#apologies for taking so long to answer you too but thank you for your patience

[lovesickgoose]

Hello! I wanted to say thank you for taking my request, I got a silly amount of joy when I saw the spy and pyro drawing. You genuinely warmed my heart and as you are one of the few artists I dare to request from, the name spy anon might be fitting. (More so because I am shy, I don't really go invisible like spy.) If you do draw more spy I will be very happy though, he is my fav ❤️ and perhaps in the future I dare send more requests

AAAAAH I'M SO GLAD!!!💞💞💞💞💞 IT WAS A JOY TO DRAW!!!💞💞💞💞💞💞

I feel like I really do neglect spy compared to the other mercs, so I should really make an effort to draw him more this year

[pedrospatch]

a safe haven l ten

Jackson! Joel Miller x Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: After a long night, Joel and Ellie take you home.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. (TW) THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS MENTIONS OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF AN INJURY SUSTAINED FROM AN ACT OF DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, PREGNANCY, CONVERSATIONS SURROUNDING PREGNANCY LOSS . PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS. Ellie and reader are very close to each other, Joel deals with feelings of guilt, Joel and Maria make nice, Joel gives reader a bath and washes her hair, food consumption (i am just gonna apologize to my lactose intolerant folks right now, trust me i must pretend with you), both reader and Joel have some big feelings, reader mentions her deceased father, angst, soft and domestic Joel, fluff.

word count: 5k

a/n: i have not updated this series since october. :l i feel a a mixed bag of emotions updating after all this time, but most of all, i am grateful to know there are a couple of people out there who are still invested in this story. to anyone who has been waiting: truly, it means the world that you have shown me patience, support, and kindness. believe me, i am going to be seeing this story to the end, and it is all thanks to those who continue to show this lil story of mine a whole lotta love. special shoutout to the loveliest human @mrsmando who made me this beautiful mooodboard every single time i got stuck during this chapter, i looked at it and it gave me the boost of inspiration i needed. thank you mimi <33 this chapter is fairly tame, the next chapter is already in the works, and there are a couple of time jumps coming. overall, we are down to the last handful of chapters. let’s finish this story and give these two the ending they deserve, shall we?

“What the hell is taking Tommy so fucking long?” Ellie whines. She’s sprawled out on the couch with her head in your lap, and her arm draped over her eyes. Her feet are hanging, dangling over the edge of the couch at an odd angle after you’d warned her not to get muck from her sneakers on the linen fabric. Despite Joel insisting over and over that she head on back to the house, she had stubbornly refused, not wanting to leave your side. “It’s been over two hours! He’s taking fucking forever, man. What’s the fucking hold up?”

Joel bites back a sigh, masking his own impatience. Or at least, he tries. He’s grown just as restless as the kid, if not more. Much like Ellie, he’s desperate. He’s itching to take you home already, almost too anxious to watch you take that first step over his threshold, and into your new life with him and with Ellie. He aches, aches, to get you settled into the place where you would be spending the remainder of your days with one another, where you would be safe, and loved in the way you deserved to be loved—the place where he would cherish and adore you until his final breath.

“Don’t know,” he answers, his voice sounding rougher, more gruff than usual. Reaching up, he scrubs his hand down the side of his face, adding tiredly, “He might be a while longer, kiddo. It could be another hour, could be more. Like I already told you, s’probably best if you just go on and head back to the house without us, alright?”

“No. I’m not walking out that fucking door unless she’s with me.” She pauses and pulls her arm away from her face for a moment, just long enough to throw a teeny glare his way. “Unless you’re both with me. The three of us go home together, or it’s no fucking deal. Got it?”

He shakes his head in utter exasperation.

“Ellie, we’ll be right here down the fuckin’ road—”

Her hand shoots out and she flips him off.

Just when he’s about to chastise her, he stops himself, clamping his mouth shut. It’s pointless.

Kid’s too goddamn hard headed for her own good, and Joel knows he’s just wasting his breath with her.

“I’m sure he’ll be back soon,” you reassure them both, weaving your fingers through her hair to scratch at her scalp in an effort to soothe her. “Right, Joel?”

He meets your exhausted, worn down gaze from where he’s standing across the room, and his heart lurches in his chest. As the guilt begins creeping in, he’s forced to look away. He can’t imagine the living hell you had been through over the last twenty four hours alone. And the worst part about it was the realization that last night, while he was fast asleep in bed just a couple of houses up the road, that fucking bastard had his belt wrapped around your throat.

Joel feels sick to his fucking stomach all over again.

Horrifying, vividly real images of you helplessly trapped underneath Luke scratching and clawing at the leather around your neck with trembling fingers, struggling to breathe oxygen into your burning lungs as he tugged it tighter and tighter through the buckle flash in his mind, a gruesome nightmare turned into reality.

Exactly how far had Luke taken it?

Until you had grown too weak to keep fighting?

Until you almost lost complete consciousness?

Until he noticed the life threatening to leave your eyes?

Is that when he had finally stopped pulling on the belt?

Joel shudders, a bitter taste climbing up his throat as it sinks in. He could have lost you—and his unborn child.

This shouldn’t have happened.

He shouldn’t have let you walk away that night.

This wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t let you walk away from him that night.

“Joel,” you say his name, quiet and weary.

His head snaps back in your direction and he glances at you, almost missing the subtle shake of your head. It is a silent warning telling him not to go there, though you know by the tight clench of his jaw it’s too late for that.

Joel makes the futile attempt to hide it, but he sees it written all over your face—you know what he’s thinking because you know him like the back of your own hand, and you just know he’s placing all of the blame for what happened to you on his own shoulders.

But can you honestly fault him for that?

How can you expect him not to feel like he is somehow responsible for this? Just how the hell is he supposed to make himself believe he hadn’t failed you?

Joel promised—he had fucking promised you—that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. He had sworn to keep you safe, made a vow to protect you from Luke, but here you are, your soft, delicate flesh marred with the painful evidence of yet another one of his failures.

And it was all because he had let you walk away on that fucking night.

He should have done something.

Even if it meant running the risk of you never speaking to him again—even if you never forgave him, spent the rest of your life angry and hating him for going against your wishes. He should have something.

“Joel—”

“Be right back,” he mutters, lightly shaking his head.

Shoving away from the doorframe he’s leaning against, Joel pivots on the heel of his boot and starts down the hallway. He walks into the kitchen where he finds Maria standing at the counter, tapping her fingers against the smooth, laminated oakwood as she waits for the coffee she’d offered him a few minutes ago to finish brewing. She’d offered to whip up a quick supper, but food was the last thing on everyone’s mind.

“Tommy’s been gone for a couple hours now. Girls are startin’ to get real tired of just sittin’ around waitin’ for him to come back,” he tells her, exhaling the sigh he’d held back in the living room. “What do you think could be keepin’ him so long?”

With her back still to him, Maria reminds him, “Well, he did mention he was going to round up the council and get them together for an emergency meeting.” She lets out a sigh that matches his own—it’s been a long night for her, too. When the last drop of dark roast drips into the glass pot, she carefully takes the pot by the plastic handle and pours the steaming coffee into a speckled, white and blue ceramic mug. “Do you take it with milk and sugar?”

“No thanks, that’s alright,” he declines as politely as he can.

“I also have cinnamon if you’d like?”

“Plain black’s just fine.” He gives her a nod of gratitude when she hands it to him. “Thank you. And I don’t just mean the coffee, but for, uh—for bandagin’ up my hand for me, too.” He clocks the brief look of surprise on her face and almost laughs. He doesn’t blame her for being taken aback, because truth be told, so is he. Since he’d met Maria, he had known she didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. There was something of a mutual understanding between them, a silent agreement they had made to keep each other at arm’s length, to only interact when it was absolutely necessary.

Never did he think he would be standing in her kitchen, thanking her for patching up his hand, and for making him a cup of coffee out of the kindness of her heart.

His brother wouldn’t believe it.

“Don’t mention it.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans back against the counter. “How’s it feel, by the way?”

“S’fine,” he replies, shrugging. “Nothin’ I can’t handle.”

There’s a momentary silence. A taste of tension lingers over their heads, and he knows at one point or another, he’s going to have to address the affair, the very reason everything had unfolded in such a terrible manner.

Guess now’s as good a time as fuckin’ any, he thinks to himself with an inward sigh.

Joel lightly clears his throat. “Listen, since we’ve got a minute alone, just the two of us, I was wonderin’ if, uh—if we could talk ‘bout somethin’? If that’s alright?”

“Of course.” Maria gives him the floor.

“I know that she—” Pausing, he shuffles from the heel of one boot to the other, his ears burning hot. He had known it wouldn’t be an easy conversation to have, but he underestimated just how uncomfortable it would be, regardless of what she already knew. “I know she told you and Tommy all ‘bout us, and ‘bout our relationship. See, the thing is, the first time I saw her—”

Again, Joel stops, the burning sensation now radiating, spreading from his ears to his face and down his neck, flushing his skin a deep, deep shade of pink. Unable to meet his sister in law’s gaze, he glances down into his mug, as if he will somehow find the right words to say somewhere in the depths of his coffee.

“It was never my intention, y’know,” he finally says after a minute. “Goin’ after a married woman. I swear, I never meant to fall for her. I just fuckin’ did. I think I might’ve fallen for her long before I even met her,” he confesses. He feels himself darken to a shade of maroon under her curious stare. “And somehow, for reasons I ain’t all too sure I’ll ever understand, she fell for me too.”

Maria raises an eyebrow at him. “Look, I’m not judging you, Joel,” she assures him, shaking her head. “If that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not judging her, either.”

He looks up at her, blurting out, “You’re not?”

She moves her hands to cradle her swollen middle. “Do I wish you two had handled everything differently?” she answers her own query with a nod of her head. “Oh, I’m sure we all do. But I’ve known her for a long time now. I know the kind of woman she is. And I’m starting to see the kind of man you are.”

“And what kinda man is that, Maria?”

He waits without the slightest clue as to what she could possibly say.

“Since you came back to Jackson, I’ve chosen to keep my distance from you—but make no mistake, I’ve been watching you like a hawk since day one. Waiting for any signs of trouble. Waiting for you to fuck up. Waiting for you to give me a good reason to throw your ass out of this community because I didn’t trust you. Not after all the things I was told about you.”

He snorts. “You goin’ somewhere with this?”

“You are not who I thought you were,” Maria admits, smiling wryly. “I’ve gotten to see a different side of you. You pull your weight around here by doing your job and doing it well. You stay out of trouble—for the most part. And more importantly, I have seen the way that you’ve stepped up to be a father figure to Ellie. It takes a good man to do that, Joel.”

“Think that’s the nicest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever said to me,” he muses, setting his mug down on the counter. “I stepped up because I love her. I love them both. Those two, they’re the best parts of me. They’re the reasons I keep goin’ and now I’ve got another reason on the way.”

Maria smiles, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

Catching her hesitance, Joel asks, “What? What is it?”

“What comes next is not going to be easy,” she warns him, lowering her voice. Even with the living room a fair distance from the kitchen, she doesn’t want to run the risk of you overhearing her. “For as hard as we’re going to try to contain the fire, it will spread, and everyone in this town will find out about everything—including the affair. People are going to talk, and believe me, they’re going to have a whole lot to say about it, Joel.”

He can’t help but roll his eyes at her.

“Think I can handle some fuckin’ gossip, Maria.”

“I know you can. But I’m not sure if she can,” Maria tells him, quietly. “It worries me. She’s been through a lot in just one night alone. I don’t want her stressing anymore than she already has. She is in a very delicate stage of her pregnancy right now, Joel. If she’s not careful, she could have a miscarriage. She had one about two years ago when her father became sick—” Observing his lack of a reaction, she realizes, “You knew that already.”

“Yeah,” he sighs. He knows where she’s going with this. “I did. She told me ‘bout it.”

“It makes her chances of having another one higher—”

Joel doesn’t even allow himself to think of it happening to you again. “I get it,” he interjects, trying not to sound too curt. “I’ll make sure she takes it real easy, alright?”

Lifting a hand off her belly, she reaches out and takes a hold of his forearm, gripping it tightly.

“Promise me something, Joel. Promise me that you’ll look after her,” Maria pleads him, gently. “Please. After everything she’s been through—I need you to promise me that she’s going to be in good hands with you.”

He nods. Without thinking, he places his hand over hers in an unexpected token of affection and reassurance. “You have my word, Maria. I’ll take good care of her.”

She gives his arm a grateful squeeze, then glances over his shoulder at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting pretty late. We don’t know how much longer Tommy’s going to be with the council. Why don’t we just go ahead and call it a night?” she suggests. “We can all get together first thing in the morning at your place to talk about it.”

“Yeah, good idea,” he agrees. “She really needs to rest.”

Maria gives his arm another squeeze. 

“Go on then, Joel. Take your girls home.”

“Finally!” Ellie exclaims with a dramatic flail of her arms as she shoves through the front door.

“Alright, kiddo. Get your behind upstairs and into the shower,” Joel instructs her, flipping on the lights in the foyer. “Y’smell like fuckin’ horse shit.”

She lifts the collar of her shirt to her nose, takes a whiff, and makes a face. “Yeah, I won’t argue with you there,” she mutters. She toes off her dirty sneakers and leaves them beside the door before dashing up the staircase, taking two steps at a time.

He shouts after her, “And don’t use up all the hot—”

“Yeah, yeah, I fucking know the rules, dude!”

Moments later, you both hear the shower going.

“Little shit,” he grumbles.

You exhale an amused huff through your nose.

Joel withdraws his arm from around your shoulders and reaches for your hand, lacing your fingers together. “C’mon, darlin’.” He guides you up the stairs and down the hallway into his bedroom where he switches on the light before proceeding to lead you over to his dresser. “I’ve got a bunch of shirts in this top drawer here,” he says. Dropping your hand, he pulls it open for you and gestures to it with a jut of his chin as he takes a step backwards, moving out of the way. “Go ahead and pick one to sleep in tonight. Want you to be comfortable, so help yourself to whichever one you want, sweet girl.”

Nodding, you begin to rummage through the drawer, unaware of the moment he slips away. You reach for a t-shirt, but then a plaid green flannel catches your eye. You pluck it from the drawer, running your fingers over the soft, warm fabric. “Is it alright if I wear—?” You turn around, stopping mid sentence when you realize he’s no longer standing behind you. Puzzled, you follow the sound of running water into the bathroom where you find him kneeling beside the tub. “Joel? What are you doing?”

“Runnin’ you a bath.”

You notice the bloodied bandage beside him on the tile floor. “Joel, are you serious?” you scold him. “Maria just patched your hand up for you.”

“S’okay, peach. I can rewrap it when we’re done.” Joel sticks his injured hand under the faucet to check the temperature, the cold water soothing his cuts. Once it turns warm, then hot, he pulls out his hand, waiting for the tub to fill halfway before shutting the faucet off and rising to his feet. “C’mere, sweetheart.” He rolls the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms, then beckons for you with both of his hands. “Let’s get you washed up.”

You remain standing by the door. “Joel, you don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know.”

“I’m capable of washing myself—”

“Yeah, I know that too,” he says, chuckling. “S’only fair, darlin’. Don’t you think?”

That’s when it hits you—how this moment is mirroring that night you had cleaned Joel up after you and Ellie had brought him home from the clinic with an injured shoulder. He allowed you to take care of him, and now, he was looking to do the same for you. And all you had to do was let him.

“But your hand—”

“Will be just fine,” Joel persists, stubbornly. “It’s nothin’ but a few cuts and scrapes. C’mon—or else I’m gonna march right over there and get you myself, peach.”

Knowing Joel, you certainly wouldn’t put it past him to throw you over his should and carry you to the bathtub.

“Fine,” you relent with a small sigh of defeat.

Setting his shirt down on the sink, you slowly walk over towards him and whirl around, letting him help you out of your knitted cardigan. You finish undressing yourself, inhaling a deep breath as you muster up the courage to turn back around and face him—when you finally do, it feels like a punch to the gut to see the heartbreak in his dark brown eyes, the subtle tremble of his bottom lip. You don’t have to look at yourself in the mirror to know it looks about a hundred times worse when you’re not wearing clothes.

Keeping your arms down at your sides, you fight every urge to cover yourself up. You’ve never felt so fucking vulnerable.

Clearing his throat, Joel holds out his hand. “C’mere.”

You accept it, and he helps you into the tub.

“How’s the water? S’not too hot, is it?”

You shake your head and he leans forward, kissing your temple so sweetly, your eyes flutter closed.

He washes your hair first, then takes a clean washcloth, lathering it up with a bar of milk and honey soap—the same soap he would smell on your skin all those nights. Admittedly, Joel preferred castile soap, but switched it when he found himself missing you during those weeks you were apart from him, when he needed the comfort of your scent. He is gentle with you, so gentle, as if he’s afraid you’ll shatter into pieces in his hands.

As he lightly drags the washcloth up your back and around your neck, you stiffen, prompting him to freeze too. “Fuck. Baby, did I hurt you?” he asks, and you hear the slight panic in his tone.

“No,” you say quickly, desperately trying to swallow the lump rising in your throat. “No, you didn’t hurt me. It’s just—” Every overwhelming emotion slams into you all at once, and you can’t seem to figure out which one to feel first. Humiliation? Fear? Relief?

The water sloshes around you as you pull your legs up to your chest and wrap your arms around your knees, giving yourself permission to feel them all. Bowing your head, you begin to sob quietly, hoping that Ellie, who is just down the hallway, won’t hear you crying again.

Joel says nothing. Washcloth still clutched in his hand, he leans forward over the edge of the tub and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close, or at least, as close as the barrier between the two of you will allow him.

“Joel,” you choke, trying to push him off. “Stop it. Your clothes, they’re getting all wet.”

“Hush. Don’t fuckin’ care ‘bout my clothes,” he croaks, and for a second, you swear he’s about to cry too. But he doesn’t. He holds himself strong. Tugging you closer against his chest, he buries his nose into your soaking wet hair, whispering his reassurance. “You’re okay, baby. You’re safe, my sweet girl. I’ve got you, alright?”

He pulls back slightly, dipping his hand into the water, placing it on your lower belly.

You look down, your eyes glazing over his bruised and battered knuckles. Proof that Joel Miller really would do anything for you.

“I know you do,” you say, softly. “I know you’ve got me, Joel.”

A while later, you’re dried, dressed, and composed. You follow Joel out of the bathroom and back into his room, where he has you take a seat on the bed. Noticing you had missed a button on his flannel shirt, he does it for you. He plants a kiss on the top of your head and says, “Give me a minute while I change.”

He peels off his wet clothes, being careful so as not to further agitate his sore, injured hand. After changing into a pair of gray sweatpants and an old, faded black t-shirt, he turns around only to find you’re sitting in bed underneath the covers.

“Sorry,” you apologize with a nervous chuckle as you rest your back against the headboard. “It just looked so warm and cozy—and it smells like you. I couldn’t resist making myself comfortable.”

Joel pads over to the side of the bed. He leans over, planting one hand on either side of you as he dips his head and brushes his lips against yours. “Ain’t got no reason to apologize, baby,” he assures you in a gentle murmur. “This is your bed now too, peach. This is your room. This is your home. Alright?”

Home.

You’re home.

He touches the tip of his nose to yours, and then draws himself back up to full height. “There’s somethin’ that I’ve gotta take care of downstairs, peach. I won’t be too long,” he promises.

It’s almost midnight. Joel goes about the kitchen and he prepares you the quickest meal that he can think of. He plates the sandwich he’d thrown together and pours a glass of cow’s milk—he’s always sure to keep a pint of it in the refrigerator to make the kid her oatmeal in the mornings.

He heads back upstairs, only to find that while he had been gone, Ellie had joined you, making herself a little too comfortable on his side of the bed. He stands there at the door, watching the two of you.

“Hey, so is it true babies can hear stuff while they’re in there?” Ellie questions you, curiously.

“Mhm,” you reply with a nod. “They can hear music, for example. Voices—”

“Voices?” She smushes her face into your stomach and he hears a muffled, “Hey, dude!”

You giggle. “Ellie, I think it’s still a little too early.”

“When do you think it’ll be able to hear me?”

“I’m not too sure. In a few months, maybe?”

Ellie lifts her head, humming. “You know, I bet there’s baby books in the library,” she tells you as she sits up. “I’ll have Dina help me look for one tommor—oh shit.” She stares at you with wide eyes. “Dina! How are you going to tell her and Talia about Luke?”

Joel grimaces. He hadn’t thought of that, either.

“I—I’m not too sure.”

“You have to fucking tell them. Dina has to know about him. She has to know what a piece of shit he is, and so does Talia.”

Sensing your discomfort, Joel steps into the bedroom and intervenes before she can say another word. “Ellie, get to bed. S’late.”

“But—���

“Don’t make me tell you again,” he warns her, sternly.

She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” She climbs off the bed and on her way out, she eyes the plate in his hand. “That chicken?”

“Turkey. And it ain’t for you, it’s for her. So scram, kid.”

“Couldn’t have made me one while you were at it, old man?”

“Ellie, if you don’t get outta here right now—”

“Alright!” Ellie holds her hands up. “I’m leaving. Jesus.”

She disappears, closing the door behind her.

“Pain in my ass,” Joel mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over and carefully perches himself beside you. He hands you the plate. “Here, darlin’.”

“Joel, I appreciate this, but I’m really not very hungry.”

“Maybe not, but y’gotta eat,” he insists. “Baby needs it.”

Thankfully, you accept it without further protest.

“I’ll have Ellie get your things tomorrow,” Joel states as you’re eating. “Maria can go along with her since she knows the house. They’ll get your clothes and whatever else you might need outta there.”

“My father’s belongings.” You accidentally talk through a mouthful of turkey and bread. Swallowing, you tell him, “I have some boxes of his stuff in the basement. But they’re way too heavy for either of them to carry.”

“I’ll take care of that for you.” He reaches up, wiping a breadcrumb from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. “I can ask Tommy to give me a hand. Don’t you worry, peach. We won’t leave your dad’s things behind, I swear it.”

Relieved, you shoot him a grateful look, then polish off the last few bites of your sandwich.

“Here,” he says, offering you the glass of milk. “Figured it’s good for you, and good for the baby. Y’know, since it’s got calcium and…stuff.” He shrugs sheepishly, no clue as to what he’s talking about. “Vitamins, right?”

Nodding, you grab the glass and take a reluctant sip.

“You hate milk,” Joel realizes, raising an eyebrow.

“I do,” you admit with a laugh. “But you’re right. It’s good for both me and the baby, so cheers.” And with that, you somehow force the entire glass down.

He sets the dishes aside on the nightstand, figuring he can take them downstairs first thing in the morning.

Without bothering to rebandage his hand like he’d told you he would, Joel turns off the lights and climbs into bed with you. “All those nights wishin’ I could bring you home,” he muses as you curl into his side. “Wantin’ nothin’ more than to hold you in my arms in this bed. In our bed.” His arm slips around your shoulders, a laugh rumbling through his chest. “Almost doesn’t feel real, darlin’.”

Tilting your head, you nuzzle your nose into the scruff of his beard, prompting him to laugh again. Then, he remembers his conversation with Maria, and his smile fades from his face, his lips pursing together.

You catch the sudden shift in his demeanor.

“Joel? What’s the matter?”

“M’fine, baby. It’s just—” He hesitates. “From this point forward, I need you to let me handle things.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you gettin’ all stressed out, alright? I don’t want to run the risk of you—” He’s unsure of how to say it.

“Of me losing the baby,” you finish for him, quietly.

Joel winces, knowing he was wandering into sensitive territory. “Yeah. I—I really don’t want that to happen.” He pauses. “Maria mentioned to me you’re in a delicate stage. When do you reckon you’ll stop—how long until you don’t gotta worry ‘bout it?”

“After twelve weeks, my risk isn’t as high. If I make it to the second trimester in six weeks, then my chances of having another miscarriage are lower.”

Though you speak calmly, he clocks your anxiousness.

You’re worried, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t fucking worried out of his mind too.

Being a father at his age wasn’t ideal, but he wanted this child. It was part of him, and more importantly, it was a part of you.

Joel squeezes your shoulders. “I only ask ‘cause I was thinkin’ that, y’know, once we get to that point, maybe I can go ahead and start buildin’ the baby’s crib.”

“You’re going to build the crib?”

He nods. “And the highchair too. I can even make you a diaper changin’ table if y’want one.”

“Joel.” You can’t help but chuckle. “Our worlds were just turned completely upside down. You just found out that I’m pregnant, and you’re already thinking about building furniture? Aren’t we getting a little ahead of ourselves?”

“Hey, those things take a whole ‘lotta time,” he says in defense of himself. “Besides, winter’s right around the corner and I don’t wanna be out in the garage freezin’ my fuckin’ ass off. If I can get a head start now, I can have them all done in the spring by the time the baby comes.”

You fall silent.

“What’s on your mind?”

“I’m really scared of losing it,” you confess. “When I first took that pregnancy test, I wanted nothing more for it to be negative. Now, I’m terrified I won’t make it past my first trimester again. I really don’t want to lose it. I want this baby, Joel.”

He turns his head, meeting your eyes in the silver light shining through the lace curtains over his window. “S’why you’ve gotta let me handle things, darlin’. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“C’mere, my sweet girl.” Joel presses his lips to yours, murmuring against them, “I love you.”

His declaration comes with natural ease.

And so does yours.

“I love you too, Joel.”

[milkteabinniechan]

Hey, I was wondering of you could write something like... celibate until marriage reader and she's insecure in it or feels like she's asking for too much (maybe she's had past negative experiences), if that makes sense. Maybe slightly angsty (or a lot, I'm a sucker for angst) you can do everything else however you want to! Can also include potential suggestiveness or the likes...

Thank you so much for your wonderful posts, even if you don't end up doing this one 🫶🏻

♡A Heart Set Aside - Chan

pairing: fiance Chan x fem! reader

warnings: angst, slight mention of past abuse, guilt, shame (channie makes it all better)

a/n: I apologize again for taking so long to answer this request! It was very healing to write it, thank you for sending it in ♡

There is something so magical about the way he touches you, you can’t explain it. The first man to touch you without hurting you. You never thought it would be possible. But here you were, trying on wedding gowns on a Sunday afternoon. The three mirrors in front of you showed every part of the dress and every part of you. There was no hiding anymore. You knew that when you said yes to Chan that night. He knelt down on one knee and promised to love you forever. To cherish and adore you for the rest of your days.

You looked down at your hand where your engagement ring wrapped around your finger. The modest diamond sparkled and caught the light as you moved your hand back and forth.

“Did you find the dress you want?” Chan called from the kitchen. He had an apron tied tight around his waist and was preparing the traditional Sunday night meal.

There was a softness in routine with Chan. There had been an easy rhythm that you two had fallen into together like you had been doing this your whole lives. Sometimes you would look at him, standing in the kitchen or sitting across from the dinner table, and feel overhelmed. Like it was all too much. This man that loved you, like those three mirrors reflecting back at you. He could see everything and he still wanted to be there. He still wanted you, all of you.

