#and just got annoyed and irritated enough about it tonight to post about it

[pomeraniandancer]

How the fuck does this even happen...

There are a number of languages you can search for works in on AO3, including Eald Eanglisc of all things, but the one language on there that really throws me for a loop is...American Sign Language.

Like, is there even a video option on AO3 for this to be possible?

I once picked a really big fanfic collection to search for ASL fics in and the only one that categorized as ASL was *written* in English. No videofile too be seen.

The most you can do in ASL in writing is write English words with ASL syntax. But that's still not ASL. ASL does not have a written alphabet or syllabary.

Genuinely bewildered about how this came about. Can people just post something and write in an "other" language and AO3 just adds that language to the list of languages they have fics written in?

I can't think of any other way that this might've happened, and as much as I adore AO3, this is pretty problematic.

[pit-and-the-pen]

But I Have You...

Just a treat for all the angst I've been posting lately! Thank you @daycourtofficial for such a cute idea!

Summary: Date night with Azriel. What could go wrong? Apparently everything...

Warnings: Making out, mentions of food/cooking, allusions to smut, modern-ish AU

Wc: 3.3k

Date night with Azriel was one of your favorite days of the entire week. Calling it date “night” was an understatement. You and Azriel were normally both so busy with your duties that you tried to make a whole day out of it, or as close as it could be. 

“Go bathe.” You pointed towards the door of the bathroom, brush still in your outstretched hand. 

“Are you trying to tell me I stink?” He quirked an eyebrow at you, stalking closer to you. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you against his chest. 

“Yes. Now go. We’re going to be late for dinner.” You squeal when he begins to tickle your side, holding you against him as you try to squirm out of his hold.

“I yield. Please…Az” You manage to get out between your fit of laughter. He plants a wet kiss on your cheek before turning around and dramatically stomps to the bathroom, making a show of the small action. You laugh as he rolls his eyes as he closes the door, a large smile plastered to his face letting you know he wasn’t really mad or annoyed with you. 

Taking the opportunity to finally get dressed, you all but run to the closet. Edgar to pull out the new dress that you had picked out with MOr last week. It was the exact color of his siphons. You greedily ran your hand over the velvet fabric, already loving the way it felt under your hands. The fabric being one of the very few that didn’t irritate Azriel’s hands over a prolonged time. 

You quickly pull your lounge clothes over your head, kicking them off into some random corner of the room to deal with later. The bag holding the dress is discarded in a similar fashion after being torn open. It was just as beautiful as you remember it being and you can’t wait to get it on your body. Even more excited to see Azriel’s reaction. 

.You are practically skipping over to your underwear drawer, picking out a small lacy set that you bought to go with the dress. It slides over your skin like butter, clinging to your body like a second skin. It stops about mid-thigh. Just short enough to be sexy but not too short that you were scared to bend over, which you would definitely be doing if for nothing more than giving the shadowsinger a peak of what exactly was waiting for him underneath the dress.

Pulling the straps over your shoulders, you only need to zip the dress up. YOu managed to tug it up halfway before the zipper got stuck on the seam at your waist. A couple more tugs and the stupid thing still won’t budge. You know you could just ask Azriel. He would never object to zipping you up but you knew there would be no way you would make it to your reservation if you did so. So you tugged once more, twice more, and then. Riiiipppp. Your jaw goes slack as the zipper finally tugs the rest of the way up, taking the other half of the zipper with it. The thin fabric stuck under the teeth and tore a large hole in the brand-new dress. 

“Fuck!” You shout out once you survey the damage in the mirror. You would not have time to fix this before your reservations. 

“Darling, what’s-” You hear your mate's voice filter into the room before he cuts himself off. You turn to face him and he’s gawking at you, towel slung low around his hips. 

“It ripped. I just got this dress.” You whine. A chuckle leaves him and the sound has you pouting. “I just got this. It was going to be perfect for tonight.”

“You know that you could always…not wear anything.” His eyes are still trailing up and down your figure. 

“Az! I’m serious.” You softly shout at him

“So am I.” He doesn’t hesitate to respond. You blush at his words. “Can we just skip dinner?” 

“No sir. It took us months to get this reservation.”

“Rhys could get us in with a snap of his fingers.”

“But I want to go tonight. I already looked at the menu and picked out what I wanted.”

“Of course you did, lovely.” You stuck your tongue out at him, making him throw his head back in laughter. “Just go pick any of the other hundred dresses you have.” He teases and it’s your turn to stomp out of the room. Rolling your eyes at him, a smile so wide it makes your cheeks hurt. Your finger runs over dress after dress and none of them seem to be right. Already having your mind set on the perfect dress, it’s hard to find one to replace it. Your hands finally brush over one that you had forgotten about. A lighter shade than your previous dress, but it would do.

You pull it off the hanger with more force than necessary and peel the other one off, throwing it across the room with a huff. You pad over to Azriel when you have it pulled onto your shoulders, not willing to risk another zipper fiasco. You don’t even have to ask him before he takes the delicate zipper in his hands and pulls it up smoothly in one motion. He presses a kiss to the dip between your shoulder blades as he slides the zipper up into place. You notice his eyes dipping down in the mirror. You’re about to tease him for his wandering gaze when he clears his throat. 

“I think there might be…I don’t even know what that is. Wine?” 

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” YOu shout, turning around trying to see your backside in the mirror and sure enough. There is a random stain right at the small of your back. And then you remember. You wore this dress the last time you went to Rita’s with Mor and you had bumped into someone, someone that was holding a nearly full drink that splashed onto your back. 

“Whatever. What-fucking-ever. We’re going to be late and this was the only dress I liked.” YOu take a deep breath through your nose. “Just stand behind me so no one sees it.” He nods before his eyes drift lower once again, this time pausing when you know he isn’t looking at the stain anymore. 

“Twist my arm, why don’t you?” He grumbled to himself which has you spinning around to wrap your arms around his waist.

“What would I ever do without you, Azzy.”

“Walk around with a stain on your butt.”

“Prick. I was trying to be cute.” You feign insult. He only leans down and gives you a small peck on the lips. 

“Let's go then.” He gives your ass a soft slap for emphasis. You scramble to grab your purse from the edge of the bed and catch up with him. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The walk to the restaurant wasn’t bad at all. It was only a few blocks away from the apartment the two of you shared. A pleasant walk with even sidewalks that made it easy for your heeled feet to walk. 

The dull noise of the restaurant filled your ears the moment the door closed behind you. The decoration was very modern but still seemed very homey. Like it had been pulled directly from a cooking show set. Blue and white gingham tablecloths mixed with gold brushed metals. It was one of the newest, and if the wait you had for the reservation was any sign, most popular restaurants in the area. The hostess asks for your name and you give it to her. She scrolls through the tablet in front of her, eyebrows furrowing slightly. She turns to a large book by her side and flips to a page, finger scanning down the lines of names. 

“Would it be under a different name?” She looks up and asks you. 

“It could be under Azriel.” You were one hundred percent you had made the reservation under your name but found yourself giving his name either way. The line in her eyebrow deepens and your heart sinks as she turns back to you.

“It looks like we don;t have anything under that name. And we’re fully booked tonight so we aren’t talking walk-ins.”

“No, I called last month. I know I made a reservation. It wouldn’t be anywhere else?” You keep your voice low, not wanting to let your disappointment make you yell at the poor girl at the host stand. 

“I’m sorry, it’s not in our system and like I said, we’re completely full tonight. Do you want me to make you a reservation for another night?” You shook your head. Too distraught to think about another night. 

“It’s fine. Thank you.” Azriel said, noticing the way tears were starting to swim in your eyes. He took your hand lightly and pulled you out of the restaurant. He wrapped his arms around you and you buried your head into his chest. 

“I’m sorry. I know it’s silly to be getting upset over this but I’m just really…I don’t even know.”

“You’re allowed to be disappointed baby. You’ve been talking all week about this.” He pulled your face up with one of his fingers. “How about we go to that pizza place you really like?” You perked up a little at the thought making Azriel smile at your mood change. “There she is.” He kissed your cheek. “Lets go.” He started walking you in the direction of the small pizza shop. As upset as you might be, you did love this spot. One of the few places that didn’t make their sauce too acidic or too sweet. Perfect crust to pizza ratio. It was always your fall back place and it was a great suggestion from your boyfriend. 

You walked the few blocks to the shop and stood outside the door. One look at the sign made your heart sink all over again. Closed for repairs. Azriel gave your hand a squeeze. 

“Azzzzzz.” You whined, fighting the urge to stomp your foot like a toddler. 

“It’s okay baby. We can do something else.” He pulled you into his arms again, once again calming you down. 

“Can we make pizza at home?”

“Of  course we can.” He smiled down at you. Then you remembered. 

“Shit. Elain used the rest of our flour for some cookies last week.” 

“Then we’ll go to the store.”

“Az we can’t go to the store dressed like this.” You gestured to your dress and his crisp black dress shirt and matching pants. 

“Why not?”

“Because we’ll look crazy.”

“Do you want pizza?”

“Yes.”

“Then we need to go to the store. Come on.” He started pulling you in the direction of a small corner store at the other end of the square. 

You felt so silly, small shopping basket in hand, you in your tight dress and heels and Azriel in his dress clothes. But luckily, no one paid you any attention. Too focused on their own shopping to even notice you. Picking up the bag of flour, you also grabbed some cheese, and some fresh basil to put on top. Azriel led you over to the check out but not before grabbing a bottle of wine as you passed by the section. The cashier rang you out quickly and smiled at the two of you as you walked out of the store. Not once commenting or even raising an eyebrow at your attire, much to your pleasure. 

Your feet were screaming at you by the time you got to the door of your apartment.  Not expecting to walk as much as you did. Azriel, seeing the discomfort in your face, leaned down to undo the straps off your heels. He gave a small tap to your ankle to let you know that you could step out of them before he repeated the motion to your other foot. A sigh left your lips as your feet touched the ground, screaming in relief. Azriel gave you a small kiss on your knee before standing back up. 

“Thank you.” You told him as he grabbed the bag from your arms and walked into the kitchen.

“I should change if we’re going to be making dough.” You said as you followed him into the kitchen. He wrapped his arms around your waist. 

“Or you could keep it on and let me peel you out of it later?” He suggested, furthering his words by kissing along your jaw. You fought the urge to melt against his hold. 

“You’ve convinced me. I’ll keep it on.”

“Good girl.” He spoke before giving your ass a light slap as he released you. You heated up from head to toe at his words. You shook your head as he started to unpack the groceries, trying to clear your head of the less than innocent thoughts rushing through you. So you started to pull out the other necessary ingredients and placed them on the counter next to Azriel. He opened the flour and started to pour it into the bowl you pulled out from the cabinet. He gives you a quick kiss on the forehead as he takes the olive oil from your hands and starts working on the dough. It was soe recipe he knew that made quick, non-proofing, dough. Something he learned from Rhys’ mother he had told you one time. In no time the dough was made and he started rolling it out. You peeked over his shoulder and had to bite back a laugh when you saw the speckling of flour on his cheek. He looked over at you with a raised eyebrow.

“You’ve got something…” You reached out your hand to swipe the streak away. “Right there.” You giggled at his annoyed expression.

“You mean right,” He dipped his hand into some of the flour that had spilled onto the counter and flicked it towards your hair. “There?” You squealed as you realized what he was doing, moving just too late to avoid the flour from getting into your hair. 

“Az!” You said in between your laughing. “You got my hair dirty.” You gave him a dramatic pout, looking up at him which in turn made him start laughing. 

“Oh no, guess I’ll just have to wash it out later.” He nudged you with his shoulder which only made you roll your eyes, a smile plastered onto your face. 

“I guess….” 

“What do you want on your pizza?” He quickly changed the topic. 

“Just cheese please.” You smiled up at him and he nodded. He quickly spread some of the jarred sauce on with the back of a spoon and sprinkled on a handful, or three, of the shredded cheese you bought at the store. You smiled at the heap of cheese on your pizza, just the way you liked it. None of the sauce was visible under the coating and he smiled at you as you helped him slide in onto the pan. He quickly did the same to his own, adding a few slices of the tomato and a handful of basil on top. 

With the pizza’s in the oven it would only be a few minutes until they were ready, just enough to let the cheese melt. 

Azriel leaned against the counter, already holding two wine glasses in his hand. YOu walked over and grabbed them from his hand, placing a quick kiss to his lips and putting them down on the counter. He leaned down and grabbed your face between his hands, pulling your lips back to his. You let yourself sink into the kiss. The first real kiss you two shared all night. His teeth scraped against your bottom lip and you whined against him. He chuckled deeply, the sound reverberating through you and heating your blood instantly. You whined again and you felt Azriel backing you up into the counter across the kitchen. His hands snaked down to your waist and tapped, silently asking you to jump onto the countertop. You obliged and he helped hoist you up so your lips didn't leave his. Your hands snaked into his dark locks, pulling his face even closer to yours. His hands started wandering down your hips, grabbing at the fat of your hips, pulling you somehow closer to him. Your mouth parted in a moan at the tight grip and you used that as an opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. You bit down lightly, pulling away from the kiss. Both of your were panting but he just trailed kisses down your neck, down to the neckline of your dress. He had just snuck a hand up to pull down the fabric when you noticed a burning smell in the air. Shit. You pushed him away, already hoping off the counter. He looked at you, confused at your sudden shift. Then his eyes widened as he remembered the pizza you had both seemingly forgotten about. You quickly grabbed one of the over mitts sitting on the counter and pulled the pizza’s out. If you could even call the nearly black circles on the pan you were pathetically holding out in front of you. 

You really couldn’t find it in yourself to be disappointed. Not when you could still feel Azriel’s lips ghosting along your skin. You pushed the contents of the pan into the garbage can and looked up at Azriel. Both of you immediately bursted out laughing. He walked over to you and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I’m sorry baby.”

“I’m not.” You winked at him. 

“Well what are we going to do for dinner now.”

“There's ice cream in the freezer?”  You shrugged. Suddenly not in the mood for cooking at all. You bit your lip as you looked at him and he laughed in response. 

“Okay. Ice cream for dinner it is.” 

So the two of you, still in your clothes from the failed dinner reservations, curled up on the couch. Each holding a pint of ice cream and the now full wine glasses on the table in front of you. Azriel had thrown a blanket over the two of you and put on some cheesy movie that neither of you were paying attention to. 

“I’m sorry tonight was such a disaster” You said to him, mouth still half full of ice cream. He shook his head, leaning his face closer to yours until your foreheads were touching.

“I got to be with you, what more can I ask for?” 

The two of you nearly finished the bottle of wine, Azriel had already placed the nearly empty ice cream containers back into the freezer. When he returned to the couch he pulled you against his chest, hand swirling random patterns onto your back. You felt your eyes getting very heavy as you tried your best to focus on the movie in front of you but the wine was lulling you to sleep. It felt like your eyes had closed for only a second before Azriel was shaking you awake. 

“Hi sleepyhead.” He mumbled into your hair.

“I was not asleep for that long.”

“Long enough to drool on me.” You quickly shot up, hand going to wipe away any wetness that might have split from your mouth. Your hand was dry. You stuck your tongue out at him as he gave you a wicked smile. He pulled you back down to his chest, twisting you so you were now straddling him. 

“I think I can find a perfect way to wake you darling.” And that was all you needed to hear before you pressed your lips against his. Very much awake.

[kayentokk]

Easy Peasy Sukuna Squeezey(Part 3);What Could Go Wrong

Pairing;Sukuna x Fem! Reader

Summary;What could go wrong during your weekend with Sukuna? Not much except one thing, or one person.

Contains;fluff, lots of fun, ex, sukuna gushing, childhood memories, some cussing

Wc;2,010

A/N;I am literally so sorry, tbh I forgot I made this a series 😅 and then I checked my comments and I was like oh. So my bad guys I will try to update this regularly and get my schedule back together. Also just comment on any of the posts for this series that you want to be tagged to get on the tag list. 

Tag list 🏷️; @charlie-xo

Prev. Series M.list Next

The week felt like it took forever to be over, exams, loads of homework, part-time job, all that hectic stuff. But this weekend you get to-well you’re not really sure exactly what Sukuna has in store for you but whatever it is you’re excited for it. 

You had texted your roommate the day you were over Sukunas apartment that you’d be staying there at least until the weekend was over. You often stayed at Sukunas for long periods of time when you needed a break or just wanted to hang with your best friend. He never really minded you were pretty good company, in your own words, and he was used to spending long periods of time with you. During school, after school, in the summer, whenever your moms wanted to have a girls night, just whenever. 

Anyways your roommate was obviously cool with it, she had mentioned she wanted to have “company” over anyways so it all worked out. You took Sukuna’s advice and blocked your ex, you were probably going to do that anyways since the relationship was definitely over, so you have no idea if he’s texted or called. Not that you care though, he’s an ass and he should have enough shame, decency, and brains not to call and understand it’s over. 

To be honest you’re at the acceptance stage of grief, it is what it is he wasn’t the one for you, but it still sucks. Sukuna has actually been really helpful, he’s been, for lack of a better word, a great distraction. He won’t tell you what he has planned for tonight though, all he said was to be ready in pajamas. Maybe a movie night? 

You guys used to do those every Friday, but then college got too hectic with it being senior year and all. Sukuna said his classes are pretty easy, although you aren’t too surprised on that one he’s always been exceptionally intelligent, he claims it’s because he just decided to major in business since he’s not exactly sure what he wants to do.

He didn’t want to be a chef, even though he’s exceptionally talented in cooking too, but he’s a waiter at a restaurant for his part time job. When he first got that job you visited to see the restaurant, and him, it was a nice little quiet diner. He was annoyed and disgusted about it on the outside but you could tell he was embarrassed about you visiting, mostly because one time there was a couple that sat in the booth behind you and made comments about, “young love.” And every time you would sit in that same booth just to annoy him because you knew he thought about it each time, it was honestly hilarious. You and him? Being a couple? What a joke.

Sukuna texted he was on his way back, he had a lecture that was in the evening that day and he left a little early to start you guys’ weekend plans. Apparently you hadn’t been paying much attention to any calls or messages because you had about 10 missed calls from your friend and a dozen text messages. You immediately called back.

“Hello? Girl! Why have you not picked up, I’ve been calling you for forever.”

“I’m sorry! I was just laying here, and I had on dnd from when I was in classes earlier. I guess I never turned it off,” you replied in an anxious tone.

Mai just sighed before continuing, “anyways your boyfriend-“

“Ex,” you cut her off before she could even begin.

“Your ex-boyfriend,” she corrected herself with irritation, “has been showing up like every other hour asking about you, and I wasn’t paying much attention before but I’m pretty sure his car was outside yesterday for a while. He’s probably waiting on you, has he texted?”

“I don’t know if he’s texted I blocked him. That’s probably why he’s showing up, he thinks I’m home. Just ignore him, and if he continues to knock call the police or something.”

“Why can’t he just leave you alone? It’s clearly over, there’s nothing there anymore.”

“I know, I’m so sorry by the way.”

“You’re fine, enjoy your weekend babes! I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Mhm my company should be over soon, talk to you later, be safe.”

“Kk you too, bye Mai,” and with a small beep, the call ended. 

He was coming by every hour? How insane. You hoped he wouldn’t give Mai much trouble, but then again she could handle herself. What if he knew you were at Sukuna’s? Well he didn’t know the address….he’s dropped you off before though. Maybe he doesn’t remember it? Oh no what if he shows up?! And then your whole weekend of distraction will be ruined, and all of Sukuna’s hard work will be-

“-n? Y/n! Hey, Earth to y/n again. Seems like I’m having to do that a lot this week huh?” Sukuna jokes. 

“Hm, oh yeah sorry-“ you say lost in your thoughts.

“Uhh you sure? Why’re you all spaced out?”

“It’s nothing-“

“We both know it’s not nothing you might as well tell me, you’re not very good at your poker face I’ll have to teach you sometime,” he says playfully.

“It’s just- he showed up at my apartment. He was looking for me-“

“But you’re not there so what’s the problem?”

“Mai is there, which I’m sure she’s fine he’s not crazy he’s just a whore, but what if he shows up here?” 

“Wow never thought I’d hear you slut shame someone, that’s a new low y/n,” he smiles and then continues, “but you don’t have to worry about him showing up here. That is if he knows what’s good for him.”

Oh yeah one small thing, the time your ex dropped you off him and Sukuna did not get along. It was the briefest moment, it felt like when your dad dropped you back off at your moms’ after spending a weekend with him, but it was tense. You could tell, Sukuna’s sharp maroon gaze stayed on him even after you had stepped inside. So, safe to say he’d have to be pretty ballsy to show up here.  

“Put on some boots or something we’re going out,” Sukuna says gruffly.

“Going out where? I’m in pajamas-“

“I know, good. I told you to be, glad to know you listen.”

You scoffed, “no way I’m going in public like this-,” you gestured with your hands waving in an up and down movement to your unprofessional getup. 

“Relax. You won’t be the only one, I’m about to change too.”

“Oh because two of us looking like we just rolled out of bed is better than one,” you said sarcastically.

“Exactly, I knew you’d get it I had to admit I was getting a little worried there,” he teased.

“Oh shut up dimwit,” you said smiling.

There it was again, stunning.

Sukuna went to quickly throw on some sweats and an old faded t-shirt, probably sporting some random band. He grabbed his keys, and you were out the door. 

You loved night time drives, everything just hit different. The music vibed better, especially when Sukuna let you have the aux, the car ride is just more fun at night. When you arrived at the destination Sukuna parked the car and reached to turn the knob on the volume down.

“Look where we are,” he said turning to stare at you.

You immediately turned to look out the window, and even though it took you a second you realized-

With a big shriek and gasp you turned back to Sukuna, “this is-!”

“The ‘best convenience store ever in our hometown’ I know you said it to me so much it’s engraved in my brain.”

Sparkles were in your eyes, along with some unshed tears. So many great memories were here. Every time you passed a test with an A your mom would bring you here to get your favorite snack, and since Sukuna always did well on tests you’d take him about once a month to continue the tradition. But then you guys’ campus was at least a 35 minute commute from here, and when it was busy during the day maybe 45, so you stopped coming. There just wasn’t enough time and you guys got really busy. But not many people were on the road at night, and with Sukuna’s driving you guys probably made it there in 20-25 minutes tops. 

You were so happy you could scream. It was apparent in your face, the brightest smile. You jumped out of the car and immediately ran into the store, Sukuna not far too behind you. 

You had already grabbed one of the small dark green dingy looking baskets, ah the same as always, from the entrance and were halfway down your favorite aisle by the time he got inside. 

He greeted the kind old lady at the register who had witnessed your excitement just moments ago, screeching with joy, which scared her when you rushed in. 

He quickly found the aisle you were in and watched you decide which snacks you wanted, carefully picking the items and placing them in the basket. 

You rushed from one place to another, grabbing drinks, chips, snacks, anything you wanted because who knows when you’ll visit here again. Then you just stopped, and Sukuna watching your madness didn’t think you were ever going to. Then your eyes started to well up with worry.

“What’s wrong?”

“I- I left my wallet back at your apartment, I can’t buy any of this-“

“What? I’m obviously buying, dimwit,” he scoffed repeating your words from earlier.

“Really?” You asked, the excitement immediately perking back up inside you. 

He didn’t even get to answer before you continued happily on your shopping spree, how could he say no anyways? By the time you were done you couldn’t even pick up your basket. You quickly looked to Sukuna for help, and he rolled his eyes taking the basket with his left arm. You began to giggle watching him walk to the register. You couldn’t help it, the sight of him carrying a basket like a soccer mom was just too funny. 

A stuffed full basket being carried by his well built arm, the vein bulging from the somewhat strenuous task being carried out. His hand flexing and unflexing to stretch after putting the basket down, making the veins even more visible as they pop out due to his contractions-

“Y/n? You coming? Don’t you wanna get home to eat all this stuff?” 

You quickly snapped out of your haze, and ran up to the register where Sukuna had already taken his wallet out to pay, making a comment about how you were most definitely going to eat it in his car. You left a happy customer that day.

Before you left you made Sukuna stop in front of the shop so that you could snap a quick photo of the two of you together, you wanted to send it to your moms. 

You smiled the whole car ride home, and when you got in the house. 

“Thank you,” you said sincerely with a huge grin on your face.

“Yeah, yeah I know I’m the best,” he replied with a smirk.

“Can you cook the ramen please?”

“Who else was gonna-“

And then the shrill ring of the doorbell rang. 

“Are you expecting someone?”

“No, no one comes over here. Maybe it’s just a package.”

“At 10pm?”

“I don’t know, maybe some drunk has the wrong door.”

Then it rang again.

“Okay maybe not…”

“Sukuna just go get the door I’ll start prepping-“

Before you could finish your sentence though, he already opened the door ready to tell off the drunk.

“Oh. It’s you.” 

You didn’t like Sukuna’s tone, and being the nosey person you are sometimes, you rushed to the door. You immediately understood his tone. 

“Oh, of course it’s you.”

@/cafekitsune for the divider

[sethsclearwater]

just read the ask about knotting with the twilight wolves, and I would love to read something like that with Paul. Could you write us something?

totally! i've never written anything like this before so definitely let me know your thoughts and if there's anything i got wrong or misunderstood about this!

...

"paul-" you whimpered, sitting up as you were pulled out of your post-orgasmic haze a little sooner than you would've liked due to the stretching sensation inside you.

paul already knew what was up with you, just quietly shushing you, "relax princess," he murmured, sliding his hands onto your hips and gently pulling you back down to his chest, "take some deep breaths for me," he encouraged, taking in a deep inhale with you and held it for a moment before releasing.

"'s uncomfy-" you whimpered, moving to tug your hips up from his but paul was quick to hold you in place before you could cause any pain for either of you.

"i know princess," paul murmured, "jus' gotta give it some time so you can get used to it, okay? gotta sit still for a little bit," he cooed, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head as you let out a disgruntled huff but settled in his arms nonetheless.

"such a good girl for me," paul praised, pressing a few more soft kisses to your hair as you closed your eyes, doing your best to relax in his arms, "you wanna tell me what felt good tonight?" he asked softly, hoping that by talking about your rendezvous that got you into this situation in the first place, it would help you take your mind off the stretching.

you hummed, thinking about it for a moment before responding, "i like it best when you're on top," you murmured, peeking up at him and giggling when he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

"do you want more help from me while you're on top then? i know you don't like doing that much work," he teased, though his question was genuine.

you rolled your eyes, huffing, "yes paul," you grumbled, "it'd be nice if you could guide me a little more," you added, voice much less irritated as you explained what you wanted more of from him.

despite your playful relationship with paul, both of you had gotten quite good at communicating with each other, especially after a session like tonight where he had accidentally knotted you while finishing in you.

"i think i can do that," he smiled, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips, "'m sorry about this," he murmured after a moment and you offered him a small smile.

paul would never admit it to anyone, but he had gotten much better with having some humility when it came to you. he was always quick to apologize when he was in the wrong and it had become something that made you realize just how much you loved him.

