, he swore he had ascended to another universe.

"Joel please"

Fuck him, but he wasn't inside of you yet, and he was already feeling far too close to coming.

Guess fucking his own fist for two decades really does something to a man.

"need something?"

He was acting wayy too smug for someone who was feeling like a virgin all over again.

"Please- I need you inside me, Joel"

fucking damnit- he shouldn't have asked that, his dick was now really suffering the consequences.

He didn't risk saying anything else as he got rid of his boxers, but of course, you just had to come out and say:

"oh wow, you're big" with the sexiest fucking voice he'd ever heard.

"want me to stop?"

For some reason, those words elicited a criminally hot smirk on your lips  

"Definitely not"

You were looking at him like a starving woman and he had to look down to where he was moving his tip to your entrance to get away from you and your dangerous, dangerous gaze

He pushed into you slowly and god fucking damnit but the sounds that you made... those sweet little moans and whines you let out as your warm pussy stretched around him and hugged him better than anything he'd felt in years... he had no words for it- no coherent sounds could make it out of his mouth except for a few groans coming deep from his chest.

"Good christ"

that's the only thing he managed to murmur as he bottomed out and had to take a break to try not to bust his load right there.

"fuck you feel so good" you moaned, as your hands gripped his sheets "please move" you begged, your voice breathy and pleading, and godfuck he should have really thought about it before doing this.

"Joel please-"

"I just need a moment darlin'" he explained, closing his eyes to try and remember how he used to manage to last and coming up completely empty.

He could feel your expectant eyes on him so even if he sure as hell didn't feel ready, he did as you asked and started to move.

The regret reached him extraordinarily fast as he felt your walls tightening around him and as you cried out for him like an angel sent straight from heaven.

"fuck-" you moaned, looking up at him with doe eyes that made him wonder if you really just knew what you were doing, if you actually enjoyed torturing him like this

"god you're so deep"

Yeah, you definitely knew

"and so big-" you cried

He gripped your waist to try and ground himself as he thrusted into your fucking perfect cunt.

"oh my god-yes!" you moaned, your back arching from the bed as his thrust got harsher in the hopes that that would make you talk less.

"just like that Joel- oh-" 

And Joel was tough in a lot of ways and he wasn't one to give up easily, but shit you were making it hard for him.

"Please don't stop- fuckfuckfuck" you begged, shutting your eyes close at the feeling.

And that was it, he couldn't do it anymore

"please stop talking" he breathed, his eyes resuming their tour of your eyes, mouth, and bouncing tits.

"why?" 

"nothing it's just-"

And before he could answer you had grabbed his shoulder and forced him to bend down to meet your mouth with his.

Goddamnit.

"you just feel too good Joel" 

"fuck." he groaned, not able to stop his hips from moving no matter how much he wanted to "shit"

"what is it?"

"Jesus Christ I-"

"is there something wrong?"

"n-no just- fuck I'm sorry sweetheart"

And that's all he could say as he abruptly pulled out of you, his spend covering your stomach not even a second after as he growled so loud his neighbors probably thought he was getting killed.

"shit" again, he sighed, his forehead falling to your shoulder.

"oh" you couldn't help but smile as everything came together

"I'm sorry darlin'" he breathed, leaning away and standing up as shame filled every inch of him.

"It's just- It's been a long time since I've done... this"

You sat up, your legs still dangling off the bed, as you admired his handy work on your belly.

"And you... you're just real fucking pretty" he huffed a half-laugh "I'm sorry"

You looked up at him then, meeting his mortified expression.

"No hey" you smiled, placing a hand on his torso "It's fine, I understand"

"god this is embarrassing, I feel like a sixteen-year-old all over again" he shook his head

"stop" you cooed, gently caressing his skin, as a mischievous spark lighted in your irides "It's fine, really" you promised, "and besides..." you bit your bottom lip as you slowly spread your legs "you could still make it up to me, y'know?"

He groaned again, falling to his knees between your thighs

"that I can do"

[loveyhoneydovey]

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon riley

notes & warnings: the used pictures are only for aesthetic purposes, reader is not physically described in this. AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS DNI this is an 18+ only blog. a significant age gap between simon & reader is implied but the actual number is never mentioned. if i missed anything please lmk:)

this is a completely unedited little something i wrote at 4am

reader who never fell out of love mechanic ex-boyfriend simon

you still recommend your ex-boyfriend’s garage to your friends (especially any vulnerable women) because despite your failed relationship, you’ve never met someone as trustworthy and reliable as simon 

you and mechanic simon who met when you’d found a used car you wanted to purchase and wanted to have it independently inspected 

reader who found this older, ruggedly handsome, stoic and yet professional mechanic who seemed to know his shit. despite the terrifying skull design resting next to his shop’s name, you trusted him immediately

not only did he inspect the car for you, but he also helped bring down its price and performed any necessary repairs at a huge discount (he never told you about this, you eventually figured it out on your own)

despite the obvious crush, he was very reluctant to pursue anything with you. not only were you his client and trusted him not to make things weird, but you were also so much younger and he felt like an old dog who was beyond learning any new tricks

you should’ve taken his warning from the beginning as he had predicted the downfall of your relationship before it’d even began

reader whose car has been acting weird for the past couple of months so you begrudgingly take it to simon’s shop

you’d actually tried taking it to some new garage in town, but had a feeling you were being lied to and overcharged when the sleazy mechanic barely spent an hour on it and said it was back like new

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who doesn’t even need 5 minutes to tell you it’s on its last leg. despite his stoic demeanor, he’s actually concerned by how you’ve been driving such a vehicle in such an unsafe state

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who starts asking till he finds a car within your budget. one he inspects himself to make sure his baby not anymore doesn’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere because of faulty brakes

the fucker was ready to buy it himself, but knew you’d never accept his money (especially not after the harsh parting words you’d left each other with during your last fight)

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who’ll never love anyone more than you, but still isn’t willing to repair the broken bond between you two

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who still uses o’keeffe’s working hands cream every day cause you used to always rub it on his hands, swearing his calloused skin would soon feel like a baby’s butt (and of course you were right). he tries to mimic the way you’d gently work it into his damaged skin as the only thing he had left from you now were memories

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who never really tries to move on from you despite his apprentice’s attempts to set him up with multiple people (what’s the point of you for something he’s already found) 