“I tried on a few, but still haven’t found ‘the one.” You sighed as you made your way to the kitchen. You grabbed a few dinner plates from the cupboard and helped Chan set up for dinner.

As the two of you ate and made small talk, you could feel a tight knot of guilt forming in your stomach. You gripped your fork and kept you head down. Your palms were beading with sweat and there was a pounding filling your ears that was becoming impossible to ignore.

Chan furrowed his brow as he cleared your plate and then his own. He knew that the wedding plans had become stressful and that sometimes you just needed a quiet moment to gather your thoughts. He knew not to push you and most times just leave you be. But most days it took all the strength he had to be patience and not grab you and pull you into his arms. To hold you as tight as he could and tell you over and over again that everything was going to be okay now. That he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt you anymore. He would be there. There to protect you. There to love you. There to watch you grow and change as a person. He wanted to be there for you just as you had always been there for him.

“Channie, can we talk about something?” You whispered softly.

Chan perked up from the sink and made his way over to you on the couch. You scooted back to make room for him next to you as you gathered your courage to speak.”

“You know that I wanted to wait until we’re married to have sex…” Your voice began to trail off. Chan nodded his head firmly, his expression never faultering from that loving gaze. “Of course I do.”

You could feel the tears already welling up in your eyes. The words now trapped like a lump in your throat, blocking oxygen, blocking thought. “I-I feel awful aboout it. Like I’m asking too much!”

The words shot out of your mouth like a rocket. You stared at Chan for a moment, unsure of how he would react. He furrowed his brow again and leaned in closer to you. Still not saying a word, he brushed his thumb against your cheek and wiped a tear that was beginning to fall.

“My Angel…” he started, his voiced laced with an indescribable tenderness that wrapped around your heart and squeezed it tight. “Something that is important to you, like this, is never too much.” His thumb moved down from your cheek to your chin and traced along your jawline. “I would wait a million lifetimes for you.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, melting into his touch. Quickly losing yourself in the sensation of his tender care. A hand on you that wasn’t causing you pain, a touch that wasn’t leaving marks and bruises. A love you deserved. Had it finally arrived? Had a soft love finally found you?

Chan leaned in further, his legs interlocking with yours. You lifted your hand and placed it gently on the back of his neck. Your lips pressed delicately against each other, like the first time you kissed. A cautious, optomistic love that blossomed into trust and commitment. A beautiful flower garden of devotion and understanding.

“Thank you.” You said softly, your breath mingling with Chan’s as his arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer. You had given up on the idea of fairytales and yet, Prince Charming had found you anyway.

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[7seas-of-ryy]

I Need You | Part 8

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Author’s Note: Thank you all for your patience! I already started part 9 and will hopefully have it for you guys tomorrow <3

Summary: Forgiveness is a big part of healing but it is harder than it seems.

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: angst, let me know if I need to add any others :)

As you went to find Azriel, you were stopped by Rhys. He asked if you could come with him to his office to talk and you agreed.

"You seem to be doing better?" Your high lord said, not sure if it was a statement or a question

"Yeah, I just had a talk with Elain and cleared everything up." You told him

"Cleared everything up? You say that as if it was a simple miscommunication. You had one talk and poof," he waved his hands, "you've forgiven her?" he asked

"Rhys, holding onto all of the pain in my heart has been one of the hardest things I've ever been through. Plus, she was never very close to me." you stated

"You don't have to be close with someone to be decent to them. She hurt you and that's not okay." he countered

"Well, you know Elain, she's been through so much-" you started but a sigh from your friend cut you off.

"So have you, stop making excuses for her. Listen, I'm telling you this because I care about you. You are entirely too nice, and you need to start putting yourself first for once. I'm not saying you have to hate her but you need to work through your feelings before letting everyone off the hook." he told you

You understood what he meant, you had been so eager to fix everything. So desperate to make everything normal again that you hadn't been thinking about yourself.

"I love how much you care about us but please stop worrying about our feelings more than your own. We want to be here for you, so let us." He added with a smile

With a new mindset, you got up to go. You had to find Azriel, even if you weren't ready to forgive him you needed answers. As you reached the door, Rhys spoke again.

"One last thing, Azriel has been punishing himself over this more than any of us could. I don't want you to just let him off the hook, but keep that in mind when you talk to him. He knows he messed up." he told you.

With a nod at your High Lord, you went to find Az.

You turned down a hallway and felt a shadow wrap around your wrist and tug you toward the library. It was as if it knew you were looking for it's master.

Azriel was sitting at one of the big chairs made to fit his wings. He looked up and stood as you entered.

"We need to talk. I have so many questions for you and things I need to say. I don't even know where to begin. " you told him

"I do. I owe you a million apologies. I am so sorry I stood you up. I promise I will make it up to you no matter how long it takes. Please tell me if there is anything I can do to make it better." Az pleaded

"All I need right now is answers. Why did you pull away from me? You were my best friend and all of the sudden one day, you weren't." the words you had been wanting to say finally coming out

"I...I don't know." he stuttered

"Bullshit," you said immediately, "I know you, and you wouldn't do that if there wasn't a reason. Did I do something to you?"

"What? No... I just..." Az could barely get any words out.

You stood there looking expectantly at him.

"I love you. No, I'm IN love with you. I'm infatuated with you. You are everything to me and that terrifies me. I let down everyone I love and now I let you down too." the spymaster confessed

Before you would even put a sentence together, he continued.

"I see you in everything that makes me happy, in everything that brings me life. You are in the wind as I fly, in the stars that I stay up and watch at night. You are in every breath that fills my lungs. I've said it before and I will say it again. You are all of the light in my dark life. There is no life worth living without you." His chest was heaving by the end of his words

Your eyes were wide. You wanted to run and embrace him but you were still confused and hurt.

"If all of what you just said is true, then why did you choose Elain over me time and time again?" Tears filled your eyes as you questioned the male.

"I was a fool. A terrified, madly in love fool. For some reason, I never got it right. I pushed all my feelings aside so I wouldn't lose you. I couldn't bare the thought of you not loving me back. Once Elain came along I knew it would be so much easier to keep myself occupied with her. It was stupid and I regret it, you have to believe me." Azriel told you

"I do. But that doesn't make it ok. And you used Elain, that was not fair to her," you sighed and paused, "I suppose I wasn't being fair by blaming you for everything either. Az, I'm upset that you stood me up but what happened to me was not your fault."

He needed to hear that last sentence but for some reason it broke him.

"If I had been there, maybe I could have stopped it" He choked out through tears and fell to his knees in front of you.

You went to him and put both your hands on his face and made him look at you.

"The only person responsible for my pain is the one who tortured me. You had no way of knowing what was going to happen and I am so sorry for making you feel like it was your fault. I was hurt and angry and took it out on you and that wasn't right," You told him, "I mean, don't get me wrong, you still have a lot of groveling to do for standing me up but stop beating yourself up for the rest of it."

"I can grovel, I love groveling. I'll grovel for the rest of my life if I have to." He spoke

"How about we start with being friends again? It'll take some time for me to forgive and trust you but I'm willing to try if you are." You offered

The spymaster was a little hurt at the word 'friends' but he knew he had to prove himself. Hopefully he could show you he would be better and eventually you two could be something more.

For now, he would accept your friendship.

You both hung out for the rest of the day, catching each other up on whatever was going on in your lives. It didn't immediately feel like how it was before but it was comfortable between you two at least. Eventually it was time for dinner and drinks.

Rhys, Cass, Az, Feyre, Nesta and you all ate a lovely dinner together and then the drinks started. Everyone was enjoying themselves.

Cass said we needed to let loose and began dancing, Feyre immediately joining him.

"They're awful dancers." Nesta spoke with a look of horror on her face watching her mate

You giggled and your body felt light. You felt a glimmer of hope as if everything would eventually be alright.

Cassian and Feyre made their way over to where you, Az, Nesta, and Rhys sat. They made a few awful attempts to get the other three to dance. Once they realized those three wouldn't budge, they put all their efforts to you.

"C'mon y/n, I know you want to dance!" Cass spoke, wiggling his body at odd angles toward you. You shook your head no and threw it back in laughter.

"Please! I'd love to dance with a pretty little thing like you!" Feyre shouted.

Rhys, Az, and Nesta all continued laughing at their High Lady's antics while you and Cass froze.

The two of you stared at each other, sobering up at those words. A look of pain took over Cassian's face as he watched you. You felt your throat start to close up as you tried to stop yourself from crying.

"What's going on?" Az asked, jumping up and assessing the room for a threat.

A few moments of silence passed.

"Tassarion called y/n a pretty little thing when he kidnapped us." Cass told the group, the room growing solemn.

"I'm sorry y/n..." Feyre told you

"You couldn't have known," you said, "I'm kind of tired anyways. I think I'm done for the night."

You began the walk up to your room and Cassian grabbed your arm as you walked past him. He was giving you a look and you just nodded and gave him a small smile in return. You didn't need words to know what he meant. He was there for you if you needed him.

Patting his hand that was holding your arm, you continued to your room and he let you go.

The next couple of days went the same. You would feel like it was a good day and then something would happen that would bring you right back to that dungeon. Azriel was always there helping you through it.

He made sure he was there for you every second you needed him and you were grateful. With his and the rest of the inner circle's help, you got through a couple weeks.

You felt your trust for Az growing everyday. He had started training you again and you were feeling stronger everyday.

You were sat in the library, surrounded by books. Working on a few things for Rhys when you realized you hadn't seen Elain since you spoke to her that day. You raised your head from the book to look at Az, who was reading his own book across from you.

"Where has Elain been?" You asked bluntly

"She's been with Lucien and Jurian" He told you

"Oh? What's she doing there?" You asked

Realizing you weren't going to stop until you got answers, he put his book down, "I talked with her and apologized for using her the way I did. She was still upset with me but I told her that I was also upset with her. Y/N, she knew what she was doing that night, trying to keep me from you. And the flowers? I don't care how embarrassed she was, she couldn't even take the time to see you in person? And couldn't bother to write the note herself? Then after all of that and seeing what happened to you, the only reason you both talked was because you went to her. You may be able to forgive her already but I am not." he said

"So you sent her away?" you couldn't believe him

"No, of course not. She decided to go with him. She said she was going to give the mating bond a chance and also give us some space at the same time." Az answered

"Oh" you responded dumbly, not knowing what to say

"I will work for the rest of my life to gain your full trust and forgiveness back. I know how much pain we both caused you, her having one conversation with you does not change anything. I understand and respect that you must forgive her in order to help yourself but I don't have to do any such thing. I hope you will respect my decision." he said

"I do" you told him

A few of his shadows reached out and slowly curled around you. They had been more hesitant since you shooed them away at the table that day. You smiled at them and more came over to you.

You went back to your work with the comfort of the shadows nuzzled into your hair.

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[world-of-aus]

The Arrangement - Chapter 4

Pairing:Mobboss!bucky x Reader

Chapter Warnings: Angsty Dialogue

Authors Note: I apologize immensely for the delay but my mental health has absolutely tanked in the last three weeks. I have fought enough to feel a semblance of normal and was able to put this chapter together. I hope you all enjoy, and look forward to the groveling and ass kissing our guys gonna do. Love, and many thanks, happy reading. 🤍

Bucky thinks he finally understands vividly the phrase ‘so close, yet so far’.

The two of you have been married a little over a week and it’s as if nothing has changed, he still barely see’s you despite the two of you living in the same house. You’re asleep when he arrives, and you’re gone when he wakes, and despite his best efforts, you’ve managed to avoid him at every turn.

He knows there is no excuse you could give him, no longer any reason for you to still be actively avoiding him the way you have. And while he’d give just about anything to have you at least talk to him about what troubles you, to enjoy his presence the way you had the night of your wedding, he doesn’t want to push when your discomfort is so obvious.

So he gives you time.

The first two days he gave you all the space you could have possibly wanted making himself scarce, but as the third came and went as did the days that followed, he found his patience running quite thin, an underlying hurt brewing deep within his chest.

Your close friends had all but advised against his plan to confront you.

‘She just needs time pal, she’s working through a lot of emotions, don't get a hot head because she’s coping in the only way she’s known, let her come to you when she’s ready.’

‘Listen, I’d avoid you too if I had to marry an ugly mug like yours.’

‘She’s conflicted B, she’s had her happiness ripped from her before, she’s been placed in uncomfortable situations without having anyone check up on her well-being, she’s putting herself first for the first time in a very long time. Don’t mess this up, because she won’t be the only one you lose this time around.’

He had taken their words to heart, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He just wanted to talk to you, to feel a sense of normalcy in your shared marriage, he wanted you to be happy, genuinely happy. Bucky wanted you to want to be in this marriage not because it was asked of the two of you but because it was something you genuinely wanted. He knew it was a lot to ask of you, but he would do so anyway.

Or at least he was going to try.

You're finalizing emails to meet with the other heads sometime this week when a knock stills your fingers on the keys and draws your gaze from the screen. You call out for them to enter, you weren’t sure who you were expecting but you hadn’t been expecting him. You only barely manage to conceal your shock.

“Bucky, what are you doing here?” You question unable to help the way your eyes flicker to the time on your desktop, you were certain you had mastered the times you arrived home. Your eyes flicker back to his, “I was just about to make my way to the house I would have met you there.” You lie.

He offers you a smile that barely meets his eyes as he closes the door behind him, your heart races in your chest as he closes the distance between the two of you. You watch as he rounds your desk, he stops to lean against it, his eyes taking you in.

“Is everything okay?” you worry somethings happen, with his sudden appearance.

“I don’t know y/n, is everything okay?” he questions in return.

“Well yes,” you answer, “I was just -” He stops you mid statement, he doesn’t want another lie from you.

“Don’t,” he shakes his head, “don’t do that sweetheart, don’t hide behind another lie, we both know you’ve been actively avoiding me since our first night home after our wedding, and you’ve been doing so since we signed that contract Monday, and somehow that feels worse than when you would cancel on me when I was with your sister, at least then I wasn’t catching on to the lies you made to get out of it.” Your eyes shut on a shaky exhale, “Talk to me,” he pleads, worried you’ll continue to shut him out, “tell me what I can do to make this right. This isn’t what I want for our marriage I don’t want -”

Your eyes snap open, “and you think this is what I want, you think this is how I wanted our marriage to go?” you question looking up at him in disbelief. “There may have been a time where I envisioned vividly what our marriage would be like but – I,” you shake your head unable to speak on that night right now. “I don’t know how to do this,” you continue, “I’m not even sure how to feel because before all of this,” you gesture between you, “I was certain with all finality that you’d be nothing more than someone I called a friend, my brother in law, my sisters husband and I was finally coming to terms with that, I was finally starting to feel okay with it. But just like that night I’ve had the rug ripped out from right under me yet again and I’m scared Bucky! I’m scared that it’ll happen again, that I will get too close, get too comfortable – fall in love – and with a snap of a finger it’ll all be taken away. I can’t go through that again.”

I don’t think I’d survive a second time.

“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” he knows he’s pleading again, but he wants to do right by you, he wants to right his wrongs. “You’re my wife now y/n your happiness is above anyone else’s, I made vows to you that evening, vows I intend to keep. Please tell me how to fix this.”

The tone of his voice almost breaks you, has your resolve crumbling.

“That’s just the thing B, I don’t know.” You answer truthfully. “How do I come out from behind her shadow if everywhere I look it reminds me of her, of everything she had, everything she took from me that should have been mine. I can’t even look at you without being reminded -” you shake your head looking away from his cerulean blues as you press your fingers into your eyes willing away the sting of tears.

You feel your chair being pulled to where he knows kneels before you, gentle hands prying your from your face. You can’t bring yourself to open your eyes, “y/n, sweetheart look at me,” he murmurs, “please.”

Your eyes slip open, to find his waiting gaze, “you are my wife. And ill be damned if you feel anything but. Please give me the chance to give you the marriage you deserve the one you are worthy of, I know you don’t want too, and maybe I shouldn’t ask, but let me try, let me try to be the man that is worthy of you.”

He can see the hesitation in your gaze as you look down at your intertwined hands, “what if she comes back? Decides she wants you back.”

He runs his thumb along your wedding band drawing both your gazes there. “I made a promise to you, I recited my vows to you,” your gazes find one another, “I am faithful to you. My wife.”

“But what if -” he chuckles shaking his head, “There are not what ifs, I’m. Yours.” He’s squeezing your hands in his, “give me a chance, give us a chance, let’s try.”

Your hearts beating like a wild drum in your chest, “Okay. Let’s try.”

[fraugwinska]

Hiya Guys - Anyone up to read a fic I wrote to battle my little writers block? :> I know jack shit about Alchemy, so I drew a lot of my references and ideas from FMA - But I've already planned for a second part, and thanks to the lovely @impale-me-radio-daddy I have some good pointers and sources to dip my toes in more into the mechanics of Readers ability! ;> Until then: Have fun with this!

"Again, thanks, but no thanks, Carmilla. The whole 'overlord'-thing isn't my cup of tea."

The demon in front of you sighed, closing her eyes for a moment - maybe to not appear as aggravated as you knew she was. Carmilla Carmine has hounded you to join the other big players of Pride who called themselves overlords and acted like they were above everyone else. But you had no intentions or aspirations to mingle among the power-greedy wannabes and parochial moguls, as you told her - in much more diplomatic words - multiple times. The fact that she hadn't tried to force you into compliance only spoke about the power you held, almost wasted on you. Almost.

"I really think it would be...", Camilla started again, but your patience had run thin.

"...beneficial for all involved. It's like a broken record player at this point, no offense. And I hope you'll finally take my 'No' as an answer - Cross my heart, you'll be the first person to know if I change my mind." The warning tone in your voice and you standing up from the chair opposite to her office desk made her give you a sharp, cautious look, but she retreated.

"I understand. I won't press you on the matter anymore." She said, tactically calm, and raised her hands in surrender.

You just nodded her a courteous goodbye and exited her office, chin high as you walked down the corridors of her headquarters and out into the streets of the city. Hell was always busy, but the afternoons were the worst - everyone tried to do their last errands before nightlife took over Pentagram City and people weren't out for shopping or dinner, but for cheap and easy fucks or fights. A little kid - a cannibal child by the looks of its pitch-black eyes and sharp, pointed teeth - ran into you, preoccupied with its popsicle that looked too much like a tongue for your taste. Its mother, horrified, stammered apologies and pulled it hastily away, eager to get in some distance to you. You smiled at them - it may have looked a little malicious to them, although you meant it as genuine. But you knew she knew you were her. The one they called the Alchemist.

You made your way through the parting crowds, just wandering around. You had nothing to do really, and you generally enjoyed just walking through the city you've come to know for only a year. It didn't take long after your fall to get you the infamous name - Only the Radio Demon Alastor rivaled you in the speed you climbed up in the hierarchy of Hell. Tales were told, some true, some heavily exaggerated, some utterly ridiculous. Have you disintegrated demons into their very elemental parts? Yes you had. Have you taken out a whole district because you were catcalled? Not quite, you did that because those bastards from Mayhem Square decided to raid your laboratory and sprayed very vulgar and disgusting things on the walls after they destroyed your latest experiment. Have you sacrificed your loving family in exchange for the ultimate knowledge in alchemy before you died? Definitely not.

You laughed softly about the rumors. What loving family had been there to sacrifice to begin with? You were a war orphan. Abandoned and alone, only taken into a makeshift home and earning your living by signing up for human experiments when you were old enough to be smarter than just steal from abandoned crops and trash cans. If someone ever wondered if one could inject radioactive waste into a person and what the outcome would be, they would've found their answer in your blood and cells - a pinch of insanity, a lack of empathy and painful hallucinations. In exchange for your years of help and your resilience, you were offered a university tuition. You quickly took to science, studying biology, chemistry and, outside of the curriculum, alchemy. To the very last day, you wished you'd studied physics just to finally figure out the universal gravitation formula.

Your career had ended very shortly after your graduation, when you came back to work in the very same lab you've come to be tortured as a teen. But now you were the one experimenting on desperate souls that no one would miss. The only set rule you wouldn’t deviate on: No experiments on children. One of your subjects, overtaken by the pain your hands caused, had gone mental and stabbed you with the syringe you've used on them. Stabbed you many, many, many times. A fitting death, you thought. Your next time awaking, it wasn't with the sight of the tiled, sterile laboratory, but the busy street you just walked on. 

It had been a throwback to your childhood, really. No home, no one you knew, no money. But now you had your power. And OH, what a power it was, effortless and gloriously embedded in your being. Paired with your absence of empathic feelings you quickly gained souls under your belt. Mostly lower-rank and no-name-demons, you left them intact, unless your scientific curiosity got the best of you.

Of course the Radio Demon had sensed the birth of another powerful sinner right below his nose and you had the displeasure to meet him not even a month after arriving. While Carmilla seemed to have the strong aspiration to have you among her fellow Overlords, Alastor's ambition went in a completely different direction. First he wanted to be sly and get you under contract, and when you laughed in his face, well... he wanted to consume you and your power, rip you limb from limb and put an end to your existence.

Alas, you were way too powerful for his liking. The moment his claws sunk into you, the moment he would break a limb and rend flesh, the wound was closed up and the bone repaired. You weren't just good at disintegrating - the principle of equal exchange applied to rearrangement and repair too. His conjured voodoo-minions fell apart into cloth, ash and thread at your will, and his ego took more than just one hit that you resisted, that you held your stance, didn't even move out of his way but buried your feet deeper into the ground with a cold smile on your face - that you were equally as powerful as him. If not a little more. Time and time again your paths crossed. Where Alastor was Entertainment, you were Rationality. Where he was Chaos, you were Order. He was looking for the end of his boredom, you for the ultimate knowledge. His smile a facade to hide his frustrations, your stone cold face a facade to hide the joy you felt with every missed blow from him. You were attracting opposites, the only overlap was your shared egocentrism - You knew he believed himself above you. And he knew you thought the same about yourself to him.

So that's why Carmilla was trying to convince you to join the overpowered. So you would change from an unpredictable threat to those hot-shots into a controllable part of them. What a shame, truly, that power was never something you aimed for. Your only ambition was to further your knowledge about existence, about the nature surrounding you, about yourself. You craved understanding and finding order in the chaos. Especially since Hell was the ultimate chaos.

Your thoughts came to a halt when you suddenly felt a strange sensation. You were just walking past the outskirts of the Cannibal Colony to round (and avoid) the Doomsday District to make your way back home, but now something had drawn your attention. A sixth sense, a force, an itch at the back of your head. Electricity was in the air, and you only had time to rearrange the particles of dust and debris around you into a makeshift shield when a black tentacle burst from the ground and smashed it into pieces. When the cloud of dust around you settled and you coughed, you were met with the sight of Alastor in the middle of the street, his smile as wide as ever.

"Normal people go for a courteous 'Hello', you know.", you stated and straightened yourself.

"Ah, but my darling, you and I both know we are not normal. Or people." Another tentacle darts at you from behind, its tip sharpened like a spear, but you were quick to dodge and let the appendage crash into a digital advertisement for VoxTech newest useless and frivol products. The screen flickered for a moment before returning to its previous content, but the damage was already done - the pole was bent and the screen had a hole in the upper-left corner. You turned back to Alastor, giving him a displeased glare.

"What is your issue with me today? Do I wear the wrong shoes? Maybe my hairdo isn't to your liking? You seem to be a little more... enthusiastic than usual. And not in a good way."

The Radio Demon twists his cane in his hands with a sneer, his burning, narrowed eyes not leaving you as you crossed your arms in boredom and tapped your foot.

"The issue on hand, my dear, is that you encroach onto my territory yet again. How about this: A final fight, you and I. The winner gets to decide if the loser is eaten alive or is granted a merciful death."

"Huh. You sound like you've had a really bad day."

With the flick of your wrist, you rearrange the ground beneath him, shifting solid stone and concrete into sticky bitumen and tar. You can't hide the grin when he struggles to stay upright, his polished shoes glued to the spot, but his smile doesn't falter. If anything, it widens.

"I take this as a yes, then."

Before you can even think of a comeback, your view is obscured by a swarm of his minions. They're coming at you from all sides, claws outstretched and snarling. With a roll of your eyes and a wave of your hand, you let them fall apart into their basic elements, pieces of stained cloths and clouds of foul smelling ashes falling all around you. Alastor's grin is as wide as ever and you see the telltale glow of his power around him - and before you can even blink, he's right in front of you, his shoes still sticking in the viscous black matter where he formerly stood, his claws reaching for your neck, your head. You feel his razor-sharp fingertips scraping the skin of your throat, not deep enough to really do any damage, but still droplets of your neon green blood dripping from the cuts. With a grunt you grab him by the lapels of his coat and throw him over and above your head, and while he flies through the air, his laughter echoes through the streets. He's having fun, you know that. But deep down inside... so are you.

"Your back alley voodoo tricks are getting a bit repetitive, Alastor. At least make it interesting."

He lands a few feet away, gracefully like an antelope on his bare hooves, and the static of his laugh sends shivers down your spine.

"Who am I to deny a dying lady her last wish?"

His shadow detached from his body, the pitch-black entity’s teal grin a stark contrast to his red, glowing eyes, the wickedly growing antlers and his pale skin. The immaterial monster opened its maw wide with a deafening screech, and it shot forward at blinding speed. You finally moved, darting away from the shade as it swished towards you - it almost looked like a morbid ballet as you avoided as much contact with the ground as you were able to, frantically thinking of what his shadows are made of so you could destroy it. He had never stooped down to use it in your fights, and you knew that they had to be more than just abscence of light, as sentient as it was. The basis of Alchemy was simple: You can't form something out of nothing, but if you knew the compounds, you were able to rearrange, dispatch or destroy almost anything. You tried to buy yourself more time to think by another high jump into the air, only to hear Alastors static next to your ear, a hand wrapping around your waist with a grip that was intended to hurt and another on your chin, holding your face in place. Your instincts told you to twist under and out of his grasp, to rearrange your skin into something harder to prevent his claws from tearing into you, but find yourself unable to move. A hiss from below you makes your eyes dart to Alastors shadow - it has your own in an iron grip, holding it hostage in its black claws.

"Is that interesting enough for you, darling?", the demon above you purrs into your ear, but the question was unnecessary, answered in his laughter and his ironclad hold of you, your body pressed against his, arms frozen mid air and useless like a marionette without it's player. His hold around you is painful - it would crush a lesser demon easily, but luckily, you weren't lesser. And you still could, even without the usage of your hands, will your side he pierced with his talons to at least harden enough with the iron you drew from your blood so he couldn't tear you apart that easily.

"It's certainly interesting that you have to resort to gagging my shadow to subdue me."

The words were all but pressed through your gritted teeth. You knew you wouldn't be able to escape at this point. This part of his magic, his shadowmagic, was one of the only things you practically knew nothing about. And lack of knowledge, as usual, meant lack of power. In this case - the power to get out, to flee and regroup.