"'s not really your fault," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to his chest, "not like you're trying to knock me up," you added teasingly, giggling when paul let out a heavy sigh, shaking his head.

"do we have any plan b in the bathroom?" he asked, suddenly a bit more concerned at the possibility of getting you pregnant.

you giggled and nodded, "i'll take one after you get us out of this situation," you teased and he rolled his eyes but you saw the corner of his lips pull into a smile, revealing that he wasn't actually annoyed with your teasing.

"jus' lay down for a bit, yea? should go down soon enough," he encouraged, pressing a soft kiss to your hair and wrapping his arms around you to hold you close to him.

you nodded, letting out a soft sigh as you got settled in his arms, both of you happy to be in each other's arms despite the situation paul had gotten both of you into.

[goldengalore]

The Great War

Summary: Y/N wants to take a break from touring with Harry because the scrutiny from his fans has become too much to handle. During their time apart, Harry misses her deeply, but she seems happier without him. A cheating accusation leads to the biggest fight they’ve ever had.

Warnings: accusations of cheating, Y/N getting bullied, mention of slut-shaming, ANGST, smut (dom!harry, a little rough, choking)

Word count: 7.7k

A/N: This wasn’t originally based on The Great War by Taylor Swift, but while writing, I realized how well it fits the story so I started including elements from the song. Longest fic I’ve posted on here so far, enjoy! :)

***

Y/N has had enough.

She was so excited to go on tour with Harry. When her boss approved her request to work fully remotely for the next few months, she was over the moon because it meant that she could join him on the North American leg of his tour.

But some recent incidents with his fans have left a bad taste in her mouth, making her want to step away for a little while. Usually, she’s quite good at tuning out the nasty things that people say about her, but there is a big difference between someone talking shit about you on the internet versus in person. The latter is much more difficult to ignore.

Y/N had an absolute blast at the first few shows, singing and dancing wildly with Harry’s managers, Jeff and Tommy, in their little area by the pit. It was the fourth show of the tour when things began to go awry. A girl in the front row brought a sign that said, in thick black writing, “Blink twice if Jeff is forcing you to date Y/N # freeharry.”

The sign was huge; it was baffling that security had even allowed it into the venue. The people behind this girl were clearly irritated by the big piece of cardboard blocking their view, but she remained ignorant to the commotion she was causing. No, she was more focused on making sure the sign was visible not only to Harry but also Y/N.

Unfortunately for her, it was also visible to Harry’s managers, who were protective of Y/N like older brothers. Tommy instantly sent a security guard to confiscate the sign.

“What a stupid sign,” said Jeff. “Even if I could make Harry date anyone, it would obviously be Mitch.”

“Oh, obviously,” Y/N joked back.

Harry mentioned the sign to her later. He had noticed it, and the commotion it was creating in pit, during his performance of Daylight. He’d made a mental note to have security take it away once the song was over, but thankfully, Tommy got there first. Y/N told him it was fine, that she didn’t care. And at the time, she really didn’t. Why would she care about the opinion of some random teenage girl?

But at the next show, there was a group of girls at the back of pit who kept shooting her dirty looks, giggling amongst themselves, filming her while she was dancing, thinking they were being discreet. The most annoying part was that at the start of the show, one of them had walked up to Y/N to compliment her outfit, but it quickly became clear that the seemingly kind act was just part of their stupid game. It was like she’d been cast in a high school bullying PSA without her knowledge.

There were several more instances like that at the next few shows. It was getting to the point where Y/N could no longer tell who was being genuine and who wasn’t when they came up to chat with her. Any phones—or even mere glances—pointed in her direction made her feel deeply uncomfortable, like everything about her was being picked apart and scrutinized. 

Tonight’s show is in Chicago. Y/N’s plan was to push through this one and wait until the morning to tell Harry that she needs a break from touring. But as she sits in his dressing room, watching him get ready, she can already feel her heart pounding and her stomach churning at the thought of being out there in the crowd tonight, and she realizes that she can’t do it. She just can’t.

When she tells Harry this, he looks at her with eyes full of concern.

“What’s wrong, lovie?”

“Nothing.” A conflicted sigh escapes her. “Let’s talk about it after the show. You need to get ready.”

“No, hey, tell me what’s wrong.” He walks over to the couch where she’s seated.

She really didn’t want to bring this up before the show. It’s just going to put a damper on his mood for the rest of the night. But knowing Harry, he’s not going to relent until she tells him what’s on her mind.

His stylist, Harry Lambert, is in the room with them, sifting through some clothes on the clothes rack.

“Lamby, do you mind if we have a minute alone?” asks Y/N.

“No, of course not. Just come get me when y’all are done.” Lambert leaves the room to give them some privacy.

Harry sits down next to Y/N, folding a leg under him and resting his arm on the back of the couch. She explains everything that’s happened at the shows lately and how it’s been getting to her. When she reveals that she wants to take a break, to get away from it all for a while, the light in his eyes seems to flicker out.

“You—you want to take a break?”

His expression is so despondent that she feels the need to clarify, “From tour, H. Not from our relationship.”

“No, I know. I just—” His gaze shifts to the floor by their feet. “Jesus. I didn’t know it was getting this bad. I mean, I saw the sign, but I thought that was it. I didn’t know people were being that cruel.” He shakes his head, looking at her now. “I should’ve known. I’m sorry. I should’ve noticed what was happening.”

“You couldn’t have. You’re on stage the whole time, focused on putting on a good show, as you should be.”

“No, but we’re in the same bloody room, Y/N. And this was happening in pit. How could I not notice that? Fuck.” He rubs his hands over his face in frustration. “Fuck.”

“It’s not your fault,” she emphasizes, but it’s evident that he doesn’t believe that. 

He has always been quite hard on himself about the harassment that Y/N receives from both the media and a certain part of his fanbase. Despite her reassuring him on several occasions that she doesn’t blame him for any of it, it doesn’t always stick. 

“I’m going to speak to Jeff about this,” he suddenly says with conviction. “If it’s getting this bad, we need to say something about it publicly. I need to say something.”

His words take her by surprise. It’s rare for him to address any kind of drama publicly. And while it’s sweet that he wants to defend her and set the record straight once and for all, she’s not so sure that it’s the right move.

“What are you even going to say?” she asks. “‘Stop being mean to my girlfriend’? Yeah, that’ll go down real well.” She doesn’t mean to be sarcastic, but she can’t help it. Recent events have made her a little resentful inside. Not at him, just at the situation.

“Well, I’m not going to say it like that. I’ll think of something.”

“Don’t. You don’t need to say anything.”

“Yes, I do.”

She grabs his hand. “Well, I’m asking you not to. Okay? It’s not going to make people stop. It’s just going to bring more attention to me, which is the last thing I need right now.”

He studies her face, then sighs. “Okay. Okay, I won’t. What else can I do?”

“Nothing.”

It’s obvious that this answer is difficult for him to accept. 

“Seriously, H. I just need some time away from the shows and the crowds and the traveling. Just until I get my head straight. That’s it.”

He nods and lifts her hand to his lips, planting a kiss on the back of it. “I understand. Take all the time you need.”

***

“Apparently, we’re broken up,” says Y/N, getting comfy in bed with her phone pressed against her ear.

She’s back in London now, in the home that she and Harry share.

“Again?” asks Harry on the other end of the line.

“Yeah! Found out from my mother, who called me in a panic this morning because of some article she read in the Daily Mail about how I haven’t been at your shows for the past two weeks and how that must mean we’ve broken up.”

He chuckles. “Oh, dear.”

“I’ve told her so many times not to believe a thing she reads on that stupid website. If she wants to know something about our relationship, literally all she has to do is ask us.”

“Hey, cut her some slack,” he says kindly. “She’s probably still adjusting to the madness.”

“We’ve been together for two years, H.”

“Well, it took my mum a lot longer than that after I started my career.”

He does have a point, she thinks to herself. Whenever she and her mom get into petty arguments, which happens annoyingly often, he somehow always gets her to see her mom’s side, immediately defusing the tension. That’s probably a big part of why her mom adores him so much.

“So, anyway,” she says, “how are things? How’s tour going?”

“It’s going well,” is all he says about it. “I miss you.”

She feels a twinge in her chest. “I know. I miss you too.”

“When do you think you’ll come back on tour?”

She sighs, rolling onto her back and staring up at the bedroom ceiling. “I don’t know. It’s only been a couple of weeks, and I feel like I’m just starting to get back into a good headspace... I need more time.”

“Okay.” His voice doesn’t give much away, but she knows he’s disappointed with her answer. “Two weeks.” He whistles. “Can you believe we’ve been apart for that long?”

She laughs. “What do you mean? We were apart for months at a time when you were touring last year, remember?”

“Sure, but now I know what it’s like having you on tour with me. Going to bed with you every night, seeing your pretty face every morning, watching you dance like a mad woman at my shows...” 

She lets out another laugh.

“I’m spoiled now,” he says.

“So spoiled.”

There’s a brief pause where she can hear him shuffling around. 

“Are you in bed right now?” he asks.

“Yup.”

“What are you wearing?”

She smirks, knowing exactly where this is going. They used to do this all the time when he was on tour last year—touch themselves while making flirty, filthy comments at each other over the phone, sometimes over video.

“One of your sweatshirts and—”

“Which one?” he interjects.

Looking down at her torso, she replies, “The blue Pleasing one with the frog on it.”

“Ooh, good choice. What else?”

“Just panties.”

“Hmm... That’s far too much clothing you’ve got on there.”

Her smirk grows wider. “Oh, really?”

“Mhm. Think you need to take some of it off... Or all of it.”

Giddy excitement takes over her. She sits up in bed. “If you say so! I’m putting you on speaker phone.”

Placing the phone next to her, she removes the sweatshirt, then her panties.

“Okay, clothes are off,” she tells him.

“Good girl. Now—”

His voice suddenly cuts off. She frowns, wondering if she’s lost him.

“Hello? H?”

“Sorry, I’m getting another call. Need to take this. Be back in a sec.”

She sits there and waits for him to return to the call. A couple minutes later, he’s back.

“Hey, my love, I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to go.”

Her excitement deflates. “Aw, really?”

“Yeah.” He sighs. “I was supposed to meet with Rob tonight but just found out he can’t make it, so he wants to have our chat over the phone now instead. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she tells him, suppressing the slight frustration she felt at being interrupted right as the fun was starting. “Good luck with the call.”

“Thank you. I love you. We’ll talk tomorrow,” he says in a haste.

“Love you.”

And with that, he hangs up. She flops back down on the bed, still naked after he made her undress. Looks like she’ll just have to make herself cum by imagining what else he was going to make her do on the phone, which isn’t nearly as fun as actually being on the phone with him... But oh well.

***

It’s a bright, sunny day out. The middle of October, so there’s a slight chill in the air but not quite cold yet, and some of the trees have shed their leaves while others still hang on to theirs.

Half of the North American tour is over. To celebrate and thank the crew for all their hard work so far, Harry decided they should have a crew barbecue on a day off between shows. He likes making sure that every single person involved with the tour feels appreciated. As the performer, he gets all the praise and attention from the fans, so it can be easy to feel invisible or undervalued if you’re someone who works more behind the scenes. 

That is also why he makes an effort to walk around and chat with everyone at these barbecues, ask them about their lives and their families back home, make them the focus of attention for once.

During his conversation with the lighting technician, Laura, she brings up Y/N.

“Hey, I’ve been wanting to ask. Is Y/N coming back on tour?”

The question catches him off guard because he’s been trying hard not to think about Y/N’s absence. 

“Um, yeah, probably,” he replies, though he’s not even sure if he believes that himself.

“When do you think she’ll be back?”

He stares down at the cup of lemonade in his hands. “I don’t know... At some point.”

“It’s awful, the things I see on the internet about her sometimes.” Laura tuts and shakes her head. “I feel so bad for her. She seems like a sweet girl.”

He nods. “She is.”

“I hope she knows none of us here believe any of that crap. I had a lot of nice conversations with her.”

When he speaks to a few other crew members, they ask him the same thing—if Y/N is ever coming back. He never realized how much of an impact she made on these people, even though she was only around for two weeks. It’s not surprising though. She has such a warm presence that after you meet her, everything else feels cold to the touch.

All of this talk about Y/N leaves him feeling a multitude of emotions. Love and longing, sadness and guilt. 

After the barbecue is over, he steps away to give her a call. He wants to tell her all the nice things people said about her today in the hopes that she’ll realize how loved and accepted she is here. But she doesn’t pick up. 

He sighs and decides to open up Instagram. Lately, he has been getting doses of her by looking through the photos and stories posted by her close friends. Y/N stopped posting much on her own Instagram soon after they got together and people started bombarding her page with vile comments. So, her friends are his best source of Y/N content.

Their recent stories reveal that she went out to a concert last night. This is the third one she’s been to in the past couple weeks. In one clip, she’s singing along and dancing with a girl he recognizes as her best friend Michelle. In the next one, there’s a guy dancing between them, his arms strewn around both women’s shoulders. Harry doesn’t know who he is, but he’s been in a lot of the posts lately. And Y/N is always somewhere near him.

As he scrolls through Michelle’s posts, he notices Y/N in the background of a photo taken at some party. She’s standing with that same guy, her head tilted back in laughter. Then there’s a video of the whole friend group saying goodbye to each other at the end of a night out, and Y/N is giving the guy a hug.

Harry experiences two separate pangs of jealousy at once. One is the result of seeing Y/N so carefree and comfortable at other people’s shows. He knows it’s selfish, but he just wishes she felt that comfortable at his shows as well. 

The other is the result of seeing some other guy all over his girlfriend while he’s an entire ocean away from her.

His phone is turned off and placed back in his pocket. He finishes what’s left of his lemonade, suddenly wishing it was liquor instead.

He needs to get his mind off all this. The barbecue may be over, but he has the rest of the day to do whatever he wants. And while he would normally use this time for something productive—like working out, meditating, or writing music—he’s not in the mood for any of that today. No, he’s only in the mood to drown out his emotions.

***

Despite being back in London, Y/N has still been working remotely. It’s just far more convenient, and she doesn’t have much of a reason to be at the office in person. She can also work whenever she wants, as long as she gets her eight hours in.

On Fridays, she prefers to start work extra early so that she can finish early and get a head start on the weekend. Today, the clock barely hits 7 a.m. before she sits down in her home office and gets to work. 

Just as she’s starting to get in the zone, her phone rings. It surprises her to see Harry pop up on the screen—saved as just “H💘” in her phone. His next show takes place in Toronto, which is likely where he is at the moment.

She picks up, already smiling. “Hi, honey.”

“Hi,” he says. “Did I wake you?”

“No, I’ve been up for a while. Just getting some work done.” She swivels from side to side in her office chair. “What are you doing up? Isn’t it, like, two in the morning over there?”

“Yeah...” He doesn’t say anything else. 

“Is everything okay?” she asks slowly.

“Mhm. Everything’s fantastic,” he mumbles.

“Okay...” She hears a car horn in the background. “Where are you right now?”

“Dunno. Was at a bar earlier. Had some poutine. It sucked... The poutine, not the bar. The bar was cool.”

It’s only now that she realizes he’s slurring his words quite a bit. It’s been a while since she’s seen him get drunk, so it didn’t even cross her mind until now.

“Are you drunk?”

“Mmmm... Perhaps, a smidge.”

Definitely more than a smidge, she thinks to herself.

“Okay, something’s definitely up. You don’t drink like this on tour, nor do you stay up this late.”

He scoffs. “Who came up with that stupid rule?”

She laughs and quirks a brow. “Uh, you did? Because you want to be at your best when you’re on stage, which is hard to do when you're hungover and sleep-deprived?”

He’s silent. His uncharacteristic behaviour is starting to make her uneasy.

“What’s going on, H? Talk to me.”

It’s a long time before he finally says something.

“I miss you.” His voice is so soft and quiet when he says it that she almost doesn’t hear him.

Her chest constricts. “Oh, baby, I miss you too.”

“Do you though?”

She frowns. “Of course I do. What kind of question is that?”

“Well, lately, it doesn’t seem that way... Seems like I miss you more than you miss me.” He sounds sad, but there’s also a bitterness underlying his tone that Y/N isn’t used to hearing.

“That is not true. Why would you think that?”

“Because I see it, Y/N,” he says, his voice becoming more resolute. “I see it in the photos and—and the stories that your friends post when you go out with them to those parties and shows and all that. You seem so much happier without me.”

Each word he says seems to add to her confusion. “You can’t be serious right now. You’re upset that I’m spending time with my friends?”

She hears him sigh heavily. For the first time in their conversation, she feels irritated with him. 

“That’s not what I’m upset about,” he grumbles.

“Then what—”

“You’re going out to all these shows, Y/N. I thought—I thought you said you needed time away from the crowds? Time to yourself? What happened to that?”

“I am taking time to myself.” She huffs, adding sarcastically, “Sue me for going to a show here and there to have some fun.”

“Who’s the guy?”

“Excuse me?”

“That bloke you’re always with in the background of these photos. He’s got his arm around you in one of them. He’s always touching you this way and that. Who is he?”

Her heart sinks to the pit of her stomach at his words, at the implication and the accusatory tone behind them. “You think I’m cheating on you?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Have you been reading the Daily Mail like my mother?”

“This is not funny, Y/N.”

“I’m not trying to be funny. You sound like someone who’s been reading those tabloids, which is the last thing I would’ve expected from you.”

“I’m just explaining what I saw,” he says flatly. “If I’m wrong, just tell me I’m wrong.”

“I shouldn’t have to tell you!” She feels her anger rising. Her fingers fiercely clutch the arm of her chair as she sits up straighter. “I shouldn’t because you know what? For the past two years, I’ve put up with so many bullshit rumours about you being seen with some female friend of yours and people assuming that you’re fucking her behind my back, and I have never once suspected that you were cheating on me. Not once! Why? Because I trust you! And now, you see a harmless picture of me with a guy friend and you assume I’m cheating? When did you become so possessive and so—so fucking needy?”

“Don’t call me that,” he hisses.

“Well, that’s how you’re acting. Like a jealous, possessive, needy fucking boyfriend.”

“You’re being mean.”

“I’m being—” She lets out a humorless laugh. Some part of her feels like he’s purposely trying to get under her skin, while another part of her thinks he’s just saying whatever comes to his intoxicated mind, and she doesn’t know which part is right. Her head is beginning to throb. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. I’m calling Jeff to go get you.”

“I don’t need anyone to come get me. I’m not a fucking child.”

“No, but you need someone to knock some sense into you, and I can’t stand you right now, so I’m sending Jeff.”

“Y/N, don’t hang u—”

She hangs up on him and immediately locates Jeff’s number in her contacts.

“Y/N?” he answers after several rings, his voice groggy and thick with sleep.

“Jeff, hey. Sorry for waking you. Look, do you know where Harry is right now?”

“Um... Asleep in his room, probably. Why?”

“No, he’s not. He is drunkenly wandering the streets of Toronto right now by himself.”

There’s a pause as he processes what she just said. “What? Seriously?”

“Yeah, he just called me. We...” We had a fight, is what she wants to say, but she holds herself back. “You need to go get him.”

“Did he say where he is exactly?”

“No. He just mentioned having some bad poutine at a bar earlier.”

“Oh, I was with him when we had the poutine. It was really fucking bad... But that was hours ago. What’s he still doing out?”

“I don’t know.” The next few words tumble out of her mouth before she can stop them, “He accused me of cheating on him.”

“He what?” The incredulity in his voice makes her feel just a tiny bit better because it means that he knows she would never do something like that.

“Yeah. Can you believe it? After everything...” Her voice cracks as the lump that has been forming in her throat ever since her conversation with Harry finally bursts and makes her eyes brim with tears.

“Y/N,” Jeff begins, carefully choosing his words, “he hasn’t been doing so well lately. Mentally, I mean. He misses you—”

“That’s not a good excuse,” she argues.

“—And he’s really beating himself up over what you went through at the start of tour. He feels so guilty.”

“Well, I feel guilty too!” She sniffles and wipes at her tears angrily, annoyed that they won’t stop coming. “Guilty that I can’t be there to support him on tour like I promised I would. Like his previous girlfriends did. God, Jeff, I feel like such a shitty girlfriend.”

“His previous girlfriends weren’t getting anywhere near the amount of hate you’re getting. And no one blames you for not being on tour, Y/N. Especially not Harry. He’s just being an idiot right now.”

Although she knows that everything he’s saying is rational and true, her emotional turmoil keeps her from fully believing it.

“You should go get him,” she says, rubbing her temples. “And can you please text me when you find him? Just so I know he’s safe.”

“Of course.” 

As soon as she gets off the phone with Jeff, a state of exhaustion overcomes her. It’s been less than two hours since she woke up, yet it feels like she’s gone through a whole day within the past fifteen minutes. Abandoning her workstation, she crawls back into bed, pulling the covers over her head as the endless flood of tears flows from her eyes.

***

Harry fucked up. Immensely. He knows it the moment he wakes up the morning after his fight with Y/N. He reaches for his phone to call her, to apologize, but something stops him.

Pride? Guilt? Fear? All of the above?

He ends up waiting a while before reaching out to her. A week goes by before he finally calls her, and as expected, she doesn’t pick up. He tries again and again for several days, texting her after each attempt, begging her to talk to him, to let him explain himself. But it’s no use.

She has iced him out.

The rest of tour feels like a blur. Being on stage still gives him an indescribable high, but that disappears as soon as he’s alone again.

Returning home to London after his last show is a relieving yet nerve-wracking experience because he doesn’t know what to expect from Y/N. They haven’t spoken in weeks. He has been using Michelle’s Instagram posts to keep up with her and to know that she’s okay.

Now, he takes a deep breath before entering the house with his luggage. Everything is completely silent. He wonders if she’s even home.

“Y/N!” he calls out. “I’m home!”

No response. 

He sighs and makes his way upstairs. He finds her in her office, working at her desk with big noise-cancelling headphones on, her back to the door.

“Y/N?” he says from the doorway.

When she still doesn’t hear him, he walks up behind her and gently touches her shoulder. She jumps and yanks the headphones off her head.

“Oh my God. You scared the shit out of me.” She clutches her chest.

“Sorry, lovie. I was calling your name, but you didn’t hear me.”

She spins around in her chair and stands up. He expects her to walk out of the room or say something to indicate that she’s still upset with him, but all she does is slide her arms around his torso and press her cheek against his chest.

“I’m glad you’re home,” she says.

It takes him a moment to recover from the shock. Wrapping his arms around her, he replies, “Me too.”

They hug for a good minute. He starts thinking about the apology speech he had prepared.

When she pulls away, he says, “Maybe we should talk about—”

“There’s no need. It’s all forgotten.” She pushes up on her toes to kiss him, but he retreats slightly to study her expression.

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Absolutely.” She gives him a reassuring smile that seems believable enough, so he lets her kiss him.

And instantly, he melts at the velvety feeling of her lips against his. One of the many things he’s missed about her during their time apart. As soon as she parts her lips, his tongue darts into her mouth. With his hand under her jaw, he tilts her head upward to taste her more fully. He wants to devour her.

Pulling away, he asks, “Bedroom?”

“Yes.”

He grabs her hand and leads her out of her office to their shared bedroom down the hall. Their clothes come off in record time, and they’re making out again, hands all over each other’s bare bodies.

“I want you,” Y/N says between passionate kisses.

She nudges him towards the bed until he sits down on the edge of it. Then she gets down on her knees between his legs, eyeing his erect cock like it’s an object of worship. 

She takes him into her mouth inch-by-inch, wrapping her hand around anything that doesn’t fit. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes for a moment, engulfed by the pleasurable sensation of her tongue gliding against his cock. 

“Fuck, baby, your mouth feels so good on me,” he breathes out.

Encouraged by his praise, she takes more of him into her mouth, allowing his tip to hit the back of her throat. Then she pulls her head back until only his tip rests on her tongue and takes him back in. She repeats this gesture while fondling his balls at the same time.

His hand slips into her hair. She starts deliberately slowing down at one point, teasing him by only keeping the head of his dick in her mouth, licking the tip over and over to drive him insane. His body reacts by bucking his hips to push more of himself into her. His hand keeps her head in place as he begins guiding his length in and out of her mouth all on his own.

His ragged breaths and moans are the only sound filling the room. He forces himself to stop before he can cum and removes his cock from her mouth. The way she gazes up at him, eagerly awaiting his next move, makes his heart flutter in his chest.

“I need to be inside you. Get up here.” He pats the bed beside him, and she climbs up. He kisses her, tasting himself on her mouth, then says, “Hands and knees for me, sweetheart.”

Compliantly, she turns around and gets on her hands and knees in the middle of the bed. He shifts to get behind her, admiring the view granted by this position. His fingers find their way between her legs and come away coated with her juices.

“Fuck. You’re soaking,” he remarks, inserting two fingers inside her hole. “Who’s got you so wet, hmm?”

“You.” She exhales with pleasure.

“Sorry, didn’t hear that.”

“You, you,” she repeats. “God, only you.”

He smirks and inserts a third finger, making her squirm and moan. She pushes her hips back to get as much of his fingers inside her as possible. He allows her to get off on his fingers for a bit, then retracts them without warning. A disappointed whine leaves her at the sudden emptiness filling her pussy.

But she doesn’t stay empty for long, as he aligns his tip with her entrance and begins filling her up little by little, giving her pussy a chance to adjust to him. It’s been so long since he’s felt her tight walls squeeze his cock like this. Too long.

He pulls out of her, then thrusts himself back in with more force, releasing a grunt. Y/N gasps and collapses onto her forearms. Grabbing a handful of her hair, he yanks her head back, causing her back to arch and allowing him the perfect angle to drive his length deep into her.

“Harry,” she moans his name, and he swears he can cum right then and there but he restrains himself.

He tugs on her hair a bit more, then shifts his hand to wrap around the front of her neck, pulling her back against his torso.

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers in her ear. “God, I missed having you like this.”

Her pussy clenches around him. He continues fucking her hard while squeezing the sides of her neck. Her mouth is agape, her pants and moans and whimpers mixing together beautifully.

“Can I cum?” she asks breathlessly.

“Maybe,” he teases. “If you ask nicely.”

“Please, can I cum? Please?”

“Of course you can, sweet girl. Cum for me.” He presses his lips against her temple as she unravels in his hold. Her body convulses against his. “That’s it, baby.”

His orgasm follows right after hers. He finishes deep inside her warm, wet pussy, which milks every last bit of cum from his cock. Once he lets go of her neck, she sinks onto her stomach on the mattress.

He lays on top of her as they both recover from their highs, peppering kisses along her neck and the backs of her shoulders. 

“I love you,” he whispers.

She just smiles and turns her head a bit more to catch his mouth in a kiss. The lack of a verbal response from her doesn’t go unnoticed by him.

He rolls off of her after a few minutes. She immediately sits up. 

“Are you hungry? I can make us something,” she offers.

“Uh, sure, but—”

“Okay, great, I’m hungry too. I’ll call you when the food’s ready.” She leans down and pecks him on the cheek, then hesitates briefly before saying, “Love you.”