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who went through the army and came out even more damaged after a stint in prison. he believes nothing good will come out of such a sweet thing so full of life being chained to a grumpy old man like him

mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who despite thinking all of that can’t accept the thought of you being with someone other than him

WHEW the is the first time i've written in YEARS (and i probably won't write anything for another good 5 years fjkdsw). hope you enjoyed this as much as i did!! this au idea has been rotting my brain for the past few days and i just had to let it out. feel free to dm me, leave a comment or send an ask about this au. dividers made by @anitalenia ✨

[ateliersss]

Oh, take me back to The Night we met

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: 1936, eighty-eight years ago, you met him, the creature that changed your life in a way that goes beyond human imagination. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: Attempted Rape, SA, Murder, English isn't my first language Word Count: 10.162 After the Blooming Family series

⇨ Surprise! I hope you are surprised because I was starting to doubt myself. I actually believed I wouldn't even finish it this year. Anyways, I wrote the finishing 6.800 words in the last seven hours and my brain is mush. I hope it didn't affect the pace or logic of the plot. If so, I will edit it in a few days. Comments are always appreciated.

⇨ Also, if you tell me I wrote an unrealistic reaction to seeing a Yautja's face for the first time, let me tell you, you and I wouldn't be here if I hadn't reacted the same.

1936, Earth

"Thank you, ma'am." The soldier in front of you returned your identity card, the national animal printed on it facing you.

You returned his bright smile with a tight one. You were already used to identifying yourself to patrolling soldiers after work. It was for "safety measures", according to the government.

While you were busy putting away your identity card, the boy looked nervously over his shoulder to his comrade who nodded back to him, encouraging him to finally man up and just tell you what he had rehearsed a dozen times already to eventually make a move on you and ask you out.

"A-And thank you for your service, ma'am!" He blurted out, louder than he intended to, with a soft blush covering his cheeks.

You closed your purse and looked up at him in confusion.

The boy, you now noticed, had to be at least five years younger, probably around the same age as your younger brother, Emil. And you recognized him now, too. He was patrolling around this area two to three times a week.

At your confused face, he gestured a little awkwardly to your uniform, the white dress and blue-grey blouse underneath it. "D-Doctors and nurses are in desperate need in times like these a-and saving lives is a remarkable job!"

"Oh." You looked down at yourself before you pulled your coat tighter around your body and smiled softly at him. "If that's all, I'll take my leave now. Have a good night, gentlemen."

He visibly deflated at your words and mumbled a quick "Have a nice evening, ma'am." but you barely got half of it when you turned around to continue your way back home. The second your back was facing them, your smile dropped.

You hated it, hated this, this so-called life you and everyone around you had to live. Horrible and disgusting things were happening, but no one dared to speak up. You were all trapped, too scared to act, too afraid to do something.

And the people could feel it, the tension that was stretched so tautly that was just waiting to snap. The whole world was holding its breath, deferring that one moment when the match would ignite and reduce everything and everyone to rubble and ash.

Meanwhile, your brother was beaming with pride as he was now considered old enough to join the army and could finally fight for his country. On the other hand, your father, the only other family you still had in this world, was far more reluctant when it came to the plans of the government and his son's naive blindness of patriotism.

No one was talking about the horrifying wrongs your home country was doing for years now, but everybody knew, everybody saw. And if someone even dared to utter a word about it, they disappeared.

That didn't stop your father from ranting about it behind the closed doors of your home. He did so, of course, in Emil's absence. He was family, yes, but nowadays blind obedience could manipulate even a brother and son to go against his own kin.

You loved your brother dearly. He was a good guy and he only held a very strong pride for his home, his people, and his culture. But sadly that was the only thing he acknowledged around others. He denied the "rumors" of a genocide going on and overlooked unintentionally the more sinister motives of others in the world of politics and the military. He was truly and utterly blind, but you couldn't condemn him for that. Not really.

The Great War ended when Emil was three years old and you remembered him crying when your father told him he couldn't participate in it anymore. Ignorant of the horrors that happened at the Front, he and a few boys from around the neighborhood would play war and were disappointed when they were told it was over. The worst part was the elder men sitting on benches near their battlefield, telling them their people were the superior power since they had been able to hold their own against three opposing countries in the end.

You sighed and started to fumble around in your purse for your keys as you reached your destination. After a quick look into the mailbox — the usual evening newspaper and another flyer that encouraged men between the ages of twenty and forty-five to sign up for the military — you made your way up to the first floor and poked around in the lock with the key, a little distracted by the newspaper as you were searching the headlines for anything concerning. There was another report about a skinned man found hanging upside down from a church tower. Unbelievable. At times like this and there was a maniac running around, killing people in the most grotesque way for fun.

"I'm home!" You called into the dimly lit hallway, knowing your father was sitting in his usual spot in the living room.

After dropping your purse next to the wardrobe, toeing out of the white pumps, shrugging off the coat, and hanging it on the coat rack, you walked through the corridor and past five doors. The ones leading to the bathroom and the kitchen were open as always, just like the door of Emil's bedroom. Although it hadn't been inhabited for a few months now, you would always leave it open after cleaning. It was false reassurance, but that way it seemed as if he was still home.

"How was your day?" Your father asked gruffly from his spot on the wing chair, the morning newspaper still in his hand before it got replaced by the evening issue you handed to him with a kiss to his temple.

"It was…"

Screams.

Blood.

Wails of a newborn.

A cold body.

"…long."

"Mhm." Your father hummed, his eyes scanning the front page before turning it. "Hah! Sightings of another black cloud of smoke and the authorities tell the public another farmhouse burned down. Do they think we are stupid? Unbelievable these people! Think they will get away with it, hiding it from the public eye, and no one would notice!"

You weren't entirely sure if he had even listened to you, but you didn't care. You weren't very eager to start a conversation with him anyway.

"I'm in my room. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

Though you didn't expect a response, you waited a few seconds — maybe today he would ask if his son had finally sent a letter — before you turned around to retreat to your room.

Since your father had lost his legs in a bomb attack at a munitions factory where he had worked during the Great War, he had changed. A lot. Before, he was quite a gentle and jovial man who worked hard and never shied away from showing how much he loved his family. Nowadays, he was resentful and bitter towards everything happening around him.