The touch on your waist disappeared for a second before appearing again, stronger now and accompanied with a pain shooting from where his fingers had dug themselves into the weak metallic coat underneath your skin. You hated the quiet whimper your body unwillingly let out at the sting, reminiscent of the scalpels that were used on you many times, so long ago. He chuckled, deep and guttural right below your ear before leaning his head down to your eye-level.

"Subdue you? Oh, no, no, no my sweet Alchemist. This fight is over, as you are well aware and I'm pleased to say that at last, I am the one victorious. The deal was the choice between eating the other alive or granting a merciful death. I just have yet to decide what option to choose."

He releases his claws from your jaw and rakes his nails down your neck and collarbone, his face inches away from yours, red eyes glowing even brighter and his smile that reached his ears with open delight as his claws tear deeper and deeper into you, his static now drowning out the sounds of your pained gasps as darkness grew from the ground, encasing you.

"I... really hate you, you know?", was the only thing you could bring yourself to hiss. His snicker was dark, malicious and infuriatingly cocky.

"Oh darling. I hate you more." And then it all went dark.

You opened your eyes. A blank, charcoal canvas stretched as far as the eye can see. A monochrome dimension for monochrome creatures. Everything had a certain damp feeling to it - the air, the atmosphere, even your own skin felt slick, damp and oily to the touch. Freezing. Unfamiliar and strange.

"Where are we?"

You still felt Alastor’s long fingers holding you in place, but the pain was gone, replaced by a burning heat where he pressed your back into his chest, a stark contrast to the coldness of the air surrounding you. Clean air. You felt no specs of dirt, dust or carbon on your tongue, the air tasted neutral and smelled void, the flavor almost painful in your throat.

"This, my dear, is a little pocket dimension I've crafted. To be specific - it's the one I've crafted the moment I met you."

Your eyebrows arched up, and his shadow let yours tilt your head just enough so you could see his face and his overly excited grin. His words struck a chord and the penny dropped - He, in his deluded mindset of superiority, had anticipated this day to come ever since your first encounter. This wasn't just a spur of the moment, he had planned this, crafted a punishment for the - to him - inevitable scenario that one day he'd finally get his comeuppance. Where he'd finally beat you. Planned to get you here to destroy you.

"It's not very... showy, considering it's created by Hells Greatest Showman himself." Your voice betrayed you. You wanted to sound bored, neutral, indifferent - but every syllable dripped with hidden defeat. Alastor had purposely created a place that you couldn't decipher, that held nothing you could use to defend yourself.

"Au contraire, darling. I think this is the most appropriate stage for our final performance."

His voice was dark, low, and vibrated from the bottom of his chest. His breath was hot and wet on the nape of your neck and the tips of his fingers on your chin burned. You could feel his excitement reverberating through his body. He was looking forward to this. To eradicate you. You closed your eyes. Rationality told you there was no use in defiance.

"So, Alastor. What's it gonna be? Are you a man of your word or aren't you going to kill me the way you've promised? What was it? Eat me alive or make it a merciful death?", you asked, but the only reply was his grip around you tightening and his teeth sinking into the crook of your neck. It was a pain so sharp and yet so tender that it made you almost moan. A pathetic whimper escaped your throat, and you hated how you could feel his lips on your skin curl into a smirk.

"My poor, little alchemist. I thought you, as a woman of science, knew that one has to define the terms you work with."

His fangs grazed the soft flesh of your neck, his tongue leaving a wet trail along the bite marks they had left. A shiver ran down your spine and your skin broke out in goosebumps. The grip on your jaw tightened and he tilted your head to the side, exposing your throat to him even more.

"Killing is just one mundane interpretation of our deal. There is more than one way to eat you while you breathe, my dear, and as for a merciful death... well..." His hand left your waist, wandered down over your hips to the hem of your pants and slid beneath. "... the meaning of that will depend on how this plays out."

The tips of his claws dragged over your underwear and your back arched, subconsciously pressing yourself against his broad chest as much as his shadow allowed it. He chuckled darkly at the reaction he drew from you, his fingers rubbing your core through the fabric, and your eyes fell shut in furious pleasure. You were unable to stop the whimpers and quiet moans that came from you, and he laughed at every sound he forced from you.

You understood the principles of biology and chemistry enough to understand why your body reacted the way it did to his touch. Hormones released, muscles tensed, senses sharpened, brain focused - and all that with one purpose. Carnality. Sexuality. Lust.

You understood the social components : Alastor, despite his infuriating personality, was a powerful and attractive demon. He was a sight for sore eyes and a feast for the hungry ones - you maybe lacked empathy, but you weren't blind.

What you didn't understand was that, despite your deep dislike you felt for the Radio Demon, despite the many times you've fought each other and how he's tried to erase you multiple times - your emotions were telling you that you craved his touch, wanted what he was threatening to do, what he was implying with his words and emphasizing with his actions, his hands working themselves towards your slicked heat and with his lips still on your throat.

And the worst thing was, he knew.

He could sense it, probably even taste it, in the scent of your arousal and the taste of the sweat on your skin. He could read it in your body language, how you subconsciously tried to move against his fingers, how your body melted into his when his teeth scraped over your collarbone and your breath hitched when he sunk them deep into the soft flesh of your neck once more.

The force behind his jaws was sharp and without any mercy, but it only lasted for a moment until it became deliciously soft and firm, his lips soothing your tormented skin after the beast within had taken its fill of your blood just as he breached the last physical barrier of your underwear and dipped two of his digits into you. He forced a soundless sigh from your lungs with the way his fingertips caressed you, igniting a feeling inside you didn't know you could feel.

The satisfaction you got from giving and receiving physical pleasures up until this point mostly to serve your biological needs, impersonal. The connection that existed between partners was short-lived and never personal, almost medical, with the barest minimum of any physical contact necessary, just enough so the mechanics of your hellish body came to the desired effect of pressure release to let you focus on more important matters.

But with Alastor, with his mouth still feasting on the sensitive, marked flesh at your nape and his dexterous fingers working between your thighs, nothing of what was happening was impersonal. Medical. There was no need - But want. A craving desire that arose like a hot flame deep inside you, making the pleasure you were given intensify and left you almost in a frenzy, to try and get more of it. A feeling almost animalistic, something raw and purely instinctual that you wanted to prolong instead of getting it over with.

There was no logic to the way your body reacted, no formula you could apply to ease your frustration at the way he touched you - he played your body like he knew it by heart, a strange turn of events. While you seemed so illogical in your behavior, he was strangely tactical. You were frantic, he was calculating. Every touch, lick and nibble was done with an intended purpose. And in return your reactions to it were completely without rhyme or reason. You couldn't stop the moans spilling from you as he dragged his long fingers in and out of you in an agonizing speed, the pad of his thumb teasingly rubbing over the little nub hidden between your folds, your hips were moving on their own, in sync with his movements as much as they his shadow's grip on yours granted you.

"I... don't t-think...", you gasped with another cruel flick of his thumb against your sore clit, "...you can c-count that as.. e-eating."

To your frustration his motions did slow down, the thrusts and motions he drew from you fading, the tension within building so painfully inside of you, uncoiling so suddenly just to be denied. His chuckle rumbled in his chest and he retreated his lips and teeth from your throat.

"I'm nothing but a connoisseur, darling - one has to prepare and season his meal properly in order to feast."

The sudden loss of contact made you whine in your throat as his hands withdrew, from your wetness as well as your neck and chin. The air felt even colder against your heated skin now, and you shivered when your limbs suddenly contorted, were rearranged by ghostly hands. From the corners of your eyes you could see Alastors shadow force yours into something of a bridge position, back arched, arms bound over its head and legs spread - and through the unexplainable connection between you both, your body followed, having no other choice but to obey what the immaterial shapes dictated.

Alastor stood aside, waiting, watching intently as your trousers were pulled messily down your legs by invisible claws, revealing the soft skin hidden beneath. They dragged the fabric over the swell of your hips, under your rear and over your thighs. For a few agonizing seconds everything was still, the monochromatic world around you in perfect silence, the only visible life your panting breath and Alastors everlasting static. When the last bit of fabric left your body and you were completely bare, he stepped in between your legs, raking his claws over the inside of your thighs before coming to a rest on your hip bones. He looked smug, he looked manic, and most of all he looked hungry. His tongue swiped his sharp teeth, coating them with thick, dark saliva, and you shuddered with a mixture of humiliation and anticipation alike.

"Well now, I think it's time to dig in, right dear? Especially since the table's so nicely set and all."

The impact of his burning mouth on your dripping sex was beyond the comprehension of words, all your synapsis concentrated at the singular sensation of the demon below you working his jaw with gusto and enthusiasm only a cannibal like him could, teeth and tongue and lips unabashed and unapologetic in their efforts to elicit sounds from you that bordered on the screams he loved to broadcast. You could feel him smiling at each and every breathless moan he wrenched from you, you could feel his cold red eyes burning holes into you as he kept eyeing you from below, tongue buried to the root in you, his claws pressing painfully into your flesh in a vice-like grip, threatening to break and rip at the soft skin when you tried to suppress the mewls in an effort to deny him his self-righteous satisfaction.

"Darling, I know you're normally the one who takes others apart - but I just have to wonder what you will look like undone."

You were pushed even closer, even more at his mercy as he forcefully shoved his face deeper between your legs, his black, twisted antlers piercing into your stomach, leaving dainty puncture wounds that stung and begand to trickle with your blood. Your breathing became more desperate with each minute, more keening and so much harder to keep steady - when one of his dexterous hands joined his mouth between your legs and curled the long digits deep inside you in search for the certain bundle of nerves - located an inch inside the vaginal opening, on the upper vaginal wall - that his skilled tongue had neglected so far. Your mind went blank and your whines became constant, unchecked and vocalized so much louder when he found what so many demons (and humans, if you were honest) thought to be a myth - the Grafenberg spot.

He hummed in self-satisfaction as you moaned shamelessly now as he rubbed and probed, curling, stroking, doing everything at once with his fingers on the spot while his mouth worked at your sensitive clit above, suckling hard, bordering on painful licking and even biting. You struggled in the immaterial grasp of his shadow, wriggling on his mouth, the intense, uncontrollable, uncontrolled and unrivaled sensations sparking from your core leaving you desperate for release, for any kind of relief, the pressure of it building so unbelievably fast in you, his movements, the vibrating static and his quiet laughter sending you towards a feeling that you knew, once experienced, wouldn't leave again. You hated that you loved what he was doing, hated that he was able to do what so many others had failed to, that your mind was consumed by pure, undulated desire for the damn Radio Demon as he - in a twisted sense of your own profession -destroyed and rebuilt you simultaneously with the same kind of unceremoniously fervent frivolity that was oh-so-characteristic for him.

Your eyes fell shut, a vocal and shuddering breath escaping you as you felt your end coming nearer and nearer, every flick of his tongue and every slight graze of his teeth were a thousand-fold amplified and yet purposefully too little to finally grant you the relief you yearned for so badly, to put out the element of fire within that threatened to burn you alive.

"Alastor... Please...", you managed between breaths. The words felt sour and sticky on your tongue, but you knew he was waiting for them. You had never begged for something before. Not for mercy when some of the researchers went over the limits of their set experiments on you. Not for recognition when papers you wrote were released in your colleagues name. Not for your life when the thick needle in the hand of the deranged patient rose to the sky, ready to strike. But for Alastor, you begged. 

Your plea earned you a victorious glare and another harsh suck on your swollen nub that made you cry out in pleasure and pain. With a last stroke of his tongue in tandem with his fingers against the exact right spot and a firm flick to your clit, your climax felt like you were falling apart into particles and atoms, crumbling around the mouth of your arch-rival. He had been right. Definition was everything, one of the rare things the Alchemist and the Radio Demon could agree on - He promised death, and that's what he gave you: A metaphorical one, devastating, humiliating and everything but merciful. Each spasm was a shovel burying your pride, each sob as he licked you through the ebbing waves of your high a eulogy for the respect you had for yourself. But this death, as disgraceful as it was, was pure bliss, was what ascencion must feel like.

Your body was slowly released from its restraints, feeling heavier than it should as you were dropped unceremoniously to the ground, and you closed your eyes again, feeling oddly empty when he removed his mouth and fingers and stood up to his full height, towering above you. You didn't even struggle even though your limbs were free now, just sighed and turned your head to look up and face Alastor as you heard the clicks of his heels next to your face.

He looked disheveled and wild - a mess of tousled red hair entangled in sharp antlers and sticking messily onto his sweaty forehead, the corners of his mouth glistening with your fluids and his blackened eyes alight with mischief. You could see the outlines of a massive erection through his strained pants, a small consolation that the ordeal he had put you both through hadn't been above his biology too. But before you wasn't the jovial trickster that all of Pride knew and feared, and it wasn't the tactical torturer that had worked you over the edge of your emotions either. This was the animal, the demon within, the monster hell made out of a man in its essence - limbs cracked and elongated, spine twisted and curved, aura dark and almost glowing in green. And it was stunningly beautiful. It was such an incongruous appearance, contrasting his normally smooth, proper and almost human demeanor so much that it might become your new definition of a paradox.

His hand suddenly went behind your head and roughly grabbed you by your hair and dragged your head up, just enough so he could bend on his waist to be on eye-level with you. It stung beautifully at the roots, and you hissed at the delicious pain as you met his gaze.

"Th͑an͊k y͈͝o͔̲͒u̧ͥ f̌͌or̬ t̜ͦhe̬ͯͅ m͉̋ȩ̞͙al,͍ l̵̅͝it͓͙ͤt͘lè̍ A̰̞l̇c̭̙̕h̏̒emis̏͑t." 

His voice was distorted and thick, it sounded sticky and heavy and even unhinged. For a moment, you saw his wish to bite you, to tear into your jugular and finally dismember you reflected in his ticking eyes. And in that moment, defying all logic and instincts, you would’ve let him do it. But the strike didn’t come, and the moment faded, along with his monstrous form. He shifted back to the demon you knew, hair still out of place but expression a mask again, a play, a facade. But there was a strange conflict behind his smile, a weird furrow in his cocked brows.

“I believe with that the deal is fulfilled.”

Alastor snapped his hands, and you fell, through darkness and light, fire and water and earth and wind swirling around you until you hit concrete ground. Quickly stumbling to your feet, you blinked. You were dressed again, back in Pentagram City, back at the exact spot where you turned the corner just before...

You whipped your head around, but the Radio Demon was nowhere to be found. The street before you was empty, car horns and gunshots and bomb explosions filling the air coming from the Doomsday District. For a moment you panicked - had it been just another one of your hallucinations? You thought you had left this special side effect of your brain behind in the living world, but you were smart enough to consider the chances of possibility. It would explain everything. Your hand snapped to your neck - no lacerations, no bite marks. Contradictory evidence. It didn’t mean that it hadn’t happened, but it increased the likelihood of the perceived experience being just your brain playing its cruel tricks on you. Just like it did now, flooding your nerves with a faint feeling of... disappointment.

You shook your head and sighed, turning on your heels to continue your walk home. When you put your hands in the pockets of your lab coat, a wrinkled piece of paper brushed your palm. Confused, you pulled it out and unfolded it, your eyes widening as you read it with a gasp that got stuck halfway in your throat.

Until next time, my dear. And if you ever crave more, there is always a table set for you. A.

It read in an obnoxiously neat, cursive handwriting. In a hue of crimson red.

[dwaynedelight]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

With my blood, I’ll find your love.

Dwayne (The Lost Boys) x Female (Human) Reader

Warnings: SMUT!! 18+ readers only! Unprotected sex, daddy kink, p & v sex.

MINORS DNI

Word Count: 3,285

Authors note: This was in my drafts for a longgg time enjoy my dwayne family <3! (Not edited)

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────••─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•



The boys had went off into the night in search for unfortunate souls.

It was naive of you to sneak off to the boardwalk all alone without the supervision of your boyfriend, if he found out about your escape, no doubt this would be the last time you'd ever step foot outside.

You'd always been rebellious, and that was a flaw Dwayne aimed to fix, he wished you'd be more obedient. He didn't understand why you had to test his patience so much, all he wanted was for you to let him take care of you, protect you, and please you, but he couldn't do that with your disobedience. You were fully aware of what Dwayne wanted and you truly did want all he said he'd do for you, but you also wanted freedom.

Dwayne remained delightful until he became like a shadow stalking your every move, you wanted to believe he meant well because you were completely enamoured by him, but lately it wasn't feeling like he really cared about your feelings.

Though the consequences of your actions were evident, that didn't stop you from stepping foot out of that dark depressing cave. You had made it all the way to the brightly lit busy boardwalk by feet, this was the perfect place to remain hidden.

Your heeled boots thudded against the wooden floor as you scaped the scene. You were overwhelmed with how much there was to do, you felt free at last! Finally you could have a night by yourself free from Dwayne.

The smell of popcorn filled your nostrils as you walked by a concession stand, your eyes watched as parents and kids waited in line to get treats, a teenage couple stood at the front as the employee handed them some cotton candy.  You smiled. Cotton candy! Exactly what you needed.

You'd gotten in the long line patiently waiting all because you wanted cotton candy. "Hey beautiful" a voice called out huskily from behind. Your body came to a halt, immediately turning to meet the voice.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to frighten you" They apologized.

You sighed with relief, a tall handsome man with dark long curly hair stood before you. He wore an aged leather jacket, silver jewelry, and skin-tight leather pants. He was intriguing, to say the least. 

You smiled. "No worries."

You had moved up to the front of the line faster than you'd expected. The employee had interrupted your conversation with the curly-haired man asking what you wanted. "Can I have some cotton candy?" you asked the young man. "That'll be 2.50" You nodded reaching for your purse.

"There you go," The man behind you said as he reached to give the guy the money.

"No you don't have to do that" You shook your head, but it was already too late the employee had took the money and handed you the cotton candy.

You sighed a "Thank you."

"Not a problem" He smiled. You didn't want to admit it but he was really handsome, and you couldn't help but notice his rockstar appearance. "I didn't catch your name" He replied waiting for your response.

"Im y/n" you smiled.

"That's a pretty name i'm stephen, may I ask what such a beautiful girl is doing here all alone?" You couldn't help but blush and you scoulded yourself for it.

"I just wanted to get some cotton candy." You laughed, pulling apart the pink fluffy candy.

"Do you have any other plans tonight?" He asked with a smirk. "Not really but I have to get back somewhere in a bit"  You sighed, It was true you didn't have much time left.

"Well if you'd like you could come watch me and my band play" His answer was smug and seemed confident that you'd accept. "What kind of band?" You asked thinking of the offer.

As you looked up to meet his eyes, your heart dropped. You had caught sight of a tall figure you knew far to well. Dwayne. He was standing about 30 feet away by the carousel.

His eyes were set on something else. "Fuck" you muttered, the cotton candy had slipped right through your hands.

Unbeknownst to you Dwayne had already been hot on your trail. Paul had snitched you out.

He had followed his prey down to the boardwalk when he saw you standing in line at the consetion stand, the blonde smirked already eager to tell his brother about this new founded information.

Dwayne wanted to believe paul was lying, for your own good. You knew better, he thought. His excuses for you came clashing down on him like daggers as he stepped foot on the boardwalk.

When dwayne's eyes focused on you he was prepared to let this little incident go, he wanted to be reasonable until a man came into view and you didn't push him away or ignore him you entertained him, smiling at that smug son of a bitch. He wanted to rip his body apart until there were only scraps left of him right in front of the entire crowd. He searched through the crowd, debating for a mere second what he should do. Rip your skull or his, maybe even both?

You must've saw him in the shadows, because you had made a run for it. He laughed menacingly, that's cute. You think you stand a chance against the immortal angry vampire?

Your mind raced just as fast as your feet could run. His voice filled your thoughts, he was calling out your name laughing at you. Taunting your fear, he loved every second of this. Watching as you ran across the beach frantic, your heartbeat pounding right in his ears. His presence right behind you like a shadow, yet every-time you looked back no one was there.

Dwayne's laughs echoed in your head so loud you started to wonder if you were just imagining it. He was making this exchange a nightmare, every bone in your body told you to run and hide and thats exactly what you did. The gloomy cave was within a few feet away, you'd made your way through the dark tunnels of it almost tripping over rocks that scattered the floors.

Your room was waiting for you acting as the only shield between you and the merciless creature of the night. Adrenaline ran hot through your veins as you jumped onto your bed, you were so high on it you hadn't realized the tears that poured from your eyes. Your thoughts froze as A tall dark shadow with glowing red eyes emerged from the depths of the tunnels reaching the entrance of your room. Frightening you to your core...

"please... no ... please go away" Your pleads didnt do you any good he had reached the foot of your bed "Come here" Dwayne growled, his chest heaving with rage as he pointed for you to come to him.

You were astounded by his tone, your body scooted further away. "No go away! You're scaring me!" You cried. He laughed wickedly "I should be.... you have no idea what your in for!" His eyes were glowing red with fury. "Now im not gonna ask you twice come here" He said sternly. You stared at him in shock, your body froze too scared to move.

A low growl rubbled through his body before

He yanked your legs, now towering over you. You yelped in fear. "When I tell you something you obey me understand" your eyes stared at him bewildered, he had never spoken to you like that. "Who is he?" Dwayne's voice was gruff as he crawled on top of you gripping both your hands above your head.

"Who are you talking about" you cried as his face grew closer to yours. His eyes shut for a second as he snarled before opening his eyes once more. "Every chance you get you disobey me, you think I like disciplining you?" He snapped.

"No dwayne, I promise nothing happened I just wanted to get cotton candy and that guy kept talking to me-" You rushed you words out but were interrupted by dwayne. "You were never supposed to leave the cave in the first place, do you have any idea what could have happened to you, then I catch you flirting with another guy." he grimaced.

"I wasn't flirting!" You cried growing frustrated with his remarks, his grasp on your wrist only tightened.

"Well maybe I should remind you what happens when you do." With a quick shift he hoisted you up from the bed throwing you over his legs as he sat. "I didn't want to do this but it seems nothing else works for you."  He didn't have to say much more, you understood exactly what he was gonna do to you.

"Dwayne! Let me go!" You yelled furiously squirming under his tight grip that forced your body bent over his lap. He shook your body forcefully "Dont make me shut you up" He growled.  "You don't have to do this Dwayne. Let me go" You yelled kicking your feet back.

"Oh but I think I do you've been getting on my last nerve all damn month, I pamper you non stop and this is what I get?" His voice raised with every word as he spoke, rage flowed through his body as he reminded himself why he had to do this.

"I won't do it again just let me go" you squirmed again but dwayne rested his hand on your back as his other hiked your skirt up. His heavy hand brushed over your ass, the coldness of the metal that wrapped around his fingers making you shiver as it made contact with your skin. "It's too late for that now..." he scoffed. Your anger was slowly fading feeling intrigued by the way dwayne was handling you.

"Now..." he started. "You will count every spank I give you out loud, you miss one we start all over again got it?"

"Yes, daddy."  You whispered. His hand gripped the back of your shirt tight as his other forced down the first harsh slap on your ass. You winced feeling the sharp sting of his rings slap against your skin. "One" you called out. Another one followed "Two". You felt dwayne's fury with each cold hard smack against your skin. Your hands clung tight around his ankle as the rest of your body jolted against his lap "3" you gasped vulgarly as his hand shot down on your bottom again. You were surprised how much you were enjoying this punishment.  Dwaynes smacks came to a stop "Get up" He muttered.

Dwayne grew aggravated, he was so frustrated with the way you were acting always trying to get under his skin and he'd had enough of it. His body shook with anger and his skin grew hot. He picked you up throwing you back onto the bed, in just a few seconds he tore his heavy jacket off his shoulders. He snarled with a sinister chuckle. He watched as you looked up confused for a second. His chest heaved with exasperation, somehow he looked taller staring down at you. Your legs tangled in the sheets shifting upwards against the bed in an attempt to move away from him.

With a quick grasp he yanked on your ankle pulling you along with it, he trapped you faster than you could move pinning your hand at your sides. His breathing was heavy against your face. Your head tilted back in frustration, now surrendering to his little game. His jaw clenched as he lifted your dress up, the black lace of you underwear intertwining with his fingers. Dwayne teased your sex, erupting a gasp from your lips. His fiery eyes glared down on yours as his vast hand slipped under the hem of your panties. A smirk slapped on his face as he cupped your soaking mound "Even like this you're wet, you like it when i'm mean to you... Isn't that right?" He chuckled against you ear. His face grew full of pride, watching your eyes roll back with each bit of movement he made. "Those were your intentions this whole time." He purred against your neck "Weren't they?". His digits pushed deep into your heat curling up inside you, "No" you choked in between moans writhing against the sheets, desperately spreading your legs further for him. The blood had rushed straight to the apples of your cheeks turning them bright red as dwayne dragged his fingers back to your folds drawing circles on your aching clit. "no" you muttered again under your breathe. 

"Oh but I think they were"  He whispered leaning into your ear again smirking. "Who was he?" He groaned quickening his pace. You whimpered confused "Dwayne-" you muttered the word "Stranger" His right hand grasped the back of your head tugging on your tangled hair. This time he pulled your face to look him in the eyes  "Tell me..." His voice sounded gravelly as he trailed on. His digits thrusted into you again sending your body reeling once more. "I'm not gonna ask you twice now tell me" He huffed. His thrust had slowed giving you time to catch your breathe. You realized he wouldn't stop with this, you'd never hear the end of it until you gave him his name. "Dwayne... I- I dont Know" you rushed grunting feeling flushed with his questions. "Stephen" was all you said. His breathing lowered, stopping what he was doing. The sound of another man's name coming from your lips hurt. His vision blurred, the color red invading dwayne's sight. "Dwayne!" you whimpered, snapping him out of a trance. His mind filled with pictures of you with another man. He could not fathom the thought of it, you were his. A deep sense of possession washed over him, no one could ever have you.

His eyes had turned into a raging deep shade of red as he leaned over to you, his nose nudging the right side of your cheek as his ring clad hand reached under your skirt. Snugging your black cotton soaked underwear off in one swift moment. His calloused hands gripped your thighs pulling you closer, feeling up between them until his fingers toyed near your beating sex. "Tell me...honey" He whispered. Closing in on you with a smirk. "Why should I fuck a girl who's been so disrespectful?"

Slick formed between your thighs whilst he looked you deep in the eyes. "I'm sorry" You cried. You grew eager and desperate for him. He laughed shaking his head "Sorry doesn't cut it this time, I guess I'll have to fuck some respect into you" Dwayne sighed shaking his head with a sly smile.

He hoisted you up by your waist, unbuttoning his jeans in the process. He slid his dark denim down his muscular thighs, huffing with anticipation. He stroked himself before you embracing every inch of his man-hood. Dwayne teased your slick folds probing your sensitive entrance with his tip, just enough to have you begging for more. Dwayne's eyes bore into yours watching as you pouted away, he licked his lips whilst he spoke "Naughty girl always testing my limits" he purred. Your whimper failed to make it past your lips as he pushed into you, stilling as soon as he bottomed out inside of you."Oh!" You moaned gripping the fabric of your skirt that pooled around your belly. Your eyes shut closed together tight as your cheeks flushed, he hadn't gave you enough time to adjust for him.