Grabbing her clothes, she disappears into the bathroom before he can even register what just happened.

He was hoping they would spend some time cuddling, which is usually what they do after sex, but Y/N seemed to be in a hurry to get out of the room. Not to mention how long it took her to return his “I love you.” If all really is forgotten as she claims, then why is she acting so strange?

He expects her confusing behaviour to continue after he takes a shower and goes downstairs to eat with her, but by then, she seems to be acting like herself again, telling stories and joking around with him.

Maybe everything really is fine and he’s just being paranoid. That’s got to be it.

***

Y/N tried to act like everything was fine after Harry got home from tour. But you can only repress your emotions for so long before they start expressing themselves in other, unexpected ways...

A few days after Harry’s return, he and Y/N attend an engagement party hosted by their friends, Mary and Laila, who got engaged last week.

Harry is attached to Y/N’s side for most of the night, only stepping away to go use the washroom. He’s gone for quite some time, during which Y/N mingles with other people at the party. When he eventually comes back fifteen minutes later, he places his arm around her waist and a kiss to her temple.

“That was a long bathroom break,” she remarks, looking up at him.

“Yeah, I ran into Ava on the way back and we were catching up.”

Ava is an ex-girlfriend whom he’s still good friends with. Y/N notices a red, oval-shaped mark on his left cheek right next to his lips.

“Is that lipstick on your face?”

He reaches up to touch his cheek and laughs. “Oh, yeah, she just kissed me as a joke.”

“I hope that’s all it was.”

Y/N already knows that’s all it was. She’s known Ava for a while and is well-aware that their friendship is entirely platonic. In fact, her comment has nothing to do with Ava. It’s just the result of her petty need to get back at him for what he accused her of weeks ago.

She watches as his smile fades.

“Doesn’t feel good, does it?” she says. “When the roles are reversed?”

“I knew it. You’re still upset with me.”

She turns away but still feels his eyes on her. Before he can say more, one of their friends comes up to Y/N and starts talking to her, preventing their conversation from going any further.

Silence fills the car on their ride home from the party. Harry drives. Y/N stares out the window the whole time.

As soon as they step past the threshold of their house, he states, “We need to talk.”

“I’m not really in the mood.” She slips off her heels and heads upstairs. He follows closely behind.

“You can’t keep avoiding this, Y/N. We’re going to have to talk about it at some point or this relationship’s not going to survive.”

She reaches the top of the stairs before replying, “It wasn’t going to survive anyway.”

She knows those words are like a slap in the face to Harry. They make him pause in his tracks. Meanwhile, she continues toward their bedroom, the flames of her fury crackling inside her.

“Why would you say that?” he asks, joining her in the bedroom a moment later.

She talks while changing out of her party dress, “Because you don’t trust me, Harry, and everyone knows a relationship without trust is doomed to fail.”

He sighs and sits down on the bed. “I do trust you. I just made a mistake, all right? I was drunk and—”

“Classic excuse.” She pulls on a pair of comfy shorts and an old worn-out t-shirt of hers.

“Not making excuses. I take full responsibility for what I said. I’ve apologized so many times over text, and I wanted to apologize in person when I got home from tour, but you were the one who didn’t want to talk and I respected that.”

“How generous of you.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Can you stop with the little quips? It’s bloody annoying.”

“Annoying? That’s it? I’m being called way worse online,” she says with a bitter smile.

His gaze drops to the floor. “You know I don’t look at that stuff, and you shouldn’t either.”

“Kind of hard not to when people are spamming my friends’ comments, accusing me of cheating on you, slut-shaming me for hanging out with any guy who isn’t you. You know, none of it would bother me that much if my own boyfriend didn’t believe it too.”

“I don’t! Jesus, Y/N. I don’t believe any of that.”

“Oh, really? Then why did it take you a whole week to reach out to me after our fight on the phone?”

He swallows and stares down into his lap. “I—I was just trying to give you space. I was... I was...”

“You were what?” She prompts him to finish his sentence, but when he doesn’t, she fills in the blanks for him, “You were still trying to figure out if you were right about me cheating. It wasn’t just something you said by accident while you were drunk. You really believed it. Didn’t you?”

He closes his eyes, defeated. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

She shakes her head and turns away from him, clenching her jaw. “God, I can’t even look at you right now. I’m so fucking angry.”

“I was scared, Y/N,” he says in a small voice.

When she looks at him, his green irises are swimming in tears. She hates how the sight instantly makes her soften.

“Of what?” she asks.

“I was scared that I was losing you. No one should have to put up with the shit that you put up with on a daily basis just for being with me. It keeps getting worse. It’s—it’s like the more success I have, the more people in my life suffer and I don’t know how to make it stop and it kills me, Y/N. It absolutely kills me.” The tears escape his eyes now, freely roaming down his cheeks.

“Baby...” Y/N’s heart breaks for him. It shatters. She walks over to him and takes his face in her hands, wiping her thumbs under his eyes.

“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He keeps repeating himself, his hands trembling in his lap.

“Shh. It’s okay. You’re okay.” She pulls his head into her chest and gently runs her fingers through his curls to calm him down.

Once he seems calmer, she suggests that they go to sleep for now and have a proper conversation tomorrow when they’re both fully rested. So, they get ready for bed and crawl under the covers together. Y/N invites him to nestle his head against her shoulder and plays with his hair until he falls asleep.

***

The next morning, she wakes up before him. He’s lying on his stomach next to her, his cheek adorably squished against the pillow. He looks extremely kissable, so she can’t help but lean over to plant the softest kiss on his face.

Then she lays there, staring up at the ceiling while her mind ponders over last night’s events. The heart-wrenching look on Harry’s face as he confessed his fear of losing her is engraved in her brain.

Jeff had told her that he wasn’t doing well, that he felt guilty about all the animosity she’d become victim to. But at the time, she was too angry—justifiably—to give it much thought. Now that the anger has subsided and she understands the real reason behind Harry’s accusation, she feels nothing but compassion and empathy for him. 

His eyes flutter open a few minutes later. She turns her head to the side to look at him.

“Morning, handsome.”

He smiles and mumbles sleepily, “Morning.”

They stare at each other for some time, basking in the sunlight streaming through the curtains and in each other’s presence.

“So, I was thinking...” Y/N begins. “It’s Saturday. We’re both free. Why don’t we go on a long walk today?”

He nods. “Yes, please. We haven’t done that in a while.”

That afternoon, they prepare for their walk, bundling up in layers to insulate from the crisp weather of early December. They pack some snacks and a blanket into a tote bag in case they decide to sit and eat somewhere for a bit. Harry hikes the bag onto his shoulder and they head out.

As they stroll through the park with Y/N’s arm looped around his, they pass by several people walking their dogs. One particularly adorable pup catches Y/N’s attention as it scampers by.

“Oh, look at how cute that puppy is!” she coos, tugging on Harry’s arm. “Ugh, I want a dog so badly.”

“We can get one, you know.”

She gives him a look. “H, you’re on tour, like, nine months out of the year. We’d be the most absent dog parents ever.”

“Yeah, but when I’m on tour, you’ll still be here, right? So, the dog won’t be alone.”

She realizes that he’s going off the assumption that she won’t be joining him on tour in the future. “About that...” she says. “I came up with a plan.”

He quirks an inquisitive brow.

“Since I went remote at work, a few other people have as well. My boss likes how productive everyone’s been, and she wants to make a permanent shift to remote work in the new year. So, I was thinking that I’d join you on tour for a few weeks at a time, and whenever I feel like I need a break, I’ll just come back to London for a little while, then fly back out to you. How does that sound?”

She looks at him, and it’s apparent from the way he’s biting his lip that he’s trying to contain his excitement.

“Perfect. That sounds perfect,” he says, hesitating before adding, “Honestly, I thought you’d never come to another one of my shows again. I mean, I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” she states firmly. “That’s exactly what the assholes want, isn’t it? They want me to skip the shows. Well, they can’t get rid of me that easily! In fact, they’ll have to physically pry me away from you if they really want me gone.”

He laughs. “How romantic.”

“I’m serious!”

“Oh, I’m aware.” 

Later into their walk, they find a secluded area in the grass to lay out their blanket and rest while munching on snacks. Y/N offers him some Skittles. As he reaches into the bag, digging around to find the red ones he really likes, Y/N says, “H, I need you to promise me something.”

“What?” He finds a red Skittle and pops it in his mouth.

“I need you to promise me that you’re going to stop blaming yourself for things that are out of your control.”

He stares at her, slightly puzzled.

“The things that people say about me, or anyone in your life for that matter, are out of your control,” she explains, “and if you keep blaming yourself, it’s only going to destroy you.”

He sighs and leans back on his hands, gazing up at the clear blue sky. “I know. I try so hard not to. It’s just reached a whole other level these past couple years, and I feel so helpless. Feel like I should be doing more to protect you.”

“You’re doing the best you can.” She reaches out to caress his cheek. “And I don’t need you to protect me. All I need is for you to trust me when I say that I’m not going anywhere.”

He turns his head to kiss the inside of her palm.

“I’ll always be yours, H.”

The last three months may have been the most trying period of their relationship so far, but Y/N wouldn’t change a thing because what they went through only strengthened their bond. They learned their lessons. The worst is over. They may always look back on this time with a bittersweet reminiscence, but one thing is for certain: they won’t put each other through anything like that again.

And if they were able to get through this and still stay together, Y/N feels confident that they can face anything.

***

Thank you for reading!  MASTERLIST

[morning-star-joy]

and I'll never see you again if I can help it

a stranger's heart without a home Chapter 6

Pairing: rivals to friends with benefits Joel x F!Reader, Post-Outbreak

Chapter Summary: You and Joel fall into a temporary truce after your patrol. At Tommy's urging, you go out for drinks with the two brothers. When you and Joel find yourselves alone after, the tension between you continues to rise until it snaps again.

Chapter Warnings: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) Mutual Masturbation, Unprotected p in v sex, Drunk Sex, Dirty Talk, Brief Mention of Masturbation (f), References to Previous Smut, Language, Alcohol Use, the sexist asshole from Chapter 3 makes a reappearance & tries to sl*t shame Reader but gets put in his place by both Reader and Joel, Brief Bar Fight, Mild Description of a Shallow Cut/Injury Treatment

A/N: Translation: Qué mala eres = You're so bad (ty to my wife @cynibuns for helping with the translation ily here's your writing cred)! Also, Chapter 14 will be up on ao3 tomorrow! Most likely evening-ish PST when I get home from being out of town. Hope you’re all having a lovely weekend!

Wordcount: 10.4k

chapter 1 || chapter 5 || chapter 6 || masterlist

ao3 link

The severity of the tension between you and Joel lightened, if only slightly.

You wouldn’t say he treated you warmly now, but the harshness of the chill he regarded you with did lessen. Joel would greet you when he saw you now, either with a slight nod or your name spoken as an acknowledgement. You returned the niceties with your own, and even though they were simple, they lessened a burden you hadn’t realized you had felt since the man returned to town.

Tommy was happy about this perceived change in your relationship with his brother, to say the least. If you and Joel found yourself in the rare circumstance that you were seated next to each other for a meal and not biting each other’s heads off, it felt like Tommy would appear out of nowhere to slap you both on the back in barely contained glee.

“We gotta go out for drinks tonight,” he would say with a grin, to which Joel shook his head to himself and you laughed disbelievingly.

“Maybe when the kid is old enough to come with us,” you would remark cheekily, referring to the latest addition to the Miller family, knowing from how you remained Joel’s patrol partner that the bundle of joy still needed both parents around to help.

Those patrols with Joel weren’t as awkward as they were before, either. There wasn’t much more talking between you, but you fell into step with each other easier, taking out both Infected and the occasional bandits with less difficulty.

While it wasn’t the same as your familiar contest with Tommy, your traded banter with Eugene or your mentorship with Jesse, you found yourself actually coming to appreciate the steadfastness of Joel’s presence when he rode and fought beside you. When he wasn’t treating you with such extreme disdain, you could almost understand why Tommy was so fond of his brother.

Almost.

Joel still irritated you. He was just as gruff and rude as ever, even if he wasn’t as antagonistic towards you as before. If you would try and crack a joke, he would just stare at you until either you awkwardly coughed, or he just shook his head and looked away. If you would try and ask him questions, he would give you short, one-word answers that got you nowhere.

He still annoyed you. Especially when his hand would brush against yours as he handed you some rations. Or when he stood so close you could smell the earthy, heady scent that made your head spin. Or when you would feel him watching your ass as he boosted you up to an area you couldn’t reach, but looked away quickly whenever you glanced back at him to try and catch him in the act.

Joel was still a bastard, because he wouldn’t say anything about those moments. But later you would replay them in your mind, helpless to the memory it brought to the forefront of your mind, unable to suppress it any longer.

It was embarrassing, how often you had slipped your hand between your legs as you thought of Joel at night. In the back of your mind, you could almost remember the feeling of his fingers playing with you instead. You would try to relive how it had felt for those fingers to be rubbing your clit and thrusting in and out of you. You would visualize being bent over your own kitchen counter as he fucked you against it, moaning into your pillow as you made yourself cum again and again just from the memory of his touch.

That memory almost felt like a hallucination, the fact that you had actually had sex with the grizzled, stoic survivor seeming more like a fever dream than reality. At times you were certain you really had just dreamt it. But then you would remember the morning Joel had passed by you as you sat on your porch, drinking coffee from an engraved mug, and how fast he had looked away as his steps quickened past your picket fence.

Oh, so he does remember, you had realized as you hid a smirk behind another sip of your coffee, glad you had been sitting outside that morning to catch his reaction to you drinking from that mug.

It was infuriating, because that heat that simmered between the two of you was still there, even as you both tried your best to ignore it in the light of day. What you did with yourself at night with the memory of him, however, was your secret alone.

And that was fine. You were finally settling back into the calm that Jackson offered. Those hiccups Joel had thrown into your practiced routine were smoothing over with the strange, unspoken truce between the two of you.

But then that was also ruined, the night Tommy actually did manage to take you both out for those drinks.

Your discomfort at the situation was matched only by Joel’s as Tommy shoved whiskey filled glasses into his hand and then yours. You shot a glance at Joel from the corner of your eye, watching as the man lifted a shoulder in a resigned shrug before tossing back the shot, followed by Tommy and then you.

Tommy’s joy as he ordered another round was almost infectious, a smile tugging at your lips as you glanced over The Tipsy Bison to see it busier than it was most nights. Either the warmer weather was brightening everyone’s spirits, or they all just had the same spontaneous burst of energy that Tommy had when he showed up on your doorstep to drag you out with him. Joel had been standing behind him, looking more uncomfortable than you had ever seen him as he looked anywhere but at you while you stood in your doorway.

The second sign that your fever dream of him was real, and that he remembered it just as much as you did.

“So,” Tommy sighed after knocking back another shot, placing his cup down and grabbing the bottle of whiskey the bartender had left to make refills easier for the three of you. After refilling his glass, Tommy turned back to you and Joel with an easy grin. “I’ve heard good things about your patrols.”

Neither you nor Joel said anything as Tommy sipped from his glass, waiting for you to reply. Which you didn’t.

“Guess you don’t hate each other as much as you thought,” he teased, waiting to see if he could get a reaction out of either of you.

You merely shrugged, and Joel took another sip of his whiskey.

Tommy sighed, shaking his head as he picked up the bottle to refill your glass once you finished it off.

“Well you're both chatterboxes, aren’t you?” he muttered, shooting you both a bemused look, though it held a fondness to it. “Can’t imagine all the riveting conversations you must have on those patrols.”

You glanced at Joel as you sipped at your refilled drink. Neither of you had spoken about the heated argument and ugly words you had thrown at each other during your patrol to the ski lodge, or the panic attack that he had witnessed you having. 

The latter you figured he avoided mentioning out of some kind of understanding. You remembered seeing him stumble out of the bar last winter, how he had leaned against the frozen pillar for support. How you had approached him to put a hand on his shoulder, just as he had done to you, even as you both flinched away from being touched during your respective moments of anxiety.

But the argument, you weren’t sure why Joel never brought up again. He had made his opinion of you and your history with the Fireflies, his disdain for the tattoo on your skin, quite clear. Whenever you felt confused on how he had seemed to just let it go, you remembered that look he had given you when the storm had begun to clear outside; the realization you weren’t privy to passing over his face before he offered an olive branch in reaching out his hand to help you up, an unspoken peace offering you had accepted. You didn't know what had spurred him on to extend that unspoken understanding that had settled the disdain-fueled friction between you, but you figured maybe it was also the reason why he never brought up the argument again. 

Your name being spoken pulled you out of your internal monologue, and you turned your head to see Tommy looking at you, brows furrowed in puzzlement.

“Hm?” you hummed, about to take a sip from your drink before you realized it was empty.

Tommy reached out for the bottle again, whiskey pouring into your glass as his brow smoothed out and he smiled cheekily at you. A glint of mischief was in his eye, a flush from alcohol tinting his cheeks.

Oh, this was either going to be very good, or you weren’t going to like this at all.

“When are you finally gonna let me set you up with someone?”

You coughed, holding a fist up to cover your mouth as you nearly choked on your whiskey.

“Sorry?” you spluttered, baffled at the sudden topic change as Tommy’s smirk widened, and you felt a heavy gaze settle on you from your other side.

“Come on,” Tommy drawled, his voice playfully boisterous as he leaned back against the bar. “Having somebody is great! And I haven’t seen you with a beau since the moment I met you.”

A laugh escaped you, turning into a fit of disbelieving cackling spurred on from the whiskey as you shook your head at your friend.

“If Dina hasn’t gotten anywhere in that hopeless endeavor, neither are you,” you teased, your laughter doubling at the playful roll of his eyes.

“Qué mala eres." The Spanish rolled off his tongue in a sigh, the language slip a sign that the alcohol was going to his head, and you sighed as you threw back another shot. “You’re missing out, my friend.”

Your head shook, looking away from Tommy only when the weight of the stare on your back had become so heavy that you couldn’t ignore it anymore.

When you turned back to Joel, though, his eyes had already moved away, scanning the crowd in the bar as he sipped silently at the whiskey glass in his large hand.

You blamed it on the effect of the alcohol as you observed how the lights of the bar seemed to brighten the brown hue of Joel’s eyes, making them appear a lighter color than how dark they usually looked. Despite your better judgment that told you to look away, your gaze followed the line of his nose down to his lips as he drank his whiskey, and you couldn’t help but wonder for a moment what it would feel like to have those lips pressed to your own, the one thing that he had denied you when he had fucked you.

His tongue darted out to lick at the drops of liquor on his lips. Desire pooled between your legs as you looked back up, and you jumped when you saw his gaze was fixed on you.

Oh, fuck, you thought to yourself, that desire intensifying as he arched a brow at you, and you realized that he had caught you looking.

Had caught you wanting.

Your hand tightened on your glass, glaring up at him even as his lips twitched into an almost imperceptible smirk.

But it was there.

And it was satisfied.

That damn, nearly unnoticeable smirk made your cunt throb as you realized that you still wanted him. And judging from the look he fixed you with now, maybe Joel still wanted you too.

You looked away hastily, knocking the rest of your whiskey back right as Tommy spoke up again. 

“So, big brother, how’d your date with Esther go?”

Whiskey got stuck in your throat as you choked, coughing as you lowered the glass, and Tommy’s hand began to thud on your back to help you clear your throat.

“You okay?” you heard him ask, and you nodded, clearing your throat of the more intense burn the alcohol had left as it didn’t go down your throat as smoothly as it was supposed to.

“Yeah,” you croaked, shaking your head with another cough as you waved your hand dismissively. “Yeah, I’m good.”

You ignored the looks each brother was giving you as you stared straight ahead, refusing to look at either in protection of your own pride as Joel asked Tommy, “What’d you say?”

The question made you bristle, something in his tone telling you that Joel knew exactly what Tommy had asked, but wanted that line of conversation to continue.

Or maybe the whiskey was just going to your head, you thought as you turned back around to the bar and grabbed the bottle to refill your glass.

“Esther!” Tommy said brightly, and you held your glass a bit too hard. “How’d it go? Did you like her?”

Joel shrugging caught your attention, and you looked back to see he was looking out of the corner of his eye at you, before he looked away and replied to Tommy, “Yeah, she’s nice.”

You turned back to your glass, taking the whole shot before refilling it again.

“She has a great sense of humor,” you heard Joel add, your fingers tapping impatiently on the counter as you chewed on the inside of your cheek.

“See, I told you!” Tommy’s voice was full of excitement, even as your mood continued to worsen the more information was revealed about Joel’s apparent fucking date. “I knew you’d like her. You’re a good match.”

Another shot was knocked back in one smooth motion before you spun around to face the brothers again.

Joel went on a fucking date. 

Joel “I’m not sticking around here”, doesn’t-want-a-relationship fucking Miller went on a fucking date.

The thought made you bristle with anger, even though you knew it shouldn’t. It made you mad because, fuck, going on a date meant that he might be getting his dick wet with other women, when he had already fucked you and was looking at you with that dark, sultry gaze earlier as he licked his lips and fuck.

It took you a moment before you noticed that the attention of both Miller men was on you, and you realized slowly that the expletive had actually left your mouth instead of just staying in your mind, interrupting whatever they had been discussing now.

You looked from Tommy’s confused expression to Joel’s blank one, the slight curl of his lip that he hid behind his whiskey glass telling you all you needed to know as your gaze shot out towards the room.

Over in the corner of the bar, Gustavo was playing his trusty banjo with a few other musicians. A small group of residents, friends and couples, were dancing in an open space next to them.

A smile grew on your lips as you slammed your empty glass back down on the counter, sending Joel and Tommy an easy grin while you walked backwards away from them.

“If you’ll excuse me, boys,” you drawled, giving them an over-dramatic flourish of a bow, one you thought Dina would be proud of, “I’m going to go dance.” 

Your smile melted into a smirk, your gaze lingering on Joel for a second too long before turning around and confidently making your way to the area where people were dancing.

The shots were definitely going to your head, but you found it hard to care where the music was louder. It didn’t take long before you were swept up in a dance, spun around in the arms of a man whose name you couldn’t remember. It wasn't often that you allowed yourself to let your hair down like this, but the rhythm of the music, the fast pace of the dance, and the alcohol dulling your thoughts made the memories you always tried so hard to forget fade further into the background.

And if the carefree feeling from dancing wasn’t making you laugh, then it was the feeling of a heated stare fixed on your back as you giggled and turned through the steps of the lively dance.

You could feel his eyes on you, and even though you didn't look back towards him as you danced, you knew it was him. That intensity was unmistakable, familiar now in its weight as it focused on you, even as you weren't looking directly at him. It spurred you on, getting closer to your dance partner than was necessary, and relishing in the feeling of that stare sharpening on your steps as you did so.

After a few songs you were starting to feel too hot, too dizzy to continue this charade. Exchanging lighthearted bows with your dance partner, you laughed a bit more before backing away. While you had approached the dancing with an ulterior motive—one that seemed to have been successful, judging by the gaze you could feel on you throughout the dances—you found that you had actually enjoyed yourself, your head clearer and heart more carefree than you had felt in ages as you tried to find where you had left the Miller brothers.

“Whore,” a voice pretended to cough as you passed by a table, and you paused.

You turned slowly, that rare happiness you had felt evaporating as you looked back to find a face you had a hard time placing a name to. He looked a little younger than you, his features weaselly as he held back a snicker, surrounded by a group of a few other stupid looking young men.

“Excuse m—”

“What was that?”

Your own voice was interrupted by another, one lower and more menacing than your own, coming from some place close behind you. 

Glancing back over your shoulder, you saw Joel had found you before you could find him. His face was carefully devoid of any telling emotion as he stared past you at the man who had apparently just majorly fucked up by calling you a whore.

You looked back as the man shifted, seeming unsettled by Joel’s presence, and then it clicked. This was that bastard that you had been drinking with last winter, the one who Joel had knocked on his ass in the snow outside this very bar.

“Alright,” you sighed as you pushed a few loose strands of hair out of your face. “Let’s just—”

“You heard me,” the man at the table repeated, trying to sound confident as he pushed himself to his feet, even as his voice was shaking. He glared back at Joel, seemingly spurred by some stupid sense of wounded pride or suicidal tendencies. “I called her what she is: a whore.”

You laughed, louder than you should, devoid now of any carefree feeling from earlier. Surely you were drawing the attention of those drinking nearby, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about that right now.

“Right, I’m a whore for drinking and dancing with friends?” you asked, eyes blazing at the audacity of this man as you felt Joel shift and move around you. “Because I refused to sleep with you when you asked so pathetically?”

The man whose name you still couldn’t remember—something that made the situation even more hilarious, even though nobody knew that fact except for you—took a step towards you at that last jab you made, though his path was quickly interrupted as Joel stepped in front of you.

Joel’s hand grabbed the man’s shirt roughly, pulling the bastard closer as his carefully stoic face began to melt into a rare display of...anger? It was an intimidating, nearly terrifying look that you had seen directed towards you once, but now it was showing in defense of you.

“You speak that way to a woman again, and you won’t be so lucky as to leave with just a bruised ego this time,” he murmured, the low words deceivingly soft as they rumbled from his chest.

The weaselly man looked between Joel and you, forcing laughter even as he could tell he was outnumbered. His next words were his own fault, the final nail in the coffin as he sneered to Joel, “Shit, I can’t imagine the pussy is actually that good for you to defend—”

A crack filled the air as Joel’s fist collided with the man’s face, sending him flying back into the table where his friends sat behind him.

“Joel!” you shouted, grabbing his shoulder to try and pull him back, even as he didn’t budge. “Jesus, Joel, you can’t just—”

You continued to tug at his shoulder, and when he finally looked back at you, the man shifting on the table caught your eye, and your words cut off. The glint of something sharp followed the sound of glass shattering, and you stepped in front of Joel before you could think twice about it. Your arm lifted to defend yourself, letting out a yelp of pain as you felt the broken bottle slash across it.

Chaos descended upon the bar. 

Shouting rose up around you as you saw a few men grabbing the stupid son of a bitch who just tried to instigate his own funeral by attempting to cut Joel. You turned, the sound of Tommy’s voice shouting pulling your attention as you saw your friend holding back his brother, who was trying to escape his grip to fight the bastard with barely contained fury.

“One punch,” you heard Joel muttering angrily as Tommy kept pulling him back. “Just one punch, teach him a fucking lesson—”

“You already taught him a lesson, Joel, you broke his fucking nose!”

You blinked, pulling your arm up to look at the blood trickling down it. While you felt slowed, almost out-of-body by the combined dampening of adrenaline and alcohol, the action seemed to finally grab the attention of Joel and Tommy. The men abruptly stopped their struggle as they turned to you.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Tommy addressed the gathering crowd loudly, pulling their scattered attention to him as he stepped forward to grab your assailant by the back of his shirt collar. He shifted into his authoritative tone as he continued, “No more excitement for tonight.”