It was exhausting, not only listening to his complaints day in and day out but also being nothing more than a maid and caregiver to him. You were the sole breadwinner in this house. You worked yourself to the bone in a business that was equally about life and death but gave you more grief than joy. At least it made the medical care of your father a little easier. The surgery, the medicine, and the wheelchair would have cost you a fortune.

When you would get off work, more would await you at home. Taking care of the household was your responsibility for nine years now since your father wasn't capable of doing it anymore. After the first week of dusting and sweeping, washing the dirty laundry and ironing the clean ones, going grocery shopping and cooking, as well as taking care of your father like washing him, helping him get to the toilet, and such, you cried yourself to sleep with the thought of quitting and running away.

But you didn't.

You were miserable, yes, but you stayed. You stayed with the hope of a better life in the future. Maybe you will be married to a nice man in a few years like your girlfriends already were. You had experience with men, sure, but none of them you would consider fit to be your husband.

In your bedroom, you quickly got rid of your uniform until you were only in your undergarments, a baby-blue silk panty that flowed around your mid-thighs and an uplift brassiere of the same fabric and color, both with a lacy hemstitched design. You were about to throw the white and grey-blue dress into your other dirty clothes when you noticed red speckles on the left sleeve.

Yes, the day had been long, too long for your taste, and when your shift did end, you felt hollow once more. You could still see her in that bed, screaming and crying.

Watching her, you had wondered if you would ever end up like her.

You shifted in your place, second-guessing before you finally turned and looked at your reflection in the mirror that occupied one corner of your bedroom. You hesitantly lifted your hands and placed them on your belly.

No. Your job showed you women struggle and in pain every day. You would never do that to yourself. Being a mother was not worth the probability of taking your last breath during labor, giving your own life while granting another to your child.

Today was another reminder of that.

The girl in the delivery room, Johanna, was sweet and lively. You met her occasionally on a monthly check-up when you assisted the doctor who took her into his care. She would tell you about her and her husband trying for this baby for years and how excited she was.

You bit the inside of your cheek when tears once again started to well up in your eyes when you thought of how helpless you had felt when you stood in that room. Your colleague, an older and more experienced woman, was holding the crying newborn in her arms. The doctor was doing his all to save the unsavable while Johanna's body got colder as the dark red spot grew bigger on the white linen of the bed.

Today had shown you once again that you would never let something like that happen to you.

"You have to incise into her abdomen."

Not ever.

"No!"

Not in a million years.

"No, Mi'ytiar… you have to, you have to."

You would never put someone else's life before yours, not even the one of your never-going-to-happen baby.

"Save our baby. Forget me… ju-just save our son… please."

Sighing, you got ready for bed. You were far too tired this evening to get anything done. The laundry had to wait until tomorrow and your father probably already had eaten, so there was no need to get to the store. For now, you needed to stop thinking.

A whole week passed and you had followed your everyday routine like every other day. Occasionally, when you walked past the room where Johanna had delivered her baby and made her husband a widower, you paused and stared. Instead of the freshly made bed and the stark white linen, you saw her dying as she bled out. You saw the doctor, yourself by his side and the nurse holding the baby at the foot of the bed.

You jumped when you felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned to see said nurse smiling pitifully at you.

"You are still there, right?" She asked softly, her eyes scanning your face.

You swallowed and nodded. "It's like that every time I come here. I don't know why. She's not the first I watched dying during childbirth."

The elderly woman patted your cheek and guided you away from the delivery room by the crook of your arm, pulling you away from the sorrowful abyss before you could drown any deeper in it.

"You liked her, that's why." She started, "I had a Johanna, too. A long, long time ago. Although she was a lot younger, she was just as excited to be a mother. Poor thing died just like her baby."

You gasped and now it was you who looked with pity at her. "Why?"

"The baby was stuck." The older nurse sighed, "She pushed and pushed and tore. By the time the doctor started to cut her open, she died of internal bleeding." She had to clear her throat before she continued, "The baby died with her. A little boy. He got himself tangled up in the umbilical cord."

You turned your gaze from her face down to the ground and watched your feet walk an unknown route. Swallowing down your tears, you forced yourself to concentrate on not stumbling over your own feet.

You did like Johanna. You had empathized with her, even though children would never be part of your life. She had just wanted a baby, a part of her and the man she loved united in one body, and all that she got was death. She hadn't deserved it. At least the thought that she might be together with her baby in heaven now, thanks to her belief in God, soothed your heart a little.

"Go home, (Y/N)." The elderly nurse interrupted your train of thought.

Looking up, you saw her holding up your purse and coat. Apparently, she had led you to the lounge where the doctors and nurses spent their lunchtime.

"But I still have six hours to go." You tried to argue but bit down your lower lip when she shook her head.

"If someone should ask for you, I will tell them you didn't feel well and that I sent you home. There are certain benefits as the head nurse." She winked at you, pushed your belongings into your hands, and shooed you in the direction of the exit.

"I promise I will feel better tomorrow." You called over your shoulder and waved at her, giving her one last smile before you shrugged on your coat and left.

Thirty-two minutes later, you got off the bus and turned around the corner into your street, your purse dangling back and forth on your wrist. With your extra five hours, maybe you could finally start that book on your bedside table if your dad wouldn't find any reason to turn your attention to him.

Feeling slightly more cheerful, you walked a little faster, already searching for the key. Like always, you checked the mailbox — nothing again — before you hopped up the one flight of stairs to your apartment, the sound of your heels on the wood filling the otherwise silent staircase.

The noise seemed to attract the woman living across from you because you barely reached the top of the stairs when she ripped her door open and stared at you with wide eyes.

You paused and looked at her in concern. "Mrs. Walter? Is everything okay?" You asked and carefully inched closer to her.

For several moments, you didn't get an answer. Only when you opened your mouth to ask her again did she slowly lift her trembling arm and point past you at something you could not see.

Strange. The only thing back there was your apartment door, so…

The slamming of Mrs. Walter's door barely reached your ears when you turned around. All you could hear was eerie silence, not Mrs. Walter quickly putting her distance between her and the door, not the dog barking from above you that got awakened by the slamming door, not the traffic noises outside.

The door that you diligently locked every morning before you got to work and unlocked every evening when you returned home hung on its hinges. In quick strides, you reached it and ripped off the note that was nailed into the wood under the peephole. Your eyes scanned over the words as you pushed the door open and entered the apartment.

A search was carried out here due to a tip-off of a conspiracy against the country and its people. All residents are requested to report immediately...