As much as you hated to admit you liked it. You had done just enough to push him over the edge, finally have him lose his cool. Show you just how territorial he could be when it came you.

He picked up his rhythm making his thrust deep filling you to the brim, the tip of his cock nudged your g spot expertly everytime you jerked forward. A low growl escaped his lips as his fingers dug onto each side of your thighs holding you in place. "Dwayne!" you cried, your moans echoed in his head giving him the exact satisfaction he needed to heighten his ego.

Dwayne's body shook as his hips collided with yours producing the only sound that filled the room. He let all his frustration unveil right in front of you. His body heat, his scent, his entire being covered and surrounded you. You were right under his thumb.

Your thoughts were hazed with dwayne's harsh thrust, moan after moan escaping you mixed with screams. You couldn't help it his dick was so big it hurt. He was so deep inside you that he was painfully pushing against your cervix. Dwayne pulled you flush against his chest, rocking back onto his knees.

"You wanna fuck someone else? Is that what you wanna do?" He said with a snarl. "No"  you cried. Your vision burred as tears poured down your face, hands clutching around his neck for balance.

"Daddy~" you cried out. "You want to fuck someone else?" A deep inhumane snarl left his lips as is hands tugged on your hair along with his words. "Answer me" He demanded. "Noo-" you cried "Oh- only you dway-" you gasped. His pace quickened with such force. Your eyes rolled to the back your head as drool slipped through the side of your mouth trying to put your words together. "You're all mine" Dwayne whispered against your neck in between his loud pants "I know all of you" The words echoed in your brain, you were beginning to feel lightheaded. His calloused hand rubbed your belly, pressing against it easily feeling himself through your flesh. "Like me there? right there" He questioned pressing roughly on your abdomen. Your head snapped back moaning his name in between loud cries. Your body shook against his as you reached your first orgasm. You squirmed under his grasp trying to escape the overstimulation. He held your hips tight thrusting into you.

"Poor baby can't take my dick" He hummed. Dwayne shoved you forward again, his balls slapping against your ass with each thrust. "N-o, Please—more" You screamed. The applied pressure becoming to much for your hazed little brain.

You fell limp against his vast shoulders, letting him use you as he pleased. "Already fucked your brains out and I'm not even finished" He shoved you forward again, hand adjusting to hold the small of your back in an arch. "Milking my cock so good honey" His voice sounded velvet soft against your skin. Your walls began to spasm around him so tight his hips stuttered. His pace slowed his thrust becoming forcefully, you couldn't stop yourself from screaming.

Your brain was so fucked you didn't notice the hot cum coating your insides. Your body shook continuously after each orgasm, you'd lost count. He pumped into you twitching against your tight walls grunting as he shot his hot load into you. He slowed his pace finally getting his cock to still in you. You squirmed under his hold thinking it was over but he had other plans. "Stop moving, gonna keep my cock in you" You whimpered your poor cunt.  "Dwayne please-" Your face was full of fear. "I'll be gentle baby" he purred dragging his thumb below your chin. You bought that sudden sweet talk of his. "Please" you whispered repeating yourself. He traced kisses from your chin to your neck, stopping at a certain spot. His tongue sucked the spot making sure to leave a bruise so that everyone would see. His hips rocked slowly against yours subtly picking up a rhythm.

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 12

part 1, prev part

The Chief walks into the hospital room the next day in full uniform. Pulling out his key ring and setting the key in the lock. The cuffs open, clacking against each other as he takes them back.

Eddie is free.

“I owe you an apology, I should have taken these off a long time ago.”

Wayne looks at the Chief, wondering if he should be grateful or angry. “Why happed with the feds?”

“They agreed to point the other way. Still looking for a fall guy, but it won’t be your nephew. I made sure of that.”

“Thank you.”

The Chief huffs. “Don’t be thanking me. You should thank Harrington, he really knocked some sense into my head.”

That seems to happen often. Through his actions, the way that he talks to people. The way that he’s respected Wayne’s boundary to leave him and Eddie alone. The way he cares for Dustin. Cares for Eddie even when Wayne didn’t want him too. Fought for the things he knew were true, never giving up.

Wayne really needed to talk to him.

“I hear he’s been getting better,” the Chief continues. Taking the seat next to Wayne.

Wayne nods. “Yeah, wakin’ up slowly. Should be able to talk again in a few days.”

The Chief nods. “I know I was really dragging my feet to get the cuffs off, but my offer still stands. If you need anything, feel free to give me a call. I still can’t tell you everything that happened, but as time goes on, you’re going to have a lot of questions. I can hopefully give you some answers. Lend a hand when you need me to.”

There’s going to be a lot of things that Wayne will never understand. Life has shown him that already. There were things that he didn’t understand before and learned to.

He can do it all again. Try to ignore the need for answers and try to understand. Have the patience he had when Eddie was younger. As he was learning how to be the person Eddie needed him to be.

“I appreciate that, Chief.”

“Please, just call me Jim.”

Jim leaves a little after that. Giving Wayne some space. He goes on a walk a little while later. Wanting some fresh air. Coming back to see Dustin heading down the hall, Steve sitting peacefully in the waiting room. Looking a hell of a lot better than yesterday.

“Can I talk to you?” Wayne sits down across from him. Ready to actually have a conversation with him for once.

Steve sits up a bit straighter, trying to make a better impression. “Yeah, sure.”

Wayne clears his throat. “I owe you an apology. You never gave me a reason to treat you the way I did and it was harsh of me to assume things about you. It’s not an excuse, but I was angry at a lot of things and seein’ you walk out of here fine while Eddie’s not. . . It was an easy thing for me to be mad at.”

“I don’t blame you. I think I would have reacted the same if it was my kid in Eddie’s position. You really have nothing to apologize for.”

“But I do,” Wayne insists. “You all clearly went through something that I don’t fully understand. I had no right to keep you from seeing him.”

Steve has a look a mix emotions. Like he’s fighting between gratitude and sorrow. “Would it be ok if I saw him now?”

Wayns nods. Walking down the hall with Steve to Eddie’s room, letting him sit in the chair next to him. He swears that he sees tears start to form in Steve’s eyes, but he blinks them away before he can confirm.

“Where’s the kid?” Wayne asks.

Steve clears his throat. “Visiting Max. She’s doing a lot better now.”

“That’s good.”

“He looks so different,” Steve says after a break of silence. “Like the energy of him was sucked out.”

Wayne nods, having felt the same way for a long time.

“I know I didn’t know him that long, but.” Steve takes a breath. “During that week, he was really starting to feel like someone who could become a friend. I was really looking forward to becoming his friend.”

“What happened to him?” Wayns asks, desperate. “What happened to you?”

Steve meets his eyes, a troubled look resting on his face. The want to tell him but the knowledge that he can’t. “I wish I could tell you, but I legally can’t. I know that probably doesn’t make it better.”

“It doesn’t. But I appreciate you trying.”

Dustin comes in and reads his chapter like he always does. Having to pull up another chair since Steve stole his. They leave shortly after it’s done. Giving Wayne a few minutes to himself before he has to leave for work.

He leans closer to Eddie’s bed, placing a hand on the empty bar. Afraid to touch him, to do anything to make him worse. But he hasn’t said much in the days he’s been here. Too hopeless to imagine that Eddie could hear him. Today, he decides to try.

“Hey, kid. I’m sorry that I haven’t talked to you much in the past week. You must think there’s somethin’ up. That you did somethin’ to make me not talk to you. That’s not the case.”

Fear like this is something that Wayne never wanted to experience. Losing a child is something that a parent never wanted to even think about. Let alone live through. And while Eddie isn’t technically Wayne’s kid, he is in all the ways that matter.

“Truth is, I was scared. I thought I lost you so many times in the past few weeks. Each time I came in here, I thought would be the day that the nurses told me you were really gone. That I lost my son.”

Words get choked in Wayne’s throat as tears fall down his face. Things he’s been too afraid to say all coming out at once.

“But I didn’t. You’re still here. And you’re gettin’ better and I am so proud of you.”

Eddie opens his eyes, looking toward Wayne. His fingers tense, raising slightly towards Wayne’s hand. Wayne places his hand on top of Eddie’s squeezing it tight.

“Nothin’ you could do could ever make me not proud of you.”

next part

Note: I’m not crying, you’re crying. Jesus why do I do this to myself. Also this concludes chapter three, now posted on my ao3. Back to Dustin's POV in the next part

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[takamimami]

Omg omg, could I request “Your hand feels so much better than mine.” For Benn Beckman please? I just need more smut of him 🥺💜 thank you so much!! ✨😊

Hello, lovely. Firstly, I want to apologize for how LONG it took me to get to this request and thank you for your patience :3 I said this in a previous request too, but I didn't want to just force myself to write something I wouldn't be proud of, so I needed to wait to find some inspiration for this (on top of being heavily distracted by my other vices lately >.>)

Anyway, this is the first ever piece I've written for Benn, so I hope I did him justice for you!! <3

Benn Beckman x F!Reader - NSFW - “Your hand feels so much better than mine.” STORY UNDER THE CUT - MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DNI 🔞 CW: SMUT; exhibitionism/public sex, sexual tension, benn's got a filthy mouth, fingering, benn calls you 'doll' and 'good girl' :3, shanks is a menace, why does the red force have trees on deck???, kinda cool but still ---word count 1.7k

Perched underneath one of the trees at the stern of the ship, you flipped through the pages of the newspaper you’d snagged from the vendor on the port town your crew had just left – noting the headline on the innermost page.  

‘Rockstar “Soul King” Joins Straw Hat Pirates – Claims Straw Hat Luffy Lives!’ 

You often found yourself in this same spot when you struggled to fall asleep, your brain running rampant and unrelenting to the exhaustion your body felt. 

“They’ll make anything a headline, these days,” a deep voice echoes over your shoulder, and you fight your initial reaction and do your best to appear unfazed at the frame that stops in front of you. 

Tonight had been the closest you’d come to giving into the game you and your vice-captain had been playing for weeks now. You knew he was giving you your space to sort through your feelings, but the sexual tension between the two of you only grew more intense the longer you tried to ignore it. 

You drop the newspaper down far enough to look up at the tall man, just in time to watch him lift his cigarette to his lips and pull a long drag from it. He lets the smoke flow slowly from his nostrils as he stares down at you, brow cocked as you hold his stare intently. 

“Soul King's not your style, Becks?” You muse, watching the smirk that curls up on his lips when you finally speak to him. 

“Didn’t say that,” he retorts, and you fold the newspaper in half to offer him your full attention. “I just think anyone who thought Straw Hat was dead could use a few extra brain cells.” 

You chuckle and stand from the spot you were leaning against the tree, shifting awkwardly as Benn takes a step toward you. 

“So, doll,” he drawls, “What’s got you awake this late?” 

The knowing smirk on his lips has a blush heating up your cheeks, mind racing back to the booth you two had been cozied up in at the tavern just last night. 

“Just... not tired,” you answer, keeping your words short in case your voice betrays you as you try to feign nonchalance. “You?” 

“Same,” he says flatly, flicking the butt of his cigarette into the dirt and stamping it out with his boot. “Can’t seem to stop thinking about this pretty little thing I was... chatting with tonight. She ran off on me and left me all by my lonesome.” 

Your blush only intensifies as he takes another step closer to you, chin dropping so he can crane over your smaller frame. 

“Starting to think she might be scared of me, or that she’s got someone else warming her bed.” 

You keep your eyes on his lips as he speaks, his voice dropping an octave and sending a surge of desire straight to your core. When he swipes his tongue over his bottom lip your eyes flick up to meet his, feeling his breath tickle your neck as he leans in closer. 

“I doubt it's either of those things,” you manage to form the words despite the tension threatening to consume both of you. “Maybe she just didn’t think you'd feel the same way about her.” 

Benn quirks his brow and you smirk as he offers one of his own, your shoulders relaxing slightly as he snakes a muscled arm around your waist and pulls you closer to him. 

“Well, that’s a shame,” he muses, lips just an inch from yours as he speaks, “If she would have opened her eyes a little wider, she might have been able to see just how much I feel for her.” He growls out the last of his sentence and the sound snaps a cord in your mind, your brain unable to control your body as it presses further into him.  

You connect your lips to his and he welcomes the kiss, letting you feel some semblance of control over the situation as you nip and bite at his lips. When he parts them for you, your tongue presses into his mouth fervently, tangling with his own as he grips your hips and guides you back toward the tree you had been leaning against previously.  

Once your back presses against the wood, you feel Benn’s rough hands slide down and grab at the back of your knees, lifting you up towards his chest and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist. You feel him growing hard under the pressure of your core against his, and you hiss into his mouth when he ruts his hips against you roughly, the movement full of need and desire as he takes command of the kiss. He pulls his lips from your mouth to pepper wet kisses along your jaw, slowly moving lower as he alternates between open-mouth kisses and gentle nips at your skin. 

A sound from the bow of the ship reminds you where you are, and how exposed the two of you are as you whip your head around, scanning the area for anyone who might be watching. 

“Everyone’s asleep, doll,” he groans against your neck, hips moving again between your legs and causing you to whimper under his touch. “No one’ll see.” 

His words do little to reassure you, so in order to pull your attention back to him, Benn reaches up and tugs at the hem of your top, pulling it down far enough to expose one of your breasts to him before dipping his head down and taking a nipple between his teeth teasingly. 

“Don’t know if I can wait any longer,” he growls, and again your mind melts as he sucks down on the sensitive bud in his mouth, his hand shifting to fumble with the button of your pants as you fist his grey hair. “I shouldn’t admit this, but... I came by your room earlier. Heard all those pretty sounds you were making.” 

Your eyes go wide at his admission, face flushing deeply as he tugs your pants down your legs. 

“Didn’t want to interrupt in case you weren’t alone, but now that I know that wasn’t the case... I gotta know,” his voice hitches as he traces the lace of your underwear, feeling the dampness of them as he strokes over your clothed cunt. 

“Were you thinking of me when you touched yourself, doll? Did you imagine they were my hands?” 

A nod is all you can manage as he tugs your underwear to the side, and a moan slips from your lips as he runs his fingers through your wet folds. 

“Good,” he croons, his face dipping down so that his mouth grazes your earlobe. “’Cause I’ve thought about having your tight cunt wrapped around my cock for ages. Thought about how good those pretty little hands would feel stroking me.” 

A sudden stretch has your eyes screwing shut and your head pressing back against the tree, his thick fingers curling against your walls as he presses two of them deep inside you. You bite your lip to keep quiet, but your moans still manage to slip through as Benn lifts his eyes from your soaking cunt. 

“That feel good, doll?” 

You nod and Benn presses his forehead against yours, commanding your attention as he continues his ministrations. 

“Huh-uh. Use your words.” 

You whimper at the command in his tone, eyes opening to look into his as he awaits your response. 

“Y-yes, Becks,” you whine, your eyes dropping to where he is touching you as another moan escapes you. “Your hands feel so much better than mine.” 

Benn’s eyes twitch and you grip his shoulders as he shifts to pull his erection from his pants, your eyes widening at the considerable size of him.  

“Hmm, I bet this will feel even better than, doll,” he growls as he pulls his fingers from you, using the same hand to stroke himself and lubricate his shaft with your arousal. 

After a few tantalizingly long moments he shifts you higher into his grasp, lining himself up at your entrance and pressing into you slowly as you feel all the air leave your lungs. 

“Fuuuuuck,” he hisses, and you dig your nails into his shoulders as he presses into your fully, giving you a moment to adjust to the stretch of him. 

When he starts moving again your mouth falls open, the drag of his cock along your walls pulling obscene sounds from you and your cunt as he quickens his pace. Your whole body hitches from the power of his thrusts, your back scraping against the bark of the tree with each movement.  

“You like that, doll?” He growls into your neck, sinking his teeth into your neck gently as he tries to muffle the sounds of his own moans. “You gonna sing me a pretty song while you come on my cock?” 

You manage to gasp out a feeble “Yes” as Benn brings his calloused finger to your clit, thumbing gentle circles around it as you feel yourself tighten around him. Unable to contain it any longer, you let your mouth fall open as his name falls from your lips, the pitch in your voice signaling your end as your body begins to shake with pleasure. 

“Good girl,” he croons in your ear, keeping his thrusts precise and sharp as he fucks you through your orgasm.  

Your voice breaks as your mouth goes dry, your labored breathing causing your chest to rise and fall against Benn's as his hips slowly come to a halt. He holds you close, letting his cloak fall over your exposed body. 

“D-did you...” 

“Good Gods, Beck!” You hear a familiar voice call out from the nearby staircase. “When I said ‘by any means necessary’, this is NOT what I had in mind.” 

Your body goes still as you feel all the color drain from your face, blood running cold as you realize that it is the voice of your captain. 

Benn, seemingly unfazed, simply holds you closer to him as he flips Shanks a middle finger, and much to your relief the sounds of laughing and footsteps grow further away as he pulls your pants back up your legs for you. 

“Don’t worry, doll,” he smirks mischievously, tugging you into his arms again and carrying you toward his quarters. “I’m not done with you, yet.” 

✨come say hai :3✨

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Can you write a joe goldberg x reader where they are out at a bar and the reader gets a lil too tipsy and flirty with another guy and joe gets all jealous and it ends with them dry humping and making out against a wall outside the bar??? I love your stuff ohmigod

omg yes absolutely! and thank you so much, you're so sweet <33

Jealousy, Jealousy (Joe Goldberg x gn reader)

Warnings: SMUT, Joe has jealousy issues lol, reader is a little tipsy but they're still sober enough to consent, dry humping, heavy making out (against a wall), slight exhibitionism, hickeys/biting/marking, brief degrading/Joe has a slight humiliation kink here, gender neutral reader so genitalia and the like aren't specified

Five minutes. Five minutes, that's all he'd been gone for, just to come back to see you hanging off the arm of some other man.

Seriously?

Joe scoffed as he glared at you from the corner, watching you place your hand on the mystery guy's chest and whisper something that he could only assume was needlessly provocative into said guy's ear.

That should be him that you were hanging off, him you were whispering in the ear of.

Scowling, he quickly made his way over, not even bothering to apologize to the few people he managed to bump into. "Hey," he greeted in a tense and strained voice, looking like he was about to crack a tooth from how hard he was clenching his jaw.

At first he thought that maybe it was a mistake. Maybe you were too drunk to realize that guy wasn't him, maybe you hadn't even noticed that he'd left, maybe you'd just so happened to cling onto the nearest tall, attractive person with dark hair under the assumption that he was your boyfriend.

Until you glanced over, and he saw the cheeky glint of mischief in your eyes and the shit-eating grin on your face. "Oh, baby, hey," you drawled out slow and lazily, your speech a little slurred from the alcohol that was currently pumping through your system. "Where have you been? I was looking all over for you. I was so worried."

If he'd been a cartoon, his face would've been bright red with anger and steam would've been seen coming out of his ears. "Don't 'hey, baby' me," he snapped while grabbing your arm, not hard enough to hurt you but certainly firm enough to where you couldn't wiggle away from him. "We're leaving, now."

"Aw, but I just made a new friend," you replied with a pronounced pout, giving him your best puppy dog eyes in hopes of winning him over.

But he was having none of it, refusing to even acknowledge the guy as he furiously dragged you away (the guy in question was fortunately smart enough to leave well alone and let you go without protest).

"I'm never taking you out again, do you hear me? Never again," he practically scolded, his long legs moving almost too fast for you to keep up with.

"But baby-" you loudly began your complaint before he grabbed you by the collar. You felt the breath get knocked out of you as he roughly pushed you up against the wall of a nearby alleyway outside the bar.

"Enough," he snapped harshly, his eyes full of pure envy as he glared at you. The sexual frustration he was fighting with was so strong you could practically feel it pressing against you. Or maybe that was just his hard-on in his jeans. "What have I told you about flirting with other guys, huh? What did I say?"

Huffing, you averted your gaze from him, well aware of the answer he was looking for. "Not to," you grumbled with a childish pout, not enjoying the way he was currently reprimanding you. "But it's not my fault you left me all alone in there."

"I had to use the bathroom," he hissed out through gritted teeth, his patience starting to run thin. "That doesn't give you the excuse to go cozy up to some other guy like I don't even exist."

"Aw, baby, you know I didn't mean to," you purred out in that sultry tone you always knew worked on him, one of your hands slipping down to fiddle with the hem of his pants as you spoke. "I just missed you, y'know? I was lonely and needed something to help me pass the time. I'd never actually cheat on you with someone else, you know that."

As much as he hated to admit it, the charm you were trying to win him over with was working. "Come on, don't try to seduce me when I'm mad," he muttered half-heartedly as your fingers slipped through the belt loops of his pants and used them to tug him in closer, his hips pressing flush against yours.

The corners of your lips curled upwards into a smug smirk when you realized your plan was working. "I missed you so much while you were gone," you continued in a pathetic sounding tone, your hands letting go of his pants so you could wrap your arms around his neck instead.

The growl he let out sounded heavenly, like music to your ears. He trapped you up against the wall of the alleyway while his hands moved to grab onto your hips. "Don't tease me," he warned in a low voice, but you simply snickered in response.

"Make me," you whispered back, and that was all it took for the floodgates to open up and all of his self-control to crumble as his lips met yours in a passionate embrace of teeth and tongue.

"You can be such a brat sometimes," he mumbled into your mouth, his tongue swiping across your bottom lip after. He could tell just from the look on your face how much you were enjoying yourself.

"Only with you." Those three little words caused his grip on you to tighten as he jolted his hips into yours, relishing at the sudden feeling of friction between you.

There was no possible way for his cock to get any harder, but somehow it did. "Say- say that again," he demanded in a soft and breathy voice as he leaned his forehead against yours. "Say that you're only like this with me, that you only do this stuff for me."

You knew exactly what he wanted, of course. He wanted validation, he needed it, even. It was something he was so helplessly desperate for. He needed you to reassure him that there would be no other guys, not now or ever, that he was the only one. And with the pitiful way he was staring at you, how could you ever refuse?

"Only for you, Joe. You know I only have eyes for you, babe," you murmured before grabbing the collar of his coat and tugging his lips back to yours in another passionate kiss, one that was even more intense than the last.

He couldn't help but start to grind against you, acting like a dog in heat with the way he was dry humping you right up against the wall of some random alleyway where anyone could look down and see you. At that point, he didn't care who saw. He just knew that he needed you, and he intended on having you, one way or the other.

You, on the other hand, were delighted and even giddy at his eagerness. Normally you'd be a bit more hesitant to have your boyfriend get so handsy with you in a semi-public place, but the alcohol running through your veins gave you just enough of the liquid courage needed in order to successfully banish those fears away and replace them entirely with the overwhelming experience of lust you always had for him whenever he became possessive like that.

The whimpers and pants that exited his mouth uncontrollably were just the cherry on top, the previous look of rage at having another guy touch you being completely overtaken by his primal urge to take you and make you his. You let out a noise that was a cross between a moan and a sigh when you felt his lips meet your neck, biting and sucking at the area in an attempt to mark you, to claim you as his and his alone.

The pace of his hips was unrelenting as he kept you pinned to the wall, the feeling of his boner rubbing against you through the fabric of your pants making you just as crazy as he was. "God, you're such a fucking slut for me, Joe," you commented mindlessly as your fingers curled through his hair, directing his mouth to a lower spot on your neck in the process.

Your words didn't seem to upset him, and if anything only happened to turn him on even more. He buried his face further into your neck while gripping onto your hips so tightly you were certain he'd leave marks behind, his movements in tandem with yours as you'd started to thrust upwards in an attempt to match his speed.

When he finally came, he bit his lip so hard he almost drew blood, trying his best to muffle the humiliating sounds that were doing their best to creep out and escape from him. You finished soon after, your body tensing up and going limp from the amount of energy you had drained from you.

"Second round at home?" You questioned once you were able to catch your breath, to which he merely letting out a short laugh and pulled your body closer to his.

"As long as you promise to never flirt with another guy again," he bargained in turn, just as exhausted as you were even if he was also itching for more.

He was so naive for thinking that would be the one and only time you'd ever purposely flirt with somebody else. With the kind of reaction you'd managed to gain from him, this was only the beginning. It was decided: you'd have to make him jealous more often.

End notes: I love writing smutty joe fics omg

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[blondiedae]

dry house, wet clothes (five)

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, five

pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun

genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)

warnings. swearing, mentions of drinking, kissing, explicit smut (oral (receiving), fingering, missionary romantic penetrative sex, so much kissing). overuse of the words beg, ache and spin and variations of them. big miscommunication trope, it is what it is. it’s so much angst i’m so sorry

word count. 9,312

plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.

other's mentioned. lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta

author's note. hey everyone. i want to first thank you for your patience and understanding, with this delay. the second thing i want to address is the genre tags - specifically jaehyun slow burn. the only thing i want to say about it is this: for every baby step jaehyun takes, johnny will take strides. that doesn’t mean that it’s johnny focused, just that johnny is moving faster that jaehyun is. i sincerely appreciate all the incredible things you have all said about dhwc, i hope you continue to enjoy it. but please keep in mind this is a long fic! we have obstacles to overcome, a story to build together! thanks for building with me 🫶🏽

taglist (open). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno

playlist. here!

“I’m sorry.”

Jaehyun was on your doorstep, his tie loose around his neck and his hair pushed back.

For two days, he’d sat with himself, gone back and forth with all the things he’d wanted to say. He wanted to apologize, he wanted to beg. Jaehyun wanted to contain himself how he’d been for years, but his heart was holding onto strings, trying to tie them into knots to hold everything in place; himself, you, the two of you together.

For two minutes, his hand shook, lifting to ring your doorbell, curling into a fist to knock on your door, pulling out his phone to call you. The weight of his key in his pocket urged him to just open the door. Jaehyun felt desperate in a way that made his bones ache, in a way that was almost comical.

In a way that, when you opened the door and saw him there, made him swallow and say the only thing he could think to, “I’m sorry.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, for an eternity, for much too long. He was shaking again, composure wavering with every second. Finally, you spoke, quiet and hesitant, “For what, Jae?”

For everything. For waiting. For doing nothing. He shook his head, “You’re my best friend.”

“Yeah.”

“I want you to be happy.” Jaehyun paused, waited for the words that took two days to find him, “You know that, right?”

Again, you confirmed, “Yeah.”

“Does…does whatever you and Johnny are, does that make you happy?”

The answer wasn’t no, it was so much more complicated. Every thought of Johnny was complicated, but the simplest answer was, “It’s really new, Jaehyun.”

“Sure.” He tucked his hands in his pockets, “Yeah, that makes sense. I just never thought…”

He couldn’t say it, couldn’t force the words from his lips. Jaehyun was still to scared to give himself away, even with the threat of losing you, in his mind entirely, right in front of him. If felt pathetic, it felt unreal. He’d spent years wishing he could do exactly what Johnny had done, wishing he could be where Johnny is and now, when it was teetering on too late, he still couldn’t do or say anything to stop it.