Tommy looked between the bleeding man he was holding onto and Joel, sighing before he said in a level tone that commanded respect, “Maria will have a word with you both tomorrow. For now, go treat your wounds.”

He gave a small shove that was hardly gentle to the guy, who stumbled away as his friends rose to escort him out. Tommy glanced at you, mouth opening as Joel pressed some clean napkins he had picked up from a nearby table against your bleeding cut.

“I’ll get her treated and home safe,” Joel said quietly to Tommy, the younger brother glancing between you two with a furrowed brow before you nodded at him.

“Go tell Maria what happened,” you added softly as you held the napkins to your cut. “I’m fine.”

Tommy sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he muttered something along the lines of not knowing what to do with the two of you, before leaving with a nod and short farewell.

Joel’s hand found a spot between your shoulder blades, gently ushering you out of the tense atmosphere you had created and into the fresh spring air outside. The chill of the late night breeze sobered you up a bit as he continued to lead you in a direction that you slowly realized was in the opposite direction of your house.

“Wait, but my house is—”

“I have first aid at my place,” Joel interrupted your confusion in a short tone, to which you raised an eyebrow in response.

“So do I,” you said slowly, watching as he stared at the dark street ahead like he was refusing to look at you.

Even with his hand still pressed firmly on your upper back.

“I don’t know where stuff is in your house," he muttered, still not looking at you as you turned onto the darker streets of one of the residential districts in Jackson.

You snorted, a small smirk creeping on your lips as you blamed the alcohol flooding your system for fueling your cheeky remark.

“Yeah you do,” you muttered, and he finally glanced back at you in disbelief when you added, “You know where the mugs are, at least.”

Joel shook his head as he led you to his house, saying nothing else aside from muttering to himself, “Jesus fucking Christ.”

You laughed at that, unable to resist the humor in his exasperation at the situation, even as his hand finally fell from where he had been guiding you when you stopped outside a large house. When he led you up the steps and through the gate to his new home, you whistled low, nodding in appreciation at the scale of it.

“Damn, Joel, they set you up in a place way bigger than mine," you drawled, smirking again as you heard a quiet scoff escape him from where he had moved to walk ahead of you.

Yeah, the alcohol was definitely to blame for sarcastically teasing Joel so much, even as he continued to give you replies that were as short as always.

“Shut up,” he muttered, though not unkindly as you crossed the path up to the porch.

A smaller building nearby caught your eye as you waited for Joel to open the door, and you turned to see a garage with the lights on a bit farther away from the house.

"What's that?" you asked, nodding towards it, and Joel followed your gaze after the front door swung open. 

"Ellie lives there," he muttered, offering no further explanation as he walked into the house, and you followed without any more questioning.

The few tones Joel spoke with were familiar enough now for you to know when not to press something. Even though you tolerated each other's presence more than you had before, Ellie was still a topic that he rarely discussed, and you didn't push him on it. It wasn't your business, anyway.

You glanced around you, trying to take in your surroundings as you entered the home, maybe gain enough of an opinion to critique his taste in décor if it was poor. But he herded you down the hallway, not giving you a chance to collect any witty remarks as you walked through a makeshift washroom-closet and into a kitchen on your left.

“Really, a kitchen again?” you teased, snickering at his annoyed huff as he sat you down at a small table next to a window, even as you were surprised at your own blunt reference to an act neither of you have dared to discuss openly since his return.

“You’re insufferable when you’re drunk,” Joel muttered, maybe more to himself than to you as he went back into the washroom to rifle through something.

“Says the drunk man who broke somebody’s nose,” you bit back with no small amount of snark, unable to hide your smirk as he reappeared with a first aid kit and a humorless expression that made you laugh.

Joel pulled the other chair at the table over next to yours, sitting in it as he set the first aid on the table.

“Insufferable,” he repeated to himself with a shake of his head, opening the kit and pulling out the supplies he needed to clean your wound.

Joel peeled away the napkins that had stuck to your skin, and if he saw you wince, he ignored it. He focused on his task, making no attempt at small talk as he made sure the bleeding had stopped before applying disinfectant. You held back any reactions from the sting, watching him as your head tilted in quiet observation, his silence giving you a moment to think.

Genuine surprise had flooded your being when Joel had stood up for you at the bar. While you had seen hints of a rare, odd sense of something almost akin to chivalry in the older man, the fact that he went so far as to break a man's nose rendered you into disbelief.

If somebody had told you months ago that Joel Miller would deck a man in the face because they had called you a whore and made an out-of-pocket remark about your pussy, you would have laughed for a long, long time in incredulity. Hell, you still wanted to laugh from doubt at it happening even now. There was no time, no universe, in which Joel—the man who had regarded you as nothing more than a nuisance—would commit such an act for you.

Yet here you were, sitting in his kitchen as he tended to a shallow wound that you had taken on his behalf. A favor for a favor, you supposed—his defense of your honor, your defense of his body.

“What?” Joel asked, sparing a glance up towards your analytical gaze and pulling you out of your inner monologue. He looked back down at your cut, wiping the cotton drenched with disinfectant over it again as you considered how to respond, wondering how much of your thoughts you wanted to reveal, if any of them.

“Just thinking about what a Southern gentleman you are,” you finally revealed in a light tone, holding back a snicker as he shot you a bemused glance.

“What?” He repeated, his voice holding more confusion this time, and you sighed. The sound was melodramatically tired, as if you were exasperated by his lack of understanding. Inspired by Dina's penchant for theatrics, even though you were only teasing right now.

“That’s the second time you’ve defended my honor,” you said the last few words cheekily, mocking a posh accent when you spoke of honor as Joel huffed at your strange show of dramatics. The next words were more serious though, more contemplative as you observed him and asked, “Trying to repay those debts?”

He shook his head, tossing the slightly bloody cotton pad to the side as he picked up a medicine cream that would help the cut heal.

“Still doesn’t count,” Joel muttered, squeezing some of the cream out onto the tip of his forefinger before gently running the rough digit along your injury. The feeling of his coarse touch against your skin made you shiver, the sensation a reminder of how it had felt when he was thrusting his fingers inside of you.

“Because I could have handled it myself?” you finally asked once you had pulled yourself out of the vivid memory, blaming both the flashback and the flush on your cheeks on the whiskey.

Joel hummed in affirmation of your question, screwing the top back on the cream once he had finished spreading it along your cut, and setting the tube back down.

“I lost my head,” he finally said quietly after a moment of silence, and your gaze refocused back on him from where it had been wandering around the room, taking in his interior design choices. “I shouldn’t have.”

“Eh,” you shrugged a shoulder, a small smile tugging at your lips. You didn't know why he had lost his head, but you found yourself unable to ask why before you admitted in a softer tone that you surprised even yourself with, “I don’t…not appreciate it.”

Joel didn’t look at you, and you didn’t look at him as you cleared that hint of softness out of your throat and mind. You were unaware of the sentiment until you had said it, and you were eager to rebury it in the back of your mind, in the empty grave all memories of Joel had managed to claw their way out of since his return to Jackson. Maybe if you buried it well enough now, he would stop haunting your subconscious.

You took another moment to glance around his kitchen that was much larger than yours. The sight of a coffee pot on the stove made you laugh, turning back to him with another smirk as he picked up a roll of gauze.

“Are you going to offer me a cup of coffee?” You asked slowly, not really sure where this constant influx of sultry snark was coming from, but you were powerless to stop it. Must be the alcohol.

You were surprised by the quiet chuckle that left Joel’s lips, a sound you had never heard before that made your heart skip a beat. The small smirk dancing on his lips made your stomach flip as he replied surprisingly smoothly, “I guess I do owe you one, huh?”

A smirk of your own was your only reply as he spared a glance up at you. Joel shook his head, gaze turning back down as he bandaged up your arm.

“That’s a bit overkill,” you remarked, examining the bandage he had wrapped around your entire forearm as you rotated it once he had finished.

“It gets the job done,” Joel sighed, packing the first aid kit back up and flipping it closed again. “You should be glad it wasn’t deep enough to require any stitches.”

“Because you would’ve done a shitty job and given me an ugly scar?” you asked, not expecting a response as he stood and took the kit back to the washroom.

“Yup,” you heard his deep voice respond from the other room, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the blunt admission as you leaned back in your chair.

It was...weird, this almost amicable atmosphere between the two of you. You had never spoken to each other so easily before, and you blamed the strange phenomenon entirely on the whiskey you both were drunk off of.

Glancing through the other doorway into the adjoining dining room, you noted that Joel had a lot of warm earth tones in his home. It was cozier, more homey than you would have expected. You wondered idly if Tommy or Ellie had helped him with the furniture choices, or if it had been all him.

The colors and the feelings they evoked also reminded you of how he smelled of that earthy scent you couldn’t name as he licked and bit down your neck.

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat as arousal stirred within you. Joel walked back into the room, pulling your attention when he sank back into the chair that was still next to yours, his knee brushing against yours once he was seated.

Silence that had become typical between you fell again.

“So,” you started slowly, fingers tapping against the table, desire pooling between your legs as his knee brushed against yours again. You cleared your throat, trying to find a topic to distract yourself from the fact that his presence was much too close to you now, nothing distracting you from his annoyingly magnetic presence.

When a topic from earlier flashed through your mind, you grasped onto it quickly as you teased, “Esther, huh?”

Joel groaned, running a hand over his hair and effectively messing it up, the look of the disheveled, gray curls only making your lust stronger as your knees pressed together. Shit, maybe this topic wouldn't work.

“Don’t start,” he muttered, not looking at you in favor of rubbing the badly healed scars on his knuckles that you had noticed in your kitchen months ago.

His words were pointless though. Despite your best judgment that told you to take the opportunity to switch the topic, you had already started, and you wouldn’t stop now.

“With a name like that, she must be as old as you, right?” you asked, arching a brow as he turned to watch you blankly. You couldn't stop a snicker and smirk as you added, “Like, from the 1800's old?”

Joel sighed, shaking his head as he rested an elbow on the table and dropped his face into his hand.

“Can’t imagine the sex is good, if she’s that old,” you continued, spurred on by his exasperation, and grinning impishly as he groaned into his hand.

“She’s nice,” he finally muttered, hand falling away from his face even as he kept looking down at the table, and you nodded along slowly.

“Right, nice," you assented, not sure why the words made you restless as you glanced away from him.

You kept nodding, looking around the kitchen, when your gaze fell on the coffee pot again. A smirk grew on your lips as your eyes darted back to his, and your chest fluttered in excitement when you saw he was looking at you from the corner of his eyes now.

“I gotta admit, I didn’t think you were the type who liked ‘nice’, Miller.” The words were dark, almost sultry, and you saw something in Joel’s gaze shift as it focused entirely on you.

“Oh yeah?” His deep voice rumbled in his chest, his arched eyebrow begging for more of your defiance as he leaned towards you just an inch. “And what type do you think I like, exactly?”

Your fingers continue to tap a rhythm against the table, slowly moving closer to where his own hand rested until you were right next to it. Your touch hovered inches from him even as you continued to tap the surface around his fingers, avoiding touching him directly, only letting your fingers graze against his occasionally. A whisper, a temptation, a plea to touch him again.

“Sluts,” you answered slowly, the filthy term rolling off your tongue as Joel’s eyes darkened on the way your mouth formed around the word. “If I’m remembering correctly.”

He said your name in a low tone, the sound a warning, but you only saw it as a challenge.

You leaned closer, your fingers still dancing around his hand, head tilted with a sly smirk. Joel’s knee pressed harder against yours as you slowly spread your legs, and his gaze flashed down between them, his hand curling into a fist as he understood exactly what you were implying.

“You’re drunk,” Joel said quietly, voice husky as he tried to turn you down, even as he refused to look away from your opened legs.

“So are you,” you whispered, your fingers finally grazing directly over the top of his hand, and he jolted.

Joel leaned back from you, gaze darting away from you, and your stomach almost dropped from disappointment, maybe even embarrassment, before he looked back at you not even a second later.

“I—” Joel shook his head, swallowing thickly. “We shouldn’t—”

His eyes caught on your seductive smirk, and he shook his head again, the defenses in his gaze falling all at once as he breathes out, “Fuck.”

Joel’s hands were on you within a second of the murmured curse, pulling you roughly out of your chair and into his lap. His head buried in your neck, tongue and teeth finding your skin as you moaned loudly from the feeling of him suddenly pressing against you because finally, finally. You had been wanting him for weeks, even though you had tried to deny it, and now you finally had him again.

And maybe you were both drunk, maybe you both would regret it in the morning. But you wanted him now, just as much as he wanted you, and that was enough.

Your hips rolled, pushing your throbbing clit against the erection that was growing in his pants already, even as all he did was mouth at your neck.

“I make you this hard just by being in your lap, Joel?” you murmur, continuing to grind your hips against him, and he grunts.

“Shut up,” Joel muttered, pulling his head back, and you darted down towards his lips before he grabbed your chin in a firm hand.

“No,” he said stiffly, his gaze serious even as it became clouded in lust from the feeling of your clothed pussy pressing against his hard dick in his jeans.

“You have this rule for every girl you fuck?” you whisper, rolling your hips against his faster, and his look of annoyance faded into one of hazy desire as his eyelids fluttered and his head fell back. Your tone was more biting as you added, "Did you have it for Esther, too?"

“You really do have a sharp mouth, don’t you?” Joel muttered, and you laughed, jolting forward and pressing against his chest when he suddenly slapped your ass. “Pants off. Now.”

“So demanding,” you chastised, even as you stood and did what he told you to.

You made a show of it, your fingers circling the button of your pants before unbuttoning it. Joel’s eyes were glued to your seduction as you slowly unzipped your pants, then slid them down until they pooled at your feet on his kitchen floor, and you stepped out of them.

“Panties too,” Joel murmured, his hand rubbing his thigh as he leaned back and watched you, and you laughed breathlessly.

“What happened to your Southern manners?” you teased, and Joel raised an eyebrow.

Without a word, his finger reaches forward, dancing along the hemline of the dark, simple panties you were wearing. His finger curves under the band on your thigh, the rough pad of it skimming against your skin before he grabs the banding and swiftly yanks, snapping your panties and letting the fabric fall to the floor.

You blinked rapidly, unable to help the light laugh of surprise that left your lips even as he nodded towards the table behind you.

“Sit.”

Shifting backwards, you pressed your hands against the table and hopped up, bare ass pressed against the cold surface as you smirked at him. You spread your legs for him, and Joel inhaled sharply through his nose, his hand twitching on his thigh as if he wanted to touch you, but still he held back.

“Touch yourself,” he murmured, and your eyes widened before the words sent desire curling low in your stomach.

You placed your hand on your lower stomach, fingers spread as you dipped down lower, until you slid them through your folds that had grown wet from his words and your grinding against his hips.

“Already so wet,” Joel muttered, his hands moving to slowly unbutton his jeans even as he kept watching you touch yourself.

The sight of him unzipping his pants caused your breath to hitch, your wet fingers tracing up to begin to rub slow circles over your clit. You bite your lip, feeling the pleasure start to build as you touch yourself while Joel busies himself with pulling his cock out of his pants. 

It was the first time you had actually seen it and, fuck, he was big. You already knew he was, had felt every delicious inch of him deep inside of you. But seeing the strong, stoic Joel Miller sitting in front of you now, legs spread with his cock in his hand, hard at the sight of you, was enough to shoot you even closer to an orgasm.

“Don’t you want to feel?” you whispered, shivering with a moan as you watched Joel lift one of his hands and lick his palm slowly. A brief thought passed through your mind, wondering what that tongue would feel like working at your clit instead of your fingers, and you began to stimulate yourself faster.

“Oh, I will,” Joel gave a small smirk, one that grew just a bit at the moan that left you at the seductive teasing and that downright fucking sinful smirk.

“Fuck,” you whispered, eyes glued to his hand as it found his dick and he began to pump himself slowly.

Joel grunted, and you locked the sound of it away for later, for those lonely nights where you had only your own hand and no other company to bring you pleasure. He fists himself almost lazily, eyes drinking you in as your fingers picked up on your clit. Your mouth opens, breath coming in small pants as your hips begin to lift towards your own touch.

“That’s it,” Joel murmured, and you resisted the urge to close your eyes and tilt your head back, too intoxicated by the sight of him getting himself off just from watching you touch yourself. “Make yourself cum because of me.”

A loud moan escapes your parted lips, hips bucking up into the air as you rubbed your clit faster, finding just the right angle as your pleasure crests, then explodes through your body as you lose yourself in the mind numbing bliss of an orgasm.

Joel stood as you moaned through it, hands finding your sides to lower you back against the table even as your thighs twitched from the aftershocks of the orgasm. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of you spread across his table, your face flushed and pussy dripping wet from an orgasm, before he collected your release on his fingers and spread it across his dick.

He pumped himself a few times, placing the head of his cock against your entrance as you looked up at him, licking your lips in anticipation.

“You ready?” he asked quietly, and you nodded quickly, legs wrapping around his hips as he slowly pushed into you.

Even though you had already felt him inside you before, it felt just as delicious as the first time you had fucked as his dick entered you inch by inch. Your cunt gripped him tightly as he bottomed out, his palms placed on either side of you, bracing himself against the table as he leaned down.

For a moment you wondered if he was going to break his rule, but Joel stopped before he could get close enough to kiss you. He seemed to be trying to collect himself, brows furrowed and eyes dark as sin as he pulled out of you a few inches to thrust back in.

You moan at the same time he does, though Joel was much quieter as he pulled out to thrust back in again.

And again.

And again.

The sound of the wooden table creaking, the legs scraping against the tile of the kitchen floor as Joel fucked you was almost as deliciously sinful as the sound of skin slapping against skin with each thrust. One of your hands grabs the edge of the table above your head, your other hand snaking down to rub your clit as he begins to thrust faster.

“Fuck, you—” Joel cut himself off, still holding some part of himself back, even now when he was fucking you like you were both utterly depraved, sinful beings. Which you might be.

“So good,” he finally mutters, his hands coming up to grab the top edge of the table around your hand, his forehead falling to rest against the table next to your head so you could hear every grunt, every sharp breath of pleasure leave his lips as he fucked you. “Feel so good.”

“Mm,” you moaned, nodding desperately to agree even as the ability failed you to concisely word the pleasure that was building. “Close. I’m close.”

Joel also nodded beside you, turning his head so his lips could graze your ear.

“Cum on my cock,” he whispers against it, breath fanning against the sensitive skin, and your hips jerk forward to meet his hard thrusts, fingers desperately rubbing your clit until the climb of pleasure broke, and your orgasm washed over you.

Your back arched as you cried out from the intense pleasure, soaking in the feeling of your quivering walls gripping every inch of his dick as he fucked you through your high.

“God,” Joel groaned, grabbing your hips as he leaned back, pulling you roughly against him to meet each of his hard thrusts. You fought to keep your eyes open, vision blurry as you watched his head lean back, lips parted as his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

He bucked into you hard once, twice, before pulling out, his hand finding his dick as he pumped the cum out of his cock to land on your inner thighs. Joel panted, eyes opening and glazing over from the ecstasy of his orgasm. His chest kept heaving as he continued to catch his breath, even as his gaze lowered to look at you spread out and well-fucked on his table beneath him, his cum dripping down your thighs.

“Here we are again,” you murmur once you could find your voice, the words hoarse, your eyebrow arching as a tired smirk turns up your lips. “I think you might have a thing for kitchens, Joel Miller.”

A huff that sounded a bit too much like a laugh escaped Joel’s lips, and he shakes his head as he tucks his softening dick away. He turns, walking over to his counter, and your head drops back against the table, mind swimming with the desire to give into the gentle lull of sleep in the sweet afterglow of sex.

“Here,” Joel murmured, and you opened your eyes to see he was holding out a hand towel he had used to clean his hand.

You take it with a nod of thanks, pushing yourself up with weak arms until you were sitting up well enough so you could clean the mess he had left between your legs once again.

He took the towel back once you were done cleaning yourself, moving into the attached washroom to supposedly drop it somewhere to be cleaned later before walking back out to meet you. 

Joel’s hand reaches out, an offering to help you up, and you give a small, amused smile at the familiar situation as you take it.

You stumbled a bit as you stood, and Joel’s hand tightened on yours minutely, helping you steady yourself. You murmured a tired thanks, leaning down to pick up your ruined panties, shoving them in the pocket of your pants once you pulled them back on.

“I’ll walk you home,” Joel said quietly, and your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you looked at him. He rolled his eyes, gaze averting as he muttered, “I promised Tommy.”

“Ah,” you nodded, the thought of your friend making you wince because, shit, you’ve fucked his brother twice now.

Maybe Joel was thinking the same thing, because you both went quiet as you fixed yourselves up so you looked presentable enough in case you ran into anybody else on the walk back to your house, and not like you had definitely, without a doubt just fucked each other. Your legs were shaky as you left Joel’s house, but you had walked further distances on more unsteady legs before. This wasn’t that hard. 

It was quiet, the chirps of insects the only sound you could hear other than the echoes of your shoes tapping against the pavement as you walked down the empty streets of Jackson. Luckily, you didn’t end up running into anyone as you rounded the corner onto your street, and saw the familiar Number 27 that you called home.

Or tried to call home.

You sigh quietly, hands shoved inside your pockets as you glance back at Joel. The two of you came to a slow stop in front of your fence, and after a moment of trying to catch his eye and failing, you shrugged to yourself as you reached out to push the gate open.

“We can’t do this again.”

The words made you pause, and you glanced over your shoulder back at Joel.

He still wasn’t looking at you, his gaze turned up towards the night sky. Jackson wasn’t so well-lit that you couldn’t see the stars, and one glance up showed that the multitude of those stars were twinkling in the clear expanse of midnight blue before you looked back down.

Your eyes traced over Joel’s face, over the strong nose, gray scruff, and wrinkles that were from both age as well as a hard life of survival and loss.

“Yeah,” you found yourself agreeing quietly, your feet shifting away from him, walking backwards down your path as you didn’t look away from him just yet. “Yeah, we can’t.”

Finally you turned, walking silently the rest of the way up to your porch. It wasn’t until you were through your door and shutting it behind you when you felt that familiar, intense gaze on your back.

You ignored it.

[purplecoffee13]

Mr. Sunshine - part 2

Part 1 & Series Masterlist & General Masterlist

Summary: “You start tutoring Harry, the two of you grow closer, and you get more and more confused with the way you feel about him.”

Wc: 4K

Tropes: grumpy!MC x sunshine!H

Warnings: none. Just Harry being a cutie and bantering with Y/N

"Wait... which one do metanarratives belong to again?"

"Lyotard!"

"Oi, chill out, sunshine! You're giving me too much information at the same time. Everything and everyone is beginning to look the same to me." Harry sighs, leaning back in his seat.

You and him had been going over different literary theories for the past few weeks. You felt it was necessary for him to be able to explain each theory at the top of his head, both for his upcoming re-sit as for his own benefit. It'd make it easier to identify said theories in the reading material you got from the course.

Your jaw clenched at his nickname for you. He had been using it ever since the first session. You knew he did it to annoy you, and it was most definitely sarcastic. If anything, you should call him sunshine. He is quite literally Mr. Sunshine. Always smiling, always happy and never put down by the weight of the world.

Asshole.

"The Postmodern Condition quite literally revolves around metanarratives. Or well, its skepticism towards it." You explain to him what feels like the thousandth time.

You aren't exactly annoyed with repetition; you knew what you were getting yourself into. You are simply frustrated with the fact that it seems like Harry doesn't want to remember what he's studying. You know he's smart, and you know he can memorize things quite quickly, but these literary theories seem to be kicking him in the butt.

You, however, have found that with enough nagging and fed up glares he puts in the work you know he's capable of. He likes your stern attitude, maybe it motivates him better, you think.

Harry has been loving your tutoring hours, and he never wants it to end. He loves postmodernism and post-structuralism, and knows more about the subjects than the professor of your course, but he made sure not to tell you. It would just be two more things for you to explain to him, and an opportunity for more tutoring sessions to attend.

He knows that you have been trying to be nice, and he sees that you've been enjoying helping him. Those soft sides of you, though they didn't come out often, were like seeing rays of sunshine through a cloud. But he loved your storm, and frankly, he was getting a bit freaked out at how non aggressive you were being towards him. So he found other ways to get on your nerves, and boy did it work.

"Right, right... I'm hungry, wanna eat something?" Harry changes the subject once again. He has been unwilling to study this whole session. It seems like this week he has lost all motivation and it is irritating you to no end. He almost has all the necessary theories down, but it appears as if he doesn't want to remember them.

"No! We aren't done yet. C'mon, you literally almost got it." You growl, the frustration dripping from your voice. Arms crossed, you stare at him and watch as he leans forward to you with a deviant smirk on his face.

"Get food with me and I promise I'll be a good student." He tries to bargain.

"I don't know why you're trying to bribe me with your obedience. These tutoring sessions are beneficial to you, not me." You cross your arms, leaning back into your seat. You are exhausted from all the studying too, but you know that if he just puts his mind to it, it won't take longer than ten minutes for Harry to have everything memorized. But of course, he needs to take the difficult route...

"How do you feel about burgers? I'm not really in the mood for pizza tonight." Harry ignores you and takes his phone out of his pocket.

"Harry!" You groan, throwing your head back in frustration.

"Fine, sunshine, if you really want pizza we'll go to Alessandro's." He sounds like a defeated child, and despite the migraines Harry caused you, a smile grew on your face.

"I hate you." You simply say, fighting the corners of your lip from tugging up.

"You love me. It's okay, you can admit it. I love you too, you know?" Harry just grins at you. Your jaw is clenched and you roll your eyes, and he celebrates before you even say the word, because he's learned everything about your body language when it comes to his. Rolling your eyes means he's won you over.

When Harry closes his books and starts packing up, you frown. "What do you think you're doing? We're going right back to studying after dinner."

"I know." He shrugs, continuing to put away his stuff.

"Then why are you putting your books in your bag?"

"Because we're going out to eat." Harry says, getting up and putting on his jacket. Not once does he meet your eye. His casual tone has you dumbfounded.

"I thought you were ordering pizza." You squint your eyes at him, trying to get him to stay. Why did he insist on all the hassle anyway?

"You don't want pizza." He replies in a calm tone as he begins packing up your books for you. You look up at him, your glance shooting down to the necklace that dangles below his face as he leans over you. His scent takes over your entire nose, and you feel yourself get a little distracted from it. Just for a second, though. You are quick to regain your senses.

"Don't tell me what I feel." You growl at him. Harry doesn't do anything but chuckle at your — to him — weak attempt at shoving him away. Not today, he thinks. Not ever.

"When we got pizza two weeks ago, you said you can only have it every few months, otherwise you'll get sick of it." Harry says, and you feel you ears go red. You had said that. And he had remembered it.

What a weirdo.

After a few moments of silence, you decided to speak up. After all, he was being nice and all, so you figured you owed him a reply at the very least.

"Where is this stupid hamburger place anyway?"

************************************************

"I can't believe you still haven't had enough." You say, eyes wide as you watch Harry completely demolish what's left on your plate after you gave up on clearing it.