Tears clouded your view and made it impossible to make out the rest of the words. But there was no need to. You already knew what you needed to know. Your father was dead, no questions asked, no evidence to prove that he was innocent or guilty, no interference by the judiciary. He had dug his own grave since he started to badmouth and criticize the current sins committed by the government.

You slowly navigated your way through your destroyed home, your hands supporting yourself against the wall, careful not to get caught in something with your pumps. You had to duck under the big shelf close to the entrance of the living room. It was tilted to the side so that the upper part was now leaning against the other side of the wall. Everything that had ever been placed onto it — pictures, plants, certificates, and other little knick-knacks — was now scattered on the floor.

It got even worse in the living room. Everything had been turned upside down. Your father's chair was thrown to the side just like the couch and the coffee table. The books from the huge bookshelf that covered the length of the smallest wall in here were pulled out and tossed on the floor, pages ripped out and strewn on the floor. Pictures were taken from the walls and the glass crunched as you stepped over them. Dirt was covering the floor as if someone had been digging in the soil of the potted plants. The carpet was overturned, partly thrown onto the couch, and revealed the wooden floor it usually covered.

Your living room had been thoroughly searched and you doubted the rest of your home looked any different.

In a daze, you carelessly let your purse drop to the floor and shuffled to your bedroom. Opening the door, you were greeted with a view you had expected — your bed was tilted to the side, clothes from your closet were now scattered on the floor, and your mirror was lying face down on the floor.

When you saw the pictures of you and your family carelessly thrown into the corner, you couldn't hold the sob in any longer. You sank to your knees, curled into a ball, and cried to your heart's content with your eyes squeezed shut.

You lost your mother at a young age, lost your father for the first time after his accident, lost your brother to the country, and now lost your father for the second and final time. Now, you were wholly and utterly alone. Not for long, though. If you didn't come forward and turn yourself into a possible fair trial in the next sixteen hours, you would be taken just like your father and die the same way he did.

Your breakdown had been apparently so nerve-wracking and tiring that when you opened your eyes, it was dark inside your room and outside your window. Groggily, you propped yourself up and looked around, disappointedly ascertaining that you hadn't been dreaming at all. Your eyes scanned your room, still a little out of it, until you spotted your clock on the wall, surprisingly intact. 9:24 PM. Now you had less than ten hours left.

How would you spend your last ten hours in freedom? You didn't know, but you for sure wouldn't do it in here. You needed to leave.

As quick as you could you switched your nurse uniform to a skirt and your favorite blouse, fixed your make-up and your hair to look less like a mess and more like the respectable woman you usually were, and left the apartment after putting on your shoes, coat and grabbed your purse. At first, you strolled around with no real destination in mind, but the darker it got the higher the risk of being stopped by a patrolling soldier.

You had enough money with you to occupy yourself with a few drinks, so why not enjoy yourself, let a little loose? You never really got the chance to try it out. Your job unironically prevented you from unnecessarily damaging your liver and you had the responsibility to take care of your family. Your girlfriends always invited you on girl's night, but sadly, you had to decline almost every time, be it your father or another night shift forced upon you. They had another planned on the weekend in a few days, the first one in a very long time you would have had time for. Not anymore. When they would sit around a table and share the newest gossip, you had already started to rot away in a mass grave.

You entered the first, non-shady-looking bar and plopped down on one of the bar stools on the right. When the bartender finally took notice of you, all he needed to do was to take in your gloomy figure pitifully slumped in your seat to grab a glass and fill it with a brown liquid. No words were spoken — you didn't feel like it and he noticed that — as you grabbed the glass, tossed the liquor back, and placed the now empty glass back down. The alcohol, whatever it was, burned like hell and you couldn't help but cough, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. The bartender, meanwhile, wordlessly filled your glass again and without any hesitation, you emptied that one too.

You spend almost four hours like that. Losing count after your sixth shot, your head started to feel funny, like the world around you was spinning too fast. You mused what your life would have been like if your mother hadn't died when you were just nine years old, if your father hadn't lost his legs when you were seventeen, if your brother had chosen a normal job at your current age. You could have grown up like any normal girl, could have joined your friends more often to hang out, could have started going on dates again after your last boyfriend dumped you for neglecting him.

And what about your future? What about the man you wanted to marry in a few years? Every day, you daydreamed of someone who would just sweep you away in his arms and take you far, far away from here. There had to be a place somewhere where you could live your life in peace without a brewing war and the constant fear of death. You waited for someone who would make your life easier than it currently was, who would take the weight from your shoulders and not add some more on them every single day. Someone who loved you passionately and would spoil you after nine years of labor where you worked yourself to the bone. Someone who would take charge and let you rest when you needed it. Someone who was the other half of your soul that hopelessly awaited to be rejoined with its counterpart.

When you reached out to your glass for the nth time, a hand softly clasped your wrist. Looking up, you saw the bartender giving you the same pitiful look you had received for God knows how often today, from your colleague at the hospital to some of the other patrons who entered and left the bar during the last few hours.

"I think you should get home." He said firmly and pulled his hand away.

No longer being hindered, you lifted the glass up to your lips and emptied it in one go. "I no longer have a home." You dully answered, your speech a little slurred.

"We close in a few minutes." He tried another route, anything to get you to stop drinking.

He may not be interested in what personal business you have to drink yourself under the table, but even he wouldn't let a young woman like you do that to herself.

"Fine." You mumbled, grabbed your purse, and searched for the money that was stored somewhere in there. You hummed when you finally found it and without looking at it, you dropped it down on the counter. "Here."

You held onto the sleek surface of the bar to lift yourself up and from your seat, supporting your whole weight with one hand while you needed several attempts to grab your coat. Not bothering to put it on, you turned to leave and even you were surprised that you could still walk in a (more or less) straight line.

"Hey, you paid too much!" The bartender called from behind you.

Not bothering to stop or turn around, you simply proclaimed, "Keep it. Where I go I won't need it." and pushed the entrance door open.

Outside, you tilted your head up, closed your eyes, and took a deep breath of the cool night air. It instantly freshened you up and cleared your mind a little. Looking left and right along the sidewalk, you decided to take the left and began strolling wherever it was taking you, once again with no actual destination in mind. You had no idea what time it was, but you guessed you had around five or six hours left. If you're lucky and didn't get held up by some patrols, you could visit the park one last time where your parents, Emil and you would hold a picnic every summer when you were younger. It would only take you ten minutes on foot. It wouldn't hurt to visit the place that held so many good childhood memories and bask in them in your final hours.