Jaehyun wondered if he’d ever be able to or if the way his heart swelled and beat for you would be just on the tip of his tongue, forever.

“You never thought what?” Mark was right. It was all too weird. There wasn’t a better word for it, nothing that could shake that fact that Jaehyun, your Jaehyun, was weird. Your world stopped again, the chill of November hit your skin, and you could feel him slipping away. You didn’t know how to make it stop, what to grab onto to pull Jaehyun back to you, “Do you want to come inside?”

He nodded, “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

“I have to get ready.” So much of you didn’t want to tell him, “I have a date.”

“With Johnny.” Jaehyun followed you up your stairs, “What time?”

“In an hour.” You stepped into your room, Jaehyun stayed behind, leaning on the doorframe and watching you move, “I don’t know what to wear.”

He remembered telling you we’ll support you. The echo of him saying I want you to be happy minutes before caught up to him, at the top of the stairs. The air was thick, the way it had been two nights before. You’d sat in the tension through the night, masking it as best you could while Mark was still there. It lingered until they left - Mark first, gathering his things and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. You and Jaehyun picked up in relative silence; clattering dishes in the sink, the shuffling of your feet, the TV muted but flashing brightly and lighting the room.

Jaehyun had adjusted a throw pillow, watching as you folded the last blanket, before he said, “I should go, too.”

“Okay.” The couch was a barrier between you, both standing at opposite ends. Jaehyun looked at your bandaged hand, up to your face, down to the floor. You watched him, dimly lit but beautiful as he always was, “Are we okay?”

He nodded, his heart only partially in it. He wanted you to be okay, if wishing and wanting counted for anything. God, he’d wish and want forever. More than he should. So, Jaehyun nodded and said, “We’ll be okay.”

Then it was quiet again. Jaehyun didn’t make any moves to actually leave and you didn’t encourage him to. It was silent in your living room, welcoming the fourth day of November as the clock pushed to midnight. It was late, it was too late. He was too late, but Jaehyun didn’t move. He spoke again, “Why him?”

“What?”

“That’s the last thing I want to ask you.” It had taken him all night to say it; the last question he wanted to ask you and the answer he dreaded the most. Jaehyun looked up, “Tonight, at least. Why Johnny?”

Your mouth opened, hanging there for a second before you shrugged, “Why not?”

He laughed. Jaehyun laughed, without a trace of amusement, “That’s not an answer.”

“What do you want me to say, Jae?”

“Anything.” He was slipping again, another leaf to the ground, another chill down your spine, “I want to understand it because it came out of nowhere.”

The TV flashed, vibrant blues and pinks, a shade of yellow - colors of an ad that washed over the two of you. Silence settled again, tension settled again, stillness and something so indescribable, untouchable between the two of you. Jaehyun waited for an answer, a real answer. He felt like he’d only asked half of his final question, but the follow up was something he’d never be able to say; why him and why not me?

The thought had been circling in his mind, preying on every thought he had and every move he made for three weeks. Since you called him, since you told him Johnny told me he likes me. Longer than that, maybe, if Jaehyun could be honest with himself. He’d been feeding the predatory question since your birthday, “Why him?”

But, you didn’t answer. The truth wasn’t fair, wasn’t right, wasn’t something you could tell him. Not like this. Because it wasn’t you. So, you didn’t answer him. Instead, you stepped towards your door, ignoring your frazzled reflection and told him, “I have to get up early tomorrow, Jaehyun.”

“Fine.” Jaehyun followed, pulled on his shoes and watched as you pulled away from him. You sat on the steps, wrapped around yourself and counting the tiles in your foyer. Jaehyun said, “Sleep well. I’ll call you.”

He didn’t call. For two days, the tension grew into unease, into strain, into an unshakeable dread. Jaehyun couldn’t call. Instead, he came to you, followed those strings back to you and now, he was here. He watched as you pulled things from your closet, put them out on your bed, made a mess of your room in the process.

Jaehyun saw the pictures of the four of you, the three of you, of just the two of you on your walls. He saw his shirt at the top of your hamper in the corner, another one hanging from a drawer. Jaehyun took in every inch of the familiar space, how there were bits and traces of him in every corner. Why him?

It was selfish. Jaehyun was so intertwined with you that he couldn’t separate himself from your happiness and it was selfish. He looked at his feet, but articulated clearly, “I’m really sorry for the other night.”

“You said that.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He lifted his head to look at you, “You won’t lose me.”

You stopped, turning to look at him, “I feel like I already am.”

“No. Never.” Jaehyun took a tentative step across the threshold, “How is your hand?”

“Better.”

“Good.”

You pressed your thumb to the slight mark on your palm, “Is it really so different? If Johnny and I - if we just try?”

“I didn’t think you’d date within our circle. Not again. I know how that sounds, but it just took me by surprise and I think, I don’t know. I didn’t know how to react.”

“I get it.”

“I’m not reacting well, huh?”

“Neither am I.”

Jaehyun moved, even more, to stand in front of you, “What does that mean?”

He tried to twist the hope in his voice into concern, curiosity. Jaehyun watched you carefully; when your forehead creased with a thought and your lips parted only to sigh, his hope swelled in his chest. You sank down to sit on the edge of your bed, looking up at him, “When he told me, I didn’t know how to react. I still don’t, sometimes. I didn’t think, not in a million years did I think it would be Johnny.”

Jaehyun nearly choked, “Did you think it would be someone else?”

You. Your eyes were locked on his. You. It was impossible to say it, now. It might have always been. The regret that weighed you down and kept you seated on your bed was crushing, bruising every inch of your skin with could have beens and the word you. Jaehyun didn’t move, statuesque before you.

I had hoped for you was left unsaid, hiding in the way you simply stared at Jaehyun.

Because it was too late, it was too early; either way, the time wasn’t right. Never right, never sure, never certain. Honesty still found its way past your lips in a confession, “Sometimes I think that I just really like the way he kisses me.”

Jaehyun’s heart plummeted, dropped from his chest to the center of the Earth and blackened in the heat. Of course you’d kissed Johnny, of course Johnny had kissed you, of course you liked it. You really liked it. He didn’t know if you heard his quiet, “Oh.”

“I think I like him.” You covered your face, head in your hands, “This is so dumb, Jae. I don’t even remember what it's supposed to feel like, when it’s new. I’ve been so…”

Wrapped up in you.

Jaehyun urged, “Keep going.”

You couldn’t, holding your head to keep it on your shoulders, to give every thought a barrier it couldn't push through. I’m too wrapped up in you.

“Is it good enough to just think you like someone?” Your voice was muffled underneath your palms, “Shouldn’t you know? Shouldn’t I know?”

He didn’t have an answer. Jaehyun wasn’t sure if you even wanted him to answer, if the question was rhetorical, if the words just needed to be said.

Instead, Jaehyun took your hands, pulling you to your feet, and prompted, “How do you feel?”

He was trying to help, he was supporting you. If it was how he stayed here - framed on your walls, crumpled in the hamper, fading on your bathroom counter - he would support you. Jaehyun squeezed your hands in his, ducking down to try and see your eyes; he was looking for the stars, looking for you to shine. You stared back at him, “Comfortable.”

He nodded, “What else?”

Your eyes never left Jaehyun’s, “Safe.”

Jaehyun squeezed your hands, licked at his lips to hide how dry his mouth had become. He needed something to hold onto, he needed one more string. Jaehyun tried to smile, “That’s good.”

“It’s good.” Johnny was good. You looked down at your hands, how Jaehyun’s wrapped around and intertwined with yours, “Will you be honest with me if I ask you something?”

“I’ll try.”

“Are you okay with it?”

As soon as the words left your lips, you regretted letting them slip. You felt his hands tighten around yours and yours did the same. That feeling, that sinking feeling that you were losing him creeping back in.

You knew the answer and maybe you shouldn’t have asked it for that reason. You knew the answer and the two of you had danced around it, tiptoed around it, built bridges and scaled buildings to avoid it. You knew the answer and Jaehyun did, as well. He almost answered, he took in a breath to steady himself and answer you.

But, Jaehyun wanted you to stop, he sensed you wanted that, too. Both of you knew it was a conversation you needed to have, it was another lead that needed to fall. But, the Earth didn’t change from spring to summer, from summer to fall, from fall to winter overnight. You needed to tell him when you could easily get the words past your lips and Jaehyun needed to hear them when they didn’t feel like needles, like knives.

So, he stopped you.

He looked at the clothes you’d put out, hands still holding yours, “Wear the dress.” It was killing him, “Mark said you were going to dinner.”

You looked over your shoulder, “The dress?”

“Definitely.”

You’d worn it on New Year’s eve, the last time he saw it; surrounded by friends, confetti, balloons. A vision that blurred his vision and made Jaehyun feel weak, defenseless, hopelessly lost in you. He wanted to kiss you, the last time he saw it; when you counted down from ten as loud as you could, when you rang in the new year with a glass of champagne, cheering and cheering and joyfully cheering. Jaehyun wanted to kiss you then, silence his hopelessness with your lips, fill a moment so fresh with nothing but you.

Every inch of him ached at the memory.

“Go on. Get dressed.”

He turned his back, then, using modest and privacy as an excuse to quell what felt like agony in his chest. Jaehyun studied every inch of your nightstand - the things that littered your floor, his own feet, the ceiling - holding his breath and keeping his eyes down until you called his name, “Can you zip me?”

“Of course.”

His fingertips were chilled but soft on your back, pulling gently at your zipper, smoothing out the fabric at your hips. You could feel his breath on your neck when Jaehyun said, “Wear your hair up.”

“You think so?”

His fingers brushed against your arm when he said, “Yeah.”

“Okay.” You turned to face him. Ignored the knot in your stomach, the heated skin where he’d touched, told him, “Thank you.”

He didn’t want you to thank him, not for this. Jaehyun didn’t want you to say thank you while he picked out an outfit for you to wear on a date with another man. A friend that wasn’t him. A friend. His friend - his best friend, Johnny. Not now, not when he’d found a new way to torture himself; that dress, that dress, that dress. The memory of longing to kiss you slipping from the past into the present as easily as you’d slipped into that dress. Still, he nodded, stepping back and saying, “I’m gonna go grab a drink.”

“I’ll be down in a bit.”

Jaehyun found himself in your kitchen, your speaker playing music he’d missed upon arrival in the living room. He poured himself a glass of water, chugging it down and gasping for breath when it slithered its way into his stomach. Another glass went down before he calmed himself down. His mind was circling around every word you’d said, trying to pull them apart for another drop of hope. The water hadn’t been enough to quench that thirst, it hadn’t even touched it.

Jaehyun focused for too long on you telling him “Sometimes I think that I just really like the way he kisses me.” The thought of Johnny’s lips on yours drained his already depleted source of hope. His feet dragged him into the living room, sinking into the couch while he waited and listened to the melodies from your phone, the clattering from your bathroom, his own breathing.

If he’d kissed you, eleven months ago while you were in that dress, Jaehyun could convince himself none of this would be happening. He would never have to imagine you kissing Johnny, he wouldn’t have to hear to talk about it. Jaehyun wouldn’t be digging deeper and deeper into the Earth, carving out his own grave.

Jaehyun leaned forward, reading the title of the song lilting. At the top of your screen, he saw the title - your name and carefully selected emojis. Jaehyun cursed his curiosity when he swiped down and saw his name. His name on a list of songs put together for you. The hearts framing your name, the smiles, the sparkles. Jaehyun’s throat felt dry, again, his head felt light.

“How do I look?” You were behind him, bare feet undetectable when he was caught up in his own thoughts. Jaehyun stood up, taking you in. The dress was the right choice, your hair tied back was the right and the red lipstick you’d picked was the perfect choice. He couldn’t catch his breath, “I don’t know what shoes to wear.”

Two pairs hung from your fingertips, Jaehyun weakly pointed to one, “Those. You look perfect.”

He knew you would.

You wavered, dropping both pairs of shoes to the floor and smiling the best you could, “Thank you.”

He’d picked the perfect look for you to go on a date with a friend who wasn’t him.

Jaehyun had lost himself in a playlist for you made by him.

And now he was losing his mind, watching as you came closer. He could stand in that moment forever, taking you in like that. He could pretend it was for him, he could stay quiet and keep his heart to himself. Jaehyun could’ve gathered any of the things he’d left unsaid and let them loose; put them at your feet and given you the chance to hold them for yourself. He could’ve let you see if the weight of his heart and his mind and his soul - everything that you had a hold on - was too much, too little, just right in your arms. Instead, he took a step towards you and asked, “Can I try something?”

You blinked, “Try what?”

“I want to help. I want you to be happy.”

“Help with what, Jaehyun?”

He looked down, watched his fist clench and loosen, then he pulled at your own hands, “Can I kiss you?”

It was so quiet he almost missed it, “What?”

“You said you think you just like when he-” He swallowed, “When he kisses you. So, if I kiss you and it doesn’t feel, I don’t know, right, it could help.”

“I don’t know.”

He wanted to beg. His mind working overtime to convince himself he was helping, his heart knowing he was traveling back in time to New Years, to start over, to pull you back to a place he’d never had you. To a place he had only silently hoped he could have you. Jaehyun tried to play it casual, to keep himself centered and tethered to you, to this moment. He looked up at you, “It could help.”

Tunnel vision. Everything that wasn’t Jaehyun was lost, every sound and sight and smell. He was all you could see. It could help. It was a taunt and he hadn’t any clue. It could help in the way it would destroy you to know what kissing Jaehyun would feel like. He wanted to help, he wanted to help, he wanted you to slip away. You looked down at your hands, how Jaehyun’s thumbs rubbed circles into your palms. Too late, too soon, not right.

You nodded before you could think not to. Before he was gone, completely, and pushing the thought of Johnny to the back of your mind, you nodded, “Okay.”

Jaehyun nodded, too. He was trembling, hopelessly lost in you, again and always, and this moment, aching to know if you could tell how he shook. But he took a step towards you, leaning in and down and closer until your breath mingled. Until he could smell your perfume, the warmth of it, the scent that was so uniquely you. Then, his lips were on yours - soft, so soft, unmoving for a moment.

The whole world was unmoving.

You squeezed his hands in yours, moving your lips first, slowly and cautiously. It took everything in you to hold back, to not melt into him completely and lose yourself. It could help. He was right, even slightly, because kissing Jaehyun was nothing like kissing Johnny. It was unlike anything. You were breathless, grounded, lost and home all at once.

He pulled you closer, tongue slipping past your lips for a second - begging begging begging you to let him in. Jaehyun’s hands were on searching for a home, one at your hip and the other holding your face. He couldn’t breathe, he didn’t know if he wanted to. If Jaehyun had to stop kissing you to breathe, he’d suffocate where he stood.

You let him in, tongue running along his bottom lip, moan leaving you and melting into his mouth. He swallowed it down, fingers holding tighter still around you. He couldn’t tell himself he was helping when you made sounds like that. But Jaehyun couldn’t pull himself away, either.

You did.

You pulled away from him and Jaehyun was reminded he couldn’t will January back when November had already begun. Your hand covered your lips, scorched and swollen. Jaehyun looked at you as you looked at him, neither of you stable enough to speak, to think.

“Jaehyun.”

He gathered himself enough to ask, to foolishly ask, “Did it help? Did you feel anything?”

He wanted to beg. He would get down on his knees if you’d tell him yes. You stood still, breathing in the air that carried his words to you. Then, breaking your own heart you shook your head.

Breaking Jaehyun’s heart, you shook your head and stepped back.

Ripping your heart and his from your chests, you shattered both of them on the ground and shook your head. The only words he could hear clearly were, “We shouldn’t have done that.”

“I…” His lungs fought every breath, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

“You didn’t feel anything?”

You felt fire. You felt your heart racing. You felt every touch and breath. You felt everything. Your body was still tingling, still trembling, still urging you to wrap yourself in him.

“We…we shouldn’t have.”

You didn’t answer him, not directly. It didn’t go unnoticed. Jaehyun took a step back, for himself, hand swiping over his face before it settled on his hips. He took you in, your red lipstick smudged, your hair falling from its hold, your dress shifted. All signs he’d touched you, held you, kissed you. He’d kissed you and you felt nothing; you shook your head, you said you shouldn’t have.

He watched the way your chest was rising and falling, how you were just as short of breath as he was. Suddenly, it was too much. You were right, it didn’t help.

Jaehyun didn’t say anything after that. Anything he could think to say, anything he’d want to say would be too hasty, too harsh, would hang in the air between the two of you before his words crashed down and made everything worse. He left, silently, stuck in his head. He left, knowing you were standing in your living room with the taste of him still on your lips, waiting for someone else. Jaehyun left and didn’t turn back when he heard you call his name once, twice.

Johnny was at the end of your pathway when he opened the door, hand on the gate. He didn’t look up, didn’t notice Jaehyun - his best friend Jaehyun - until the sound of the younger’s feet stomping on the concrete pulled his attention. And Johnny was cheerful, Johnny was kind, Johnny didn’t have a reason not to smile at Jaehyun and say, “Hey, man!”

Jaehyun was cold, still in his head, lips still on fire where you’d touched. He wondered if Johnny would notice the stain of your lipstick when he said, “Hey. Have fun.” His voice wavered, filled with a quiet hostility Jaehyun couldn’t control, when he tacked on, “She’s all yours.”

You were. He could feel the winter creeping in, the end of your season. Jaehyun’s lips were on fire, but the rest of his body was frost bitten.

Johnny nodded, “Yeah, thanks.” He stopped when they’d met halfway, Jaehyun was so determined to keep moving, but Johnny grabbed his shoulder and asked, “We’re on for tomorrow, right? Mark said he might be late.”

Jaehyun masked that he’d forgotten, a usually scheduled event, a concrete gathering - a weekend in the loft, “Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”

“You alright, man?”

Jaehyun took a moment, he wondered if Johnny even noticed. He wondered if the way Jaehyun licked at the hint of red lipstick on his lips was telling, noticeable in the least. Jaehyun wanted to know if Johnny could smell you on him; the notes of cinnamon, pink pepper, mandarin. He was desperate to look down and see if any fibers from your dress had crept onto his suit, latched themselves onto him - a sign for him to not let go. Jaehyun lingered on the taste of you, brought his hand to his lips and felt the heat of them before he shook his head - quickly switching to a nod, “Yes. Yeah, I’m good. Just…be good to her, John.”

Johnny laughed, head tilted back weighed down by his amusement, “Sure thing, Dad. My intentions are pure.”

“I’m serious, Johnny.”

Johnny slowed his laughter, brought his head upright and forced out the last breath of his amusement. The look Jaehyun gave him was clear and Johnny was never one to brush off his friends' concern. So, Johnny squared his shoulders and nodded, again, “Of course. You know I will, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun nodded back. He looked over to your window, thought of you in your dress, your perfume, your lipstick. He took a step back, thoughts swept away in a November breeze - a cruel reminder of winter slowly approaching - and said, “I know. See you tomorrow, man.”

“You’re not the only one who cares about her, Jaehyun.” Johnny wasn’t bitter, not hostile in the way Jaehyun had been, not concerned with any traces of venom in his words. It simply wasn’t there. Johnny spoke gently, the softest reminder to Jaehyun that it was him. This was Johnny, “I’ve got her.”

With another nod, a final nod, Jaehyun repeated, “I know.”

I’ve got her.

His lips were singed. I’ve got her felt dangerously like snow.

You were frozen where you stood, confined and rooted to the spot where you’d stood with Jaehyun. You had done all you could to fix yourself up in the reflection of your television; tugging at the fabric of your dress, swiping your thumb across your lips, tucking strands of hair back into place. You felt nauseous in a way you couldn’t explain.

Jaehyun still lingered on every inch of you.

When Johnny stepped inside, you were facing away from him. His eyes followed the shape of you, the curves of your body he’d tried to memorize on the first day of November. His fingers wiggled at his sides, danced at the thought of touching you again, of committing you more to memory. Quickly, Johnny tucked them into his pockets, “You look gorgeous, babe.”

He was there, right where Jaehyun had been.

One replaced the other, Johnny stood where Jaehyun had and it threw you off balance. Nauseous, stomach twisted in complicated knots. You couldn’t look at Johnny for a second, knowing the world would pick up pace again as soon as you did. The vertigo would be enough to knock you down. Johnny deserved better, Johnny deserved better.

You lifted your head.

He looked incredible, he looked excited. Johnny couldn’t, he wouldn’t even think to hide the fact that he was smitten; beaming in the foyer and filling the room with radiant light. Your heart could’ve stopped beating, taking him in. Instead, it picked up pace, thumping against your chest, begging to burst out, free to follow Johnny’s light. He said, “Hi.”

You repeated it back, still breathless, “Hi. You look…”

Words were lost, you wondered if you’d reached your quota for the day. Your limited vocabulary in Johnny’s presence was recurring, only this time you couldn’t blame alcohol. Jaehyun had taken every thought with him. You were silent, suddenly so dumbstruck. But, Johnny took over where you fell short and eased you with a laugh, “Can’t believe I made you speechless.”

It took a moment before you laughed, too, nausea replaced with that shyness seeping into your skin, “Shut up.”

It was quiet enough to be kept to yourself, a throwaway command you didn’t really mean. But, Johnny watched the way your mouth moved; that same red lipstick from Jungwoo’s party painted onto your lips. So, he teased, as Johnny loved to do, “What was that?”

He took a step towards you, stepping out of his shoes and slipping on the wood in his socks. You laughed again, urging him to come closer. He meant it, you looked stunning in the dim light; in any light, in every light, in absolutely no light. Johnny would find every moment to remind you. He came closer still, floorboards by the couch creaking under the weight of him, “What did you say, babe?”

The air in the room shifted; it was lighter, playful. Just the way Johnny was. He could grin and laugh and wiggle his eyebrows and, suddenly, you were at ease. You were settling down and the world that was spinning all-too-quickly, rotated smoothly instead. He could blind you with his smile, fill your vision with light until you’d smile back just as vibrant, just as bright.

“Nothing” You tried to find your place in this moment, stumbled to find your footing with Johnny, yet again. It could help. Your arms fell in front of you, hands clasping at your hips, brushing against the finger prints Jaehyun had left cooling there. You shook your head, let a grin settle on your face, “I didn’t say anything.”

“You sure?”

He was toe-to-toe with you, his wiggling in his mismatched socks against your bare feet. You laughed hard, doing what you could to scoot back before he caught you. Just like that, Johnny flooded your mind, your air, the space around you. He smiled down at you and you could almost forget how your lips were freshly kissed. His hands found your hips, replaced the fingerprints that could have helped, pulling you in. You held your ground, “Positive.”

“Oh good.” Johnny heaved an exaggerated sigh, dancing fingers tapping against your hips, to your waist, back down again, “I thought you told me to shut up. Was gonna kiss you until you said sorry, but that would’ve been a waste of time. So, you ready?”

You laughed even harder, “Well, now wait a minute.”

Whiplash. Vertigo. A dizziness that wasn’t unwelcome.

Johnny held up his hands, “No, no. I can admit when I was wrong. Besides, I don’t want to ruin your lipstick.”

That lipstick. He had to wonder if you knew, if you only had one perfectly red lipstick, or if you knew. That lipstick, that song - the first song on his playlist for you. If you were in Jungwoo’s kitchen, Johnny might fall all over again. His favorite memory to run back to.

You pulled him from it, “Ruin it.”

“Ruin it?”

“Please.” If there were any smudges leftover, you didn’t know. Johnny didn’t either, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t, “Kiss me, Johnny.”

He did. Not without a smile, not without a careful, comfortable pause. Johnny kissed you and you melted against him; spinning in a world that was for the two of you, alone. Your eyes closed, basking in it, feeling his hands and his lips and the tickle of his hair on your cheeks. It felt so different, Johnny and Jaehyun and Jaehyun and Johnny and you wanted to stop circling around the thought. You wanted your world to orbit around one thing; the sun, the brilliant and beaming sun.

Your heart felt like it was breaking in your chest, at the thought. It was being torn in two, and when Johnny’s lips moved against yours, it was welded back together; whole in your chest, thumping in your chest, seeking warmth in your chest. Johnny’s lips were warm, his touch was warm, his words and his thoughts and the way he wanted you. All of it was filled with so much heat.

It was getting colder out, you’d be a fool to stray away from the fire. Johnny pulled back, “Come back to me.”

Your eyes stayed closed, lost in thoughts, lost in orbit, “What?”

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “Back to Earth, come back to me.”

Seeking out his lips again, you whispered back, “I’m here. I promise.”

“How do I keep you here?” Johnny’s lips lingered over yours, hovered in wait, “Tell me what I can do.”

You didn’t answer, unsure if you knew how. It had always felt like a vortex in your mind; unavoidable, pulling you in at the worst moments. Your tether had always been the same, had always been…always been. Head tilted down, you glanced towards the door, remembering your tether walking away after he’d set you loose in the sky. After he tried to help. And now Johnny was in front of you, pulling you to him; beaming in the foyer, kissing you in your living room, asking you what he needed to do.

“I don’t know.”

He kissed your cheek, your nose, your forehead. Then, Johnny brought his head down to eye level and told you, like he’d thought of the answer himself, “Then, I’ll keep trying.”

“Johnny.”

“Come on. Let’s go eat.”

📻

Your laughter echoed in the nearly empty space of a cleared out studio; it bounced off vibrant glass sculptures and swirled around inside the hallowed out ceramics. Johnny let the sound fill every corner of the room before he joined in, wanting to hear it clearly before it was lost in his own laughter. You were wrapped in his sweater, again, curled up in it on a pile of layered blankets and sipping on wine he’d picked out, wine he’d poured for you, wine he could taste on your lips when he leaned over to kiss you.

Johnny would whisper, “One more.”

Johnny would pull you closer, “Please?”

Johnny would brush his lips against yours and beg, “Babe.”

And your skin would prickle, would come alive underneath him, against him, with him. Johnny would kiss you and you would come to life. He looked up at you, leaning on one elbow, nursing his own glass of wine in his other hand, “How was dinner?”

“Really good.” The plates scattered around the two of you were remnants, littered with crumbs, stacked up and tipping over, “Did you make it?”

“No, Taeyong did. I think Yuta set everything up for us while he cooked.” He looked around the room; the dimming candles, the flickering twinkle lights, your pile of blankets and the bouquet of roses in a vase Taeyong had made. Johnny tapped at the blue and green glass, pulled at a red petal, “We have to come take a class.”

“We do?”

He nodded, a smile pulling at his lips - a smile that was always waiting to make an appearance finding another reason to come home, “We do. We made a deal.”

“We as in me and you or we as in you and Taeyong?”

“Second one.”

“I’m collateral in your bribe, then?”

Johnny took the last sip of his wine, lips still curled in a grin around the rim of the glass. It clinked against the boards of the hardwood floor when he placed it down, the same boards that groaned when he scooted closer and said, “Too beautiful to be collateral.”