He ate so much, which wasn't particularly weird for a guy built like him. He needed the food, it was fuel to him and he had mentioned that he hadn't eaten a lot today. Still, you find yourself fascinated at just how much he manages to eat.

"Oi, stop shaming me."

"I'm not shaming, just observing." You shrug, letting your gaze fall into the rest of the diner where Harry drove the both of you tonight. It was a bit old fashioned, had some of that 50's retro feel to it. Reminded you of Grease. You loved that movie.

You find two of the waitresses giggling and staring at Harry while whispering things to each other. When they catch your gaze, their eyes widen for a second, before they both turn their back to you and get back to work. Weird.

"What are you glaring at?" Harry asks before taking a drink from his coke. You eyes shoot back to his. You hadn't realized you were glaring. No wonder the girls didn't dare hold your eyes.

"I'm not glaring, this is just my face." You give him a sarcastic smile, fiddling with the straw of your drink. Harry, sipping on that drink of his, still manages to conjure somewhat of a smile which he happily throws at you. You feel yourself envy him for it. That lightness he carries with him, the way he uncomplicates things with the light of his smile. It's unfair, and yet there is no way in which you could ever be mad at him for it.

"Can I ask you a question?" You say it before you can stop yourself. This so isn't you, why would you ask permission to ask him a question? What has gotten into you?

"Yes, they're real." Harry strokes a finger over his mouth and pulls it into a naughty smile.

"Harry..." you urge.

"You can ask me anything, sunshine." He assures you before taking the last piece of your hamburger in his mouth, and you ignore how your cheeks warm up at the way he says your name.

"How are you always so... happy?" You tilt your head a bit as you ask the question. You wait until Harry has swallowed his food and took another gulp of his drink before finally saying something.

"I regularly get laid."

Your eyes widen in horror. Of course you wouldn't get anything close to a serious answer from him. That's what irritated you about him. It wasn't the part where insinuating that he was sleeping with other people bothered you, it was the part where he took everything as a joke. Yeah, that was the part that annoyed you the most. Harry starts laughing at your shocked face.

"What? It's true." He chuckles. "It's way easier to have a positive outlook on life if you aren't sexually frustrated."

It stays quiet between the two of you. It is a moment in which you pretend you do not find his answer funny, and where he pretends he doesn't know you do actually find it funny.

"Can I ask you a question?" Harry asks, and you nod, hoping the subject will be changed now. That vulnerable moment of yours didn't unravel the way you hoped it would. Nothing ever unravels the way you think it will around Harry.

"How come I've never seen you at a party?"

You shrug. "Maybe you haven't looked hard enough."

"I have." Harry doesn't miss a beat with responding to you. "You're never there. You hate people that much?"

"I don't hate people." You suddenly feel defensive. You never quite mind having people think of you as a the boring silent girl or the buzz killer, but Harry just confronting you with it hits harder than it should. Maybe it's because he's saying it, or maybe it's because of your past experiences. Either way, it's bothering you.

"Then what is it?" He keeps pushing.

"None of your goddamn business." You snap at him; your standard method to keep people as far away as you can. But Harry shakes his head, making a disapproving noise.

"Nope. I answered your question, you answer mine. An eye for an eye, my friend." He argues casually. Silence befalls the two of you as you ponder on how to answer that. You half expected him to throw out some profanities and leave, like you think the average person would have done if they had been snapped at like that, so now you're at a loss for words.

"I don't like to drink."

"That's why you don't go to parties?"Harry frowns in a way where you know he doesn't fully believe you. You ignore it, and shrug you shoulders.

"I guess, yeah." You slowly nod, quite satisfied with your answer of choice. It's partly honest and believable, although Harry doesn't quite seem to.

"You don't have to stop yourself from going to a party just because you don't like to drink." Harry tilts his head.

"Yeah, thanks for the advice." You attempt to smile at him but it your mouth just twists very awkwardly and so you shoot your head down. You get up from the booth, and gather your stuff.

"I'm gonna go the bathroom, and then we're going to continue studying." You say, not even waiting for an answer before you walk away.

When you come back, Harry is already waiting by the door with his coat on. You frown and try to walk past him to the table, where you see some cash laying. But Harry grabs your arm and pulls you towards him before you can pass him. You look up at him with big eyes; you're caught off guard by his touch.

He opens the door for you and puts a hand the small of your back, leading you back to the car. He doesn't take it off of you, even though you're already outside.

"How much was it?"

"It's taken care of."

"How much was it?"

"Consider it a payment for your tutoring services." Harry says as he opens the car door for you.

"Harry!" You cross your arms, scowling at him. He chuckles at your angry demeanor. He chuckles! You couldn't believe him, he thought your anger was funny?! "You pay me in coffee. Just let me pay you back."

"It's really okay, Y/N. I was the one who wanted to go out to eat, I was happy to pay." He says, keeping his eyes on you as he takes a hold of your crossed arms and pushed you into the passenger seat. For some reason, you let him. And he knows you are letting him do this, and it makes the grin on his face grow even more. "Feet in."

You hesitantly follow his orders, but your crossed arms and scowl remain. Your eyes widen when Harry grabs your seatbelt and leans over you to buckle it. You want to be mad at the way he's handling you like a toddler, but then again you are acting like that out of some form of defiance to him paying for you. But it's mostly the smell of his perfume that washes any anger or resentment you might have towards him away. You stare breathlessly at the few curls that hangs before his face and you realize you haven't ever seen anyone this beautiful.

Harry doesn't look at you when he pulls away, or as he closes your door and walks to the drivers' seat. He doesn't even glance at you when he's buckling his own seatbelt or starting the car. But you do. You stare at him like a freak. When the car starts you get thrown out of your trance, and you realize... fuck. You need to get laid.

************************************************

You:

Hey

Harry:

Hey sunshine

You:

you reply fast

Harry:

only if it's important ;)

You:

🙄… I wanted to say thanks for the dinner again. I hope it wasn't too expensive.

Harry:

it was my pleasure sunshine. And it wasn't :)

You:

are you sure? I mean the prices of these food joints keep getting higher and higher

Harry:

I'm not going to let you pay your part.

You:

come on! why not? I don't want to feel like I owe you anything

Harry:

I owe you more than you owe me. You're the one tutoring me.

You:

still...

Harry:

dinner is on me. End of discussion.

besides, a gentleman always pays on the first date.

You stare at your screen, wide eyes. How does he always know how to shut you up?

Harry:

that's what I thought. Goodnight sunshine xx

************************************************

"I think you got it." You sigh, leaned back in your seat as you look at Harry, who is sitting across from you. His eyebrows knit together, and he shakes his head.

"I don't know..."

"Harry, you're going to ace this re-sit. I promise, you know more about literary theories than I did when I made the test, and I got an A." You assure him.

Ever since your shared dinner, Harry insisted on meeting up three times a week instead of two. Sometimes he would even plead for four, and since you had quite literally no friends and thus no social life, you agreed. It was kind of pathetic, but you had begun to realize that you might have just become a loner out of habit, not because you necessarily love being on your own more than being around people.

It had dwelled on you, that thought. The idea that you maybe had been a people person after all, but that no one wanted to hang out with you, which made you grumpy and hurt and caused you to push people away. But you knew that it wasn't a thought, it was a realization. You had pushed the happiness of other people's company away because what happened in the past had scared you too much.

Harry looks at you, unsure. You don't like seeing him this insecure, even though you know it's just his nerves for the re-sit on Friday. Over the weeks you have gained this need to see him happy, which has confused you to the very max. But you can't help it, it doesn't look right when he's anything but cheery.

"How about you go over your notes, find your weak points, and memorize the fuck out of those. And then I'll go over everything with your on Friday morning." You offer, and he nods, grabbing the papers and starting to wade through them. His face is bundled up into a serious, concentrated frown. His concentration face is the closest you think you're ever going to be to seeing his angry face.

You sit in silence for the next five minutes as you wait for him to highlight all the points he wants some more clarification on. You drink the last of your caramel macchiato and get up to throw it away. Harry's eyes shoot up towards you, and he sits up a little straighter. You have noticed over the past two months that Harry is very observant of your every move.

A couple more minutes go by in which he silently studies the papers in his hands and you're cleaning up the mess you both have made on the desk. The amount of books and notes and scribbles have gone into these months of tutoring is insane. Besides your uni work, this is the most effort you've ever put into something, or better said someone. But it was worth it. You're staring at him and you think yes, yes it was worth it.

If there's anything that you have learned from your limited time with him, it's that he might just be the only one whose annoying features don't annoy you.

You thought that maybe your introverted character was just you shutting out anyone who would dare to come to close, and maybe it was, partly at least, but you had realized that there was a reason you didn't talk to a lot of people. They were insufferable!

You had tried, after your dinner with Harry, to be more social in class. Maybe even 'get laid' as Harry had so eloquently described. At the end of the day, he was kind of right. And you thought that maybe you just had some kind of stick up your ass that needed to be removed.

But you soon realized that it wasn't all you. People were annoying. So, in the end you only got a bit closer to your roommate. She was cool, and like Harry, her presence didn't make you want to rip your hair out.

You know, though, that with Harry it's different. It's extra comforting and extra calming, but you aren't quite ready to admit that to yourself. It's best to ignore it, especially because after these tutoring sessions, the contact between you and him would have to come from his own free will. And you didn't think you were fun enough for him to stay friend with voluntarily.

"Okay." Harry sighs, leaning back as he threw the paper on the table. He's so tired; his eyes are a bit red. He really needs to sleep.

"Don't look so freaked out, you're fine." You spew out the most encouraging thing your brain can come up with. Inspirational speeches have never really been your forte, so to say.

Harry doesn't say anything, just nods and packs his bag. You feel a pit in your stomach. He looks kind of sad. Did you just cause that?

In a state of panic, you fiddle with your opened bag, and an un-eaten Twix bar you bought earlier today catches your eye. You never ate it because you forgot, and now you're not hungry anymore. You take it out of your bag and put it on his side of the table.

Harry, who was organizing his own stuff, frowns at the candy bar laid in front of him, and his eyes slowly trail up to you. You just stare at him, almost a scared look on his face, as you keep your mouth shut and pray he will understand the message.

"Did you just give me a candy bar?" He questions the obvious. You nod, which seems to make him more confused. "Why?"

You shrug your shoulders, and start packing up more of your stuff. Your jaw clenches and upon feeling your cheeks heat up, you reach out to snatch the candy bar away from him. "You know what, never mind—"

But Harry grabs your wrist before you can take a hold of the candy bar, and he takes the Twix with his other hand, putting it in his bag. He gives you a playful smirk as he leans forward, your hand brushing against his shirt.

"Thank you, sunshine."

He knew what the Twix bar meant, he knew you were trying to console him in your own odd way. He just wanted to put you on the spot. You scowl at him, but don't say anything.

"So, I had a question." Harry says after letting go of your wrist and continuing to fill up his bag with his studying materials. You hum a in a bored tone, a bit frustrated with him at the way he just teased you.

"My friends are throwing a party on Saturday, and I thought you might like to come with me."

Your mouth is still tightly shut, but the glare you send his way is enough of an answer. No.

"What do you say, hmm? I promise it'll be fun." He wiggles his eyebrows. Your glare shoots from his eyebrows back to his eyes. You don't know if that was supposed to make the offer enticing, because if anything it made you want to go even less.

"No."

"Ah, c'mon! Why not?"

"I don't drink." You throw the argument from last time back on the table.

"We'll stay sober together. We'll just drink soda or whatever."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I told you, I don't drink." You say, and get up from your seat, walking away.

"And I told you, we can stay sober. You don't need alcohol to have fun." Harry shrugs, stumbling out of his seat to catch up with you.

"I know that." You grumble.

"Then what's the problem? Why don't you want to go?"

You're waiting until you snap at him. Tell that he needs to mind his own business and quit pushing you because he's not your friend or even anything close to that. That just because you sit and help him in exchange for coffee means that he is entitled to know anything about you.

But you can't. Because it isn't true. So even though there's a part inside of you that tells you to scream at him, you take a deep breath instead. You turn to him, and look into his green eyes. You don't stare at them often enough.

"Because I don't want to drink."

"But I just said—"

"At all."

Harry tilts his head at your confession. You hold your breath until he finally speak up again.

"At all?"

"At all."

You look at him expectantly, but an answer never comes from Harry. Instead, he simply nods and resumes to walking. Slightly dazed, it takes a few seconds for your feet to get with the program and start moving too.

The rest of the way to your place, he says absolutely nothing...

[writingdrownedrat]

Pairing- Astarion x Afab!Tav ( gender neutral pronouns)

18+, blood, biting, sensory play, hair pulling, rough sex, PiV, oral sex- m receiving, creampie

Summary- Pretty much just vampire sex with a muzzle based on this post.

Word count: 2,141

“A… muzzle?” Astarion was taken aback, staring down at the leather contraption they held in their hands. He could tell by the look on their face when they requested he join them in a private room of the inn for the night, that they had been plotting something. He wouldn't have guessed in a million years that their idea would include a muzzle, however. “Where did you even find such a thing?”

“At the brothel, in one of the wardrobes.” They unfastened the buckles that held it closed. “I thought it might make tonight's feeding more… interesting.”

“You expect me to wear that thing?” His face contorted at the idea. They caressed a soothing hand over his shoulder.

“Your hunger is always the best part, but you seem to have trouble restraining yourself. You always bite before I even get the chance to savor the yearning aggression of it all.” They gave a pleading look up at him. His half lidded stare seared down at them. He looked them over questioningly, but they didn't back down. He would be lying if he said the idea didn't pique an interest deep in his mind.

“I fail to see the benefit for me in this.” he crossed his arms, peering down his nose at them.

“A lesson in patience and the gift of delayed gratification?” They batted their lashes. He scoffed but didn't disagree. “So?”

“I can't say I'm not intrigued.” His posture softened ever so slightly.

“If you don't like it just say the word and we'll stop.” They held up the leather piece and raised their eyebrows. They could see the corner of his mouth twitch, a smile threatening. He took the muzzle from their hands and examined it for a second.

He liked when they took control. After years of feeling as if he could only rely on himself, it was nice to hand the reins over someone he knew he could trust. It felt like a great weight off his shoulders, even if just for a moment. He was also so used to discarding his needs for the sake of his partner. When they took charge, it was all about him and his pleasure and it was very clear how much they enjoyed getting him off.

“Alright, we can play your little game tonight. But remember, my dear, I don't intend to let you torture me without consequence. The worse you make it, the worse I'll have to repay you.” There was a mischievous glint in his eye as he handed the muzzle back to them. They got to work putting it in him, adjusting the straps to be secure but not too tight.

“Aren't you a sight.” They stood back to admire him in the facepiece. It consisted of a mask that covered from his nose to his chin with two straps that wrapped around his head just above and below his pointed ears. Over his mouth was a small hole, just big enough to show his plump, pale pink, lips but they were barricaded from his lover by four, small, metal bars.

They pressed a kiss against the cold metal rods. He tried to return it but his lips could only press against the mask. He grunted, annoyed by the lack of contact he was able to make. Tav laughed at his frustration, finding it rather adorable. Their lips left his trailing kisses along his jaw and down his neck as they fiddled with the buttons of his lavish top. His fingers clung tightly to their biceps, keeping them from pulling away too soon. He was both surprised and irritated at how desperate he already was to have his lips against their warm skin.

They pulled his shirt off his shoulders, peppering more kisses to the exposed skin and sank to their knees before him. Their lips planted a relaxed kiss on his hip bone. They pulled down his pants and underwear in one swift motion and took his engorged cock into their palm, licking the drops of precum that dribbled from his slit.

“Ever the tease.” Astarion tutted. Tav gave a challenged look and let their tongue glide from the base of his hardness to the tip. He stroked their cheek, fingers curling around their chin to hold their jaw in place. They pulled back the thin skin that wrapped his head, taking just the tip into their watering maw. He grimaced at the new sensation, attempting to engulf himself deeper. They shot a glare up at him, gripping his wrist as a dominant warning.

They took their time filling their mouth with him further. Their tongue danced around his head, his salty spend melting against their taste buds. His whole body tensed when they hollowed their cheeks around him. It was a lewd sight that drove him out of control. His thighs trembled and he again tried to shove himself down their throat. They gave a sharp swat to his supple ass cheek, releasing from him with an obscene ‘pop’ sound. He pulled them up to eye level by a fistful of their sweaty locks.

He stepped out of his bottoms and backed them up until the backs of their knees hit the sturdy, wooden, bed frame. Their lips never broke from kissing along his toned chest until they were tipping onto the mattress. He was quick to crawl on top of them, eager to feel as much of them pressed against him as possible to make up for the absence of their taste. They pulled their own shirt off, tossing it over the side of the bed onto the floor. Astarion tugged the strap of their bra down their shoulder, revealing more of their cleavage to him.

He leaned down to press his lips to the space between their heavy breasts despite the barrier between the two of them. He snarled against their chest and the bars that restrained him, deprivation getting to his head. His hands gripped their hips hard enough to leave five little bruises where his fingertips bore into them. He rocked his hips against theirs, rubbing his growing erection against the small bundle of nerves hidden beneath their layers of clothing. Tav’s hands found his snow white curls, gripping onto his hair to hold his obstructed mouth to them. He gave another thrust against their sex, feeling their arousal begin to soak through the fabric of their underwear and bottoms. He could smell them, and that drove him even crazier.

He tore ravenously through the remainder of their clothes, his desire to see and feel the rest of them burning through his veins like wildfire. His nimble hand moved between their legs, brushing past the patch of thick dark hair at their mound, collecting their honey on his slender middle and ring fingers. Egged on by their moans, he brought the wetted digits to his mouth, pushing his tongue against the metal rods to lick Tav’s grool from them. His mouth flooded with saliva, wanting for more.

He moved back to Tav’s neck. Pools of drool seeped from the mask, wetting their flushed skin. His tongue flattened against the metal in an attempt to get even the faintest hint of them. His hips rutted against their thigh, painting them in a sticky layer of precum. A low growl tore through his chest. He grabbed their wrists with a cruel grip, pinning their arms above their head as he continued to rub himself against their leg. They smirked down at him, content to allow him to take whatever pleasure he could, but it wasn't enough.

He moved his mouth against their breast and they gasped at the sensation of their hardening nub slotting through the cold bars. He licked and sucked vulgarly, groans and whimpers tumbling from his throat. With the mask however, he was unable get enough of them into his mouth for his liking. He bit down on the tip of their budding nipple, earning an erotic yelp from them.

“I- I need more- fuck. Please.” He snarled. Strings of spit clung to their skin as he leaned back to look into their eyes. They could only nod enthusiastically in response. He rolled over, holding them tightly in his arms so they moved with him.

They wasted no time, sinking down onto his needy cock. His hips snapped up against theirs, forcing more of himself into their weepy hole.

“Ah, ah, patience, puppy.” They chastised, licking the sensitive point of his ear and giving a lazy rock of their pelvis. He let out a hiss of air, nails digging deliciously into their back, the urge they needed to pick up their pace. His eyes stung with tears, his sounds becoming more pathetic. His nails dragged down their flesh, leaving deep red scratches they’d admire in the mirror later. His body convulsed beneath them.

Any semblance of the cool, calculated, Astarion they were used to was gone. He was nothing more than a predator taunted by prey just out of reach. They could see his savage nature in his feral carmine gaze and it's exactly what they were searching for.

Nothing could quell the fire that burned in him. His hands were back at their hips, holding them in place so he could fuck himself deep against their cervix. Metal clashed against sharp teeth, too lost in the moment to recognize that his attempt to bite was futile. He was just happy to be free of their taunting, leaving them speechless with each unforgiving buck.

“I need- need to- taste you, pet.” His words were strained between mewls. “You- want that too. Don't you?” He negotiated urgently. “Let me have you, please- Fuck- please.” He rambled on, ready to say whatever it took to break their resolve.

Their climax was fast approaching, they felt it bubble in their abdomen. Each kiss of his head to the entrance of their womb had them wailing. They did want his bite, more than anything, it was all they needed to push them to the finish line. He didn't stop his thrusts as they clumsily fiddled with the buckles at the back of his head.

Finally, the mask fell off and the beast was loose. White daggers scraped against the plane of their shoulder. Their blood pearled in the wake of the lacerations. His tongue was quick to lap up their sweet essence. He brought their wrist to his lips, teeth sinking into the warm meat. The icy, burning, pain sent a flood of hedonistic delight through them.

He fed from their wrist for only a moment before moving to puncture through their bicep, drawing out more of their red, hot, nectar. He continued pounding into their slippery tunnel, their slick walls enveloping him most delectably. They were a sobbing mess above him, defenseless against his barbaric actions. He moved again, fangs scraping against their jaw. More blood trickled from the lesions. He licked them clean, leaving only faint smears of crimson. He bit again, and again, finding a new spot each time. One on their breast, on their collar bone, up their shoulders. His swollen cock pulsed inside them. He held a fistful of their hair, unnecessarily afraid they might slip away.

When he was pleased with the amount of marks imprinted on them, and could hold himself back no longer, he bit into the thick artery that ran up their neck. This threw them over the edge. Their head fell forward, pulling against his grasp and their body shuttered. As their blood overtook his senses, he too came undone.

They could feel his seed spilling into them, more than he’d ever given them before. The hammer of their orgasm sang through them, enhanced by the intoxicating ache of the tender wounds left by their lover. He stayed sheathed in them as he finished his feast on them. It was harder for him now more than ever to pull away before draining too much.

Tav’s brain tingled, reeling from endorphins and blood loss. They collapsed onto the soft mattress, falling out of his hold. He slipped out of them, leaning down to press a kiss to each bite.

“You can thank me for your lesson any time now.” They smirked. They looked so beautiful, eyes shut peacefully in contrast to the rapid rise and fall of their chest.

“I’m afraid I was a bit too distracted to learn anything of value. I think I might need another demonstration.” He rested his weight on top of them, burying his face in the crook of their neck, and inhaling their intoxicating scent.

“I think that can be arranged.” They giggled, raking a hand through unruly silver curls.

“Good.” he growled quietly against their ear. He wasn't about to admit they were right, but he certainly wouldn't turn down another round of this in the future.

[tickletastic]

Fear Toxin, Love, and Other Sh*tty Drugs

Fandom: DC

Ship: JayRoy

Warnings: canon typical violence, panic attacks (sort of- after effects of fear toxin?)

Summary: Jason and Roy have a rough night out on patrol in Gotham, nothing goes as planned, and an Arkham breakout is just the cherry on top. (not a whole lot of tickling, i got carried away, cross posted to my AO3 bc I planned a second, non-tickly chapter)

The streets of Gotham had not been kind last night.

The previous night started just as expected, a crime syndicate carelessly offloading giant tin shipping containers of the world’s most dangerous weapons, a plan in the works for them to leave them in crime alley, to leave them with the most desperate people in the city and watch Gotham crumble. It was a kid that had tipped Jason off, just some kid with a shitbag dad who thought Jason could save them, thought Jason could save anyone. Jason found out the rest from some of his undercover contacts, who sounded nearly afraid when discussing the kinds of weapons that would soon reach Gotham’s streets. 

Jason was now waiting, impatient and annoyed, on the corner of a tall building, waiting for the right time to jump into action. The building used to have some mom and pop restaurant on the main floor, one that Jason would frequent after long nights of patrol, when he couldn’t drag his body any further. Apartments were above, but they had been condemned at some point after the restaurant closed down. Now, Jason has a safehouse set up in one of the old rooms, and, though he’d never admit it, he uses Wayne funds to stock the old restaurant with frozen pizzas, chips, mac n cheese, and other snacks for the kids that wander by, hoping that they’ll find food somewhere like this. 

Roy is at his back, eating greasy chips from a tupperware container. Jason had insisted that Roy didn’t need a patrol snack, but, after caving in, he made sure, at least, that the snack wouldn’t be so loud. If it weren’t for Roy, Jason would’ve lunged into the action by now, not caring if the syndicate dealt him a broken leg or a dislocated jaw while he took down enough of them to get the weapons somewhere far from here. Roy had always been the patient one, and he manages to keep Jason’s irritability at a low by talking about some book he wanted to read.

The crimes are cresting, the final load now on Gotham’s dock, a sound of trucks in the distance. Now would be the best time, Roy can see every opportunity laid out in front of him, but then Oracle’s voice is ringing out over the comms, panicked and urgent, announcing that tonight, some random fucking night that was just supposed to involve stopping petty robberies and killing a syndicate boss, was the seemingly biannual Arkham breakout. 

Roy and Jason are caught in a heated, whispered debate, Jason thinking they should strike before some goofy D list villain can come interrupt them, but Roy thinks it’s too unpredictable now, that they should return the following week, when Jason knows the syndicate planned to do inventory of their new stash. Jason stands up, Roy grabbing him by the leg of his pants, just as Oracle makes another announcement, the silence between Roy and Jason so tense that it could be broken in half. Roy’s heart started to beat faster, his palms suddenly sweaty where he gripped his bow, the world around them suddenly a cacophony of noise. In spite of the precautions, the two-foot thick concrete walls, and the fucking manual entry external lock system for the cell, he had gotten out too. 

Jason tensed, but otherwise showed no emotion towards the situation– no reaction to the fact that the man who killed him is roaming the same Gotham streets that he is. It was always like this when it came to the Joker, Jason always tensed up and pushed people away, claiming he’s okay until the second he’s not.

Bruce had a protocol for this exact situation– Jason would be moved to Star City, or JL Tower, or Central City, or even the Amazons– just as far as Bruce could get him as quickly as possible. Then, Tim would find Bruce, Duke, or Steph, and stick to them like glue. Damian was expected to find Dick and stick by his side, but that was more of a formality of the plan, since Damian was usually glued to Dick’s side on patrol anyways.

Jason had never been aware of the plan, too stubborn to ever leave in the face of danger, too eager to throw himself back into fear. Sometimes, Wally would come, taking Jason back to Dick’s apartment in Bludhaven despite Jason’s displeasure and squirming. Sometimes, it would be Diana, or “Aunt Di,” as the Robins had always called her, and Jason couldn’t help but agree to whatever she asked, still awestruck by her presence. One, it was even Hal and Barry, Barry gushing about having gone back in time and seeing a Shakespeare play at the Globe. Usually, though, it was Roy calling Jason, coaxing him back to Star City by faking some non-emergent emergency or begging for Jason to help Lian with a spelling test. Usually it was Roy, but Roy was in Gotham tonight. Roy was in Gotham and he would have to physically pry Jason from the roof to get him to give up the sting he had been planning, and there would be nothing that would convince him that his life, his sanity, might be more important for the time being. 

Nothing except for Oracle’s frantic voice, followed by Nightwing’s– Red Robin hasn’t reported, and nobody’s seen him for at least half an hour, caught up in the noise of the Arkham breakout. They have no clue where he is, and, before Oracle can formulate a plan, or even examine the situation with his non-functioning tracker, Jason is hastily grappling from building to building, searching the database in his helmet for a list of every abandoned warehouse in Gotham. 