You were walking for a mere two minutes when you heard a whistle from your right. Halting your steps, you turned your head to the side and looked over to the source. There, on the other side of the street, were two men sitting on a bench and two standing around them. One was holding a beer bottle while the others were smoking their cigarettes.

"Hey, pretty lady." The one with the beer bottle called over to you and lifted it to toast to you.

You quickly snapped your head back forward and continued on your way, your strides bigger and faster to create as much distance between you and them as possible.

When you thought you were safe, you felt a hand clasping your wrist whose owner pulled you back and against his strong chest.

"Hey, hey, hey." The voice of the man with the beer bottle breathed against your ear, sending an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. "Don't be shy. We were just celebrating my friend's promotion." To your horror, he put his hands on your hips and turned you both to his three companions who had seemingly followed him, all of them wearing leering grins. "Why don't you join us, hm? We could need a little entertainment." He murmured against your neck, his breath reeking of alcohol.

Before he could place his lips anywhere close to your skin, you struggled out of his grip and stumbled a few steps away from him. "I-I'm sorry, but I need to go home. I'm already late."

The man who seemed to be the leader of the bunch stepped closer to you, smirking when you accidentally walked right into one of his friends. The guy immediately held you against him, keeping you in place.

"I think you could spare a couple of minutes." The leader said firmly and reached for your blouse.

Fear seemed to be a great way to quickly sober one up because the next thing you did was stomp down on the foot of the man that was holding you, your heel hitting his toe perfectly, causing him to let you go with a cry in pain and a curse. Next, you rammed your knee into the crotch of the man in front of you and when his body doubled over, you pushed him to the side and bolted down the sidewalk.

Not daring to look back, you sprinted as fast as you could, but the alcohol made it hard to keep balance, not to mention the nausea that bubbled up in your stomach. But you ignored it and tried to keep it down when you heard their calls from behind you, coming closer and closer.

This was not how you wanted to spend your last night, this was not how you imagined it. Tears clouded your view and you narrowly escaped the grabby hand of whatever guy that was closest to you when you ducked down and sharply took a left turn into an alley.

Unbeknownst to you, you were being watched.

The next thing you felt was hard concrete as you fell forward when a heavyweight collided with your back. You cried out in pain when you hit your head, then hysterically screamed in panic when you felt hands on your skirt and you started kicking around, not caring if you hit something or not. You heard a grunt when your heel finally made contact with the shoulder of one of them, but you barely had time to bask in your little victory when a punch to your face almost knocked you out cold. Your body went instantly slack, a long-winded groan leaving your mouth.

"Move your ass and hold her down." The voice of the leader sounded from somewhere above you. "And turn her around. I like to watch their face when they give up."

Hands turned you on your back as your screams and cries accompanied your attempts to fight their hands off.

"No… please no." You begged as your wrists were pinned above your head by a pair of rough hands. "No!" You screamed louder, in a high-pitched, panicking voice when your blouse was ripped open, your brassiere following suit, and your chest got groped by a calloused hand.

You squeezed your eyes shut when you felt an eager mouth around your nipple, harshly sucking on it while your breasts were still in a painfully hard grasp. You tried to gather your last strength, the drinks earlier and then the hit to your head from the fall tempted you to just fall unconscious, but you bucked your body up in hopes you could throw whoever was above you off of you.

Only you couldn't move. Someone was straddling your thighs, hindering you from moving.

You finally forced yourself to open your eyes and the blurry image of the leader pushing up your skirt presented itself in front of you.

"Stop, please! Help!" You started screaming again, causing the leader to sigh in annoyance.

"Could you please shut her up, for fuck's sake? I'm trying to enjoy myself here." He growled at the guy who was holding your hands down, his patience growing thinner with every passing moment he wasn't able to force himself inside you. "When I'm done with her, you get what's left of her."

"No, no, no..." You wailed when you heard the clinking of his belt and a zipper being opened, but you soon got silenced when a palm pressed down on your mouth.

Rather than keep watching him, you closed your eyes in defeat, now only feeling how he moved closer to your crotch, his fingers pushing your underwear aside, and positioned himself against your entrance.

A dull thud behind your attackers stilled them for a moment, but a raging roar got them to whip around. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to see whatever feral animal was going to maul you and those men.

A scream, something wet splashing on you and something, someone, heavy landing on top of you got you to finally open your eyes again. You stared right into a gaping hole where the head of a person normally should be. Maybe it was the shock of almost ending up left on the ground in this alley, covered in bruises, blood and bodily fluids after they were done with you, that kept you from screaming.

In a daze, you pushed the corpse off of you and looked down at your body. It was covered in blood, parts of a splattered brain, and white fragments that had been the skull of the leader of the group. His head had burst into pieces. No animal could have done that and no human either. There was no weapon on earth with that much destructive power, so what…

With slow eyes, you looked up from your soiled legs. The guy now lying dead next to you had been obscuring the view of a large creature standing no more than three meters across from you.

Whatever it was, it seemed livid. Its body was heaving with wrathful breaths and its long fingers were twitching, clenching into fists before relaxing them again. Its massive form was hidden by darkness and you could barely make out its silhouette.

It felt like an eternity with you just staring at the creature and it (probably) staring right back. The other assaulters, two of whom had fallen to the ground in shock with the sudden attack on their leader, hadn't dared to move a muscle. Maybe they were in a trance just as you were, not for the same reason, of course.

"H-Hey!" The fourth guy squeaked, breaking the tension that seemed to suffocate the whole alley. "Wha-"

In a practiced, seemingly effortless movement, the creature whipped out its arm, and something silvery shot out of the darkness. It wrapped around the throat of the man, choking him and sending him to his knees. He was clawing his neck and tried to remove what seemed to be a whip made out of sleek silver and grey material. 

You watched him as he desperately tried to free himself and blood started to flow from where the whip was wrapped around his neck down to his shirt, turning the light blue fabric deep red. Your eyes then traveled along the bladed chain, you now noticed, to the other end of it, and found the large creature moving towards you.

If you would have been able to make a sound, you would have, but you were still too out of it that no noise escaped your bloody lips when you were finally able to distinguish your savior. 