“Oh my God.”

Johnny’s hand slipped into yours, pulled up the sleeve of his sweater so he could feel you. Your eyes wandered over every piece of art; Taeyong’s art that lined the walls, the art his students made stacked on shelves, the paintings he’d commissioned or sought out from local artists at a flea market. It was all perfectly curated, perfectly Taeyong. Johnny watched as you wandered off again, waiting for you to come back to him. Not once did his eyes leave you, not once did he think to look away. Johnny was surrounded by masterpieces and his favorite was still you.

He’d spent the last several days on a tightrope, balancing between anticipation and memories of you. Johnny was replaying memories that flooded his senses; overtook them, blurred them, rendered him useless at the thought of you. He was happy to indulge in it, he was happy to revel in the moments he knew he was lucky to have.

He had told Taeyong and Yuta, “I didn’t know we’d get this far.”

He had told them, “I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Johnny had laughed, in disbelief, “It’s crazy, right?”

“How is Jaehyun taking it?” Taeyong’s hands were coated in clay; it stuck underneath his fingernails while they kneaded the lump into a new shape, cracked and dried on his wrists. He tacked on, “And Mark?”

Johnny shrugged, “Fine, I think.” Johnny knew not to say too much, but he knew after Halloween there wasn’t much more to say about it. His chain mail, your angel wings, your kiss swollen lips and your head on his lap. He knew your boundaries - especially where Jaehyun was concerned, where Mark was concerned - but Johnny also knew it was an open secret, “Mark is pretty happy about it, actually. I haven’t talked to Jaehyun about it, yet.”

Yuta had nodded his head, leaning back into the chair across from Johnny. The two of them watched him for a moment, shared a look Johnny couldn’t miss, then Yuta said, “He cares about her, a lot.”

“Of course he does. He’s her best friend.” Then Johnny did his best to give them security, reassurance, comfort when he said, “We’re treading lightly, taking things slow. She’s got control of the whole thing.”

Taeyong wiped his hands on his apron, “Right.”

“Besides, it’s completely different. I’m not trying to be her best friend.” Johnny smiled, Johnny shrugged, Johnny shook his head and told them, “I just want her.”

Your eyes settled on the pottery wheel behind him, “They know? Yuta and Taeyong?”

He hummed his answer, head bobbing in a nod. They knew enough, they knew as much as he did, as far as where you stood went. He’d covet what they didn’t know; your touch, your kiss, the way he vibrated at the thought of being able to touch and kiss you, again. Johnny glanced over his shoulder, “Did you want to make something, now?”

“Can we?”

“We can try.” Johnny was up on his feet, hands reaching out for you and pulling you up. He kissed your knuckles, “Come on.”

He moved around the room carefully, stepping over your stacks of plates and the unfinished works put to the side. He rummaged in cabinets and cupboards, eyes focused in the darkness while you focused on him. On Johnny. His cologne lingered on his sweater, surrounding you in him even when he was out of reach. You pulled his sleeves back down around your hands, burying yourself deeper the knit; perfect for this night, perfect for this moment.

Johnny came back with an apron slung over his shoulder, another in his hands. He wrapped the strings around himself, securing them before he beckoned you back to him, fingers bending and his head nodding backwards, “Here. Let me.”

“Do you want me to take this off, first?”

“Nah.” His hair fell into his eyes, brushed against his cheeks, “You look too perfect in it.”

His fingers took their time tying your apron around you, lingered at your waist, at the small of your back. He felt starved of you, even when he was inches away. Johnny worried he’d push for too much, but every part of him was hooked on you; addicted to you. He liked the feeling too much and he’d remind you, when he could think to articulate it. In this moment, he just wanted to hold you.

So, Johnny urged you towards the wheel, the stool stationed there, and sat you down. He pulled another just behind you and scooted as close as he could to you. The lump of clay he’d found thumped against the table, echoing as your laughter did in the studio. Johnny watched you, the tentative way you touched it. Then, he reached forward, took your hands in his and guided you, showed you carefully how to move, how to mold.

He breathed you in, “Here, like this.”

You held your own breath, letting his fingers work yours, entranced by their hold. Johnny was entrancing, intoxicating the way he led you. You didn’t look back at him, found his reflection in glass work across from you instead and locked onto it, “Have you done this before?”

“A few times.” Johnny was so close, a puppeteer for you - a weakening, melting marionette. He pulled at strings that made your stomach flip, that made your breath catch and your heart swell. Johnny kept you with him, “Taeyong showed me.”

You laughed a bit, “Like this?”

He snorted, “Not quite.”

Then you turned to look at him, focus drifting from his reflection, from the clay, from anything that wasn’t Johnny. He was so concentrated, still, content to let you take him in until the breath you let out shook you, until Johnny could feel the wave run through you. Only then did Johnny lift his head and ask, “Are you okay?”

You nodded, you tried to nod, “I’m okay.”

He smiled, everything that Johnny Suh was radiating for you to see - just for you, only for you, “Is it too much? Too Ghost?”

“I’ve never actually seen that movie. But, no, not too Ghost.”

Johnny felt gravity pulling at him; something like it pulling him closer to you. You were magnetic and, for as strong as Johnny was, he couldn’t fight against it. He didn’t even try. Johnny kept leaning, kept sinking, kept seeking you out until his foot lifted off the pedal and he pressed his lips to yours. Johnny kissed you like he always did, how he always would - if you let him. He kissed you and kissed you and pulled back to give you time to breathe, to react, to slow down.

You pulled him back to you, clay covered hand staining his shirt with your fingerprints, just over his heart. He’d let you claim that spot, he’d make it yours if you asked him to - he’d admit that it probably already was, “What are we making?”

Johnny looked down; his hands held yours around a misshapen, partially hallowed out lump. His head dipped to the side, “A rock with personality.”

Again, the sound of you laughing echoed around him, filled Johnny’s senses to the brim. It settled in your chest and in his, shaking you both for the moments it lasted. You leaned backwards, head falling onto his shoulder and Johnny was quick to wrap himself around you twice over; his sweater, then his arms. He kissed your neck when you asked, “Can we leave?”

“We can leave.”

“Do we need to clean up?”

“I’ll come back tomorrow and do it.”

“Not by yourself.”

Johnny buried his face in the crook of your neck, lips pressed into your collarbone, “You’re perfect. Let me take you home.”

And you told him, “Okay.”

📻

“How do you feel?” The streetlight at the end of your yard flickered, blinked twice behind him. Johnny was on the bottom step, again, looking up at you - a moment repeating, a familiar circumstance after one week, two weeks, three and almost four. He checked his watch, “I’m a little early.”

It was 11:37pm on Thursday. You can tell me how you feel on Friday, he’d said.

Your hands pushed at the strands of his hair that danced on his cheeks, sweeping them back before the wind could. Johnny leaned into your touch, an instinct that still felt so new to him, a developing habit he adored. He stepped closer, up one step, and wrapped his arms around you, lips level with yours; his lips begging to be kissed.

You did just that.

“Stay with me.” It was the second time you’d pleaded Johnny on your doorstep, a plea whispered against his lips. His hold around you was secure, tighter every time you took in a breath, “If you want to.”

“I want to.” Johnny slipped your keys from your hand, “I’ll stay.”

He unlocked your door, opening your house to the moonlight, the streetlight, the porch light above you. It was silent, save for your shoes on the tile and your staggered breathing. Johnny dropped his shoes, his jacket, your keys and then dropped to his knees in front of you, hand on the back of your thigh. Your dress slipped up your leg, moving in opposition to his fingertips traveling down to your ankle, slipping your shoes off for you.

Johnny pressed his lips to the skin of your calf. He waited for the shiver, waited for your reaction, before he moved again, “You look so beautiful, tonight.”

“You too.” Johnny’s hand worked at the hem of your dress, toying with where it landed on your thighs, wondering what would happen if he pushed it up towards your hips. You breathed in the silence, the sound of his own shaking breaths, “Johnny.”

“What do you need, babe?” Johnny rested his head on your stomach, “Tell me what you need.”

“Upstairs.”

The two of you moved together, slowly, stealing kisses and keeping them like secrets in the darkness of your hallway. Johnny held your face in his hands, you hooked your fingers in the belt loops of his pants, wanting him closer - always closer. He pulled off his shirt, your handprint over his heart, slipped out of his pants and his socks and any layer he could eliminate to be closer to you.

Awestruck, you watched, waiting until his hands pulled his sweater away from you, sighing as he unzipped your dress and let it fall to your hips. Johnny was on his knees, again, on your bedroom floor, guiding your dress down your hips as he guided you all night. When it hit the ground, he paused, taking in the shape of you, once more. Memorizing the way you looked, bare in front of him.

“God, you’re beautiful.” His eyes were wide, gazing up at you from the floor, and his voice was hoarse when he reminded, “Tell me if it’s too much. You can tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded, “I don’t want you to, Johnny.”

His lips kissed your stomach, just above your panties, just below your belly button. The warmth of him brought you to life again, sent electricity through you like a bolt of lightning. He kissed his way back up your body, standing up to lay you down. Every move he made was intentional, gentle, full of something that made your heart shake. Johnny pressed you into your mattress, grinding his hips against you.

He told you, “I can’t get enough of you.”

So you gave him all you could, legs wrapping around his waist. Your lips moved against his, both of you whispering praises, sighing promises, breathing names. Babe, babe, babe melted into baby as Johnny melted into you - not for the first time, he begged not for the last.

Your breath hitched when your phone sounded off, lighting up on your nightstand. Johnny paused, too, lifting himself from you. You thanked the darkness for hiding how you shied away, “Is that important?”

You told him, “It’s Friday.”

Johnny was beaming, breathless and over the moon, “You set an alarm for midnight?” Nodding, humming, confirming wordlessly you watched him. Johnny melted back into you, then, lips on yours when he praised, “You’re so fucking perfect.”

“Johnny.”

“Tell me how you feel.” He urged, hand on your cheek, keeping you here with him, “You can answer me now.”

You felt everything. The weight of the world and of Johnny, the way you two molded together. You felt safe and comfortable and happy with Johnny, in the darkness of your bedroom, in the light of day, in the ambience of Taeyong’s studio. You felt on top of the world, unstoppable, perfect when he kissed the praises into your skin. So, you told him, “I want to be yours. Make me yours, Johnny.”

And he didn’t hesitate. He never would.

“I’m so…” Every word was mumbled, masked and murmured between kisses; on your neck, on your cheek, to your lips, down your chest. Johnny was lost in you, helplessly lost, “I’m so fucking happy. Do you know that?”

“Me too.” And you were, back to spinning, orbiting around him, around Johnny, around the sun, “More.”

“More.” He agreed.

You moaned when his fingers played with the strap of your bra, slipping it down your shoulder. He pulled at the fabric until he could wrap his lips around your nipple, tug it between his teeth and revel in the way you moaned his name. The taste of your skin, the feel of you and how you writhed underneath him; Johnny was sure he’d never felt anything like it.

His fingers took their time to move further down your body, slipping into your panties and teasing your clit. It was the first time he looked at your face, the first time he thought he could. Johnny watched how your jaw dropped, how your lips moved to say his name but the sound caught in your throat. He didn’t want to live in any other moment than this one, “My Juliet.”

“Touch me, Johnny.”

He ran his finger through your folds; teasing, teasing, always teasing. Johnny felt your wetness, how it dripped from your pussy at his touch, at the sound of his name like a hymnal, like a chant from your lips. One finger then two slipped in, his thumb circling your clit carefully, “You’re doing so well for me, baby.”

“God, Johnny. Fuck.” You were falling apart on his fingers, hips rocking into every stroke, “Kiss me, please.”

Johnny shook his head, slowly.

“Want to taste you.” He corrected himself, lips pressed against your thigh. He could smell your soap, the lotion you’d used, your perfume and the sweet smell of your pussy. Johnny was intoxicated, drunk on the scent of you and aching to drink more in. He begged you, “Need to taste you, babe.”

Then he slipped your panties to the side, nose pressed against your pussy, then his lips, then his tongue. Johnny lapped at you, drank all you had to give him. He moaned into your pussy, chanted your name as you had his. His hands pulled your legs apart, held them still when they threatened to close around him. He could feel your pussy clench on his tongue, desperate for more - begging for more.

Johnny’s cock ached, throbbed, needing to be touched. His focus was on you, lips circling around your clit, “Can you cum like this, baby?” His fingers slipped back in; one, two, then a third. He curved them, pumped them inside you and watched you move in harmony with him, “Cum for me. Please, baby. Be good and cum for me.”

Johnny, Johnny. His name repeated in your mind, hushed when it spilled from your lips. Your hands were in his hair, “Oh my God. Johnny.”

“Love when you say my name, baby.” He moaned when you did, hips grinding into your mattress seeking release of any kind, “You taste so good. You taste like heaven.”

You might’ve seen heaven, too, vision turning white as your toes curled. Johnny coaxed you through your orgasm, worked you through it, guided you until your senses returned.

He kissed you, lips covered in your wetness; slick and swollen, gasping for breath. Johnny let you feel his length, pressed it against your pussy with the roll of his hips, took your hand in his and guided them down to stroke him. He was panting, a mess on top of you, when he said, “I need you.”

You told him, “I’m here. I’m yours.”

It was near a growl, the way he said, “Mine.”

“Yours, Johnny.” He’d been told that before, “I’m all yours.”

Johnny sat back on his heels, eyes raking over your body. He pulled you up, hands working to unclasp your bra. He wanted to see all of you; needed to, needed to, needed you. Johnny was doing everything he could not to rush through this, talking his time pulling your panties off. Then, he stood at the edge of your bed, committed to memory the way you looked, naked in the moonlight. He pulled his own boxer briefs off, letting them drop, hand wrapped around and working his cock at the sight of you.

Everything about Johnny was magnificent, everything about him stole your breath, every thought, every word. He was stunning, you were senseless before him. His voice echoed in your head, miles away but directly in front of you, “Condom, baby?”

You could hear yourself tell him, “Top drawer.”

Then, after a blink, after a breath, Johnny was on top of you. He was hovering over you, praises littering your skin in the form of kisses, slowly entering into you. Every inch of Johnny had you floating further and further away, watching from above your bed as he rocked into you, hit the deepest parts of you. His cock filled you perfectly, he was perfect; Johnny, perfect Johnny.

His pace picked up, he told you, “I won’t last long. Baby, I’m so sorry. You feel too perfect around me. Pussy was made for me, baby. All mine.”

You agreed, sinking back down into your body. Spinning and spinning until he grounded you there with him, hand holding yours above your head as he filled you, fucked into you. Johnny was yours and you were, ���All yours, Johnny.”

“Stay with me, baby.” He pleaded. Johnny pulled up, sitting back on his heels and pulling you with him. His hips raised, burying himself deeper and deeper into you. Johnny’s arms engulfed you, holding you firm against his chest, “Stay here with me.”

Your arms did all they could to hold him just as tightly, to reassure him you were there. You clawed at his back, voice breaking with every moan, so close to the edge again. Johnny’s breath was hot on your neck, “Look at me, my Juliet. Let me see you.”

Johnny held your head in his hands, eyes locked on yours. Your lips were hung open, lost for words again, hands finding a secure place wrapped around strands of Johnny’s hair. He told you, he repeated to convince you, he’d never stop telling you, “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

You choked on your reply, “Johnny, I-”

Then he came, hips stuttering against yours, shaking against you. Johnny came, hand dropping from your face to circle your clit again, wanting to feel the way you clenched around his cock. You came, too, stars whiting out your vision for the second time, spinning with him.

Johnny was with you. Johnny was there with you and you were with him. He couldn’t wait to catch his breath before he asked you, one more time, “Say you’re mine, again.”

You lifted your head from where it had fallen on his shoulder, “I’m yours. I’m so yours.”

He laughed, sweat on his brow, sticking his hair to his forehead, “Until Christmas.”

You laughed with him, “We’ll see.”

previous. masterlist. next.

[jhdyuiee]

Where are You?

✪ pairing: BIKER!yuta x GF!Y/N

✪ warnings/tags: smut!, angst, fluff, arguing/fighting (verbal not physical), make-up sex, name calling (brat, slut, baby, good girl, princess), breast play, oral (m & f receiving), multiple orgasms, riding & doggy, tit sex (?!), spanking, fingering, hair pulling, unprotected sex (only on pill), cum eating, rough yuta

✪ w.c: 2.4k

✪ a.n: hii!! this is 1 of 2 fics i release today 😆 ! yesterday was my sisters birthday so i wasnt able to upload but im back with 2 stories today yay! anyhow i hope yall enjoy this one && thank u all for the love and support on Mirrors 🤍

3:40 a.m

I turned to the clock once more, the minutes and hours passing with still no sign of him. Yuta promised to be home by midnight, but 3 hours later he’s still not here. His race should’ve finished by now. I tried calling and messaging him but no response. I was about to give him one last call, when the front door opened, keys dingling.

I rushed out and was met with the man. Yuta was taking off his leather jacket, his black tank underneath. His muscular body under the moonlight that shone from the windows made him look even more attractive.

“Where have you been?” I questioned.

He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. “Racing, where else?”

“I know that, but what took you so long? You said you would be back by midnight,” I said, slightly irritated.

“Johnny got into an altercation with the other team when they wouldn’t shut up about the win being rigged,” Yuta explained.

“Yet you couldn’t answer my messages or calls?”

“Look, Y/N I’m tired. Let’s talk tomorrow,” he said softly. However I wasn’t having it. Honestly, this wasn’t even the first time he’s ever done this. For the past months or so he’s been coming home late after his races. In which I have grown suspicious about.

I scoffed, “Sure you are.” Before he could let another word out, I went back to our bedroom. As much as I wanted to give him a peace of mind, I was too tired from staying up waiting for him.

“Y/N,” Yuta yelled when I sat down in the bed. He came storming in. The patience in him evaporated. “What the fuck is wrong, huh?”

I slightly flinched at his words. I looked up at him, “You, that’s what’s wrong.”

Yuta came closer, “Me? What the fuck have I done?”

“You never come home! You’re always back so late,” I said, my voice slightly rising.

He chuckled, “That’s it? Really?”

‘Why was he treating this as a joke? Laughing? Nothing was funny about this.’ I got up from the bed, “Yes, I’m your fucking girlfriend for fuck sakes and I barely even get to see your face nowadays.”

He took another step closer, “Sorry, I’ve been so busy I didn't know my girlfriend was lonely.” Yuta didn’t seem sorry at all. “Nice try at a lame apology,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Another step, “Why are you acting like such a brat right now?”

I didn’t respond, I couldn’t. Brat. The word sent a chill down my body, in a good way.

“Huh? What’s wrong now?” Step. “Oh, I got it now,” Yuta said with more enthusiasm. His face brightened up like everything clicked to his head.

He brought a hand down my body, placing it above the curve of my ass. I felt as he fondled it, until he went further down and cupped my sex. I gasp at the touch of his hand on my sex.

He leaned into my ear, “You’ve been needy haven’t you? Is that why you’re so upset?” His hand separated from me, he separated from me. He stood there looking at me as I began to lustfully yearn for his touch.

“Answer my question baby.”

Fuck. He was right. I missed his touch, his kisses, his praises, his cock, his entire being.

“Y-Yes. I missed you so much Yuta.”

He smirked, coming back to me. “Sorry for that princess, I’ve been rather neglectful of you. I’m sorry,” he said, kissing down my neck until he reached my mouth.

His tongue entered my mouth, playing with mine. Our kiss was intense, filled with want. This was something not only I, but what we both needed. Our kiss deepened even more until I ended up back on the bed on Yuta’s lap.

His hands roamed over my back in delicate touches, until they ended up back on my ass. I moaned into our kiss when he smacked it. Soon, Yuta pulled away from the kiss—our saliva connecting—and stared at me with lustful eyes, eyes of an animal ready to pounce on its prey.

“Get on your knees,” he commanded, and so I did. He began unbuckling his belt, his cock springing out. It was already hard, leaking with pre-cum. “Suck.”

I looked up, his hand reaching to grab my hair, pulling me closer to his cock. I sucked in a breath, I wanted nothing more but to get him inside my mouth.

“I don’t have all day,” he reminded me.

I started kissing his cock, tip to base. Then licking him as slowly as possible, making him year for more. “Fuck. You- take it like you always do slut.”

I decided to stop teasing him and took his cock inside my mouth. He’s too big. The tears pooled in my eyes quickly. “Shit. That’s my girl, taking me so well,” he groaned when he felt the sensation of my moans around his cock. His hand grabbed a fistful of my hair and started bobbing my head up and down until he relaxed his grip on my hair, allowing me to take him out. I went into a fit of coughing, and my jaw was starting to hurt.

“Done already?” Yuta teased. I glared at him, “You nearly choked me with your fucking dick.” He laughed at my statement. “Take off your clothes,” he said, when he finished laughing.

One by one my clothes were gone. His hands came in contact with my breast, fondling them and pinching my nipples.

“Such pretty tits,” he said. Then next thing I knew his cock laid rested in between them. He squeezed them together as he thrusted in between them, his pre-cum allowing easier movement. The more he thrusted, the harder and faster he went.

Yuta fucked my tits until the ropes of his cum painted my face and tits. He swiped a finger over some cum that splattered on my face, bringing it to my mouth. I swallowed every single drop he gave me.

“Open up your mouth princess,” he said, when I finished taking in his cum. I opened it, and even stuck my tongue out. With another movement his cock buried itself in my mouth again. This time though he didn’t move me, so I started bobbing my head up and down his shaft, my hand following along. I swirled my tongue around his tip, earning a moan from him.

“Just like that,” he said, stroking my hair. He was close again, so I continued my movements on his cock. Finally then he exploded inside my mouth, the white ropes of his cum filling up my mouth once more. He slid his cock out and gathered the cum that had slipped past my lips, and pushed it back in.

“Such a good girl,” he said proudly. “Swallowed every drop right?”

I nodded, “Please… I need you, I want to cum too.” I pleaded with the man, I was so soaked, I felt it on my legs and thighs.

“Come up here then baby, lay down for me,” he said, patting the bed. “I’ll take care of you.”

I did as he said, laying down while he got on top of me. He spread my legs apart, a smile appearing on his face. His fingers slid down my cunt at a slow pace. He then brought them to his mouth, licking them clean. Yuta let out a satisfied groan, “Always tasting so good.”

“Please,” I whimpered.

He looked at me, descending in between my legs. He spread them apart, and placed them on top of his shoulders. “Fuck, you’re leaking everywhere baby. Sorry, I neglected you for so long, but don’t worry because we’ll take care of this,” he said, kissing my clit.

His tongue then darted out, licking a strip up and down my cunt, repeating it over and over. I squirmed at his touch. He drank up all my juices like a starved man, a man deprived of water. I gripped onto his hair, pushing him a little further in.

“Fu-Fuck right there,” I moaned, when his wet muscle intruded inside my cunt. He added to the intensity when he brought his thumb and began circling my sensitive clit. I was close to cumming, just a little more. “I’m gonna cu-cum!”

Yuta’s tongue went out, causing the sensation to be lost. Fuck. “Then cum baby, you deserve it, don't ya?” Soon his fingers came to replace his tongue, plunging in and out of my cunt while his tongue now lapped and played around with my clit. Yes this was what I needed. A couple more thrusts from his fingers, and I came all over his arm. My chest heaving, trying to catch some oxygen. It was too good.

“Good job baby,” Yuta said, kissing my temple. “You ready now?” he asked.

“Ye-Yes please put it inside.”

“Get on all fours then,” he says. I flipped over, my hands and knees on the bed, awaiting him. I felt as his hand fondled the flesh of my ass, before he landed a hard smack on it. I yelped, not expecting that. I turned back, and was met with Yuta stroking his cock while looking at my drenched cunt. He moved in closer, I felt as his tip touched my cunt.

“So tight, so wet. You feel so fucking good,” Yuta muttered, as he pushed further inside me. I felt the delicious stretch of his cock inside my pussy, and how it reached me deeply inside.

Once he was all in he wasted no time. Yuta thrusted into me like a wild beast, going at an uncontrollable speed and pace. His cock was so deep within me that I felt so full already. The sound of our skin slapping and my moans echoed in the room. I turned my head back, and was met with Yuta’s lustful eyes. He looked so drunk of pleasure.

The grip on my hips was sure to show up bruised tomorrow. My eyes rolled back when his tip kissed my g-spot. We just started but I was already so close to cuming.

Suddenly Yuta’s hand tugged on my hair roughly as he continued his excruciating pace. My tongue lolled out, he took it as an opportunity to spit in my mouth. I swallowed it unconsciously, I was too high on the pleasure to comprehend what I was doing.

“Such a good slut,” he said, letting the grip on my hair go and thrusted even harder. His hand once again came in contact with my clit, pinching it until I finally came undone. My orgasm passed through me. I clenched around his cock, erupting in groans from him. “I’m cumming,” he said and unleashed once again. His hot white cum painting my walls white this time.

I barely had time to recover before he said, “Ride me.” I looked over and Yuta was already head against the headboard awaiting for me, his cock still hard. I weakly crawled over, placing myself on top of him. I grabbed his cock, and pushed myself down as his cock entered me once more.

Once I was in I began moving. Up and down, his hands guiding my hips. Slow, then fast, slow, then fast, slow, then fast. I kept this pace up, but it began to feel not enough. So I started bouncing on him even fast, my hands gripping his shoulders. I kissed his lips, melting into the pleasure he was giving me.

I didn’t stop, until I began growing tired. “Let me help you,” he says. Yuta took over, using the grip on my hips to plunge into me. My tits bounced all over his face, until he no longer could resist the temptation and took one in his mouth. He sucked on my breast, then swirled and flickered my nipple. I was approaching my next orgasm, and clenched around him. He detached himself from my nipple with a pop, “Cum for me baby.”

One thrust, then two, and three. The knot in my stomach unleashed, I came once again on his cock once more. But it didn’t stop there, Yuta had yet to cum. Luckily it didn’t take long. Yuta came after a few more thrusts, I probably milked him dry today.

We stayed in that position for a while, trying to catch our breaths. Yuta hugged and soothed me, gently kissing me. “Let’s get us cleaned up,” he said after a while. He walked us over to our bathroom, placing me on the tub as he ran the water. I was growing drowsy, the sex had tired me.

Once the water was done running, he placed me inside and joined in. I didn’t know what happened afterwards as my eyes shut closed, falling into a deep slumber.

the next morning.

I tried shuffling to turn the other way, but something heavy was preventing me from doing so. I stirred my eyes, trying to get them to focus. Once they came into focus the sight in front of me made me widen my eyes.

Yuta lying beside me…

Typically the guy would be gone by now. ‘Was he running late?’ I thought. I shook him lightly, softly repeating his name. His eyes stirred, until they finally opened. He smiled.

Yuta smiling in the morning?!

No yeah perhaps I was still dreaming. I pinched myself, and when I felt the pain I knew this wasn’t a dream.

I finally decided to speak up, “What are you doing here? You’re usually gone by now.

He looked at me, his face softened. “I’m sorry Y/N,” he said, pulling me even closer. His embrace felt so warm and comforting.

“I’m sorry I’ve been acting like an asshole lately. I should’ve been prioritizing you over anything, you didn’t deserve that baby.”

I looked at him, my eyes watering. “Don’t cry Y/N, it aches my heart,” he said, wiping the tears that had started falling down my face.

“I love you so much. You are the most beautiful woman in this world, and with the most beautiful soul too. I am so very lucky to have you Y/N.”

Oh fuck. His words made for more tears to come streaming down my face.

“I love you Yuta, I love you so very much. Thank you for your apology, Thank you for understanding. I love you,” I said, as I caressed his cheek.

“I love you so much more.”

© jhdyuiee

24.03.26

[d34dlysinner]

Hi ! I’ve been following your blog for a few weeks and I have to say that between the few blogs here in tumblr that write about whb, this is my favorite !

I hope you’re still taking requests, and if you are, I would like to ask for something with the kings + Sitri, Amon and Foras ( the last two are optional since I understand that we don’t know much about them yet and it might be hard )

It would be something like what would happen if fem!MC (or any pronouns, whatever you feel most comfortable with ) played a prank on them there she makes them believe that she is breaking up with them and they actually believe it, like, how would they react at their s/o “breaking up” with them and their reaction when she tells them it was a prank.

It would be amazing if it was angst and fluff (smut if you want to ;) ) at the end.

I hope my ask wasn’t too long, I apologize if it was :(

As someone from a past request said, thank you so much for writing for whb !

I hope you have an amazing day 🤍

Your words literally made me AAAAAAA

Thanks for the kind words 😭

HOPE YOU ENJOY!!

You wanted to test his patience in a way.

"I think we should break up...", you said as you tried to look up at him with the most serious expression pasted on your face.

You definitely wanted to see if he would care if you did this. At the same time you were scared for his reaction as you felt your heart speed up.

Satan was silent for a second. He then laughed. You stood there in shock as you watched him laugh.

"You're lying.", he says somewhat calmly. It was weird for him to be calm which made you nervous in a way.

"You're lying, right? Last week you were crying about how you didn't want anyone else do the things I do to you.", he said casually. Some people wouldn't understand what he meant, but you fully understood what he was talking about. In a way you felt embarrassed and you felt your cheeks heat up.

"See... your face still turns red for me. Are you sure you want to break up?", he says watching af how you couldn't form an answer. "I'll take your silence as a no", he says with a smile before walking away.

Sitri was silent and only stared at you. You almost saw tears well up in his eyes.

"Solomon... you're leaving again?", he says as he became silent after that. "Did anyone catch your eye?... Did I do something wrong?", he asked.

It felt as if someone was putting pressure on your lungs and heart as you watched him panic and ask if he was wrong. You wanted to apologise and tell him that it isn't true, but before you could say something you saw him smile afterwards.

"That was a cruel 'joke', Solomon. Hearing how your heart changes when seeing me cry means that you aren't over me yet... But I'll do my best in making you want me more from now on.", he says.

Mammon watched you with surprise and disappointment. "... You don't want me anymore?... I still want you...", he says as he thinks that someone else caught your eye.

"I don't understand what I did wrong...", he says as he approached you. "If someone else interests you then I'll do my best again to make you see that you'd want me.", he says confidently. He had you once and will make sure that he'll have you at his side again for a second time.

When you told him it was a joke he didn't have much to say except: "... A joke?... Hmmm... I dont understand how this is a joke, but I'll still make you see that it's me who you'll want."

Leviathan had a displeased look on his face.

"Why?", he asked, sterness and anger present in his voice.

"If we're going to break up tell me at least why. Did someone else catch your eye?...", he asked as he walked towards you. He was towering over you as you could sense absolute jealousy around him.

"If you're going to break up to me you should give a reasoning to why you'd do that?", he asked yet again.

You didn't feel threatened, but you also didn't want the situation to escalate so you told him it was a joke. He still wasn't pleased.

"That's not a funny joke.", he says with a frown still present on his face. You didn't know what to do to make him feel good again.

"You should try and apologise in a way. I already have an idea.", he says as a smile was now gracing his face.

"You should be prepared.", he said as he left you. You were worried for what he had in mind.

Foras stopped with what he was doing as be looked back at you with shock.

"I did something didn't I?", he asked as he tried to think of reasons to why you'd like to break up.

"Or... did Sir, His Majesty Leviathan caught your eye?", he asked. He would feel conflicted if that were the case. He did love you, but he's also loyal to his king and if you were truly happy with his king he doesn't have any choice but to let you go.

"Is... Is that it? You fell for the king?", he asked again.

You felt like you had to stop the act before his thoughts would eat him up.

"It's a joke... Foras.", you said as you saw him relax.

He sighed with his eyes closed. Pinching the bridge of his nose while thinking about what you did. "That... wasn't funny MC", he said as he now looked at you. He wasn't amused, but he could atleast relax a little now. You should apologise to him again later.

Beelzebub looked at you stunned before his expression became relaxed again.

"You're lying.", he said as he had a smile on his face.

"If you wanted to break up or not keep this relationship you wouldn't even do this much effort into searching me.", he said as he kissed the top of your head.

"Nice try, but next time try saying it via text. Maybe that would make it more believable.", he says as he walked towards a direction, holding your hand and dragging you with him.

"But since you lied to me. You should be punished, no?", he said as he gave you a cocky grin.

Amon was stunned for a second before looking disappointed. The usually sleepy man looked as if he was a lost puppy when he heard your words.

"Oh...", was what he said as reaction to your words. He thought about it for a while and then asked: "... So... does this mean we can't cuddle anymore... or that we can't eat together?", he asked. It made you feel guilty for doing this as a joke. What made it even worse was what he said afterwards: "... You're leaving me too?"

You stopped the act after that and apologised instantly. He was silent and seemed unamused as usual.

"... I'll... buy us food. And then we can cuddle okay?", you said which seemed to make the demon's mood better.

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Chapter 15

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 4.3k

Warnings: character death, mentions of animal abuse, y/n and hermione are so protective of each other it's sick

Note: Hello! wow this one took forever, I feel bad that I'm always apologizing for delayed updates but oh well here we are :/ this one is more to move the plot forward and I wanted to follow canon in a way that would make sense for this story

anyway, as always thank you so much for the continued support and an even bigger thanks for your patience! crossing my fingers that updates will be more frequent from here on out. that's it, i hope you enjoy this one!

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1

Hermione stands over you as you hold out the thick strand of hair, pinched in between your fingers.

Harry and Ron stare at it with bated breaths, the air in between the four of you is still; anticipating.

You didn't have to consider for too long to know it belonged to your mother. You had nearly mistaken it for your own, if it weren't for the grayish undertones, only fully visible when illuminated.

It seems every time you saw your mother, her hair would be a shade lighter. As time did its duty, as the years passed, the older each of you got, the less you resembled the other.

You don't see your mother when you look in the mirror, not anymore.

"Are you sure that's hers?" Ron asks as you rise from your crouching position.

The painful lump in your throat prevents you from answering him.

You swallow thickly.

"I'm sure." You finally say.

Silence once again, as Ron reaches out to carefully pick out the strand, retrieving it from your grip, he drops it into the flask he held in his other hand with even more precision.

The only noise that fills the air is a faint sizzle, as the polyjuice potion consumes its final ingredient.

You feel Hermione move to your side, her fingers curl around your bicep, her other hand firmly intertwines with yours.

"Are you certain we'll be allowed into Bellatrix's vault?" Harry asks, he looks at you expectantly and you grace him with an assured nod.

"I've seen my mother retrieve things for her dozens of times, it'll work." You claim, but Harry's immediate skepticism doesn't evade you, and honestly, you can't hold it against him.

Your plan is far from foolproof. Like many times before the four of you are simply hoping to get by on pure chance and luck.

"How do we know what it is, when we get in her vault? I mean, a Horcrux could be anything." Ron asks, a question you were all wondering.

"I'll know." Harry quips plainly.

You glance at Hermione to shoot her a look before returning your attention back to Harry.

"It's hard to explain but– I'll just know." He adds, and none of you wish to push on the subject further.

════════════════════════════════════════════

You watched as Hermione lifted the flask filled with polyjuice to her lips, but then she pauses. Her shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath, as if preparing herself.

"Wait–" You interject, rising from the bed, in three large strides you are standing before your girlfriend.

"Let me drink it." You then place a hand over Hermione's, but she pries it off lightly.

"No, I'll do it." She counters, and you don't attempt to mask your disapproval.

"You can't drink it." Hermione reiterates.

"When we get to Gringotts, it'll appear more believable with you by my side, you know it." She adds, and you hate that Hermione is right.

You sigh.

"Darling, it's too dangerous." You breath out, your hand travels up her forearm, eventually tenderly cupping her face.

Hermione instinctively shuts her eyes at the sensation, she leans into your touch, her muscles no longer tense, her body visibly reacts to your warmth.

"We're all in danger." She finally claims, once your eyes meet again.

"This is the only way. There's another Horcrux hidden in her vault, we just have to find it." Hermione states assuredly but it does nothing to convince you of the plan.

You remain staring at your girlfriend, Hermione always had a way of making your heart feel like it could just implode within your chest.

You are overcome with love, care, and longing, all of these feelings encapsulated in the sheer dread of what's to come, of what might happen.

Hermione finds no trouble in returning your gaze.

This wordless exchange lasts for several seconds until Hermione decides to take advantage of your unmoving state. She leans in, passionately capturing your lips with her own.

Your hands quickly shift to rest on her waist, you then feel Hermione's hand move to the back of your head, pulling you closer.

You are taken aback as she opens her mouth wider, deepening the kiss, soon enough her tongue makes contact with your own.

You have no air left in your lungs, but the last thing you wish to do is pull away.

Hermione lets out a light hum as she presses her body up against yours; her eagerness causes your entire body to tremble, you worry your legs might give out at any moment.

The kiss ends as abruptly as it began.

A sharp gasp leaves Hermione's lips as she takes a step back, as if it proved a real struggle for her to cease the kiss.

Soon a sense of euphoria overcomes your entire being, even if it is fleeting, you feel at peace and it translates into a boyish grin across your face.

Hermione notices, and she has to bite her bottom lip to hide a smile herself.

She places a lingering hand over your chest before shoving you away playfully.

"Go on, wait outside. I'll meet you there." Hermione orders, and you know better than to protest.

════════════════════════════════════════════

You continued to pace back and forth, the usually maddening feeling of sand repeatedly filling your shoes does nothing to distract you.

Trepidation rapidly materializes within you the longer you waited for your girlfriend.

By taking the Polyjuice and assuming your mother's identity, Hermione is putting herself in immense danger, and you are expected to stand by and simply witness it, again.

"It'll be fine." You hear Harry's voice, but you don't acknowledge him.

You can't feel anything beyond the incessant pounding in your head; you possessed barely any strength at all, you mustered just enough to stomach this.

Soon enough, Hermione emerges from the hut and the sight you are met with is unsettling.

The woman standing before you appears to resemble your mother. Wearing the clothes your mother would wear, there was no trace of Hermione, beyond her voice.

Harry and Ron fail to speak alongside your silence. Hermione looks between the three of you impatiently.

"So, how do I look?" She asks, and you can't help but grimace.

"Disturbing." You quip.

Then you had no choice but to look away.

"Come on, let's just get this over with." You release an exasperated breath and Harry emerges next to you with Griphook.

"Griphook you give that to Hermione to hold onto, alright?" The man states, but it mainly sounded like a warning.

The Goblin lets out a subtle gripe as he hesitates, before eventually sheathing the steel into your girlfriend's bag.

"You get us into Bellatrix's vault, and the sword is yours." Harry reassures.

Ron finally takes out his wand so he may alter his own appearance, with a single wave, his hair is inches longer. The beard that appears on his face ages him, and makes him nearly unrecognizable.

"Now remember the plan, I'll be under the cloak with Griphook. Y/n and Hermione you'll try to convince the Goblin to let you through. Ron, you stand back in case anything happens." Harry runs through the plan once more and this time you don't suppress a scoff.

Hermione grabs your arm, wordlessly asking for you to stand down.

"This is a terrible plan." You say it anyway, and Harry doesn't retaliate, instead he nods in agreement.

"I know. But it's still the best one we've got."

════════════════════════════════════════════

You had to remind yourself to breathe as you walked through the doors of Gringotts.

Although certain the anxiety you are feeling at this moment is incomparable to the terror Hermione must be experiencing.

You had to battle every instinct urging you to reach out and hold your girlfriend's hand.

Ron trails closely behind the two of you, Harry and Griphook somewhere close by, hidden by the cloak of invisibility.

You brace yourselves once you get to the podium, a moment passes, but the Goblin on duty fails to acknowledge your presence entirely.

Hermione takes it upon herself to clear her throat.

Still, nothing.

She glances at you for help, and you nod, urging her to speak.

"I wish to enter." Your girlfriend states curtly, her best attempt to appear menacing.

In any other instance you would find it a little humorous, but right now, Hermione's poor imitation only makes you wince.

The Goblin fails to acknowledge either of you still, your patience rapidly thinning out.

"My mother has been sent to clear out Madam Lestrange's vault. I am certain you understand why you mustn't delay us." You say and the creature finally looks up.

His entire demeanor shifts, but it only helped to annoy you further.

"Madam, forgive me I did not realize it was you." Bogrod says, feigned cordiality.

"Of course you may enter.. but first, do you mind presenting your wand?" He adds and there is a pause.

You can sense Hermione's panic, but she tries her best to maintain a composed front.

She folds her arms over her chest.

"I hardly think that's necessary." Hermione states.

"I'm afraid I must insist." The Goblin's grin falters, and you realized you had to quickly step in

"Why?" You say, instinctively stepping forward, partially shielding Hermione with your body.

"New policy, I'm afraid." Bogrod explains, but before you can argue your case, the creature's expression shifts.

Your eyes catch the waft of green smoke seeping into the Goblin's nostrils.

You manage a quick glimpse of what looked like the tip of a wand being retracted, it disappears seemingly into thin air.

Y/n quickly realizes that Harry has sensibly, stepped in before things got ugly.

In an instant, the Goblin changes his tune.

"Very well, Madam, if you will follow me." He says with a dopey smile.

You hear Hermione let out a sigh of relief, you can't help but do the same.

════════════════════════════════════════════

The ride through the dungeons was nothing close to pleasant. The cart transporting you zoomed at an unfathomable speed, the abrupt turns and twists would have made you nauseous, if you weren't feeling sick already.

Hermione continues clutching your hand in hers, tighter than usual, your grip is similar in turn.

Finally, the cart halts, and before you know it, the six of you are free falling dozens of feet.

You reach for your wand in your pocket but Hermione beats you to it.

"Arresto Momentum!" She exclaims, and your bodies hang mid air, inches from the ground. Soon the spell wears off, the six of you fall onto the cold, wet, stone, front first.

"Thank you, Hermione." Harry says, as he helps himself off the ground.

You quickly do the same, rushing over to help your girlfriend up.

Hermione gladly takes your hand, when your eyes meet, you notice her appearance, she is back to her usual self.

The Polyjuice potion had entirely worn off but Bogrod, still under the Imperius curse, is unable to do anything about it.

"Come on, this way." Griphook shouts, he leads the four of you to the vaults.

He navigates the dark cavern with ease, as you try to get your eyes to adjust, a piercing screech fills the air, and it causes both you and Hermione to glance at each other.

You warily follow Griphooks lead, but the sight you're met with when the six of you turn the corner makes your breath catch in your throat.

"That's a Ukrainian Ironbelly–" Ron points out, awe and disbelief you shared.

Then Griphook picks up an object you quickly deduced to be a certain type of bell. As he shakes it, the dragon's screeching intensifies, it flails around as if trying to escape the noise.

It was only then you noticed the thick metal chains around its neck and legs.

"It's been trained to expect pain when it hears this sound." The creature claims and Hermione releases you so she may step forward, following his lead.

She speaks once she is in earshot of the Goblin.

"That's barbaric." Your girlfriend says, a certain tenor to her voice, you knew her well enough to recognize that she was truly indignant.

The dragon's screeching continues as the four of you slip past it.

It only retreats to cowers silently in the corner once the noises from the bell stops.

The vault is now in sight, as the group approaches you can't help but notice that Bogrod has disappeared.

You glance out at where you spotted the Goblin last and sure enough. He was standing in front of the dragon, simply staring at it; the curse has evidently impaired his judgment and all sense of danger.

"Wait– what do we do with him?" You gesture to Bogrod.

Although before anyone can respond, the Ukrainian Ironbelly takes a large step forward, then from its mouth, comes flames, big and blistering enough to turn the entire space scorching hot in an instant.

The once Goblin was now burnt to nothing but ash.

Hermione, Y/n and the boys only manage to stare in utter shock.

"That's unfortunate." Ron finally quips.

"Come on, we don't have much time." Griphook warns, he advances forward and the four of you follow.

As you arrive at the vault, it appears familiar to you, but only distantly.

It was not the vault Snape led you to a few months ago but it appears almost identical.

"Is this where you got the sword?" Hermione asks in a hushed tone, and you quickly shake your head.

"No, the key Snape gave me led to a different vault." You explain, but your girlfriend doesn't say anything, expecting your response.

As the five of you enter Bellatrix's vault, it is worse than you expected.

It is filled with random trinkets, some valuable, some not.

The three of you sport a defeated expression, but Harry was not going to give up so easily.

He steps forward.

"It's in here, I can sense it." He states.

You observe silently as The Chosen One approaches a particular cup, amidst an array of objects that look nearly identical to it.

Soon enough he reaches for it.

Harry holds out the cup, nothing is said, but there is an energy that reverberates through the air.

It's unmistakable. He has a Horcrux in hand.

"Pass me the sword." He extends his arm and Hermione scrambles through her bag, eventually retrieving the steel.

She passes it to Harry, he grips the pommel, but doesn't get the chance to do much else as a noise captures your attention.

Ron knocks over a goblet by accident, instead of breaking as it touches the ground, it only multiplies.

As the duplicate makes contact with another object it does the same thing. Soon objects are spawning at a rapid rate, filling up the already limited vacant space by your feet.

"What's happening?" Hermione exclaims over the loud noise, you instinctively step to her side as she nearly loses her balance.

"It's an enchantment, everything you touch will multiply." The Goblin explains, you aren't given much chance to come up with an escape plan as the objects quickly engulf all five of you.

For what felt like eternity, you fought to keep your head above.

You spot Hermione and Ron doing the same, but you can't see Harry anymore.

Amidst the chaos, somehow, Griphook gets a hold of the Horcrux.

Then, Harry finally emerges from the sea of gold and silver. He frantically looks around, in search of the object, but his attention shifts to the Goblin as he proudly holds up the Horcrux.

"We had a deal, Griphook!" Harry bellows, and the creature only grins, malicious, irritating.

"The cup for the sword!" He strikes up the bargain, and you curse under your breath.

It is getting increasingly difficult to stay afloat, and you watched as Hermione and Ron struggled the same.

Harry begrudgingly hands over the sword, the Goblin then returns the Horcrux back to him.

"I said I'd get you in, I never said anything about getting you out." Griphook quips, he holds his hand up against the door, unlocking it.

Soon the objects begin spilling out of the vault after him but the four of you continue to struggle to make your way to the exit.

If only you could retrieve your wand, you could stop the Goblin from going any further.

"Hermione, can you reach your wand?" You shout, and the struggle in your girlfriend's face is evident.

"I'm trying!" She replies.

After moments of struggle, the four of you miraculously manage to make your way out, but it was too late.

The Goblin is nowhere to be seen.

"Griphook!" Harry calls out in anger, he doesn't expect a reply, and he doesn't receive one.

His voice echoes through the dungeons, and it only works to disturb the dragon ahead.

It lets out another deafening screech.

You approach slowly, in search of the object that you know will subdue the beast, but you can't find it anywhere and you know for certain Griphook is the reason for it.

"The bell- it's gone." You don't try to conceal your distress.

"That foul creature– how are we supposed to get out of here?" Ron curses and you begin looking around for some type of solution, an idea to come to you.

You take an experimental step forward; careful, quiet.

You consider that perhaps, if you moved slowly, the dragon won't react.

However, your theory was quickly proven incorrect as the beast storms towards you within the confines of its chains, soon opening its mouth.

You were only inches away from getting charred alive before Hermione harshly grabbed your arm, yanking you to her side.

The pins you up against the pillar, out of the dragon's sight.

Ron and Harry stood a few paces away, their backs also against the wall.

"What on earth was your plan there?" Hermione hisses, and you are staggered for a moment.

You've never seen her so furious with you.

"I just thought if I moved quietly–" You start, but then another loud noise pierces the atmosphere.

Clearly, your stunt only exacerbated the dragon's already agitated state.

The sounds that follow suggest that the formidable beast was now fighting to be released from its restraints.

"Don't you ever try something like that again–" Hermione warns, her hand still gripping your collar.

You nod apologetically, suddenly you almost feel like a child being reprimanded.

Your girlfriend finally loosens her grip on your shirt.

The beast's actions begin to get larger and louder, in its outrage it clamours at the stone walls, chipping large pieces off.

"What a joke– did we go through all of that just to die in here?" Ron quips.

"We can't apparate.." Your girlfriend mumbles to herself, mentally debating an escape plan.

"Hermione?" Harry asks, it sounds closer to a desperate plea.

You were all stumped, only hoping that the mostly brilliant mind out of the four of you will manage to think of a plan to escape.

Hermione finally looks up at you, and by the look on her face you can tell whatever it might be; she's figured something out.

"I've got an idea, but it's mad." She admits, with a raised voice and truth be told you hated the sound of that.

Harry and Ron stare at her expectantly and you only grow more nervous by the second.

Hermione turns to y/n, you don't speak a word to her but it is not required as she already senses your anxiety, she places a firm hand on your chest right above your heart, you were certain she can feel it pounding against her palm.

"Just trust me." She reassures, too swiftly for your liking, as she completes her sentence she retreats.

You can only anticipate her next move, and it is not one you'd ever expect, in fact it nearly sends you into an early grave.

You watched as Hermione leaped off the balcony, landing on the dragon's back.

"Hermione!" You exclaim.

She struggles to get a grip of the beast for a moment, you are stunned when the dragon stills, it doesn't try to force Hermione off it's back.

"Come on!" Your girlfriend shouts, and you were first to mirror her earlier action. With a single large leap you manage to grab onto the dragon's horns, you pull yourself up, situating yourself behind Hermione.

The dragon reacts the same, but it is too fixated on the chains wrapped around its neck to care.

Soon enough Harry and Ron manage to climb on as well.

There is a point of eery stillness as the dragon seemingly appears too tired to continue fighting.

"Now what?" Harry poses a good question, and you take it upon yourself to fish out your wand.

"Relashio!" In one swift move, you fling the spell, aiming for the dragon's tail.

The beast reacts violently, in the process, the spell breaks the chains tethering it to the ground, finally freeing the beast from its restraints.

"Defodio!" Your girlfriend exclaims as she holds out her own wand, and soon enough, the dragon takes flight, bursting through the ceiling.

In an instant, Gringotts Bank is reduced to fragments of wood, glass and stone as the dragon flees the building, taking the four of you with it.

════════════════════════════════════════════

You have been on dragonback for what felt like hours, however an uncanny feeling of serenity, fills you as the beast flew through the air, past villages and hillsides.

As you approach the vast water, the dragon begins to fly lower; it appears the beast aims to halt its tiresome journey through the city soon.

"We're dropping!" Harry exclaims, panic begins to set in amongst the four of you once again.

"I say we jump!" Ron suggests, but you aren't particularly fond of the idea.

"What?" You bark.

"When?" Hermione chimes in.

"Now!" Harry responds as he lets go, you watched as he falls into the freezing water below.

He is quickly followed by Ron and Hermione, and you let out a groan as you release your grip on the dragon.

"Damn you, Weasley!" You exclaim as you freefall into the lake.

As your body touches the water, it immediately feels like hundreds of blistering hot knives are incessantly puncturing your skin.

It is almost unbearable, but then your head rises to the surface and pure instinct kicks in. The four of you, with some difficulty, eventually manage to swim to shore.

-

Hermione grabs your hand to help you up, in your weakened state you barely manage to climb the cliff.

Harry storms ahead, seemingly unaffected, no doubt driven by pure adrenaline.

"He knows." He blurts out.

"You know who." Harry explains, and Hermione lets go of your hand to catch up to the dark haired man.

"He knows we broke into Gringotts, he knows what we took, and he knows we're hunting Horcruxes." He admits.

"How is it you know?" You ask, jogging slightly to catch up, Ron following closely behind.

"You let him in?" Hermione asks, her tone dissaproving.

"Harry you can't do that–" She says but her bestfriend interrupts.

"Hermione, I can't always help it! Or maybe I can, I don't know." He retaliates.

"Never mind that, what happened?" You interject.

The four of you halt as you get to the top of the cliff.

"Well, he's angry– and scared too." Harry starts, he holds out his hands as Hermione retrieves her bottle of Essence Of Dittany from her bag.

She places a few drops on his palms, doing the same on yours, and then Ron's.

You rub your hands together as Harry continues speaking.

"He knows if we can find and destroy all the Horcruxes, we'll be able to kill him. I reckon he'll do anything to stop that happening." Harry finishes and you scowl at the thought.

Soon, the boys begin stripping so they may change into dry clothes.

Hermione instead retrieves a large blanket from her bag, she drapes it over you, before pulling you close to her body so she may share your warmth.

"There's more– one of them's at Hogwarts." Harry explains.

"What?" Ron says in disbelief and his friend only nods.

"You saw it?" Your girlfriend asks, skeptical.

Harry nods again.

"I saw the castle, and Rowena Ravenclaw. It must have something to do with her, we have to go there now." The Chosen One states, assuredly.

"What? We can't do that, we've got to plan, we've got to figure it out." Hermione counters.

"Hermione when have any of our plans ever actually worked?" Harry recounts, his gaze shifting between y/n, Hermione and Ron.

"We plan, we go there, all hell breaks lose." The dark haired man states, and neither of you have an argument, he was stating the plain truth.

"He's right– just one problem." Ron starts.

"Snape's headmaster now, we can't just walk through the front door."

Then there's a pause.

You can feel Hermione shivering against you, you swiftly wrap an arm around her, an attempt to keep her as close as possible.

"Well, then we'll go to Hogsmeade. To Honeydukes– take the secret passage." Harry offers a solution, and you nod in agreement.

"I think– there's something wrong with him–" He adds, and the three of you wait for Harry to explain.

"In the past, I've always been able to follow his thoughts– now everything just sort of feels disconnected." The dark haired man says, he adjusts the glasses on his face.

"Maybe it's the Horcruxes? Maybe he's growing weaker, maybe he's dying?" Ron suggests but Harry was quick to shake his head.

"No, it's more like he's wounded. If anything he feels more dangerous." Harry states plainly, and now you are shivering for an entirely different reason.

Hermione glances at you, as you exhange a look, you can't help but acknowledge that all too familiar sense of impotence as it looms over all of you.

The uncertainty and impending doom; it feels as though the more Horcruxes you uncover, the more uncertain the end seems.

[oogaboogasphincter]

would u do a part 2 of after the beep when bunny gets home from work? because it’s very much delicious and i ate it up with a little salt and pepper

Stress Relief | Dieter Bravo x f!reader

🩷 hiii anon! 🥺 i can’t even begin to apologize for how long this took me to get to you, i’m so beyond thankful for your patience <3 i hope i delivered for you! 🫶

After an agitating day, your boyfriend Dieter helps melt all your worries away by delivering on the dirty promises he left in your voicemails earlier that morning.

word count/warnings: 4.9k+ words EXPLICIT 18+ ONLY MDNI! // hurt (reader has a terrible horrible no good very bad day) then comfort, reader and dieter have a verbal argument (in which reader throws a pillow at dieter) but it’s quickly resolved, phone sex mention, dieter threatens to blackmail your boss lol, anal play (f!receiving; fingering, licking), anal sex (f!receiving), masturbation (f), oral (m receiving), recreational drug use (weed, reader and dieter both use but it’s not a factor in their consent), insane amount of pet names (baby, kitty, bunny, sweetheart, sugar, lady, girl) // ao3 link

(this can be read as part 2 to after the beep but it can also be a standalone!)

“Dieter!?”

You shout as you wrench the door open with your rain-slicked hand and kick it closed behind you, leaving a muddy bootprint on the crisp white wood. The roaring thunder fails to drown out your enraged call, but you’re left unanswered nonetheless. The house Dieter is staying at - one of his actor friend’s vacation homes - is darkened by the storm outside and seems to sigh at your anger, upset that you roused it from its storm-induced slumber. But Dieter’s rental car is in the driveway, so you know your boyfriend is here somewhere. You yank your soaked jacket off and don’t bother finding a peg for it, throwing it on the hideous accent chair that probably cost more than your rent. 

Despite the boisterous thunder, the quiet inside swells to an intimidating glower. By now Dieter should’ve come lumbering out of whatever pit of candy wrappers or wrinkled pajamas he plunged himself into, but the air remains undisturbed. You keep your footsteps light as you walk around the unfamiliar house, peeking in and scanning each room for him. 

“Hey, Diets?” you ask another room, devoid of any activity. Your anger has softened now, eaten away by a growing concern of what Dieter could’ve possibly gotten himself into between when you left to go to work this morning and now. You know he was upset that you were leaving, but he always is. Hell, his voice gains a whiney edge when you just want to leave his grizzly embrace for all of thirty seconds to go to the bathroom. He left you those deliciously vile voicemails earlier in the day, detailing exactly what his erotic plans were for you later this evening, but it had been radio silence since then. 

More calls, no answers. Your mind races with options, getting more worrisome as your brain’s overthinking cogs are given more unresolved time to spiral with. Did he go meet up with a friend and forget to text you? Did he get let go of by a project, a studio - god forbid it isn’t his lawyer - and he’s drowning his sorrows with some chosen vice? Did he make one too many wrong friends on one of his many esoteric adventures and they have come back to haunt him? 

You circle back to the living room, taking out your phone to call the friend that owns this house. Maybe Dieter got picked up by them to have drinks and that’s why his rental is still here? You dial the number with a crease in your brow, and as you lift the phone to your ear and it starts to ring, you spot your dastardly lover: dead asleep on the couch, curled into himself. Only his muss of graying curls bobs from the surface of a sea of pillows and blankets with every light snore.

Your rage is rekindled to its fullest extent as a bolt of lightning cracks across the sky outside. You swear you can feel your eye twitch as you stand drenched from head to toe in rain before your dozing boyfriend, swaddled in cozy, dry warmth. 

“Dieter!” You take one of the pillows and lob it at him, hitting him right on the head. You don’t feel bad because you know it didn’t hurt him and it irks you when his eyes burst open, holding his hand to his forehead like it did. He blinks slowly, his eyelashes sticking together with sleep as he mumbles quietly, “What the fuck?” Then his eyes - those irritatingly gorgeous puddles of melted chocolate - widen when they take you in. His expression morphs into compassion and he shakes the blankets off, stumbling to his feet with lingering drowsiness.

“Bunny, what happened?” he asks, reaching for your arms to hold you. You take a step back from him, still steaming with anger. You get even more irritated when you feel the hot tears that prick your eyes every goddamn time you get upset. Stifling them back, you straighten your back and unleash your anger. 

“What happened? What happened is that I stayed late at work, even though my boss was being a fucking asshole, and when I went to leave, my car battery died, and since I stayed late, everyone else had already left, and my boyfriend didn’t answer my fucking calls!” You jab a finger into the air, aiming at his chest. “So I had to leave my car at work because no tow or rental company would help me, and I walked here in the fucking pouring-down rain!” 

You turn on your heel and slip against the marble floor, which you honestly should’ve seen coming but you’re too irate to think rationally right now. Dieter reaches his arms out again, wanting to steady you, but you beat him to it and stomp away angrily. With your face hidden from his sight now, you let your tears silently flow down your cheeks and blend with the fat raindrops on your neck. Dieter follows behind you, quickening his pace to match yours and subsequently slides in his slippers in your wet wake. He tries to get you to stop, sympathetically calling out to you by name. 

You beeline for the bedroom and lunge into the adjoining bathroom. Just as Dieter catches up to you, he’s pleading, “Bunny, wait, just let me-” 

You shut the door in his face and lock yourself in, leaning your back against it and crying into the darkness. You let yourself sob out loud, releasing all the pent up anger, frustration, sadness and shame you’ve been holding in all day and that hit its climax when you started arguing with Dieter. 

Your sweet, beloved boyfriend. 

The two of you haven’t officially labeled yourselves as of yet, but you know it’s more than the booty calls it began as. You… care about him. You never thought you’d see the snarky, charming jerk as anything but. However, over the past two and a half years you’ve shared a bed with him (among various other furniture and locations), he’s revealed a soft vulnerability that you were convinced he faked in order to come off to the public as empathetic, intellectual. But he’s the real deal; all those philosophical musings, whether fueled by questionable substances or not, were spoken from his heart. That four letter word that scares the daylights out of you both rings in your head, but you can’t bring yourself to say it. 

Just because you don’t have the wherewithal to vocalize your feelings right now, it only serves to engorge the guilt you have for shutting Dieter out, both literally and figuratively. He’s only trying to help you, trying to provide a safe space for you to lash out, cry, or forget about your grievances, like he always does. With a sniffle and a deep sigh, you open the door and jump a little when he’s standing right there; he was waiting for you to be ready. He never left. 

His genuine care for you makes your eyes well up and flood again, your voice hoarse as you begin, “I-I’m sorry, I just…”

Dieter holds his hand up in a sign of peace and softly interjects when you trail off, “Hold on. Before you say anything more, sweetheart, know that you have nothing to apologize for.”

Your last bit of resolve is blown to smithereens and you practically fall into his arms, where he catches you and envelopes you in his warmth. Openly sobbing again into his chest, Dieter presses his warm mouth against your temple and just holds it there for a moment, letting his touch calm you as he caresses your damp hair away from your face. When your spluttering gasps subside, he speaks quietly and compassionately, “I’m the sorry one. I had the balls to bother you earlier, knowing you were stressed and busy, and then being the lazy asshole I am, I fell asleep and was dead to the world for hours. I’m sorry.”

When you fish your face out of his shirt, the damp spot that your eyes made on the fabric makes you cringe. Dieter reads your discomfort and rubs his big palms up and down your back, silently pardoning you. He’s had much more vile substances on his person before, a few tears from his lover isn’t anything to make a fuss over. You shrug and collect your thoughts that finally have some sensibility to them, “It’s okay. I just had a bad day at work, they gave me so much extra shit because I scheduled a few days off so they were trying to wring me for all I had and were even pushier than usual and were yelling at me even when I was doing all the right things and what they asked and- and then my fucking car-”

You cut yourself off with a gasp, not having realized that throughout your spill you didn’t stop to breathe. Dieter strokes your cheek with the back of his fingers as he coos to you, the cool metal of his rings grounding you, “Hey, shhh. It’s over now, right? You just relax, baby, okay? Focus on taking some deep breaths, like we practiced. In through the nose and out through the mouth, remember?”

If you weren’t so distraught, it would make you chuckle. You were the one that had given him that technique to calm his own anxiety, and here you were forgetting your own advice. Dieter sets an example for you, breathing slowly through his nose and out through his mouth, and you follow along until your sobs stop catching in your throat. His hands never stop stroking you, sending waves of comfort through you. Soon, your body has stopped trembling because of your volatile emotions, but you shake in your skin from the cold rain that has seeped into your bones. 

He notices and chuckles breathily, rubbing your arms to instill some heat into your blood. There’s a hint of mischief in his smile, one that you sense will swell into some menacing devilishness as the night deepens, “Let’s get you warmed up, hm?” 

He sidesteps you to go deeper into the bathroom behind you, going to the bathtub which he takes a seat on the edge of and turns the faucet on. With his palm upturned, his forefinger points at you and wiggles in an upward motion. 

“Off,” he instructs. His eyes rake over your dripping frame, following the cold droplets’ paths over the rain-soaked clothes that mold to every delectable curve of your body. His yearning stare wedges an extra beat into your heart rate and makes it hard to swallow. 

Despite the unceremonious manner of your strip, your locked gazes are brimming with passion, ferocity, boiling with the heat of the night to come. Your sopping clothes land on the floor with a splat and Dieter sighs at your figure in all its nude glory, moving his hand to palm himself unabashedly through his pajama bottoms.

He leans back and swishes his finger through the water once the tub is filled, checking the temperature. He jerks his head toward the warm pool, “Come here, sweet thing.” 

His fingers graze along your bare hip as you step into the bath and retract back to his cock when you sink down out of reach. The water feels heavenly, and fulfilling Dieter’s wish without the need of verbal instruction, you lean your back against the slope of the tub until the water’s surface meets the underside of your chin, letting out a deep sigh. You’re about to close your eyes when he brushes a stray hair out of your face, wrangling your attention to the sweet smile that graces his lips. 

His voice is soft but firm in its sincerity, “I’ll have your car picked up and checked out.” Knowing you better than you know yourself, you’re about to pipe up to offer that he really doesn’t have to do that, that you’ll pay for the rest even if he insists on covering the tow. He leans in closer, so close you can taste his breath on your lips, robbing you of all thoughts other than the ones that spiral around him. “Don’t worry about any repairs it needs. I’ve got ya, sugar,” he supplies with a wink. 

“Your boss will be receiving an unsightly letter to treat you better or else. There’s also a blackmail package available, featuring a rather smelly, heaping pile of a ‘substance’,” his fingers scrunch in allusive air quotes, “that Bravo Enterprises can’t disclose only for the purpose of ensuring surprise for the recipient, of course, that can be left on his desk. If the lady so desires.” You’re giggling before he’s finished, smacking him on the bicep that leaves a wet handprint on his t-shirt sleeve. 

“I appreciate the offer, but no thank you. I don’t want to be fired, or jailed, depending on what this ‘substance’,” you mimic his air quotes, “is you speak of.” 

“But,” you look up at him from underneath your lashes, shyly, “how could I have known my boyfriend would send in a letter of complaint?” 

He kisses your forehead proudly, stroking your cheek with his thumb affectionately, “That’s my girl. Now, I want you to sit back and relax for a while. Let the stress of the day melt away.” His hands dip shallowly into the water to rub his thumbs into your collarbone, moving onto your shoulders to massage soothing circles there after that. His voice drops an octave, with a satisfying rasp that runs parallel to velvety smoothness, “I need you relaxed for what I’m going to do to you later, anyway.”

With your eyes closed, you smirk in anticipation. He gives a parting kiss to your cheek, leaving you to shed the stifling stress of the day on your own time. Before he does, he asks, “Want some?” 

You peek one eye open and are being offered a little white rolled paper with a twist at the end. 

“No thanks,” you shrug, “Maybe later.” 

A little while later, there’s a knock on the door so soft you don’t hear it. Dieter pokes his head in, his boyish scruff rearranging into a smile when he sees your eyes still closed in peace. He quietly lays a folded bathrobe on the counter next to the sink and steals one last admiring glance at you before he ducks back out. 

When the water has lost its warmth, you exit the bath and shrug on the thoughtful, fluffy robe with a smile, knotting the belt loosely around your waist as you go into the bedroom. Dieter is lying on his back on the bed, toying with a vibrator in his hands. The scene makes you chuckle and the playful sound draws his gaze. He swings his legs over the side of the bed, “Get over here, sweetness,” and you oblige, standing in between his parted thighs. The robe you’ve had on for all of sixty seconds becomes a redundant heap on the ground. Dieter’s hands cup your asscheeks, pulling you closer to him so he can envelope your nipple with his tongue. He bites down on your pert bud softly as you do the same to your lip, moaning through your teeth. His tongue drags a path across your chest to your other breast, where he laves his desperate tongue against the erect little peak there too. When he pulls back, he looks drunk off of you already. 

He pats the center of the bed, his tone gruff and lost in his allegiance to your pleasure, “On your knees.” 

Dieter puts the weight of his palm on your back, sculpting you into an arch. You’re on your knees but you’re also on your forearms, too. He kneels before you, sitting back on his haunches, and lifts your gaze up to his with a finger underneath your chin. “You remember what I said on the phone?” he asks, using his free hand to squeeze his bulge through his boxers. You nod, resting your cheek on his thigh and batting your lashes up at him. “Mmhm…,” you lick a stripe up the seam of the crotch, “You said you were gonna fuck my throat.”

He pulls his underwear down to his knees, freeing himself. The thick heft of him lightly smacks against your nose and a pornographic moan rumbles up from your center, whose emptiness is gnawing away at you. “Until I gag,” you tack on, remembering all his erotic details. His shoulders deflate with a sigh, his eyes shine with rapture, “Smart girl,” and he feeds you his cock. 

You take it greedily, engulfing it in your hot, warm mouth. Harsh, helpless breaths escape his chest as he stumbles through the foggy abyss of ecstasy, regaining enough consciousness to thread his fingers in your hair and glide against your waiting tongue. “Fuck,” he whispers on every thrust, taking the time to rut in and out of your mouth until enough saliva collects to aid his descent down your throat. You take it all like a good girl, his good girl. His stubbly balls nestle against your chin when he reaches that impossible smoothness at your end and he anchors himself there, waiting for that godsent sound of- 

You gag wetly around his length. Tears spill from the corners of your eyes as you try to look up at him, despite the compromising position. He helps you out and leans back so he can stare at you in amazement; his wrought expression has you dripping from both ends. 

He ruefully retreats from your cavern and a thick string of saliva leaves the two of you connected. He swipes it from your lip with his thumb and drinks you down as he shuffles on his knees behind you. 

Planting himself at your opening, he sighs contentedly as he settles in to patiently work you up until you go crazy. “Open up for me, kitty,” he rubs the backs of your thighs and you concede to lay your head down on the bed, splitting yourself for his ravenous eyes. You wiggle your ass back and forth when he doesn’t do anything but sit there admiring and your antics earn you an abrupt, satisfying, open-handed slap to your ass. 

In his voicemail smut, he promised he would open you up, nice and slow, and he does just that at a tauntingly sluggish pace. His languid, sensual tongue draws rivulets up the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, before his warm breath ghosts across his tight destination at the peak of your apex. Your breath catches in your throat delightedly when his wet curiosity finds your hole at last, tracing it with his tongue then deftly swirling it around your perimeter. It makes you bite your lip and your breathing come more strenuously. You’re tight, you know that and he knows that, but you don’t doubt his capability to unravel you until you can take his whole length with no resistance. 

His raspy, comforting voice murmurs into your cheek, echoing his promise, “Don’t worry, bunny, I’ll open you up. Nice and slow…” He starts with his tongue again, lubing your backdoor entrance until you can feel his heavy saliva slide down to your aching folds. You rub at your clit lazily while he massages your hole with his thumb, gradually exposing you to increased pressure. Your resistance fades in time with his patient ministrations, to the point where he can lick into you. You both groan out in relief, him at your taste and you in dire pleasure. He reaches to swap your hand for his and draws perfect circles around your clit while his tongue works magic against your hole, bringing you to the peaks of two orgasmic heights whose blissful slopes have you feeling relaxed afterward, like jelly. It takes a little while of licking into you for him to be able to slide his thick finger in there, wriggling it around. 

It tickles more than you expected, making you giggle before you’re choked out with a moan as the ticklishness ignites into absolute pleasure. The tingles crawl up your spine, fizzing out in the base of your neck and skittering sparks of dopamine all over your brain. 

He squeezes a second finger inside in between contractions of your muscle, convulsing and expanding in time with the merciless waves of ecstasy that pour over you. Dieter watches with rapt attention as you stretch around him, your impeccable body adjusting to him deliciously. When your body starts to pull him back in on every retraction of his fingers, his cock twitches. You’re ready. 

He gets to his knees, stretching over to the bedside table to grab the lube - just for extra comfort. You whimper ceaselessly underneath him on all fours, your body on fire for him. You squirm with impatience, a fiery need for him to fill you to the brim thrashing through you. Hurried by your mewling, Dieter’s fingers slip against the bottle and knock it to the floor. “Fuck!” he spits, bursting you into pieces with laughter. 

He regains possession of the bottle and settles your devilish attitude with a single smack to your asscheek. The cap pops open, the cold gel runs into his palm, and he warms it up in his hands before he coats you everywhere you’ll need it. Dieter gives himself a few additional strokes too, groaning at the thought of what’s about to come (quite literally). 

He pushes his tip against your hole, testing you, relishing in the remaining pressure your body still keeps. It feels so good to be broken by him, like he’s knocking down a barrier you don’t have the strength to keep up anymore. You want to surrender and he lets you. 

He pushes inside and you gasp sharply, immediately followed by warbling babbles of how good he feels, how big he is, how good it fucking feels! He eases into you slowly, gliding deeper until his hips are nestled against your cheeks and all he can see is his hairy base above where he’s buried inside you. His splayed hand runs from the nape of your neck down your curved spine. “Shh, bunny,” he soothes. His hand comes to a stop just above your tailbone, pressing into the small of your back to arch you further beneath him. You bend to his will and groan as the new angle seats him impossibly deeper inside. 

Your pussy drips for him, warm and fresh, and your hips wiggle of their own accord to make his intrusion a pleasurable one. His fingers wind around your pelvis and hold you steady, tongue tutting at you over your shoulder. 

“Move, goddamnit,” you seethe, on the verge of tears. You feel helpless beneath him, a prisoner to your own desire, and your voice comes out just as vulnerable despite its biting rage that he still hasn’t moved. 

Upon hearing your desperation, he doesn’t make you hold out any longer. His first thrust is gentle, experimental, opening you up even further. Breath heaving, whole body shaking with every inhale that squeezes you tighter around him, “Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck…”

“Holy fuck,” he blurts out in an echo to you, staring down at his thick cock lodged in your tight hole. 

Even as he starts to gain pace, he maintains a consistent degree of gentleness to his thrusts so as not to hurt you - that’d be no fun for anyone involved. 

“Feel so good, bunny,” Dieter whispers breathlessly, neck craned up to the gods with eyes closed and imperceptible, breathy oh, oh, ohs flowing from his mouth on every plunge. Meanwhile, your face is smashed into the sheets, squealing with a sensation so pleasurable that is ill-monikered by “an itch that needs to be scratched”; this is more like a firework in the night sky that you jump to catch every singing ember of. 

You grip at the bedsheets with white knuckles, grinding your teeth together. Dieter splays his hand on the crown of your head and lifts you up to release your stifled, heavy breaths, “Let go, bunny,” he encourages. Your resolve instantly weakens and your orgasm overtakes you swiftly, knocking you without warning. Wracked with blinding pleasure, every breath you take is either a scream, a desperate moan, or a wrecked sob for him to keep going! 

He does, fucking you until you’re a mess beneath him. You faintly remember his threat on the phone, something like he’d pull out midway through your release and make you gape. But thank fucking god you appealed to his sympathy enough tonight that instead he treats you, keeping his length nestled in your ass for you to pulse around, choking on air as your heart pounds in your chest. 

Not too long later, your reverie is dissolved when he lands a smack to your ass, “Good girl,” he purrs. He leans over your body, his breath cool on your feverish skin as it tickles your shoulder in a whisper, “Your turn.” 

You whimper when he pulls out and stay stuck in your feline position, back arched like a cat and wishing he was still hitting it. Dieter lies down in front of you, his cock resting erect against his tummy and his stupidly big, pleading eyes beg for you. “Please, baby,” comes whimpering from between those plush lips. 

You nearly choose to leave him dangling on the edge; after all, you know how much he likes to be cucked (and how much you like to cuck him). But you want him too badly. Like in his dirty dreams this morning that he analogged for you, you mount him and begin riding. His big palms ascend your sweaty skin to cup your breasts that bounce as your thighs work to propel you up and sink you down in quicker succession. He leans forward to take one plush mound in his mouth, flicking your nipple with his tongue - but you twist your fingers in his ruffled hair and tug him back. It felt good, but the devastated crease between his brows makes you feel even better. This push and pull, give and take of dominance and submission always had to equalize with you two; your egos were too prideful for the game to be finished with a clear decision. 

With the score tied, you finally find the patience to slow down; you gyrate your hips, grinding down on Dieter and meeting his shallow thrusts in a symphony of movement. That is, until that biting urge deep in your tummy needs another orgasm thrown to it to be satiated and stop growling at you for more. You resume bouncing, not going as fast as you could but opting for a poignant, striking rhythm instead. 

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna-” he chokes.

“Fuck yeah baby, do it,” you hiss like a temptress, watching the restraint drain from his eyes and give way to the unstoppable bliss that erodes him until he’s nothing but. You lift your hips up for him to pull out and he takes himself in hand, pumping feverishly as white hot cum spills into his lap. The muscles of Dieter’s stomach jerk in tandem with his spurting, even after he’s reached empty. He runs his hand down his sweaty, wrecked face, breathing haggardly as you roll off his lap and lower your mouth to his hips to lap him up. He tastes mostly salty with a hint of sweetness, viscous and easy to swallow down. It might not be your arousal your tongue cleans him of, like he fantasized earlier, but the sinful sight drives him up the fucking wall regardless. 

Both of you lie there, him on his back and you on his chest, for a long time, just trying to catch your breath. Dieter reaches over to the nightstand for a joint and raises his eyebrow, asking your permission, which you give with a nod. He lights up and passes the smoke to you through parted lips, before handing over the rest of it for you to finish off. The thing about weed’s specific effect on you, that Dieter is very familiar with, is that it makes you feel warm, cuddly, and… aroused. With a mischievous giggle, you grind your wet folds against his thigh, asking for more, to which he grunts and gives a dry chuckle. 

“I’m not 25 anymore, bunny, you gotta give me a little bit of time to recover.” 

“What do you think I was trying to get off work for?” Your fingers waltz up his ribs with a mission to tickle him, but he catches on and swats you away with a smile. You love that shit-eating grin he gets, but it tarnishes your own when you’re hit with the thought that… you’ll miss it. 

You turn your face away to look down at the burning paper, trying to disguise the disappointment in your voice, “You’re leaving soon, right?” 

He sighs bitterly, but not at you, “Yeah, I am. But I was thinking…”

Your ears perk up so that you don’t mistake not even one word in his soft, raspy voice, “If you could, if you wanted to… you could come stay with me for a little while.”

You meet his eyes to gauge if he’s fucking with you - to your delight, he isn’t. “I have that fuck off huge house that production gave me with nobody in it but me and some makeup and costume people who are in and out for a few hours each morning. Ha,” he chuckles, raising his eyebrows in time with his words, “In and out.” 

He can never take anything seriously for very long, but that’s the Dieter that you fell in- nopedon’tsayitthatwordistooscaryheonlyinvitedyoutocomestayforalittlewhilethatdoesn’tmeananythingseriousthatdoesn’tchangeanythingbetweenyoutwo. But the softened glimmer in his eye… it’s not a high from the weed. 

“I’d love to.”

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[shimmershy]

Hello volta ! I wanted to know, how many "volt" do you produce ? ... Yep... I just did that... I Can only pray for my life now..

I miss you're drawing...

I miss you're Frisk cute face

More importantly, i miss you're beautifull Chara...

I miss you...

Hello! To answer your question, I definitely produce a normal and safe amount of volts! That may come as a "shock" because of my name, but it is definitely true! No dangerous high voltage situations here! ^_^

Teehee. Also thank you!! That's very sweet, it's nice to be acknowledged and missed, and I also apologize for the lack of art and activity here in general. I miss drawing Undertale-related stuff myself, especially Chara and Frisk, but there's just been a whole mixture of reasons why I haven't been posting much.

No need to read all of this; I have a feeling I'm going to be rambling a bit, but overall it's just because my interest in Undertale kind of fluctuates and since I was kind of hardcore in an Undertale phase for a few months (or like...a year kinda), it's died down a bit lately. But not to worry; Undertale's always been my main interest, so it's always kinda "there", or comes back eventually.

But ALSO, I've become interested in a lot of other things lately too. And they're aaaall fighting for my attention because I'm like equally interested in all of them and that creates its own problem. Basically I've been having trouble creating stuff at all lately due to being all over the place, but being kind of "no thoughts, head empty" at the same time (brain problems...)

And on top of that, maybe this is too awkward or personal to share, but it's been hard for me to keep track of what's important to me lately, so it's like. I know I want to draw, I know I want art to continue to be my thing, but I don't know what art I want to create. I don't know what kind of passion or project I want to devote my time to, and often it's just been driving me to avoid art altogether. I get overwhelmed because it feels like I don't have enough time to get to all the things I want to do, and it takes me so long to draw simple things, AND my interest in things changes more often than I can keep up with. Should I draw a simple drawing today, because it might be fun, and I could complete it easily, even though the reward will be short lived? Or should I try to work on this larger project again, because it's what I want to work on more and will probably make me feel more satisfied in the long run, even though it might not be fun now? Even though I might lose interest in it tomorrow and the progress will kinda be wasted? OR should I do this completely other thing?

It's just very. Eugh. I think too much. There's so much stuff I want to create, but I guess at this point I'm just going to have to give it time and patience. I've been trying to focus my energy on enjoying other parts of my life instead for now. It kind of helps.

But Undertale is not dead in my heart. Yes it is 2024, but I still have at least two Undertale stories I've wanted to start and just haven't gotten around to yet, so there's that at the very least. I doubt those will leave me alone until I do something with them. Plus I've been drawing Chara and Frisk Undertale for like, 8 years so I'm not going to stop now???? So. Woe. Hopes and Dreams be upon ye. 🎊