The communications system is entirely silent, creeping on as each of the bats scramble to understand where Red Robin would have gone, how they had managed to lose track of him for so long. Roy gives panting, out-of-breath updates periodically, telling of the buildings Jason has checked, falling behind as Jason throws himself from rooftop to rooftop. 

Oracle’s gasp rings out over the speakers, hollow and practically shouting, “we have CCTV! The car manufacturing place on the East Side, the corner of 2nd and Church– Hood is the closest!”

“No!” Bruce shouts over the comms, the worried ebb in his voice coming out more like Bruce than Batman, “Signal and I are not much further, we’re on our way.” 

“Absolutely not, 30 minutes is more than enough time for the clown. I’m not letting another fucking Robin die tonight,” Jason grits, hauling ass towards the building as soon as he can see it, the car company’s logo practically decaying, peeling off the building’s facade. 

“Arsenal, do not let Red Hood enter,” Bruce grits over the line, a hardened command, before his voice softens, “please, don’t let him go in.”

Bruce sounds the most scared Roy has ever heard him, and Roy is terrified. He’s desperately trying to keep up with Jason, throwing himself recklessly over the edges of roofs and down rusty fire escapes, but the distance keeps growing. 

“Jay, I can’t keep up,” Roy shouts, a desperate tone, almost a plea, “Jason Peter Todd, you better not go in without me, you better fuckin’ not.”

“It’s him or me,” Jason grunts, “it’s him or me, and I’m not letting him kill another fucking kid.” 

Jason disappears from Roy’s vision, dropping from the sky, and Roy curses, desperately trying to catch up. When he finally drops from the roofs himself, Jason isn’t there, and the door to the warehouse is wide open, dented where a heavy boot kicked it in. Roy rushes in, zeroing in on the direction of the noises he’s hearing– loud clanging and snotty begging– but there’s another door in the way, another door between him, Jason, Tim, and the monster.

“Fuck- fuck! Jason, let me in!” He screams, throwing his body against the door, desperately trying to make a dent as he bangs and kicks and yells. Over the comms, his own voice, shaky and desperate, shouts to the bats, “he’s in there! He’s fucking in there and I can’t get in, I don’t know what’s happening!”

Roy isn’t calm enough to hear any of the responses, breathing heavily, fighting the encroaching panic. He takes one of his explosive arrows, backing up until he thinks he’ll be able to take the door off its hinges with his shot. He lines it up, shaking in spite of all the practice he’s had, all the years he’s spent protecting himself, protecting Jason. There’s a thick thud heard from the other side of the door, and a staticky buzzing playing out in the building, and Roy sees plumes of smoke seep out from the door’s cracks, he hears maniacal laughter announcing itself, the sound of metal dragging on concrete. 

“Jason, if you can hear me, tell me if there’s someone on the other side of this door,” Roy tries to sound commanding, supportive, but his voice is betraying him, hoarse as he shouts, “Jason, I’m going to blow this thing to shreds, I need you to fucking answer me!”

There’s crashing on the other side of the door, noises that sound pained, gasps and shouts and pleas. Roy starts screaming Jason’s name again and again, desperately hoping he has clearance to blow the door to pieces. He finally backs up, aiming again at the rusted, bolted door, when it swings open, Roy hearing the voice over his comms and in person simultaneously. 

“We’ve got them,” Nightwing announces, and he emerges with Tim over his shoulder, gas masks on both of their faces. Despite the masks, Tim looks less than conscious, slack where he hangs over his older brother’s shoulder.

“Where the fuck is Jason?” Roy asks, shaky and scared, caught somewhere between vomiting or hyperventilating, “please, Dick, please don’t tell me-”

Bruce emerges, the sweat on his face visible between the cowl and his own air mask, one arm under Jason’s knees and the other under his back. Unlike Tim, Jason’s eyes are wide open, frantic, while he shakes violently in Bruce’s grip, muttering horrified under his breath. 

“Why isn’t he wearing a mask? Dick, why isn’t Jason wearing a mask?” Roy shouts, hysterical, “Jason, Jace, are you okay? What the fuck happened?”

When Roy approaches, Jason flinches away with a piercing scream, fighting desperately to get out of Bruce’s grip, seemingly terrified. 

“It was fear toxin, Arsenal,” Bruce responds with a grunt, working hard to keep Jason in his grasp, “Jason was given a direct dose, the mask wouldn’t have helped.”

“What the fuck will help? He looks terrified, what is he seeing? What did that fucker do to him? Where the fuck is he?”

Dick takes a second to turn around, having begun making his way to the front door, “Arsenal, the Joker’s dead.”

Roy just gapes, obediently following Bruce and Dick out the door, hoping to god that the bat won’t use this as another opportunity to ice Jason out, hoping the bats have some hidden remedy to Jason’s current paranoia.

The Batmobile awaits them outside when they get out, the Gotham streets feeling quieter than they had when Roy entered, his heart beating in his ears. The Batmobile is small on the best of days, but Roy ends up taking Damian back to the docks and equipping him with enough padding for a skydiving mission, strapping him securely to the back of Jason’s motorcycle before climbing on. Jason would never forgive him if he left the bike in crime alley anyways, knowing a bit too much about crime alley kids and their penchant for stealing expensive tires.

By the time the two are back at the manor, Tim and Jason are in separate medical rooms, Tim out cold, hooked up to machines galore, and Jason fighting with everything left in him to escape the room. He still has the same terrified look in his eyes, and he’s begging, over and over, not to die, crying for help as if he’s back in Ethiopia. 

Roy can hear Bruce trying to shush him, saying comforting, paternal things in Jason’s ear in spite of the physical force he’s using to keep Jason in the room. “You’re not there, Jay. You’re home, you’re with your dad.”

In spite of the comfort, Jason keeps thrashing, tears freely streaming down his face. Roy looks on from outside for a moment, scared that he’ll make it all worse for Jason if he tries to intervene. 

Roy visibly jumps when a voice sounds from next to him, turning to see Dick, discowled but otherwise still in his costume, his brow furrowed, “we gave him the antidote, but it’s going to take a couple hours. The Joker gave him three times what Scarecrow would have, and strapped the mask to his face so he’d have to breathe it all in.”

“Fuck,” Roy sighs, rubbing over his face with one of his hands, “there’s nothing we can do until then? We can’t just let him go through this.”

Dick sighs, mirroring Roy’s tense expression, “Bruce is trying, I’ve tried, you can give it a shot? Maybe you’ll be able to remind him he’s older than he was back then, that might break the illusion, at least a little bit.”

“Okay, yeah,” Roy says, dropping his hands to his sides, “yeah, I’ll try.”

Dick gives him a reassuring pat on the back before entering the room, dropping his voice to say something hushed to Bruce. Bruce nods, turning to glance at Roy, exhaustion written all over his face. He motions for Roy to enter, and, once he’s sure Roy could hold his own, exits with Dick. 

“Hey, Jay,” Roy says, just above a whisper, “Jay, it’s Roy.” 

Jason is silent now, entire body shaking violently, entire face painted with terror. He’s got a thousand yard stare, seemingly aware that someone is in the room, but looking past Roy. 

“I’m going to come closer, Jason,” Roy announces, stepping towards Jason as if he were some scared animal, because, in some way, he is.

Roy is afraid to touch Jason, afraid that it would trigger him to fight off whatever the hallucinations are making Roy look like. What does he do when Lian’s scared? How does he get her back to sleep when she thinks there’s something lurking in the darkness of the bedroom?

Roy tries to touch Jason as little as possible, maneuvering him so he’s at least close to the edge of the bed. He then rounds the bed to the other side, dropping the weird hospital handle softly so it doesn’t block his way, lying down on one side. He laughs a bit to himself under his breath, trying to shed the shyness from the possibility that one of the other nosy bats could walk in at any time. 

Softly, just loud enough to break the room’s silence, Roy starts to sing Total Eclipse of the Heart, melodic and sweet, like he would sing to Lian when she got scared and crawled between him and Jason in their bed. Roy gets through three quarters of the song before he notices Jason’s shoulders are no longer tensed, that he’s leaning against the bed voluntarily.

Just as Roy is about to start his lullaby rendition of Faithfully, Jason slumps, turning his head. His face is still covered in nervous sweat, and Roy still gets a sense that Jason is not really seeing him, but Jason tries for a hoarse whisper, “R-roy?”

Roy reaches out carefully, easing Jason so his back is on the bed, so he can maneuver them so Roy is holding him, Jason’s head listening to Roy’s heartbeat. “It’s me, Jaybird. Just close your eyes, it’ll all be over soon.” 

Roy feels the spot Jason occupies on his chest getting damp, and starts to run a hand up and down Jason’s back. “I c-can’t stop seeing him. He’s here, he’s g-going to kill me.”

Roy shakes his head, though Jason doesn’t see it, “he can’t hurt you, Jay. He’s gone, and I’d never let him.”

Roy is not entirely sure if Jason believes him, not sure if Jason even knows where he is, but he keeps singing until Jason is shaking a little less, until his breathing has evened out and the spot on his shirt starts to dry. 

When Jason wakes up the next morning, feeling like he has the worst hangover of his life, he coughs hard and long until he’s being manhandled upright, a glass brought to his lips. Dick is helping him drink before passing him a handful of pills. Jason has no clue what any of them are, just that he’ll swallow all of them dry if it means he won’t have to deal with the headache and the nausea anymore. Instead, he feels almost instant drowsiness, and he falls asleep yet again. 

The next time he wakes up, the pain is mostly gone, though there’s something foggy in how he’s perceiving everything around him. He hoists himself up so that he can see the entire room, sitting on the edge of the bed. Sitting with his legs open on the floor, facing the bed, is Roy, reading Jason’s well-worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. 

“Didn’t know you knew how to read,” Jason tries to joke, but his voice doesn’t work the way he wanted it to, coming out garbled and hoarse. “What the fuck happened to me?”

Roy looks up, a soft smile on his lips when he sees how different Jason is from last night, “you don’t remember?” 

“Ran into a warehouse,” Jason shrugs.

“And after that?”

“Not a lick.”

To Jason, Roy has a weird glint in his eye, a slight strain in his brow, “I honestly think that’s for the best, Jaybird.” 

Jason rolls his eyes, sore as he picks himself up from the bed. He goes to where Roy is sitting and plops himself in between his boyfriend’s legs, his back to Roy’s chest. “You know, it’s pretty fucked up not to tell me what I experienced first-hand.”

It's Roy’s turn, now, to roll his eyes. He sighs, putting Jason’s book off to the side and hugging Jason tight, his chin on Jason’s shoulder, “it was fear toxin. Fear toxin, you, Tim, and the Joker.”

“Fuck,” Jason sighs, “of fucking course it was.”

“You’re fine, Tim’s fine, everything is alright,” Roy says, running soft fingers through Jason’s hair, curly and unruly from his sleep. 

Jason turns his head to the side, making quick, anxious eye contact with Roy, “I think I’ll take your word for it.” 

“You better.” Roy has a mischievous smile on his face, one that Jason can’t see, but he senses the shift in tone, feels Roy’s fingers migrating down to his tummy. He’d rather huff fear toxin for a second, even third time than admit it, but sometimes, when he feels the fear thrumming in his veins, feels like if he’s not touching Roy then he’ll disappear, that he’ll be underground at 15 again, he yearns for Roy’s soft fingers, his teasing touch that ebbs all the fear from Jason’s system. 

When the fingers start to move, Jason doesn’t even try to hold back, giggling freely into the sleeve of the old Gotham Academy hoodie he’d been put into sometime last night. Roy’s fingers tickle in teasing circles around his belly button, clawing at the skin. 

“C’mon,” Roy says, his voice dripping with the sickeningly sweet softness he always showed Jason at times like this, times when Jason would just accept it rather than prickling away from it, “I want to hear you.”

Jason blushes a light pink, his face heating up, but he moves his hands from his face in favour of lightly grasping Roy’s wrists. “Yohou’re a dick!”

“Oh am I?” Roy’s voice rumbles in Jason’s ear and Jason squeaks, throwing his head back. Roy is grinning so hard it almost hurts, and he kisses the top of Jason’s forehead. Jason scrunches his nose, shaking his head back and forth. 

Roy leaves soft kisses down Jason’s neck, his hands moving up to draw soft shapes over Jason’s sides. Jason’s giggles are bubbly and uninhibited, letting Roy explore. He starts to squirm when Roy’s fingers nearly reach his ribs, scratching just below and eliciting a snort and an embarrassed whine. 

Jason leaves his neck wide open, and Roy takes the opportunity to give him a raspberry, Jason kicking his legs out with a squeal, on the verge of real laughter. Roy makes sure his fingers stay just soft enough, his lips just teasing enough, to have Jason giggling himself silly, happily leaning in to the redhead.  

Roy’s fingers slow a bit, wanting Jason to hear everything he’s about to whisper, “you don’t even know how fuckin’ glad I am that you’re alright.”

Jason’s blush grows hotter, feeling another wave of shyness creeping up. He moves his head to give Roy a kiss on the cheek, his boyfriend’s blush almost matching his, just to even the playing field and all. “I’m soho glad you’re hehere.”

Roy smiles before leaning in for a proper kiss, his fingers just barely grazing over Jason’s sensitive spots. When they both pull away, breathless and awestruck, they’re wearing matching goofy grins, Jason still giggling under his breath. 

Jason spots his book again and uses the very tips of his fingers to pull it close enough for him to pick up. He places it into one of Roy’s hands, smiling mischievously at Roy’s confusion. “Nohow read to mehe, asshole!”

[eruden-writes]

I'd lik to know more about Griar pls - loved that snippet 😍

Ahaha, that one starts off kind of silly. I think it was based on a prompt from a different page, but I can't find it now.

Here's the first part, written in 2020, so my style of writing has probably changed.

If there's interest, I'll post the second bit of what I have written, but after that I'd have to write more.

---

Next Part

---

“I can smell you. Come out!” 

Lapine gasped and ducked back, obscuring herself further from the other person with the tree she hid behind. Chewing on her bottom lip, she contemplated her options. 

There was a person hanging, upside down, in a tree not far away from Lapine’s current position. Judging from the backpack that lay beneath their swinging form, they had dropped any means to cut themselves down or even call for help with a cell phone. And they could smell her. So, they were probably not fully human.

Her heart pounded, cursing her friends for bailing on her. And screw herself, too, for thinking it was a good idea to hike alone!

Somewhere between starting out and now, she’d gotten turned around. That, in turn, got her confused as she struggled to find the beaten path, again. By the time she thought to check her cell phone, there was no signal to be had.

Now, she had to admit she was utterly lost. The trail map had been shoved to her backpack, crumpled from frustration.

That was partly why she followed the annoyed grunts and flagrant curse words the moment her ear caught them. Perhaps, she thought, they’d be able to assist her. Never, in a million years, did she expect to find someone hanging upside-down from a tree!

Instantly, her imagination fired up, producing a litany of scenarios. A convoluted scheme to kidnap passerbys. They were setting traps and one triggered on themselves. Some sort of kinky reason. An art school project. A… A....

Her brain spluttered, returning to ‘kinky reason’ and wondering if being suspended upside down enhanced anything.

Before her imagination could push that thought too far, she shook it out of her head. No. Stay focused. 

There’s a person in a tree, able to smell her, and she was alone. And possibly lost. Possibly.

She chewed on her bottom lip as she weighed her options. Just leaving seemed a bit callous. What if they were genuinely stuck?

But if it was a ploy to kidnap kind strangers, she’d be screwed. 

But who’d set up such a scheme in the middle of the forest, off the trail?

Fuck. Lapine pressed her head into her hands, wishing her friends were here to help.

---

Griar glared at the, from his point of view, upside-down forest. His situation, suspended in the air like a helpless animal, was a bad one. Whoever set the coyote snares he’d been disengaging for the last month had set this one especially for him. They had plans for him. He gnashed his teeth, considering his options.

The ongoing irritation only cracked when a sudden aroma infiltrated his nose. It was faint, but stabbed at an ache in his gut. Potential mates in heat. And he was stuck in a tree. Great.

He could get a noseful, all the way up here, but pursuing anyone wasn’t happening. Another deep-throated growl rumbled into his chest. Why the fuck hadn’t he waited to trigger the snares until tomorrow? Admittedly, his preoccupation with tonight’s humpfest probably played into his distraction.

Considering the trap was strong enough to hoist him, it was likely enchanted. Whoever planted the trap had access to magic. It could have easily been glamored into near invisibility. Since he hadn't passed out, he guessed it was ensorceled to keep his blood from pooling to his head, as well. That meant the people setting these traps wanted him alive and conscious. Griar wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, yet.

Despite the danger of the situation, his body reacted to the cloud of pheromones slowly rising from the forest. Parts of him - ahem - were stirring in excitement, completely unaware he was upside-down.

Well, he had refrained from howling, just in case his potential captors were near enough. But, if he roused his pheromones to attract attention, maybe another -thrope would come and assist. As hairbrained of a thought it was, it wasn't as if anyone was going to stumble on him. Whoever he'd scented earlier had disappeared and the trap was located away from all the popular trails.

With mixed feelings of embarrassment and hormonal need, Griar reached for his pant's zipper. Unfastening, he grabbed at his half-mast erection, rubbing his thumb over its throbbing head. 

Whatever milquetoast enjoyment he got from jerking himself off was immediately ruined as movement caught his eye. He twisted his body, craning to see the newcomer. The scent from before wafted up from them. A human stood in the clearing beneath him, large eyes on Griar. Well… their eyes were on a part of Griar currently clutched in his hand. 

Shit. His body went rigid as he fumbled to cover his cock. Of course, a non-thrope would arrive when he finally gave in to his libido. Of fucking course.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t realize-” They babbled, scrambling backward, back to the safety of the underbrush. 

“Wait! Come back!” More than a little snarl leaked into Griar’s voice, which he instantly regretted.

“I-It’s OK. Do your thing,” they squeaked, finally turning. They waved their hand over their shoulder as they added, “I-I’ll send a ranger your way to check on you, so finish up soon!” 

“This isn’t a kink thing!” Griar howled in explanation of something not even stated, swinging himself forward out of frustration. He growled to himself when no answer returned. With a heaving sigh, he pressed his hands to his face - his erection deflating - and groaned. “Fucking dammit.” 

---

Oncoming dusk crept along the edges of the forest, tailing after the setting sun. A once vibrant blue sky had bled into oranges and purples. The warm day was fading quickly into a cool dusk.

Griar still swung from the enchanted snare. Desire frothed in his loins as the scent of other -thropes in heat worsened. Every so often, he thought he could catch yowls and moans of pleasure, far off in the distance. Perhaps they were rutting in caves, or right beneath the canopies, or even in the fucking trees themselves.

Every time he considered touching himself, the expression of that stranger swam by his expression. And, every time, a cold shame softened his arousal.

A sudden fumbling in the underbrush caught his ear. Craning his head, he caught sight of the wide-eyed stranger from earlier. Annoyance and relief filled his thoughts.

“I’m sorry.” Lapine’s shoulders hunched with embarrassment, heat licking up her face over the angered look the stranger gave her. “I couldn’t find the trail again.”

“Yeah, you’re pretty far off the beaten path.” He couldn’t keep the growl of frustration from his throat. “I could’ve told you that, if you hadn’t taken off.”

Lapine couldn’t meet the dangling stranger’s eyes. “Sorry.” 

He heaved a sigh and rolled his eyes. “Just get me down, already.”

“I don’t have a knife,” she replied, voice small. Her imagination braced for derision from this stranger.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t expect you to. You need a rune knife for this kind of trap, anyway.” It was a straightforward tone; no mocking with - perhaps - a slight hint of acquiescence. What casual hiker carried a rune knife, right? He motioned toward his fallen bag. “There’s one in my stuff. Look for a stick doll or something and cut whatever binds it.” 

After rifling around in the stranger’s bag, she found a knife with runes carved into the blade. A sense of surreality clipped along her thoughts as she sought the doll the stranger spoke of. Was this normal? Or was this some weird cult thing they’d gotten wrapped up in? 

It took some rooting around the immediate vicinity, but - eventually - she found what they described. A crude little doll, made from sticks and grass bound with thread. She sliced the thread, careful as to not nick the poppet. 

From behind her, there was loud THUMP and a yelp.

“Oh, shit,” she hissed, under her breath. Immediately, she spun and started for the previously snared stranger. Lapine knelt beside them, guilt and concern needling through her thoughts, as she reached out to them. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” 

Their hand shot out, catching hers by the wrist. A small whine began at the back of her throat as she jerked slightly back. Long, dirty fingers held firm to her, though. Her gaze swiveled to their face. 

Tanned. Scruffy. Dirt on their clothes. Thick dark brown hair. Golden-green eyes. As if the sounds they made earlier wasn’t indicative enough, they were definitely a -thrope of some sort. There was just something particularly animalistic about them that made Lapine’s skin prickle. Not entirely unpleasant but wary.

While Lapine sized Griar up, the favor was returned.

Long dark hair, pulled into a ponytail. Moon-grey eyes, made even larger with a pair of glasses. A tint of skin that spoke of days indoors. Griar’s fingers twitched, suddenly thinking how soft their warm flesh would feel under his fingertips, under himself. Mentally, he booted the thought away. That was heat-brain talking. 

"Don't touch me." He released them, ignoring the blunt pain that throbbed along his back. Now that he was released, the swell of heat washed over him. His hindbrain keened, wanting to find a willing participant to sink into. Getting to his feet, Griar put distance between himself and the stranger, going to grab his pack. "It's a heat night."

"What's that mean?" She had a feeling she already knew. After all, she’d found them in a very compromising position earlier.

Picking up his pack, Griar replied nonchalantly over his shoulder. "It's a night when all nearby -thropes get hot and horny. So, y’know, I’m a bit sensitive, at the moment."

"Oh…"

He glanced up at the sky, narrowing his gaze toward the setting sun. "It's too late to get you back on the main trail. You'll have to come home with me."

Lapine paused, nose wrinkled. Her phone’s weight hung in her pocket. If only it worked out here, off-trail. Uncertainty and skepticism made her tone a little harsh as she said, "Uh-huh. This has nothing to do with the heat night?"

Griar sighed and turned to his companion. He couldn’t blame them, could he? Though, it was so irritating to waste time tonight, of all nights. From beneath his shirt, he pulled out a lanyard, flashing an ID. "I work here. You'll be safe at my place." 

Lapine narrowed her eyes at the laminated badge, but scuttled closer, staring at the words. Griar Peterson. Forest guard. Lycanthrope. He/him pronouns. The photo seemed to be him, but a few years younger, with a clean-shaven face and an awkward, almost wincing, smile. A smile with some very sharp teeth attached.

She’d heard of these sorts of positions, usually offered to -thropes only. They lived in the forest, helped stray hikers and saved illegally caught animals, and - sometimes - they found missing people or murder victims. They were a sect of unsung heroes that people often forgot about.

"Alright…" She pressed her lips together, still uncertain. He shoved the badge back under his shirt. Shifting on her feet, she realized she should introduce herself. "I'm Lapine, she/her pronouns."

Griar snorted, casting her a sidelong glance and a smirk. "Well, can't say your parents mis-named you, timid rabbit."

She glared at him, ready to give a bitter reply, before he began tromping off in the woods.

“Keep up. As soon as you’re settled at my place, I’m heading out to join the festivities.” He called over his shoulder, a bit more bounce in his step. How quickly a person’s dour mood could lift, if there was the promise of sex on the horizon. Lapine sighed, a sense of awkwardness blanketing over her.

She didn’t have much choice, though. There was no way she was spending a night in the darkening forest. Quickly, she followed after Griar, biting at the inside of her cheek as she wondered about -thropes and heat and what, exactly, she’d be hearing all night.

[the-duckless-pond]

I am feeling pretty… irritated? angry? frustrated? tonight. It kind of started this morning in getting angry at myself for struggling with my independent study and getting work done (I did not accomplish everything I wanted today despite waking up over 12 hours ago). And it ebbed and waned and wasn’t too bad and I got at least some work done and that kind of made me feel better.

And then I had therapy and now I do not feel better and have felt like… annoyed ever since. I don’t know. It’s hard to know exactly what I am feeling. I just feel bothered and bad and it is lingering.

I think right now I am irritated because I think I go out enough and do enough things within reason for my current ability and anxiety level post-COVID and post multiple traumatic interpersonal relationships. I interact in class three days a week (but I guess that doesn’t count since it’s over zoom), I get a soda like I like and chat a little with the workers on a daily basis, I see my mom a few times a week and spend time with her, and I get lunch once a month with a friend. I even went to the ren faire and spent 8 hours talking just the other weekend! And I think I do enough things and enough talking and interacting for someone with my level of interpersonal trauma. I talk to my bff every day multiple times a day even if she doesn’t respond. I am interacting with people. I feel more or less satisfied with this and do not often feel lonely.

But my therapist thinks I need to, in his words, rejoin society??? Like what?? And that’s because I guess I can’t see my bff in person or talk often in person because she lives a thousand miles away and that’s not my fault and she is rationally the only person I trust enough to spend consistent time with? And that’s a bad thing? Apparently? Anyway he is super on my case about going out and doing things and being near people. Like suggesting I should start going to Mass again and things lk’e that, which doesn’t even make sense because I talked to no one at Mass. I went and sat quietly and listened and then left and that is how I like it. And he is super on my case about it since none of my classes are in person this semester. But that’s not my fault!! I hate it!! I miss classrooms and sitting quietly in them and listening to the professor for an hour and a half! But pin it on the university, not on me.

I guess I am feeling very… targeted? For lack of a better word? And I am so annoyed by it that I am strongly considering walking around downtown this weekend even though I DONT WANT TO AND HAVE OTHER THINGS TO DO AND HAVE BEEN SICK UGH. And even if I do I’m not going to talk to anyone anyway so what’s the fucking point! I would wear a mask and my big headphones that say leave me the fuck alone to everyone and maybe window shop and briefly take my headphones off to buy bubble tea or ice cream and then put them back on. And I would be so uncomfortable the entire time and hate it.

Like I have all the skills to go out and do things. It is not a problem. I learned the skills, went out and did things, and discovered that I HATE GOING OUT AND DOING THINGS AND PREFER TO STAY AT HOME! So I adjusted my life and my daily routine to reflect that! It’s not a fucking problem to be solved! There is no problem! I tried it for several very long years, like 4 or 5, and then stopped because it was awful and home or a walk in the woods by no one is so much better.

So whyyyyyyyyy do I have to go through this again?? Why do I feel like I’m being bullied into doing things I literally cannot stand? And it’s not an anxiety problem or a trauma problem. I have the skills. I am fully capable of going out and when I need to I do. I just… don’t see the point in it because I dislike it so much. So I don’t. And I am happier this way. I really truly am.

But I guess I have to fit some neurotypical ideal now? I truly do not see what the problem is. Lots of people are recluses and are just fine.

I don’t understand why I’m not allowed to be a recluse too. Idk. I hate it.