It was indeed huge, a massive body that was dwarfing any human being you could think of. Its appearance was bizarre. Its feet and calves up to its knees were in unusual boots made out of metal instead of leather with an interesting design. You wondered if it was the skin of the creature or if it was wearing a net-like cloth that was visible on every body part that wasn't hidden beneath armor like the chest plate that bled over into a full sleeve of its arm. It was covering the left side of its chest but not enough to conceal a rather fit upper body. You found yourself staring a lot longer at the well-defined, almost sculpted abs of it. It was no doubt a male.

As you were eyeing the creature up, he yanked on the whip. You were only aware of a dull thud when the bladed chain cut off the head of the man who had been in its hold. 

You didn't register when more blood sprinkled on you as you were too busy trying to imagine a face underneath that strange mask. With his green, brownish, and beige reptilian skin, the long black tendrils sprouting from the head, the long claws, and the animalistic posture, he was, without a doubt, not human. 

An arm wrapping around your throat from behind, preventing you from breathing evenly, brought you back to reality. You immediately put up a fight, scratching it and pulling on the arm in hopes he would let go.

It was one of the attackers that had fallen to the ground when the creature had appeared. He must have scrambled over to you when his last companion was foolishly enough to run up to the murderous beast, trying to do something quite laughable, only to be impaled by a spear and was now hanging on the wall to the right like he was a portrait above a chimney, the spear rammed through the brick of the apartment building.

The idiot behind you thought the creature would let him go if he was holding you hostage as if he wasn't going to kill the both of you just like his buddies. So foolish, you internally sighed.

"S-S-Stop! I'm warning you!" He screamed at the towering figure which was closing in on you. "I will… I will kill her!"

The creature stopped a few steps away from you and reached behind his back. Quicker than your eyes could keep up, his hand shot forward and he threw something of the size of an orange at the man.

Yelling, the man loosened his grip, his instincts kicking in to fight against whatever was sticking to his forehead. In his struggle, he fell on his back and started rolling around on the floor when the little device made a strange wiring noise. His body went stock still when he was engulfed in a net, restraining him. Then the man screamed bloody murder when the wiring noise grew louder and the device pulled the net tighter around him.

You turned to him, only to see the strings cutting into his skin, drawing blood, until only pieces of his body were left of him, leaving him unidentifiable to whoever would find him and his friends.

Now, it was only you in that alley. You, the beast that saved you and the bloody massacre, turning the place into an image of horror.

You were going to get sick if you stared at what had been a living and breathing human once any longer. Rather than wanting to face the creature when it was going to kill you, you turned back around and then startled back. Said beast was crouching in front of you, the head cocked to the side.

He reached out a clawed hand and you closed your eyes, preparing yourself for whatever gruesome death he had planned for you. You thought back to everything you had achieved in your life, every person that was still dear to you, said goodbye to every place you loved to visit, to the movie you had wanted to watch in a week with a friend, to the unread book on your bedside table and every dream you had wanted fulfill — you had actually planned to do that in a few hours. At least he was going to give you a quick death and not whatever the authorities had done to your father.

Something poked your cheek.

Your eyes snapped open and you were met with a closer view of the strange mask covering the creature's face. His hand was outstretched and a finger was prodding your skin. A strange noise was coming from behind the mask, something you could only describe as a rumbling purr. 

You stayed still, afraid if you would only move a muscle, it would set the creature off and let him drag his clawed finger up to your temple where a trail of blood had started to run from the wound you got from the fall. You hissed in pain when the pad of his thumb stroked — probably unintentionally hard — over your lower lip, the rough skin touching where it was busted. He pulled its thumb away only to replace it with the back of his pointer and middle finger to caress your jaw and down to your throat. The touch caused you to swallow which he most likely could feel. Only when you felt the scaly sensation on your skin dip too deep, too far beneath the ripped remains of your blouse, you gripped his wrist.

The creature's head snapped up where it had followed his exploration. You flinched back at the sudden movement and quickly loosened your hold on his wrist, pulling it away like you had burnt yourself.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, your voice hoarse.

What if you had just signed your death? What if you touching him like that had triggered him? What if he thought you were a threat now? What if he thought of it as highly offensive? What if he was going to kill you now? What if-

A low thump caused you to flinch when he hit the left side of his chest with his right fist. With parted lips, you looked from his fist up to his masked face and then back again, confused, both at the gesture and the lack of aggression towards you. Almost as if he could understand the look on your face, he repeated the action with a little more determination after he inched closer to you. You were more focused on his sudden closeness, daring not to move back, but you hastily turned your gaze down to his fist. It was a little hard to concentrate on what he was trying to tell you after the vast change of demeanor — from murdering in cold blood to trying to… communicate with you?

"You?" You tried hesitantly.

It really was your best guess on what he could mean.

A soft growl reached your ears from underneath his mask, making you tense up but relaxed in relief the second his attention turned to his forearm. You watched in curiosity as his clawed pointer finger ghosted over the armor-like wristband that started flashing in a bright red and made strange beeping noises like when a caller on the other line hung up before you could. Your mouth opened without you even noticing. You had never seen something like it, probably no one ever had. How was it functioning without cables like your telephone and radio did?

"Are you telling me you are married?"

You jumped back a little when a male voice chimed from his wristband.

"To a cup of tea, I will never say no."

"I can't believe you put the jar in the oven!"

You looked at him in astonishment as more voices sounded from his forearm. Human voices.

He kept repeating the same three sentences, but they seemed to get shorter with every replay.

“-telling me you are… telling me… me.”

"-a cup of tea… tea."

“-you put the jar in the… you put the jar… the jar… jar.”

He seemed to be satisfied as he let out a deep, low-pitched chirp before he played the cut and put together word snippets to you, his head facing you now.

“Me-tea-jar.” He hit his chest once again before playing the word again. “Me-tea-jar.”

"Meetja?" You tried the word, tried how it felt on your tongue.

He let out a deep grumble before he played the same word again and leaned even closer to you.

“Me-tea-jar.”

"M-Meetiar. Mi'ytiar."

With his head slightly cocked to the side, he tilted it forward in a one-movement nod as if to say, "Now you got it." and his fist hit his chest one last time.

"You. Mi'ytiar. T-That's your name?" You asked and hoped you put the puzzle pieces together correctly.

Another nod before he pointed at you.

"Oh." You softly said, shifted your hips slightly, and nervously placed a hand on your own chest. “(Y/N). I'm (Y/N)."

“(Y/N).” Your voice sounded from his forearm when he touched his wristband. “(Y/N).”

You couldn't help the small smile and you nodded. "Yes. (Y/N)."

The creature — Mi'ytiar — lowly grumbled in appreciation and you breathed out the air you had been holding in your lungs with a laugh. You couldn't believe you talked, more or less, to something that undoubtedly didn't belong on earth while you were surrounded by death after being spared from something that would have scarred you for life just because you had been out drinking to have one last night in freedom until you would follow your father in an early grave. Your life really had taken a strange turn in just a few hours.

"What are you?" You asked him and tilted your head to the side.

"Hunter." He communicated with the help of his wristband.

"Where do you come from?"

"Sky."

"Sky." You repeated the child's voice and looked up.

So he came from the sky. You wondered if he meant the clouds or maybe the moon. It could be the stars for all you knew. Was he the only one living there, or were there more? Maybe one like him lived on each star the night sky had to offer.

As you were looking up in thought, Mi'ytiar took his time to admire you. You were, what you humans would use, adorable. He didn't hunt humans very often as they weren't much of a challenge, but sometimes he would visit earth out of curiosity. Your kind was interesting and his ancestors had been quite fond of them when they used them to breed their prey centuries ago. Humans have continuously developed from then to now, so it was fascinating to watch.

Like he watched you now. He admired your wide eyes, the curve of your nose, and your rosy cheeks that displayed the dried tear streaks of panic and fear. He admired the shape of your lips and the cut that had caused you pain when he touched it. He admired your shiny hair that had once been pulled up in a neat bun but was now hanging loosely and messily around your face, framing it like it was a piece of art. He admired your small, shaking hands that were desperately holding the ripped-open blouse together, protecting your modesty and the naked skin of your trembling shoulders when the fabric had slipped down to your biceps. You had been so incredibly warm and soft when he had touched what you were hiding now.

A quiet hiss got you to look back at him and you watched with uncertainty as his fingers first pulled on the one tube that was connected to his mask and then the other before he removed it anxiously slow. You mentally prepared yourself for the most horrific sight of your life, but when the top half of his face was laid bare, you sucked in a breath. It wasn't the foreign shape of his head, the texture of his skin, or the spiky triangle-shaped bumps that circled the sides and the back of his head like a crown, clearly dividing where the roots of his hair ended and his face started. It was his eyes, though an abnormal orange, that was salient and captivating you. They didn't look like what your wildest fantasies had to offer, but they somewhat seemed almost human — a black pupil surrounded by an orange iris. And not just any orange. It was the kind of orange that stretched across the sky at every sunrise and sunset. The only difference you spotted from your own eyes was that he had a black sclera instead of a white one.

You would have gotten lost in them if he hadn't removed the mask fully, so his lower face was showing too. You wouldn't exactly describe it as terrifying, but the sight of his mouth was, to say it simply, unnerving. It was hidden behind four tusks that represented his mandibles. You were fascinated when he suddenly made a clicking noise but were taken aback when he extended the fleshy texture to reveal two rows of teeth. It was like he had two jaws, one when the mandibles were retracted to his face and one when they were extended and showed his actual mouth. His upper jaw held three teeth with two larger fangs on each side, his lower jaw held the same amount only were they a little thinner, so his fangs wouldn't hinder his mouth from closing.

Even after the initial shock subsided, you wouldn't exactly use the word pretty, but there was something about him. Thrilling and particular, astounding and intriguing, but also alluring.

The longer you looked at him, at Mi'ytiar, the more accustomed you got to his appearance.

Another clicking sound reached your ears and you stopped mapping his features with your eyes, only now realizing how he looked down at you with his head tilted to the side. When you mumbled his name, almost as if it took all your courage, he straightened up and his eyes snapped to your hand that had loosened its grip on your blouse. He followed its movement, getting closer to his face, and when you turned your hand so your palm was facing him, his own hand reacted fast and grabbed your delicate wrist.

Bad idea, real bad idea, you thought. He wasn't exactly hurting you, but his grip wasn't exactly soft.

Instead of tugging against his hold in an attempt to free yourself that would obliviously fail, you let your arm go slack. Instead of panicking, you remained calm. Instead of screaming at him to let you go, you kept your mouth shut and waited for his next move. If you triggered him in any way, he would surely kill you.

Mi'ytiar, on the other hand, was amazed by you and in awe. He wouldn't be the first Yautja to be enthralled with a human in this kind of way, sure, but he hadn't expected to be one of them one day. You were extraordinary in the way you looked at him, didn't mind the proximity he had put you in, and apparently seemed to seek for it.

Contrary to what you believed, he pulled your hand closer to his face by the wrist, causing you to move from your side-sit on the floor to get on your knees. Your lips parted in surprise when he pulled his mandibles in and he himself brought your hand up to his cheek.

The sensation underneath your touch was unusual and new. His cheek wasn't like that of a human when you would press the fat until you could feel the jaw bone. It was springy, considering it was only a fleshy layer that covered his mouth. You moved your hand down to his outer jaw, which consisted of his mandible, and followed its length with your palm. You could feel the firm muscle and bone and gave it a gentle, experimental squeeze. Almost automatically, he made a soft purring noise like that one of a cat and you blushed at the possibility that he was enjoying the caress.

You, of course, had no idea that you were touching a highly sensitive part of his anatomy and would be alive to tell the tale afterward.

Just as you were curious about him, he was eager to explore you as well. Carefully, he reached out and through the ripped-open front of your blouse. Seconds later, his palm made contact with your stomach and he could feel how you tensed up. He looked up into your eyes, but when he found nothing that indicated that you despised his touch, his hand ran along to your waist and down to your hip, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your belly. It was strange how you could feel his thumb near your navel and, at the same time, his other fingers on your lower back, taking the width of your hip like it was nothing.

The both of you were too busy in your explorations that you had grown ignorant to your surroundings, so when a scream filled the previously quiet alley, you grabbed his extended arm, not to push it away but to hold onto it in panic, while Mi'ytiar whirled his head around to the two outlines standing near the street at the end of the alley. Your body was hidden by his massive one, so it looked like a monster was kneeling among his freshly killed victims, basking in the glory of his crime.