After today and hearing about it yet again I am strongly considering quitting therapy because I hate it so much. I just want to be left alone to live my quiet reclusive life with my one close friend and have therapy as a space to talk about my week. I’m not trying to solve some big problem. I don’t understand why I can’t have that and why everyone always tries to force me to go out and talk to people.

I am very upset and crying now. I don’t understand why it is apparently such a big deal. It’s so fucking stupid. Ugh.

[brianyololau]

January 4, 2023

starting the year off with good habits. I’m gonna journal lol. kind of weird making a post after i’ve been so lazy to for so long, but there have been too many times where i thought about how journaling would be really good for my mental clarity right now. there were times when i had multiple stressors in my life going on at once, and i didn’t allow myself some way to express and think about these things. i think it’s a necessary process because allowing time to be present creates realizations and through realizations come wisdom & experience.

So here I am. i have a lot to unfold, but I guess i’ll take this one day at a time because i’m busy tonight. today is my first day that i’m working at orange coast memorial hospital night shift 😮‍💨. ur boy’s employed and not just that.. at a muh fudgin HOSPITAL BITCH. I got an ID that scans into computers, opens doors, and everything. I gotta be at work in an hour so imma cut it short.

I made grandma cry today. I didn’t mean to, but I feel like shit for it. I woke up stressed bc I let myself sleep in, I had work to worry about, some fear of how my life is gonna change, and I knew I had more errands I hadn’t finished. So, i got more annoyed when i was microwaving food and grandma kept asking mundane questions that felt like I was being talked to by a robot. no substance. it felt like a chore just speaking to her. so i didn’t as i was eating and she noticed and asked why i was upset. so i basically told her that and said if she wants me to talk to her more she should start asking more personable questions like how i’m feeling and how was my first day at work. she said okay and started crying, so she left to the sofa. I came over and asked what was wrong, and she told me it hurts when i don’t talk to her because she loves me and always wants to talk to me. But i don’t ask about her. I started feeling terrible. I knew she’s been sad and becoming more weak minded. However, I just didn’t feel like I had the power to change her situation which is why I tried to just be there for her in presence, but I should’ve known that wasn’t enough. Even though I’m not good at expressing emotions nonetheless inquiring about them, I realized how important it was to always consider them. Because you never know who you could be affecting by neglecting them. And I had neglected my grandma’s without realizing it.

I apologized. I explained to her that a lot of things in my life recently have made it hard for me to feel at peace and waking up in the morning to these stressors have made me more irritable which made me more cold to her. I told her I never meant to hurt her like that. I could never. Talking to her made me realize that I was ungrateful for the people I have in my life and that I was forgetting who I’m living and trying to be happy with.

What’s the point of striving for success if you’re not making your life any happier? Knowing that my grandma loves me and supports me with everything she has makes me happy enough. How could I forget that?

Grandpa came during this conversation and started demanding me to read something for him. so told him I was busy. he had the audacity to get pissed and tell me it would just take a minute. I raised my voice and repeated myself which i probably shouldn’t have done but he got the message. Immediately he assessed the situation, looked at my grandma and said why’re you crying? who made you cry? hurry up and tell me so i can fix this. she said no one im just feeling sick. she had my back. he then scoffed and said what kinda wife doesn’t share things with her husband and went back to his room. he came back out to get picked up by someone, and i heard him call mutter to himself how grandma was clumsy, slow, and basically a person not worthy of respect. real pos moment right there, myself included as well.

I went to the gym later and told myself that this year, i should stop letting stressors in life affect my personal life at home. they should be mutually exclusive until i remove myself from the comfort of my home because allowing stress into every part of my life is not worth projecting its manifestations onto myself and around the people i love during every waking moment.

[sluttywonwoo]

take it off || k.mg x reader

Pairing: mob!mingyu x fem reader

Summary: as much as you hate to admit it, jealousy looks good on your fiancé 

Warnings: swearing, light smut (18+)

Word Count: 1.8k

a/n: reworked this old blurb originally posted on my tom holland fic account ( @wazzupmrstark )

Masterlist

“Mingyu, slow down,” you said with a sigh, trying not to roll your eyes.

“What was he thinking?” Mingyu spat, not acknowledging what you had just said. He gripped the steering wheel even harder.

You watched as his knuckles began to turn white and rubbed his arm soothingly. “Baby, take a deep breath. Relax.”

He just shrugged you off and cursed at the car in front of him.

“Don’t fucking tell me to relax.”

“It’s not a big deal, Gyu.”

He actually turned his head towards you and looked at you this time. “You’re joking.”

You shrugged sheepishly. “I’ve had worse.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

You winced, knowing you’d probably made it worse and that Mingyu was likely now picturing the grimy hands of ill-intentioned strangers all over your body.

“I should have him killed,” he snarled.

To most, that threat would sound completely ridiculous or utterly insane, but your fiancé was the head of the Seoul mob-the South West branch anyway- and he was no stranger to violence. Having someone killed would be as easy as snapping his fingers.

You scoffed to call his bluff.

“You think I won’t?” he challenged and you groaned.

“You promised you were done with that.”

It’s true, one of the conditions of your engagement had been that Mingyu agree to put the more sinister side of his business to rest, and although you trusted him, in all honesty, you weren’t sure how well he was upholding his end of the deal.

“I’d make an exception.”

“Well don’t. I don’t want some poor guy’s blood on my hands.”

At that, the car screeched to a stop right in the middle of the freeway. The cars behind you honked and flashed their lights at Mingyu as they maneuvered to avoid a collision.

You huffed in frustration, wanting to bang your head against the dashboard. This was exactly why you didn’t like for Mingyu to drive himself: he pulled dangerous shit all the time like this. Literally, all of his other men had drivers who took them places and you desperately wished Mingyu would hire someone, but he insisted that it was safest if he was the one driving (yet here you were in the middle of the highway).

“You could’ve fucking killed us!” you shouted, more annoyed than anything.

Mingyu took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. But y/n, he’s not just some poor guy.”

“He was trying to get a rise out of you, Gyu. He fucking hates you, of course, he’d go after me, and he was drunk.”

Mingyu narrowed his eyes at you, foot still pressed firmly on the brake. “That’s not a fucking excuse, you of all people should know that. Why are you trying to defend him?”

“I’m not trying to defend him, I’m just saying he doesn’t deserve to die. Can we please just get home?”

Mingyu relented and put the car back into motion making you breathe a sigh of relief.

Even though he didn’t say anything else you could tell his mind was still going a thousand miles a minute. You watched him chew at his lip in silence and wondered what was going on in that beautiful head of his. Nothing good, you could be sure of that.

Mingyu’s mind was darker than most. Occupational hazard. He carried so much pain that you hadn’t known about when you first met him. He’d let you in slowly, keeping you at arm’s length for months, until he almost lost you. And then he knew he couldn’t keep things from you anymore. It was still a challenge to understand his thought process sometimes, but you liked it that way. How could a ruthless, power-hungry mobster also be the most loving, family-oriented person you’d ever met in your life? How could someone who dropped a grand on a dinner like it was nothing secretly rather spend one more night picnicking with crappy Chinese food on the bedroom floor in your old apartment? You couldn’t think of an answer, and you didn’t want to.

The guy at the bar tonight had been some rival of Mingyu’s. You hadn’t seen him before, but you could tell because when Mingyu got up to get the two of you more drinks he swooped in and laid it on heavy. He looped one arm around your waist and placed his other hand on your knee and began attempting to seduce you. Sure, you were uncomfortable but more than anything you were angry. And tired. Tired of being used as bait, something to get to Mingyu.

You didn’t want to make a scene so you listened to the asshole talk about how much better he’d treat you than Mingyu until your fiancé eventually returned with your drinks in hand, face beet red, eyes dark with anger.

The man, you never caught his name, left the bar with a broken nose. Mingyu left with bruised knuckles. You’d thought it would end at that, but of course, once Mingyu got started it was hard for him to stop. It was a gift in the bedroom, but a curse in the rest of your life.

Then, so softly you almost didn’t hear it, Mingyu broke the silence in the car and said “I know what he said to you,” and it all clicked.

Normally, a hand on your shoulder, thigh, ass was enough to set Mingyu off, but combine that with the filthy words he’d undoubtedly overheard spilling from the man’s lips… no wonder all he could see was red.

“Mingyu, I-“

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t want to start something.”

“Start something? Is that true? Or do you think he’s right?”

“No, of course not.”

“Do you think he can satisfy you better than I can?”

“Mingyu!”

“Well do you?”

You shook your head and rubbed your thighs together, fighting a shiver. As irritating as Mingyu’s jealousy could be, the effect it had on you was even more infuriating. The man could already turn you on without doing anything and whenever he started acting a little jealous it was game over for you. It was pathetic, really.

“Why the fuck did he even think it was okay to look at you, let alone touch you?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged finally settling in to play the game. “These big dudes with huge muscles just think they can have whoever they want.”

Mingyu whipped his head back towards you. “What did you say?”

You ignored him. “I mean he definitely wouldn’t be as good as you, but he could do some damage.” Mingyu was full-on glaring at you now, and you wanted to tell him to keep his eyes on the road, but you couldn’t give up so fast. “I mean, just one of his hands could probably wrap around my whole neck. Like they were giant, and you know what they say about guys with big hands-“

“Do you think this is funny?”

Any sane person wouldn’t even think about taunting Mingyu like this, not with his reputation, but you couldn’t be sane to be with someone like Mingyu anyway, and besides, you knew he was a big softie at heart.

“A little,” you admitted. “You look really hot right now.”

He really did. His hair was tousled with silver highlights from the moonlight streaming in through the windshield, his tan skin was flushed with adrenaline, and his white button-up was unbuttoned just a few times to show off his collarbone. You bit your lip. You were so fucking weak.

“That’s not going to work.”

“No?” You quirked an eyebrow and leaned over the console to see that he was already more than half hard in his dress pants. “Because it looks like it’s working.” You reached over and began to palm him through his trousers, smirking when he cursed and rolled his neck at the contact.

“Y/n, if I have to pull over, you’re not going to be able to walk for the next week.”

Oh no, that’d be horrible you thought to yourself and rolled your eyes. He had to know that’s what you secretly wanted, right? Right? Why were men so stupid?

Either way, you took your hand back and moved it up under the hem of your dress to where you were feeling a little desperate for some friction. You sighed deeply when you rubbed yourself over your panties, not even surprised at how wet you were.

“Fuck,” you hissed out and hiked your legs up onto the seat so you could give Mingyu a better view.

“Stop that.”

He said it so forcefully that you froze, fingers hovering over your panties, about to pull them to the side. Then you smiled.

“No.” You went ahead and did it anyway, slipping two fingers inside of yourself easily.

You weren’t one to defy Mingyu often, especially when it came to what he asked of you in the bedroom, but you knew how crazy it drove him and just couldn’t resist.

Mingyu groaned, trying and failing to maintain an angry expression. His eyes betrayed an absolutely sinful lust that made you want to melt and you wished more than anything he’d just pull the fucking car over.

“Fuck, Gyu,” you gasped, “I wish these were your fingers, you’re so good with your fingers.”

“Yeah? You sure you wish they’re my fingers? Not someone else’s?”

You shook your head vigorously. “Never. You’re the only one who knows how to make me cum that hard.”

“Is that what you want? To cum hard?”

“God, yes,” you moaned, pumping your fingers in and out of you faster.

“Take off your dress.”

“What?” you weren’t sure if you’d heard him right, you were still driving down the highway after all.

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

Not wanting to push your luck any further you didn’t hesitate to listen this time and pulled the loose fabric up and over your head.

“Good girl,” he praised and you whined. You were still wearing your bra and underwear and as much as you’d love to flash oncoming traffic, you hoped Mingyu wouldn’t ask you to take them off.

“You can touch yourself,” he said and you complied, knowing it was more of an instruction than an allowance.

It felt good, really good, but you still wished it was him instead of you.

“Fuck, darling you look so beautiful like that, God, I can’t believe I get to marry you.”

“If, you stop, killing people,” you managed to get out through gritted teeth and Mingyu laughed.

“I’m not going to kill him, baby. I made a promise. You’re too important to risk losing, even if he is a fucking prick.”

You whimpered, the mixture of complete head-over-heels love you felt for Mingyu and pleasure making you crumble.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he said, reaching over and taking you by the wrist, stalling your movements just as you were about to fall over the edge. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you’ll forget you ever met that asshole.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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[sabo-has-my-heart]

hello again writer 👋 requesting an ace x fem reader where they're friends with benefits and ace reminds her that it's just sex and she replies "i know that's why i have a date tonight" and he responds "THE FUCK YOU DO! over my dead body" (YOU DECIDE IF YOU WANT THE ENDING TO BE ANGST OR FLUFF!!)

I’m sorry I didn’t get to this sooner, I really did mean to, I promise. Anyway, Ace… probably fluff.

Warnings: suggestive

It had been a while since you and Ace had decided that casual sex was something both of you wanted, and to be honest, the whole friends-with-benefits thing was working out well for the both of you. Simple, no strings attached sex when you needed, or wanted it, no worries about being ‘compatible’ or taking a relationship too quickly, it was just sex. Granted, you both took the time after sex to cuddle or make each other something to eat, but that was just a small bit of human connection, something to help you wind down and enjoy the post sex glow. Still, you had to admit, a date would be nice, having someone who wanted to be with you for more than just sex. You didn’t tell Ace that you were sort of looking for someone, there was no need to notify him of every little thing in your lovelife. Afterall, it was a casual sex relationship, you both agreed you could end it at any time for any reason, if the reason was that you started dating, he’d just have to deal with it. 

Looking at Ace, you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow, you’d been getting ready for a date, you’d texted him that you wouldn’t be available tonight, so why was he here?

“Didn’t expect you today? You got my text, right?” you asked, opening the door to allow him to enter. Ace glanced at your outfit, it was nice, too nice for a simple ‘friends-with-benefits’ relationship.

“Yeah, but I was on my way home and saw your lights on, thought that maybe whatever it was that you had to do was either over, or would be late enough that we could have a quick fuck…” Ace looked you up and down, make-up, a nice dress, heels set out, why were you so dressed up?

“Where are you going all dolled up like that? I figured it can’t be for me, afterall, all we’re doing is having casual sex.” Ace commented, crossing his arms as he leaned against the hallway wall.

“Of course it’s not for you. The fact that it’s just sex is exactly why I have a date tonight.” you said, rolling your eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Ace was immediately standing up straight, long strides carrying him over to you quickly, grabbing your wrist.

“Did you say you have a date? Like meeting someone in order to become close, date?” Ace hissed irritably.

“Yeah, a date. Like meeting someone in the hopes of finding someone special, date.” you answered, pulling your wrist out of his grip, giving him a slight glare. Said glare was quickly wiped off your face when Ace pinned you against the living room wall, a foreboding look in his eyes.

“Like. Fuck. You. Do. Over my cold, dead body.” Ace growled. You glared back, annoyed with his reaction, why the hell was he stopping you?

“Excuse me? Since when did you have the right to decide what I do? We’re fuck buddies, so unless you’re suddenly going to confess that you’ve ‘fallen for me’, I suggest you back the hell up and let me finish getting ready.” you spat, trying to push him back. Your comment had Ace freezing in place, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice your pushing, not until he was stumbling back a couple steps. Almost as soon as you had a little space to move, you found yourself pinned to the wall again, Ace’s lips pressed against yours in a rough, passionate kiss, your eyes widening as you stared at him for a moment before joining him in closing your eyes, kissing him back. Since when did you start to have feelings for this hot-tempered young man? When did your heart suddenly start beating so loudly against your ribcage as Ace wrapped one arm around your waist, his tongue licking your bottom lip, the smallest moan escaping his lips as you opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to dance with yours. Ace pulled back for a moment, the both of you sucking down a bit of air before his lips were crashing against yours once again, neither of you noticing your phone ringing on the table as you continued to make out. Much like you, Ace was wondering when this had happened, when had you become so important to him? When had it started to matter whether or not you dated someone else? Still, kiss after kiss, the two of you ignored your phone, losing yourself in the feelings you both seemed to harbor for each other. It wasn’t until a knock on the door that the two of you were drawn out of your little moment. Ace held your wrist as you tried to head towards the door, a slightly pleading look in his eyes.

“I… don’t go. I know I have no right to ask this of you, I know that we’re just supposed to be friends-with-benefits, but stay with me… let… let me be the one who’s special to you.” Ace begged, his heart pounding in his chest, whether from nerves or his attraction to you, he wasn’t sure. 

“I won’t. But I need to tell them that I can’t go out with them.” you answered softly, a small smile gracing the boy’s lips as he nodded, slowly letting go of your wrist. You quickly answered the door, telling your supposed-to-be date that you couldn’t go, that ‘things had changed’. Admittedly, you felt a little bad, but it’s not like you’d intended for this to happen, not like you’d purposefully led them on or anything, things had just… changed. As soon as they were gone, you returned to Ace, laughing at the lipstick that was smeared on his face. You quickly grabbed a napkin, wiping the color off before doing the same to yourself.

“I suppose I should make us something to eat. You’re here and we’re… are we dating now?” you asked hesitantly, a little afraid of the answer.

“I’ll order us something, I should be treating my girlfriend after ruining her date, after all.” Ace offered, kissing your forehead before pulling out his phone. A smile spread across your lips at his words. It had started as casual sex, just friends-with-benefits but it was so much more now.

[soulwillower]

semi-charming •  bill denbrough

(bill denbrough x reader smut)

requested:  Do you have any bill denbrough x reader’s that you have finished that can be posted? I really love your work I re read it like everyday lol :)    +      AKANSHAKAKMA U SHOULD POST THE BILL DENBROUGH HATE SMUT AHHHH     +     don’t be shy post the b.d hate smut 😀🔫🥰🌝

i haven’t posted a fic in well over several months but i hope u guys like it :) im here and around still so send me something if u wanna chat <3 i also have re opened my requests lkajsdlkaj

also - i gained a lot of new followers while i was gone and im sure some ppl want to be removed from my taglist SO: i am gonna start a new taglist!!! pls send me a message and let me know if you want to be on it bc after this post im starting fresh  !!!!!!!!!

warnings: drinking, mentions of weed, dorm living, almost-strangers hooking up, smut, choking (light), light spitting, a tiny bit of dirty talk, switch!bill, its kinda fluffy smut tbh, enemies-to-lovers but its so lowkey, kinda cute guys, neighbor-ish au, 

(losers + reader are 19+.)

4.1k words

♡

the first time it happened, you wrote it off as unintentional. 

it's happened to everyone: you're joking around with your roommate, or reaching over to grab your laptop, and you fall off your bed to the floor. you knock over your lamp or someone knocks over the handle that was sitting half-empty on the mini-fridge. the tile on the ground of the dorm rooms are hard and cold and don't do much to quiet the noise of anything, so you get that. 

but whatever the hell was going on in the room above you was not that. it was three in the morning, and your head was spinning in that sickening way that only happens when you take too many drinks in a short time and find your way to bed for a few hours before being startled awake. 

a loud thump made you jump in your bed, heart racing as you woke in surprise. 

it was around twenty more loud thuds from your ceiling (in a span of barely two minutes) that you gathered the energy to slide out of your bed, sliding on your dorm slides and throwing on a shirt to cover your near naked body before storming into the hallway to climb the most challenging single story of stairs in your life, right to your upstairs neighbors' door. 

your hand was banging on the door for a mere five seconds before the door swung open and a terribly confusing sight fell onto your eyes. 

three boys who you've only ever seen in passing before in your dorm, all shirtless and heaving breaths. the one who answered the door, possibly bill or mike (judging by the stupid name tags on their door), has bright eyes and dark auburn hair that reflects in the dim light of the hall, backlit by the neon purple from inside the room. his sweaty bare abdomen made your eyes twitch as you glared at him, suddenly more irritated because he's kind of really hot and stupid and annoying, and you needed to sleep.

"hi.” he said casually, and you could tell he wasn’t entirely sober, either. 

“so what is your fucking problem?" you said in lieu of a greeting, half-asleep and pissed beyond belief (also still drunk). the boy who answered the door raised his brows, head turning with a brow raised, as if to ask his buddies 'are they for real?' before turning back with a large, cocky smile, "pardon you? we already turned down the music." 

you blinked, knowing you must have seemed so rude and looked insane but it was a weeknight and you had class in the morning, "wh- what, no- i'm not here about music. it's like three, you're slamming on the floor and i can hear it like i'm in a fucking tornado in my room below you so you need to knock it off." 

then the other boy, further back with foggy glasses, started laughing. the other one laughed too, rubbing his neck sheepishly, still breathing heavy. "what the hell are you guys even doing in there?" you added, running a hand through your hair in exasperation. 

"they were trying to bench press me. but then bill decided to start doing squat jumps onto his bed." the boy with glasses explained as he rubbed his chest, still concealed by the darkness of the room, illuminated only by the stupid LED neon lights that every single person in the dorms had lining their rooms. that explained the thudding. 

"why." you'd deadpanned. you were too tired for this, but you'd wanted them to understand that it was keeping people up. "richie got us kicked out of Pike for stealing their doorknobs and pledge class photos." the third boy says, elbowing the boy, richie. "we felt like working out, but then richie said we couldnt press him, so..." he trails off at the look you give. 

"you want my workout routine or something?" richie asks you. you sharply inhale and bill smiles, "well, if that's all, we'll be going. i've got one more rep to get in." 

your eyes widened, jaw dropping at his words. he'd laughed, then, and your eyes couldn't stop as you stared at his sculpted abs flex in the light. god damn it. 

"chill out, neighbor. sorry to wake you from your beauty sleep." he said as he noticed your look, and you wanted to fucking hit him. 

you rolled your eyes, picking up on his facetious tone. "whatever. just knock it off. thanks," you'd griped, sarcastically smiling at them before trudging away towards the stairwell. and you'd caught it when bill muttered, "is now a bad time to assemble my ikea desk with my drill?" 

you'd run into bill once again a few days after when you'd gone to use the bathroom on the floor above you where your friend lived, washing out the bowl you'd used for lunch. a 'shh!' had made your brows furrow as you'd walked in, not paying attention as you'd heard a shower stop and a girl laugh from the other side of the bathrooms. 

but a deep voice grunting 'ow, fuck' made you freeze and then feel hot, wondering what kind of luck you have to be in the bathroom when some people were hooking up in the shower. but you're reminded that you had the worst luck when you go to leave the bathroom and two figures round the corner, hair soaking wet and hoods pulled over their heads. making eye contact with him, he must've seen how flustered and irritated you were, because he cracked a grin, "good to see you again, neighbor. you sleeping well these days?" 

that was only a few days ago. you'd seen him in passing at a party at one of the frats, but had avoided any interaction with him after you saw him and his friend with the glasses snickering to themselves after sneaking looks to you. god, you didn't want to face them again - they were so mocking, so cocky.... so rude, and they made you feel like you were being insane just for wanting to have peaceful sleep. bill was not your favorite person. 

but as bad as the first two experiences were, the third time you had the misfortune of interacting with bill, it was the worst. 

your roommate was out for the weekend, and you'd found yourself stuck with your leg and ankle pinned between your heavy file cabinet under your bed and your bedframe, unable to scoot it over on your own to free your leg. 

you were planning on relaxing tonight, after being stood up from a booty call hook up. you’re mad, frustrated, horny, and close to tears now that you’ve gotten yourself stuck pinned to your bed.

it’s nearly one in the morning, and nobody’s in the hall. 

but then, bill walked past your open door as you struggled, and desperately you called, "hey!" 

his double-take into your room, his head poking in, would have been charming if the face was anybody but him. 

"what?" he asks, suddenly noticing it’s you. his voice is not charming and calm as you've seen him be with other peers, but in your stubborn mind, you convince yourself it’s fine; you don’t like him, either. 

"i'm stuck, can you help?" you say despite your thoughts. 

he sighs, dropping his backpack next to your bed and then tugging to try and move the cabinet. 

"how did you do this?" he mutters as he pulls as hard as he can to pull it, but your shoe is too wedged diagonally against the floor, cabinet and frame. you sigh, "thought i could nudge it to the side with my toes, i dropped my dab through the crack." 

he chuckles, trying to instead shove it backwards instead; to no avail. "smart girl." he says sarcastically, and you roll your eyes, trying to help him shove it. "what was the point of you keeping me up all fucking night if you aren't strong enough to move this shit?" you say, exasperated because it's starting to dig into your calf. 

he stops, rolling his eyes at you. "has anyone ever told you that you can be a bit rude?" he asks, moving closer to you to try and push it away. you look down at him from where you stand, elbows on your mattress. "no. you're just a dick. fight fire with fire, or whatever." you mutter, face feeling hot. 

you can't stop staring at his shoulders, his arms - they're so hot, the veins popping out of his hands and forearms, the smell of his aftershave wafting into your nose from where he kneels next to you. 

he just hums. "i'm going to try to push your leg forward and then push the cabinet away." he states, and you nod, just wanted this nightmare to be over. you're still terribly embarrassed and the proximity to such a hot and confusingly irritating boy is making you lose your grip. 

it takes a lot in you to not jolt when his warm hand wraps around your bare leg and starts to pull you, his strong hold on you making you tingle. "what's your name?" he asks, and you almost laugh as his grip on your thigh tightens, the feeling of his fingers wrapped around your skin making you hot. this is insane.  "y/n." you struggle out, throat feeling dry - there's no reason his hand needs to be so high up on your leg, but some part of you really wants it. "it says that on my door." you say breathlessly. 

whatever he was going to reply with is cut off as he tries to readjust his grip on you and the cabinet, but his hand slides up and grazes the skin near the apex of your thigh, coaxing a sharp gasp to fall from your mouth. 

he turns red, looking up at you, "god, sorry." he mutters, and you bite your lip, unable to look away. 

you kind of forget to say anything, stuck staring at him, heart thumping as wetness pools between your legs just from this boy's touch. god, you've got to get laid. 

his arm is wrapped around the onside of your leg, thumb reaching higher on your thigh than his other fingers, and for a moment you hesitate before deciding to go for it: you drop your hand hand to his hair, pulling lightly as you 'steady yourself,' smirking as you feel his shaky breath against your thigh. 

you don't even care about getting unstuck now, all you can think about is being fucked into the mattress by this asshole boy from the fourth floor. you’re not sure where this feeling came from. 

when he finally pushes the cabinet away, causing you to stumble to catch your ground. he helps you get the cart and then push the cabinet back, awkward small talk making you want to die. "why were you down here anyways?" you ask, rubbing your leg. "mike kicked me out to be with a girl and all my friends are out for tonight." he sighs, rubbing his neck. "i have to do homework tonight, just going to find somewhere quiet to get it done." 

"that's surprisingly responsible." you say, looking at him wearily. he gives you an annoyed look, "what's that supposed to mean?" you roll your eyes, "you don't seem particularly academically motivated." you state, unsure if you're coming across as flirtatious or just a dick. he gives you a look as he moves to grab his things from next to your bed. "you seem more pleasure motivated." 

you catch your mistake immediately - and he does, too, smirking. you stutter to fix it, "don't be gross." you defend weakly. 

he's biting his lip and something rumbles in your chest, flames in your abdomen. it's hard to gauge if you don't like him or if you do. maybe you're just horny.