Mi'ytiar's mandibles flared and the guttural roar that left his lungs made you cling to him in fear. Not of him, but the consequences that you would have to face if those who had stumbled upon this scene without context would call for the patrolling soldiers. You heard more screams and hastily retreating footsteps as the couple ran as if their lives depended on it.

Large hands grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you up on his shoulder, causing you to squeal in surprise, and you had barely time to hold onto him before he started climbing up the metal scaffolding of the balconies of the apartment building, jumping up and landing on the roof. With an arm secure around your waist, he jumped and ran further and further away.

And you let him.

2024, Yautja Prime

"What you smiling for?"

And all of a sudden, those purred words were taking you from your past life to your current one. You hadn't even noticed you had stopped drawing random figures and forms on Mi'tyiar's naked chest. At some point, you had started daydreaming with that far-away look in your eyes and a smile slowly making its way on your lips as you were lying on him, between his legs.

"Just thought of the night we met." You drawled lazily and rubbed your cheek against his reptilian-like skin. "My hero in shining alien amour."

"My amour does not shine."

Now you had to laugh. Sometimes, you couldn't help yourself when he was so bluntly clueless. Humans and their analogies were oh-so confusing.

"It's a human saying, my love." You explained as you crossed your arms on his wide chest and rested your chin on them. "A male who saves a female from danger. A male who would sacrifice himself so the female can get away without harm."

Mi'ytiar reached towards your face and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek before he dragged it over your lower lip. You were dreamingly looking up at him, basking in his loving touch. You were placing your hand on his and turned your head to the side so you could pepper his palm with light kisses.

He couldn't help his body's reaction, he just couldn't. He was starved of your touch.

You suddenly stopped your sweet kisses when you felt something big poking your stomach. You looked down, although you could only see how your breasts were pressed against him, before you looked back up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You are insatiable." You smirked and hoisted yourself up after placing one last kiss between his pecs.

You straddled his midriff but left enough space between you and him so you could reach underneath your body and grab his semi-hard cock. Even at this size, you had a little trouble fully embracing it and getting your fingertips to touch.

You hissed when you felt the familiar sting of his sharp mandibles and teeth digging into your skin. You tilted your head to the side and offered him more access. Mi'ytiar let out a feral growl when your blood finally hit his tongue. He relished in it, tasting so sweet, just like the rest of you.

Grasping your hips with both of his hands, his claws scratching your delicate skin, he pushed them down to his crotch.

He needed you again, needed to be so deep inside you, so he could see the bulge of his cock forming in your tummy. Just the thought of it made his hips snap up, barely missing your entrance and dragging his cock through your sopping wet folds that were covered with your combined releases from your last mating moments ago. It elicited a whiny moan and a wiggle of your hips.

"Stop teasing, tanhì. Put it in." You groaned and started rubbing yourself up and down his rock-hard cock, coating it with your mixed cum that was still leaking from your hole.

Mi'ytiar wrapped a large arm around you and started to get up, his other arm supporting himself to manhandle you on your back to be on top. The second your hazy mind registered what he was doing, you placed both of your hands on his chest and pushed him back down. You preened when his body immediately went slack, allowing you to do as you pleased with him.

He was staring up at you with flashing eyes. You didn't take the lead very often, preferring it to be dominated by your mate, but when you did, he was gladly giving you the power you wanted.

The first time you had tried to be on top, it had gone from steamy to ugly pretty quickly. You had been on your back when you tried to push him and switch your position, but since he had been unmovable like a rock, you had untangled yourself from him and told him to lie back. You were straddling his hips, humping his hardening cock for exactly thirty seconds before he flipped you over and on your back again. You had then mewled and tried to push him back once more, causing him to growl. For your attitude, he bit roughly into your throat, hoping it would keep you submissive. You let out a cry and hit his chest with both of your fists. This time, Mi'ytiar showed you his displeasure more vocally when he slammed his flat hands next to both sides of your head and roared right into your face. Safe to say, it scared the living daylights out of you and caused you to escape his caging arms. He, of course, followed you quickly and tried to amend his outburst with purrs and snuggles rather than words.

The next time you were on top, he vehemently focused on staying seated on the edge of your nest with you on his lap as you rode him with his helping hands on your hips. His eyes strayed from the spot where his cock was disappearing inside of you, to the bulge in your stomach that grew and shrunk with every movement, to your bouncing breasts, to your pleasure-contorted face.

After that, he couldn't get enough of you being on top.

The same was the case now as you slowly inserted his throbbing cock into your-

A wail broke the sensual atmosphere, causing the both of you to jerk your heads to the doorway connecting the room to the rest of your home. With your maternal instincts kicking in, you practically jumped up from your mate, his half-inside cock slipping from your tight heat, and ran to the room where the sound was coming from.

Mi'ytiar slumped back with a displeased grunt. He loved his pup dearly, truly he did, but he hadn't been able to mate with you for an eternity — five months, double the time the healer had advised you to keep from being intimate with each other after the pregnancy because a certain someone had been overly cautious with you — and his cock throbbed painfully at that sorrowful thought.

He got up from the nest and followed the direction you had run off to. Your five-month-old pup was sleeping alone in his room for only a short part of his life. Before that, his crib had been standing next to the nest in your room, quickly accessible and in reach should he need any sort of attention. Now, he was sleeping in his big brother's former nursery, which you had lovingly prepared when you had been pregnant with Akail, your first pup.

Mi'ytiar watched you standing in front of the crib in the middle of the room, your back to him, as you rocked the whiny pup in your arms. The wholesome thoughts of his beautiful mate taking such good care of his youngling quickly turned into an animalistic need to breed you once more when his eyes trailed over your curves that had gotten bigger after bearing his second son. They fixed on your legs where trails of semen were running down your skin from between your inner thighs.

He was faster by your side than you would expect from a being of his size. He pressed his bare body against your own, hands on your hips pulling you closer, his cock digging into your back. Mi'ytiar bent down to snuggle his face into the crook of your neck, purring lowly.

"He was just hungry." You whispered as you watched your pup falling back to sleep.

Bending over, you placed your little one back into his crib, careful not to disturb him. You had to bite your lip when you felt Mi'ytiar pull you back against his crotch to rub himself against your ass. All you needed to do was push your ass back into him for him to grab you, throw you over his shoulder and turn to leave your son's nursery.

Giggling, you looked back to the pup's crib and whispered, "Dream of the stars, my little Toyah." before you got carried back to your nest.

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