"i thought you were cute, you know, until you showed up at three in the morning to chew me out." he mutters, eyebrows raised, "i get that that was annoying, but it was a saturday. everyone was drunk, i don't get why you are still being a bitch." his face drops when he says that, as if he didn't mean to say it at all, but he doesn't take it back. you shrug, not too offended. he kind of has a point, "i don't get why you have to make everything so much harder than it has to be. doesn't matter how hot you are,  i don't have to like you, you know." you say, crossing your arms with a smirk. 

"believe me, i'd rather you not like me." he says, smile on his face troubling. you look at him, trying to gauge why you're feeling so flustered, why you want to jump his bones right now no matter how annoying he is. "then why haven't you left yet?" you challenge. you figure if you're reading his actions wrong, this gives him an out. 

"because i kind of want to fuck you now." he says boldly. you just smirk, walking towards where he sits on your desk chair, lowering yourself to straddle him. he looks up at you, eyes large and mischievous as he pulls you down on him all the way, your hips grinding lightly. "i think you want to fuck me always." you whisper, lips hovering above his, teasing. you're eating up all his attention, soaking it up and savoring the way he watches you. 

you boldly snake your hand down between the two of you, lips still refusing to touch his, your hand starting to tease his clothed cock as it hardens under your palm. you stroke him as you lean, almost kissing him before pulling away. he glares at you. 

then you move your hips, the tension in your room killing you. he lets out a half-moan, causing you to buck your hips again, relishing in the pleasure it gives you. he leans forward, trying to catch your lips, but your hand catches his chest, your lips just centimeters from his own.  "fuck you, y/n." he says, fed up with your teasing as his hands squeeze your ass, moving to the bottom of your thighs and then rising with surprising ease, holding you against him and making your heart thump in shock. he takes four long strides towards your bed, tossing you on it. you grin, expecting for him to climb onto you, but instead he's walking towards your door, making your heart quicken. is he leaving? 

he slams your door shut, though, and it makes you smirk as he clicks the lock. you're on your back, the sight of him upside down making you bite your lip, eyes nearly even with the bulge in his sweatpants. 

he walks up to you, and you eye him as he bends forward, hand catching your chin, holding your head forward with a strength you didn't expect. "look at me." he says suddenly. you blink, feeling hot as you stare into his eyes. 

"don't tease me." he says, and you swallow, heart racing in excitement. "okay." you croak, and it seems to satisfy him because he tilts your neck from here he holds your neck and chin, kissing you soundly on your lips. you feel on fire at his touch, squirming as you slip your hands into his hair - it's making you so needy that he's holding you, almost trapped on the mattress, kissing him upside down. 

he pulls away and you flip around, allowing for him to climb onto the bed, barely enough time before you pull him in for another kiss, this one heated and desperate. 

he bites marks on your neck as your hands palm him, pushing your own thighs together in need. slowly, you push him down against your mattress and sling a leg over his hip, moving to straddle him. his hands find your hips easily, looking at you like you're the only thing ever worth looking at; your breath leaves your lungs and you steady yourself, the reality of how fucking beautiful bill is hitting you at once. 

you pull his shirt off, yours coming off, leaving you in just your shorts and underwear. he palms your tits, pinching your nipple as you grind down against his cock, whimpering at the feeling of his pants against your clothed clit. "if only you'd come up to my room like this." he says, and you snap your eyes to his, seeing the teasing grin but glaring at him. "maybe you would've been nicer to me if you knew how good i'd make you feel." he whispers as you resume your hip's movement, "shut up, bill." you hiss. he laughs, his thumb making contact with your clit takes you by surprise and you jump a bit, moaning quietly as your eyes close in pleasure. 

"take these off." he mutters into your mouth as you bite his bottom lip. you take off your shorts, quickly resuming your spot straddling him, his lips trailing from your breasts to your throat and then your mouth again, grinding against him in need. he toys with your slit over your panties before he pulls them slowly to the side, spreading your juices on his long fingers, humming as he brings his fingers to his lips, watching you as he licks his fingers. you nearly moan, impatient enough that you kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips faintly; "do you want me?" you whisper against his lips.

"i wish i didn't," he says, "but yes. do you want to do this?" 

you're breathless, beside yourself with need, "yes." you say quickly, tugging his sweats off and tossing them to the floor. "fuck you, by the way." you spit, flipping him off. he grins and it's fucking beautiful, his smirk, his red cheeks, heaving chest. budding hickeys bloom over his neck and chest as he catches your hand, tugging you forward over him, whispering, "you're about to." 

you roll your eyes, ignoring the butterflies in your chest, hand falling over his as he pumps himself. your thumb swipes over his tip, spreading his precum before opening the condom he'd pulled out of his pocket (you don't even want to know why he brought one with him to study) and roll it onto his cock. 

and then you’re pushing aside your panties and stabilizing yourself on bill’s chest. you line yourself up on him and look to him for one last confirmation. he nods, “quick fucking around, babe.” he says, but his voice sounds desperate and his cheeks are flushed and you let out a strangled moan as you sink onto him, the nickname making your stomach flutter. you have to stay and give yourself time to adjust to his size, his moans swallowed by your own mouth as your tongue swipes his. his hands roam your body, squeezing your hips, your ass, your breasts and then rising to cup your neck and back. 

“shit, bill.” you whimper as you slowly start to move up and down. his eyes fall shut in pleasure and his head tilts back, exposing the entire expanse of his throat for you to claim, his hands falling to your hips. your eyes watch his thin necklace shine in the faint light from your lamp and he's filling you up perfectly. 

he looks like fucking heaven.

you kiss his neck lightly as you pick up the pace, bouncing on him steadily as his fingers grip the sides of your thighs.

“fuck, y/n.” he whispers, staring at you with his lips caught between his teeth. the feeling of him stretching inside you and hitting the perfect spot has your legs shaking already, breathing heavily. he’s soon surging up, kissing you deeply as groans fall from his lips, his arms rising to your waist to hold you as you move.

"you're much better when you're not talking." you mutter as you fuck yourself on him, moving your hips as you bounce. he rolls his eyes, "i'd fuck you every day if it meant you wouldn't come ruin my fun every night." he quips back, eyes challenging. and your hand rises to squeeze around his throat, at first as a joke, but then he smiles brightly, a smirk that stirs something in you and you squeeze ever so slightly, the feeling of his pulse making you moan. 

his smirk sends butterflies through your stomach, pleasure swirling in your core. but then his own hand rises to your own throat, squeezing lightly.

you moan, unable to keep it together. "you think two can't play this game, y/n? it's like you don't know me." he tuts, seemingly pleased as you're flushing, gasping as your legs stutter, his hips moving up to meet yours, strokes hitting you deep. “i don’t,” you whisper, and he hums. 

your legs stutter after one particularly satisfying thrust and he grabs your hips, lifting slightly and biting his lip as he starts to thrust up into you. “oh, my god,” you moan as he hits your g spot and he curses under his breath.

your hand comes up to rest on the wall behind him as you meet each other half way, hitting a spot deep inside you that has you moaning his name loud enough for anyone to hear. you hope to god your next door neighbors are out. 

he presses his lips to yours and you know its to get you to stop being so loud - it makes your toes curl in pleasure. then his thumb snakes its way to your lips, his grin widening when your lips immediately part and suck on the finger, humming around it as your hand rests on his neck, the other over his abs as you bounce. 

"so pretty like this, y/n." he leans up, then, sitting up more and changing the angle, making you gasp with a moan as his hand snakes around your waist, pulling you closer to his face with the hand on your face. he pulls his thumb from your mouth with a light pop, your legs barely riding him at your proximity, instead steady on his hips, his cock warm and stretching you. "do you think you'd look pretty under me?" he asks. you swallow, moving your hips again and sliding on his cock, movements making you stare at him, pleasure building. 

"i think you would." he whispers, hand still on your neck. you whimper a bit, sliding off of him, allowing him to climb over you, kissing you soundly before pulling you to the edge of your bed, legs hanging off as he stands in front of you. lifting one leg, he kisses your knee and holds it up as he teases your slit with his cock before sliding into you again, causing you to let out a loud moan, his own melding with yours. 

your eyes roll back at the new angle, legs shaking as his fingers dig into your thigh. “wanna see your f-face when i make you cum.“ he mutters, hand rising to thumb your lip, dragging your bottom lip down.

 "you think you're gonna make me cum?" you bite, knowing no man you've been with has been able to. 

you watch as his eyes admire the half-lids of your eyes, the blissed, fucked-out look on your face. your chest is littered in blossoming hickes, varying from pink to dark red and slightly purple already. 

he says nothing in response to you, but pulls your leg further open, spitting down onto your cunt, making you moan lightly, the action being terribly sexy. his thumb finds your clit and starts to rub perfectly in counteraction to his thrusts, his lips finding your nipple. 

you gasp in pleasure, panting as you start to wonder if he really is going to make you cum. then his thumb rubs circles on your clit and as he presses lightly, you can’t hold off any longer. “fuck,” you hiss as you hit your peak, your orgasm making your legs shake. you can’t help it, gasping and bucking your hips as you clench against his cock in bliss, your orgasm causing you to tug his hair in ecstasy. “so pretty.” he mutters against your neck, pressing kisses to it as you’re moaning and arching your back. "so good, cumming for me." he says cockily. you're panting as you whisper, "shut up," his hips still pounding into yours. 

“god, you're such a sweet talker.” he mutters sarcastically as you look at him desperately, his eyes fall shut in bliss, a deep groan leaving his lips, you can tell he's close. 

"and you're such a gentleman." you jest back, pulling him closer by his shoulders, eyes shutting in bliss. he hums, strokes getting sloppier, "i let you cum first, didn't i?" he counters. 

you huff a laugh, something in your heart twinging in affection. you kiss him so you don't say something stupid, moving your hips with his. a few strokes and he's pulling you closer to him by your back, whimpering into your mouth, “y/n, fuck.” beautiful moans fall from his cherry colored lips as he cums, and you just stare at him in awe, surprised by how hot it is as he says your name. he rides his high and then falls off of you, onto the mattress between you and the wall. 

"hey," he says after a few moments of you both catching your breaths, your hands overlapping on your stomach but not nearly holding hands. it makes you feel warm in a weird way. excited, nervous. 

"what?" you ask, turning to stare into his eyes. he smirks, "you think we woke up the downstairs neighbors?" he whispers, eyes alight with tease. 

you shove him, smothering him with a pillow while he laughs, pulling you onto him. 

tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier  @sft-core @clownsloveyou  @moon-shine-baby  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters @unfortu-nate-ly @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie  @decafcoffeew

[violettelueur]

— RYOMEN SUKUNA || LET ME MARK YOU THEN

↳ featuring : ryomen sukuna from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of sex, mention of hickeys and grammar issues

↳ form : imagine

↳ published : 22 january

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 3.7k

↳ synopsis : (modern!AU) after your lectures, you decided to pay your tattoo artist boyfriend a little visit only to then be persuaded to let him draw a tattoo design on you even though you never actually wanted a real one to be marked with.

↳ barista’s notes : just a little gift to you all before today’s episode and the reset the ‘coffees in progress’ list (wip) when i get enough sleep and after my disgusting online classes, i hope you enjoy the free cup of coffee everyone ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡ - also i feel like this is the longest imagine i have ever posted ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ

Having a morning full of tedious lectures was not someone’s ideal day and it was definitely not yours. Although, there was nothing you could do but pursue them through with as much enthusiasm and determination that you could possibly muster while being impatient about the hands on the clock taking forever to move a single inch.

However, at this moment in time, you were able to escape the suffocating lecture hall after many hours for today and was now walking down the busy streets of Tokyo with a white plastic takeaway bag in one hand while the other was occupied with your tote bag that was resting on your shoulder, which surprisingly kept hold of some of your textbooks as well as your laptop giving you some reassurance that the bag that your boyfriend gave you was going to last for quite some time.

Looking around the busy quarter of the capital, you began to notice a few high school students roaming about here and there with some hanging out with their friends - mostly likely going to a cafe or to the nearest karaoke lounge that they could find - while other were either rushing home as they entered the station or to their part-time jobs that they had managed to obtain for a few extra bucks to save up for their next step in life. Noticeably, there were also a few adults out and about with some working as street-food vendors selling delicious treats that you would be craving if you weren’t so full while others were dressed extremely professional with their laptops out on their cafe/restaurant table to what seemed like they were on their lunch break.

‘He should be on his lunch break right now, but if not, I’ll just put his food in the shop’s fridge’

Continue walking to your destination, you finally reached to a quieter area with the city leading you to then stand in front of a glass order with a ‘closed’ sign in front along with another extremely noticeable sign proudly stating ‘Malevolent Shine’ to which if you had said that to any tattoo fanatic within Japan, they would instantly know what you were talking about.

Opening the door, there was a sudden noise of a ring being heard leading you to immediately look up to see the silver bell that you told him to arrange since he always got annoyed about the number of potential clients popping up without his acknowledgement only to tell him that they didn’t book an appointment at all causing him to become more irritated - and as a matter of fact, you couldn’t blame him at all.

Looking around the tattoo shop that you had entered, there wasn’t a single person in sight leading you to come to the conclusion that you were right about his lunch break since his assistant would be at the front desk if they weren’t. Although there was no one to greet you, the dark atmosphere did. It gave an odd sense of comfort with its hints of red that could calm a customer down if they were worried about the tattoo they were committing to having on their body or if it was their first - especially when it came to him.

“Oya~ ain’t you a sexy customer? But I’m afraid we’re closed, but I don’t mind giving you a private session if you want, kitten” someone smoothly stated, leading your eyes to slowly shift to the person who was leaning against the desk with a confident smirk on his face. There he was, the mastermind behind the whole shop itself.

“Well, I’m not coming in for a tattoo but I am here to give a little gift, Sukuna,” you mischievously stated, as you lifted the white bag with the takeaway you had ordered for the man himself, leading him to look at you in surprised before tilting his head indicating you to come to the back with him.

Following his lead, you placed the bag on his table once you reached the backroom before placing your tote on the floor beside the table’s leg so it didn’t fall, letting any of your precious studious contents to be lost as well as avoiding any damage to your laptop.

“I’m surprised you’re using the bag, kitten,” Sukuna suddenly commented, as he sat on his chair while pulling out the white styrofoam box of Thai food that he always ordered along with a bento box that was wrapped in a black cloth.

“Well, how could I not? You did buy it for me,” you quietly mentioned as you took off your black longline coat before placing it behind your chair since there was nowhere else to put it.

“Did you make this?” Sukuna quickly questioned as he lifted the bento box causing you to nod at his question once you saw what he meant leading you to state, “I didn’t know if you were going to stay back tonight, so I prepared some food for you in case,” causing Sukuna to smirk since you were right about your assumption and it did catch him by surprise since he didn’t mention it to you today when he left your shared apartment.

“Thanks,” he quietly muttered before pulling his chair closer towards you so he could place a lingering kiss on your cheek to show his appreciation towards you. “How was class?” he then asked, as he began to unwrap the cloth of the box to your surprise since you bought his favourite item from the Thai restaurant but made no mention of it.

“Annoying, it was suffocating in there but the lecture was interesting so that’s a plus,” you answered, as you began to scan his messy desk that displayed the many drawings that he was working on. Some of the designs that Sukuna was drawing were almost complete, while others were in the same situation but for some odd reason, it was crossed out as if he was unsatisfied with the outcome that it was going to have which lead you to be perplexed since some of the drawings were incredibly detailed and beautiful. However, you didn’t have the eyes of an artist like your boyfriend did, instead, you had the eyes of someone that was able to analyse things exceedingly well hence why you decided to pursue a career as a criminal lawyer.

“How has the shop been while I was away?” you asked, as you carefully picked up one of the designs that the tattoo artist seemed to have scraped leading him to answer with an annoyed huff. “A pain, there’s been so many dumbass people coming in thinking they could just walk in and get a tattoo done immediately without even booking a meeting,” Sukuna answered before taking a bite of the soy-glazed fried chicken you made as he then continued with, “it was a good idea to get the bell since I could see if it was a customer I knew or not,”.

Looking at your boyfriend, you couldn’t help but smile at the man as he continuously munched the context in the box as if he hadn’t eaten in the past week when in reality he had been raiding the fridge back home only just this morning. Slowly, you turn your head back to the paper that you were holding as you continued to admire the work of art right in front of you. 

To be honest, it was quite simple compared to all the other ones that were lying about on his work desk but that didn’t mean it wasn’t beautiful. The light sketch depicted a short section of a branch or stem decorated with different types of beautiful flowers and next to it was the same design with the only difference of it being coloured lightly in case the client wanted to have options.

“What happened here?” you asked before tilting the paper to the side, letting Sukuna have a glance at the design he decided to discard.

“Oh, the client cancelled since I wouldn’t have sex with her,” Sukuna casually stated leading you to nod before taking another look at the design with a small smile on your face. Sadly, it was such a waste since the design was beautiful and it was disappointing to not see Sukuna put this beautiful art into life.

Some people might wonder why you were so calm about the statement he had just given you, heck even his younger twin brother Itadori Yuji thought it was weird that it didn’t bother you as much as other girls would have been. The reason was that you were so used to him having female attention as well as male attention and it wasn’t a surprise when people would book an appointment with him just for a fling or hoping for something more than just that - and even though you were calm, there was also a hint of jealousy and fear within your heart that you couldn’t help.

It was like the first time you saw him in your second year of high school.

                                               ꕥ 

Stretching your arms, you had finally finished the last sheet of the budgets for the school clubs leading you to carefully clip the pile of sheets into the folder as you then stood up from your desk before quickly heading out of your homeroom, so you could give the documents to the student council president, who was a third-year within your school.

However, as you were walking past a few classrooms with some people greeting you with a smile, you came to a sudden halt when you saw a whole crowd of female and males students in front of you leading to a blockage of the halls and a blockage of the classroom you need to go through to hand the documents to your senior.

“Did you hear, I heard he was back?!”

“I can’t believe he’s back, I missed him so much!”

“I like Yuji’s kind and goofy personality, but how could you not love a bad boy like him?”

‘Bad boy?’

Carefully, you managed to find a gap between the sea of students and forcibly made yourself fit within the gap before badly struggling to make it through the arc of the classroom door leading you to nearly trip the second you got the chance to push through the gap to ender the class. Quickly looking around, you found your senior sitting next to someone who looked like your friend and basketball club member Itadori Yuji - well more like a mature replicant of the boy you were used to. However, unbothered by the sudden appearance of the new third-year, you speedily made your way to the council president and handed him the booklet that he needed today leading you to receive his gratitude.

Yet, before you could even take a single step away from your senior, you unexpectedly felt someone grab your wrist causing you to quickly turn around to find Itadori’s replica behind you leading to a few gasps coming from the students from the outside as well as in the homeroom.

“Is there an issue?” you firmly asked, as you looked down at his hand that had a tight grip on your wrist causing you to have a small glance at the two black bands that were tattooed around his wrist - even though it was prohibited to have any in your school, you weren’t the type to scold someone for having them since you weren’t sure on how the teacher’s thought it affected someone’s education.

“Have you ever thought about getting a tattoo?” the salmon-haired third-year curiously asked, as he began to admire your wrist by gently turning it for your veins to come into view before beginning to trace your skin with the tip of his thumb causing a light shiver to go down your spine due to the ticklish feeling as well as his deep voice which was the complete opposite to what you thought it was going to be.

‘So this is the infamous Sukuna everyone was talking about’

“Not really,” you answered as you looked at him causing his eyes to look back at you before you continued with “I don’t think it would suit me at all,”.

“I disagree,” Sukuna counteracted, as he went back to admire the blank canvas of your wrist that he wanted to draw on so badly. No not draw. Mark. “I think you’ll suit something, maybe something on your neck or collarbone at best actually,” Sukuna mentioned leading you to give him a confused expression before he then proceeded with his speech by saying, “I’ll convince you one day and mark you brat”,

‘What...did….he….just….call….me..?’

“Ah...good luck with that idiot,” you stated in an annoyed tone leading to a few of the admiring student to gasp at your wording as well as sudden confident as they were scared on what was going to happen to you now since Sukuna wasn’t the type to tolerate insults in a nice way no matter what gender you were. However, exceeding the audience’s assumptions, Sukuna began to smirk excitedly at your attitude as he suddenly found you more interesting than any other girl he has met at the back of the school.

“Be prepared, little kitten”

                                               ꕥ

‘That nickname….’

Back then Sukuna was known to be a playboy from what you could recall, every week there was news on the new girl he had managed to convince to meet at the back alley of the school while you were just being a model student with the dream of going to law school. However, during the middle of the school year, you began to realise that the common scandalous news that seemed to be popular enough for it to be on the front cover of the newspaper began to gradually fade as Sukuna slowly pushed himself into your life since you were close with his twin brother due to your friend being part of the basketball team as the assistant coach - she even mentioned that ever since Sukuna came into your life he had stopped his acts and change slightly because of you to which, of course, you denied at the time.

It was during the first term of your third-year that you agreed to give Sukuna a chance since he was constantly annoying you by popping up at the school gate after school to ‘walk you home’ ever since his graduation - when in reality it was to take you out somewhere - without fail even when you had to stay in a few hours. However, you had given him three conditions since you were still conscious of the consequences of dating someone with such a disgraceful built reputation - much to his dismay, he shockingly agreed.

If you are going to have a fling with someone behind my back, don’t think about seeing or talking to me again.

I know you are sexually active, but you have to wait until I’m ready.

Don’t tattoo me.

Let’s just say that Sukuna had managed to keep condition number one in check and you didn’t have to worry about it at all, while with condition number two he didn’t have to wait that long for you to give in to your desires which you could tell he certainly enjoyed when you finally gave him the ‘okay’.

Number three though...

“Do you want to try that design out?”

Breaking from your daze, you quickly turned your head to find your boyfriend staring at you - with the bento box practically empty at this point - while tilting his head to the paper that was still within your grasp.

“I think you giving me hickeys are enough in my opinion, babe” you jokingly mentioned leading to both you and Sukuna laughing at each other slightly.

“I mean, do you want me to draw it on you to see how it looks?” he then asked, causing you to look at the floral design one last time before giving him a hesitant nod.

‘Trying it out won’t hurt right?’

“I need a confident answer little kitten, where did that feisty attitude of yours back in high school go?” Sukuna teased, causing you to give him the side glance before giving him the verbal permission that he wanted, leading him to smirk at you since knew his mockery would get you to give him what he wanted since you were also the stubborn type - a side that he always loved to play with.

Grabbing his pen and a black pot full of his thin-tipped coloured skin markers, he wheels his chair even closer to your before pausing, leading you to look at him in confusion since you had already pulled your wrist in front of him, the same area he had grabbed back in high school.

“You’re wearing a lot of clothing today,” Sukuna muttered as he began to fiddle with the collar of your white silk dress shirt causing you to look at him with extreme confusion before mentioning, “well it is getting colder since the Autumn season is coming around,” leading him to hum in an understanding tone as he continued to play with the smooth fabric.

“I want to draw on your collarbone area, I don’t want to draw on the area where the client wanted it to be,” Sukuna stated as he lightly pushed away your wrist leading you to realise why he paused. “You can,” you quickly mentioned leading the tattoo artist to look at you to see if you were lying, only to see nothing but the light of the trust within your eyes.

Slowly, Sukuna began to reach over to the top button to then unhook it from its loop before continuously doing the same with the others until enough skin of your shoulders were exposed with the top half of your shirt resting on the side of your arms to which then he slowly moved away the right-hand side of your bra strap to fully expose the canvas that he wanted to mark so eagerly.

Admiring the skin that was in front of him, Sukuna began to trace the area with his thumb before leaning in to place a chaste kiss on the same side of your neck before cradling your face on the other side with his other hand - as if it was a way for him to say ‘thank you’ for letting him do this.

Regrettably pulling away, Sukuna quickly grabbed his black pen as he then leaned in towards your collarbone to start drawing the outline of his design on his now favourite canvas causing you to shiver somehow due to how ticklish and weird the sensation felt when the ballpoint pen continuously gently gilded upon your skin. However, what got you shaking the most was the constant feeling of your boyfriend’s breath being felt on your upper body now that your shirt was basically off - it wasn’t completely off to the same feeling when you were underneath him the first time you allowed him to make his claim on you.

“Baby, it feels ticklish,” you commented, the second you felt a different sensation upon your skin leading Sukuna to glance up to check if you were alright like you were an actual client before placing another kiss on your jawline in a way to comfort you since he had switched to his skin markers to colour in the design he had drawn on you.

“You’re being a good kitten though, you’re not moving a lot then I thought you would,” the tattoo artist whispered leading you to quiver as his deep voice was not helping so much with your beating heart - erratic to the point where you thought he could hear or even feel.

Due to Sukuna concentrating, you couldn’t help but keep silent to help him continue with his work causing you to glance around your room with your eyes before landing upon a wall where there was a multitude of messages written leading you to carefully scan the writings that were visibly presenting themselves.

As expected, there were messages of encouragement - not that the arrogant Sukuna needed it to be honest, but it was nice of the client to do so - and a few drawings from other tattoo artists that Sukuna had famously done. However, not to your surprise, there were a few numbers here and there causing you to sigh since you couldn’t help it - you couldn’t blame your boyfriend for being an extremely handsome man.

Unexpectedly, you felt another kiss being placed upon your cheek causing you to look towards your boyfriend with a smile on your face - it was as if he knew what you were looking at. “I’m finished by the way,” Sukuna announced, causing you to look at him with widened eyes since the drawing session was a little faster than you had anticipated.

Reaching over to a drawer in his desk, Sukuna suddenly pulled out a mirror before passing it to you, leading you to lift up the little instrument to see the result that was drawn on your skin.

“You changed the design,” you quietly stated, as you began to tenderly trace the design with your index finger as you began to admire the piece of art that was masterfully drawn on your collar bone. The tattoo beautifully depicted a single strand of a blooming lavender across your collarbone with each petal in different shades of purple while the buds that weren’t in bloom were in a slight pale pink shade making you smile more since Sukuna drew this straight from his head causing you to have a hint of proudness for him.

“I wasn’t going to give you that previous design, it doesn’t suit you one bit,” the salmon-haired artist mentioned as he continued with, “I’m not going to let that disgusting design touch your skin, especially since this is the first time you let me mark you somewhat,” as he then moved behind you before placing his chin on your shoulder to look at you through the mirror you were holding.

“I might let you mark me permanently then,” you suddenly announced causing your boyfriend to look at you with a surprised look on his face leading you to giggle at his reaction.

“Yeah, let’s break condition three then, you can mark me this one time,” you informed him as you turned to look at him, causing Sukuna to give you his classic smirk before possessively grabbing your chin leading him to lean closer to you.

“Let me mark you then”

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost