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kaciidubs · 11 months ago

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Walking in on Roommate! Chan | Pt. 2

❣ Summary: A lot can change in a month, but was it truly a change, or simply a realization? ❣ ❣ Word Count: 7.41k ❣ Warnings: Non!Idol AU, Roommate! Chris, fluff, smut, slice of life, slight humor, friends to lovers, slight! dom Chris, Dom/Sub dynamics, smut with feelings, sir/daddy kink ❣ ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣ ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, Baby, Sir, and Daddy, Reader is referred to as Baby, Good/Pretty Girl, and Princess, lightly edited ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist ❣ Pt. 1

It had been a month since the incident, and though you thought things had gone unchanged between you and Chris, your reality couldn't have been more wrong.

You seemed to linger more on every interaction with him, your brain working double time to process things he'd say or do as of they had a deeper meaning behind them - which they didn't.

He always left you little notes whenever he'd go out with Changbin for an early gym session, so why were you smiling at the hastily written messages and cutely drawn dragon-worm signature?

He always texted you on your break at work to remind you of any plans he made, so why did your heart flutter every time his contact popped up?

He always made sure your favorite snacks were in the pantry, and if you were running out he'd stock them up before you had the chance to add them on your grocery list, so why did you swoon every time your favorite bag of chips was sat on the kitchen counter?

There was no way your world flipped itself upside down over one incident, absolutely no way...

Unless.

"I'm screwed." You groaned woefully, dropping your head to the table in front of you.

Jeongin laughed, taking a piece of meat from your plate, "I told you to stop laughing at that guy's terrible jokes, now look at you!"

"What?"

"Jongsoo, the coworker you kept saying was trying to flirt with you but couldn't catch a hint?" Felix mused, tilting his head slightly, "Isn't that what we're here to talk about? 'Level three red alert', and all?"

"What? No, no," sitting up, you leveled him with a soft stare, "if this was about him, I would've picked a bar - he doesn't deserve the glory of being talked about over barbecue."

"Okay, so why are we here?" Minho huffed as he flipped a strip of beef on the tabletop grill, "Actually, better question, why am I here? Last I checked I never signed up to this whole 'red alert' code talk."

"Hyung, the last time we shared tea that you didn't know about, you ignored me and Felix for a week for 'leaving you out'." Jeongin spoke pointedly, recalling the way he practically cursed them out for 'disrespecting your elders'.

The former groaned, rolling his eyes, "Why didn't you just say you needed to shit talk someone?! Why are we speaking in code?"

"Because one of our friends has a big mouth, the other one forgets a secret is a secret the second you finish talking to him, another one likes sharing gossip online through subs and secret callout posts, one couldn't even buy a fuck to give about any gossip, and the final one... he's not allowed, he knows too much as it is already." You listed simply before taking a sip of your drink, "The group we have right now is formed out of the strongest tea holders, understand?"

"Anyways," Felix snapped you back into business, "what's happening? Why are you screwed?"

Steeling your nerves, you mentally prepared yourself for the word that were about to come out of your mouth.

"I might have a crush on someone..."

"I knew it." Minho announced smugly, taking another piece of perfectly cooked beef from the grill top.

"What?! There's no way you knew anything about this, Hyung!" Jeongin argued, sitting up in his seat next to you, "You don't even like people! How are you suddenly an insider?"

"Look at her!" He pointed the tongs in your direction, to which you tilted your head in confusion, "The past few days she's been watching her phone like a hawk whenever we all go out, she's been way too happy, and she spaces out more than usual-"

"Okay, that part could just be because of Lix's pot brownies!"

"Hey, hey, hey - ex-nay on the pot brownies-ay, okay? The whole world doesn't need to know - I only do it cause people ask me to!" The blond gritted out, pointing his fork in the direction of the youngest as a threat.

"Yeah, sure, next you're gonna say you only model for Hyunjin because he 'asks you to'."

"You little-"

"Hey!" The eldest of the boys snapped the tongs three times, effectively quieting them, "Shut up! We're here to get information, not talk about Felix's entrepreneur business, got it?" He pointed the utensil toward you yet again, "Talk. Now."

"Well- Uh... I don't know, it's not like I wanted it to happen, I was completely fine as friends with this person but then..." Shrugging your shoulders, you felt the events of the past month play back in your head, "I guess things just changed one day? Like, suddenly I could see them in this new light and now every time he does something so stupidly normal I find myself wanting to kiss him until I can't breathe."

"Ugh, that's both disgusting and cute - why did we have to talk about this over barbecue?" Jeongin whined before stuffing his face with a lettuce wrap. "Whosh th' lucky guy?"

"You really think I'm gonna reveal-"

"I swear to god, please don't say it's your coworker," Felix pouted, looking at you with pleading eyes, "you can do so much better than him - you don't have to do the charity work, I promise you."

"Lee Felix-"

"I know your heart's in the right place, but you don't have to cater to him, please."

"Would you please-"

"40 bucks says it's Chan." Minho hummed through a bite of his bulgogi.

The youngest nearly choked on his drink, swallowing a hefty gulp before coughing, "That's such a bad take! Chan Hyung? The man with negative rizz? The man who stays up long enough to say good night and good morning?"

"You say that like it's impossible!" The freckled blond argued, "It happens all the time in sitcoms!"

"Lix, please, I'd rather you not compare my life to a sitcom, I have enough happening for two seasons and a reunion episode as it is." You groaned, dropping your head in your hands with a sigh, "Can we just move on from the confession and talk about the movie night? I don't think my brain can handle the topic of my non-existent love life much longer."

Through a silent agreement, Minho ordered another round of food and the four of you continued onto much lighter - yet somehow more argument filled, conversation.

The coveted movie night was a monthly event that originally started with you and your friends, using the time Chris would be working late to have a movie marathon loaded with snacks, drinks, and cozy pajamas. It wasn't until Changbin caught word of the activity that the small gathering turned into a merged group affair; it was even enough to convince Chris to take time off to join in on the fun.

In the whirlwind of work and the existential crisis of realizing your crush, you'd completely forgotten that the event would be taking place tonight.

Funny, how fast time flies when your world is in shambles.

"Alright, that's all the blankets and pillows from the closet." Chris huffed, stepping back with his hands on his hips as he admired his handiwork; the large couch draped with various blankets and piled high with pillows that were sure to be rearranged in less than a minute of everyone's arrival.

You snuck a glance from your spot in the kitchen, a soft smile growing from his look of personal accomplishment. "Looks great, hopefully we won't have Han and Hyunjin fighting over who gets what pillow again."

He snorted out a laugh, heading over to you, "You think so? Those two could fight over who gets the last chip with an unopened bag right next to them - it's happened before!" Leaning his hip against the island, his eyes glanced over the various snacks covering the surface, "D'you need me to help with anything?"

"Um- Yeah, actually, can you get me the bowls from the cabinet? We can open the chips now, it's almost time for everyone to show up." You turned to look at the stove's clock; 7:33 PM, a little less than half an hour until your shared apartment would be filled with a sea of people.

Chris hummed, pushing himself away from the countertop, and you found your eyes drawn to his frame; a black tank top - sleeveless by his own doing - showing off the subtle build of his biceps, and a matching pair of black shorts you'd seen time and time again.

It was his staple look, simple, perfectly cozy for the impending activities, yet somehow you still felt your heartbeat racing the longer you stared.

Yes, you knew he was attractive, your friends gawked about it for weeks since you first moved in with him, but when was he this attractive?

"The big bowls, yeah?"

Snapping yourself out of your stupor, you nodded, even with his back still turned to you. "Mhm, those are perfect!"

You were in, deep.

You turned your attention back to preparing the chips, opening a bag and sneaking one of the plain potato chips when you felt a hand at the small of your back - the stack of bowls sliding onto the counter a second later.

"Here you go."

This was normal, it was normal for him and his affinity for physical touch, but you still felt a rush of electricity shoot up your spine from his touch - your body freezing as you registered just how close he was behind you.

"Ah- Thanks, Channie!"

Normal. So very, very normal.

"You need anything else?"

Lifting your gaze from the snacks in front of you, your eyes immediately found his; warm and kind, a shade of brown you caught yourself daydreaming of time and time again - distracting enough for you not to realize the mere inches between your faces.

He smelled like mahogany and lavender, a faint musk of the cologne he always wore tinted with your laundry detergent he claimed made his clothes feel softer.

"I, um..." His stare was hypnotizing, sending every productive thought in your brain out the window, "I-"

The sound of the doorbell snapped you out of your reverie, but you could've sworn you saw a hint of sadness in his eyes as he stepped back.

"That might be Han, he said he'd be coming a bit earlier."

"Yeah, no, that's fine - can you finish opening these when you get back? I'm gonna go get changed."

Chris hummed out a short "Yeah" before heading toward the front door, leaving you to collect yourself amongst the colorful serving bowls.

This was going to be a long night.

It wasn't long before everyone showed up; comfort clothes on and ready for the night's movie queue and rounds of snacks.

The seating arrangements remained in their usual layout with the mix of your friends between the couch or the floor, while you somehow always found yourself tucked between Chris and and the corner of the couch - arguably, the best part of any couch in your opinion.

This time, however, the arrangement was met with knowing side eye glances from your half of the friend group, a few of your girls sharing barely hidden smirks and whispers.

Before you could throw a pillow as a warning sign, a blanket of polyester blocked your vision and filled your nose with an all too familiar scent.

"Here," Chris hummed softly, rounding the edge of the couch to take his place next to you, "in case you get cold."

"Aw, you thought of me?" You teased, nudging his shoulder with yours as you unfolded his blanket and draped it across your legs.

"I always think of you."

His words made you freeze, your heart stuck in a limbo of floating to your throat or falling to the pit of your stomach while he carried on with the rest of the group.

I always think of you.

Always.

The revelation had the gears in your head working double time, the events of the past month playing like a movie in your mind - akin to the one currently starting on the TV in front of you.

He always thought of you, his caring nature shown in so many ways besides the ones you grew used to while living under the same roof; if you were running late coming home, you'd always have a text making sure you were safe - or, when you had important dates in your schedule, he'd be the one to remind you when they were a few days away.

Chris always did little things to show that you were on his mind, he always made it clear that you were important to him, that he cared about you as much as he did his friends.

But maybe... Maybe there was more behind it.

Your fingers glided along the blanket covering your lap, the fabric soft and welcoming like the hug of a close friend.

I always think of you.

It was like the three movies passed in the span of seconds, some of your shared friends tapping out after the second film, while the stragglers and self proclaimed cleanup crew stuck around to take in a cheesy family comedy of a man taking his family on a wild vacation.

"Min, you don't have to do that, you know," you chastized the black haired man as he washed the empty chip bowls, "I would've gotten to it in the morning!"

He scoffed out a chuckle, throwing you a knowing side eye, "Yeah, says the person who told me how much she hates the dishes with a passion stronger than Han's coffee addiction."

Deciding to protect your pride - knowing full and well he was completely correct - you wandered back into the living room where Felix and Jisung were folding one of the blankets, while Jeongin rearranged the pillows and Changbin gathered any missed trash lying around.

Felix shot you a sleepy smile, nodding his head toward the stack of folded blankets, "D'you want us to put these back in the closet?"

"No, you guys have done more than enough, seriously! I'll put them away, don't worry."

"What about this one?" Jisung held up the navy blanket you were using, Chris' navy blanket. "Want it folded? Are you still using it?"

"It's actually Chris's, I'll give it back to him."

Said man slipped away to his bedroom in the middle of the third movie, mentioning something about double checking some files for work before wishing you all a good night.

Humming in acceptance, the remaining boys gathered their belongings and headed toward the door, giving each of them a hug and making them swear to text when they each made it home safely.

Minho gave you a soft smile, though a certain glint in his eyes raised warning sign in your head, "Have a good night." He hummed with an air of mischief, slipping through the door before you had even a second to question him.

Frowning at the wood, you clicked the lock into place before gathering everything you needed to close off the living room for the night; tucking the navy blanket under your arm while balancing the other blankets in your hand. You stuffed them back into their bin in the hallway closet with ease, sliding the door shut and making your way toward your last stop of the night.

The sound of your knuckles against the door echoed through the empty hall, "Channie, you up?"

"Yeah, you can come in!"

Turning the knob, you were bathed in a soft purple light from his LED's, walking into the cozy atmosphere to see him laying on his bed with his phone in hand, "Hi."

He smiled, dropping his phone to the side as he sat up, "Hey, you - is everyone gone?"

"Yep, they helped clean up as usual, I'm just here to return this," you held up the blanket, stopping just short of the side of his bed, "thanks for letting me borrow it."

"You know, you can keep using it if you want, it's not like I won't know where it is."

Rolling your eyes, you held it out to him, "Chris, you and I both know I don't need anymore blankets in my room."

"What if you get cold?" He grinned, challenging you with glittering eyes.

"Then I'll use one of my blankets!" You laughed at his cheekiness, tossing the blanket in his direction just for him to catch it before it covered his face.

The room filled with your combined giggles, warmth settling over you as you watched him unceremoniously ball the blanket up and toss it toward his computer chair.

Just as you were about to announce your leave, your mind seemed to have a mission of its own the minute you opened your mouth.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, always - what's up?"

Always - god, was he trying to drive you crazy on purpose?

You needed clarity, something to confirm that you were seeing things that weren't truly there - making a purpose out of words that were simply meant from one roommate to another, one best friend to another.

"So... About what you said in the living room, when you said you always think of me..." You dropped your gaze from his, your fingers suddenly becoming the most interesting thing to you, "Did... Did you mean it?"

"Of course I meant it, you're one of my best friends - I think about you all the time!" The smile he gave you was genuine, warm, filled with so much truth that it made your heart skip a beat.

Steeling your nerves, you looked up at him with a firm stare, "All the time?"

"Yes...? I mean, I think about other people and things too, but for the most part you've always been there... Why are you asking-"

"Did you think about me last month?"

His smile faltered, eyebrows furrowing as he searched your face for a hint of an answer. "What are you talking about?"

"Chris, did you think about me last month - when I walked into your room and I saw you-" Taking a sharp breath, you calming yourself before looking at him with pleading eyes, "Did you think of me?"

The silence was thick, the sound of your own heart filling your ears - you were certain it would beat right out of your chest and run out of the room to save you from this conversation.

"Would..." He cleared his throat, dropping his head as he picked at the sheets underneath him, "Would it be weird if I said yes?"

Your stomach flipped, your knees threatening to buckle and send you straight to the floor but you stood strong. "Would it be weird if I said I wanted you to?"

His head snapped back up and he stared at you with a look crossed between shock and awe, "Are you serious?"

"Honestly, I haven't been able to stop thinking about you." The confession took you by storm, though you couldn't find it in yourself to stop talking, "And it's not just from that night - well, some of it is, but since then it's like... enhanced? Like, every little thing you do just lingers and sometimes I think I'm just going crazy because it's not like you've done anything new - it's just you, yet my heart feels like it'll explode after every text you send, or whenever we're in the same room, and I-"

The sound of your name from his lips stopped your panicked ramble, though the look he gave you did little to calm your racing heart.

"Come here."

Offering his hand, you cautiously accepted it and let him guide you onto his bed, straddling his lap at his instance while trying not to completely evaporate from the close proximity.

"Honestly, this isn't how I thought I'd end up confessing, but I guess there's a lot about us that isn't traditional," he chuckled to himself, his hands naturally finding their home on your hips, just below the waistband of your pajama shorts. "First, I want you to know that I think about you no matter what - you're always somewhere in my mind and at first I thought it was because you're my roommate, someone I care about just like everyone else in my life. But, recently things have been changing and I..." Taking a deep breath, his eyes found yours, a firm, yet comforting gaze holding you captive in those brown irises, "I have feelings for you- I like you, more than just a roommate or a best friend, and I didn't want to ruin things between us if you didn't feel the same w-"

You cut him off with your lips against his, swallowing the rest of his sentence with a small hum of delight - soft with a hint of cherry chapstick.

He melted almost immediately, tugging you closer as a hand slid up your back to keep you pressed against his body - almost as if he allowed anymore space between you, you'd somehow disappear into his dreams.

When you went to pull away, he followed like a desperate puppy and you had to fight the urge to laugh at him, placing your hand on his chest to keep him from coming any closer. "Just so you know, that kiss means I definitely feel the same way."

Chris huffed out a giggle, narrowing his eyes playfully, "No, really? I would've never guessed!"

"Well, I know for a fact you also feel the same way." The lilt in your voice was teasing, making a show of rolling your hips against the mass that was quickly making itself known between your legs.

Biting his lip, he leveled you with a firm gaze, daring, "Don't start something you can't finish, baby."

The pet name made your heart flutter, and you tilted your head up in defiance, "What makes you think I don't wanna finish it, hm?" Grinding your hips yet again, you were able to work out a low groan from those wonderfully kissable lips, "I can finish it, Channie, just show me how."

Before you knew it, he had you wrapped up in another mind melting kiss that had you letting out a shivering moan against his mouth as you tried matching his ferocity.

"You," he panted, nipping your bottom lip, "are gonna be the death of me, you little minx."

He kissed his way down your jaw and neck, sucking and nipping at the sensitive spots he miraculously had no trouble in finding, leaving you wondering how much he truly knew about you to discover this information.

However, all of your critical thinking skills flew out the window when he sucked at a spot just underneath your jaw, turning you into a whining mess that only craved him and him alone.

Tilting your head to the side to grant him more room, you simultaneously tugged at his shirt - almost offended that he decided tonight of all nights to wear one in the privacy of his own room.

"Off, Chris."

He pulled himself away from the paradise that was your skin, gazing at you with simmering eyes, "Say please?"

Pouting, you pulled at the offending cotton once more, "Chris-"

His hands immediately found your wrists, tugging them gently behind your back as he tilted his head, fixing you with a tsk of disapproval. "Use your manners, princess, you know how this goes."

Your body temperature spiked, flashes of him saying the same fated words as a tease just to get you to beg for him before he inevitably gave you what you wanted, playing back like a film reel.

You know how this goes.

Swallowing down the demand threatening to bubble up, you relaxed in his hold and softened your undoubtedly needy gaze, "Please, Chris? Can you take your shirt off, for me?"

The smirk that stretched his lips had your stomach doing flips, the mere glimpse of the cocky energy he had inside of him making your mouth water and your pussy flutter with need.

"That's my girl."

He let go of your wrists to hike the hem of his shirt into his hands, before tugging it up and off with the coveted crossed-arm maneuver that he never failed to use as his prized flirting trick - and, god, was it a good trick.

Despite having seen him shirtless countless times, seeing him shirtless up close had your brain melting.

"Remind me to thank Changbin for keeping you in check with his gym routine."

"As much as I appreciate the compliment, could we maybe not talk about our other friends while I have you in my lap?"

Barely holding back your laughter, you nodded and slipped your own pajama shirt off in one go as a peace offering, tossing it to the floor where his currently laid. "Yes, sir - won't happen again." When he went rigid underneath you, you arched an eyebrow, "Oh? We have a sir kink, do we?"

Before you could tease him any further, he surged forward and caught your lips in a feverish kiss, passion fueled and determined as his warm hands found the new, uncharted territory of your back.

"You're playing with fire, princess." His tone was firm, laced with warning as he nipped at your plump bottom lip, "You really think you can handle it?"

The tantalizing threat of a challenge had your heart skipping a beat; you'd seen him get into one of these moods before, asking an open ended question that he already know the answer to, and playing that game now held too many promising rewards in the end.

Preparing yourself for the next words coming out of your mouth, you gave him an innocent smile, "I know I can handle it, sir."

That was the straw that broke the camel's back, graciously earning you the split second of weightlessness before you were pinned on your back with every sense of yours surrounded by Chris; the feeling of his soft, cool sheets against your back, the smell of him ingrained into the cotton threading, and the heart stopping sight of him hovering above you bathed in that soft purple glow.

"Tell me you want this." His eyes locked onto your own, brown irises filled with caution and hope, "If you want me to stop, I'll stop, and we can pretend we never let it get this far, I promise."

"I want this- God, I need this, I need you, Chris - keep going, please."

With your consent given, his fingers danced up your thighs and over the cotton shorts you wore - a matching set to the shirt that was long forgotten - before dipping past the elastic waistband to drag them back down the expanse of your thighs.

They were unceremoniously tossed to the ground with the ever growing pile of clothes, and when he turned to give your panties the same, eventual treatment, his jaw nearly dislocated from the rate it dropped at; a bright blush turning his ears and neck red.

"Holy shit- I-I mean, fuck- Please... Please tell me you planned this"

You were now laid in his bed fully nude, which meant you weren't wearing panties for as long as the movie night went on, and that thought alone had his dick painfully straining against his own shorts.

Shaking your head, you timidly knocked your knees together, bristling at the exposure of cold air against your pussy, "I, um... I really wish I could say I planned it, but I didn't." Blinking up at the ceiling, a sheepish laugh shook your shoulders, "It's more comfortable sleeping without them, you know?"

Of course, you knew he knew from a few fated encounters with him early in the mornings, courtesy of wandering eyes and a not-so-small situation he tried keeping tucked away - it seemed that between the two of you, underwear was a foreign concept in the privacy of your shared apartment.

Chris groaned, a low, aching sound that begged for mercy to be taken on him, "You're absolutely going to be the death of me, there's no way you're real right now - this has to be a dream." Resting his hands on your knees, he silently waited for your hum of permission before pulling them apart, following the angle of your thighs down to catch his first glimpse of your pussy. "Fuck, if this is a dream, please don't wake me up."

"Chris."

Your insistent whine didn't fall on deaf ears as he wasted no time in scooting down his bed and ducking his head between your legs; plump lips peppering wet kisses along your soft skin, from the inside of your knee down to the highest point of your inner thigh, before skipping entirely over your cunt to repeat the process to your other leg.

Each caress of his lips sent chills up your spine, sparks of electricity shooting through your nerves and powering the growing desire within the pit of your stomach. Thankfully, you wouldn't have to suffer much longer as his second trip down ended with the warm sensation of his tongue swiping through your lower lips with a careful curiosity.

A sound crossed between a sigh and a moan floated through him before his hands squeezed the flesh of your thighs and he all but dove his head toward your pussy; lapping messily at the arousal dripping from you while aiming to explore your fluttering walls.

"Oh, shit-" Hands flying to his hair, you gripped at the roots as shock tinted pleasure shot through you, "Oh my god, Chris- Oh, god!"

The only sounds coming from him were muffled moans and lewd slurps, the only instances of his mouth leaving your pussy being him shifting his head up to focus his devilish tongue along your clit, and him pulling away for mere seconds of air before getting back to work.

He was eating you out like a man starved, and all you could do was lay there and take it with wanton moans and whines of his name.

"Chris, baby," you panted breathlessly, fingers tugging at his roots in hopes of gaining his attention, "baby, w-wait-" Pulling a bit harder, you were met with a groan of pleasure, sending your back into a small arch as the vibrations flowed through you.

With a small gasp of air, he pulled away just enough for you to catch the shine of your arousal coating the tip of his nose and lips, pupils blown with a fog of desire that made your mouth run dry.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you? D'you wanna stop?"

"No, no, you're amazing - if we stopped now I might actually die," giving him a reassuring smile, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his forehead, "but as wonderful as your tongue is, I'd rather come on your dick first."

"Fuck." Pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, he sat up with a groan, "We're going to have to do something about that mouth of yours."

Blinking up at him with faux innocent eyes, you tilted your head, "I'm just telling the truth, sir."

He smirked at the pout set on your lips, leaning over you to nip gently at the flesh, "That's fine, I just wonder what else it can do." Sweeping you into a feather light kiss, he murmured softly, "You'll show me later, though, won't you, princess?"

Your pussy fluttered, clenching around nothing as you nodded without hesitation - only focused on getting those pretty lips, tinted with the taste of your arousal, back on your own.

"Good girl."

Chris pulled back, laughing at your whine of disdain while his hands got to work sliding down his black shorts with ease, shifting to get them fully off and added as the final item to the pile on the floor.

In the midst of all of his moving, you were able to catch a glimpse of just exactly what he was packing and your jaw dropped - the accidental peek you'd seen a month ago barely comparing to the full on staring contest you were having now.

He was big, bigger than most you'd had before in almost every way, and you nearly began to consider if it would even fit; your gaze trailing up the slight curve it held, mouth watering at a prominent vein running along the side.

"I'll go slow."

Your gaze snapped back up to meet his own, the previously cocky aura he held now warm and comforting, and your - admittedly needless - worries subsided.

"And I meant what I said earlier," reaching over to his nightstand, he pulled open a small drawer to take out a small, obvious box, "if you want me to stop, just say so."

Leaning up on your elbows, you watched as he pulled out a foil packet, "Do you know about safewords?"

"Yeah," bringing his full attention back to you, he tilted his head, "d'you have one?"

"Pear, for a hard stop, or the light system if it's easier for you to work with."

Scoffing out a laugh, he shook his head, "Whichever works for you, baby - I'll remember."

As you laid yourself back onto his bed, he made work of ripping open the condom packet, taking out the rubber and sliding it on with careful, yet experienced ease.

"Y'know, I never thought someone could look hot while putting on a condom, but I don't mind being proven wrong." When he ducked his head in embarrassment, a familiar sheepish blush beginning to turn his ears red, you giggled at your small achievement.

"It's our first time together, I didn't want to just assume that... you know." Growing past his shyness, Chris settled himself between your legs once more, one hand holding the back of your knee while the other wrapped around the base of his cock - a shiver of brief relief running down his spine. "Ready?"

Taking a deep breath, you nodded, "Ready."

Dropping his gaze, he leaned forward to press the covered head of his dick against your glistening entrance, biting his lip at the warmth emanating through before pushing onward - working the tip past your walls slowly.

The increasing stretch had a low moan escaping you, each inch introducing a new wave of pain tinted pleasure that shot from the top of your head to your toes. "Fuck, Chris."

He wasn't faring any better on his end, the lack of attention given to his dick since you first sat in his lap had him beyond sensitive and holding fast to his promise like a lifeline - go slow, go slow.

"Relax for me, baby," he gritted out, shivering as your walls clenched around the half of his length he managed to sink in, "just a little more, okay? Just need you to let me in."

"'M trying - you're so big." You couldn't find yourself to care about the desperate whine that took your voice, not when you were being deliciously filled with more to come.

Abandoning his hold on your thigh, he licked the pad of his thumb before bringing it to your clit, rubbing gentle circles in hopes of helping you relax further - and it worked. He was able to slowly sheath the rest of his dick inside of you, breathing a sigh of relief, while you shivered underneath him, canting your hips against the consistent flicks of his thumb against your sensitive nub.

"M-Move- Oh god, please move, Channie."

"Are you sure you're ready for that? I can wait-"

"Channie," looking up at him, you tried your best to give him a firm stare through the mind fogging lust, "I need you to fuck me; the color's green, it's so green, I promise - please, just fuck me already!"

He took his thumb off of your clit in favor of holding onto your hip instead, hovering over your body and keeping himself balanced with his left hand.

Licking his lips, his eyes searched your face for any signs of doubt, but he was simply met with desire and need. "Okay, only because you said please."

A smile lit up your face, and just as you went to give him a teasing reply, your body jolted forward and a surprised moan shot past your lips instead.

Another sharp thrust rocked your body and your hands scrambled to find purchase on his broad shoulders, latching onto him to take every quick, deep thrust he delivered before he fell into a regular pace of thorough strokes that had you seeing stars.

Chris watched every subtle shift in your expression after each thrust, drinking in the cute pinch of your eyebrows and pout of your lips while the sounds of your moans created a symphony in his head.

"Beautiful," he murmured, shifting his knees to allow him to drive deeper into your dripping cunt, "my pretty girl, taking me like you're fucking made for me."

The shift in his hips led you to lift your own, and the resulting graze of his cock against your g-spot had a near pornographic moan leaving you - neighbors be damned.

Swiping his tongue across his bottom lip, he made a mental note to keep that angle as long as he could. "There it is - Fuck, look at you."

Your nails scratched down his shoulder blades, earning a sharp hiss of pain from the man above you, yet he continued on without hesitation.

"I wish I told you sooner," stifling a grunt, he switched up the pace with slow, shallow rolls of his hips, "could've had this pussy wrapped around me every fucking night."

A helpless whine vibrated through you, but the following moan was something neither you or him was prepared for.

"Daddy!"

There was a brief pause, not even lasting a full minute though it was glaringly obvious to you - even in your blissed out haze. Blinking up at him with worried eyes, you were ready to apologize for the mortifying slip up until you realized he wasn't looking down at you in disgust - but, rather, unrestrained lust.

"Daddy, hm? Is that what my pretty baby wants?" Sliding his hand down your thigh, he maneuvered to hook your leg in the crook of his arm and bring it up higher, evidently opening you up more. "I don't mind, it's fitting - you don't need sir right now anyways, isn't that right, princess? So," rutting his hips into yours, a cocky smirk curved his lips, "keep being a good girl and tell daddy just how good he's making you feel."

You could've died right then and there and considered it a fulfilling life; pinned underneath your best friend, your roommate, fucked within an inch of your sanity while he murmurs the dirtiest sentences you ever imagined from those glorious lips of his.

"O-Oh, god- P-Please, daddy-"

"Please, what, baby? I love hearing you beg, but you have to tell me what you want."

He knew what you wanted, he could feel it with each pulse of your cunt, the way your leg tensed in his hold while your body writhed underneath him - you were close, and he wanted to see just how far he could push you.

"I-I want- Fuck-" You squeezed the flexed muscle of his bicep, while your free hand fisted the pillowcase underneath your head, trying your best to gather the brain cells to make a comprehensible sentence through his unrelenting pace. "I wanna come- wanna come for you," blinking up at him with glossy eyes, you submitted instantly, "please, daddy, can I?"

Chris' pace faltered for the smallest of seconds, his heart swelling and his dick aching for the release he'd been fighting back since he entered your warm pussy - there was no use in stalling for more time, not when you needed him as much as he needed you.

"Hold it for just a little longer, princess." When you gave a displeased whine, he leaned down to kiss the pout off of your face, "It won't be long, I promise - ten seconds, you can count with me, yeah?"

Nodding desperately, you snuck another kiss from him before waiting for his next instruction, trying your best to suppress your lingering orgasm.

"Good girl - now, can you use your fingers to play with your clit for me? You can keep holding onto me, just use your free hand."

You followed his directions diligently, quickly licking your index finger before managing to work your arm between your bodies and finding your puffy clit with ease; the lightest touch sending a shock of pleasure through your system.

"'S too much, I-I can't-"

He shushed you, "You can, I know you can, just count with me, okay? Focus on me, baby - starting from ten."

Swallowing back a whine, you took a shivering breath, "T-Ten."

"Good, keep counting."

As your slow, broken countdown continued, he took the time to adjust his position one final time; sitting up straight and using his left hand to gather your leg in the same position as your right, holding you spread open and fully subject to his will.

"Seven... S-Six- Oh my god-" Your eyes rolled, your body feeling like fire was liking at each of your limbs as you rubbed quick circles around your clit.

"Don't stop counting, princess," Chris grunted, licking his lips as sweat beaded along his forehead, "come on, five."

A short sob broke past your lips, eyebrows pinching together, "I c-can't- I can't, daddy!"

"Four." He continued on, angling your legs slightly higher and focusing on the almost hypnotizing wet slapping sound of your pussy all but drenching his cock and the sheets underneath. "Three - almost there, baby, keep holding it for me."

You made a noise, not caring what it sounded like as long as it was known that you were still hanging in there, if only by a thread.

"T-Two - my perfect girl, doing so well for daddy, s-so fucking proud of you," he gritted out, breaths coming in bated pants as he exchanged the speed of this thrusts for more power, watching your back arch off of the bed in the process. "One - come, come for me, baby."

Your body followed through before your mind had the chance to comprehend his words, white-hot pleasure flooding through your veins as you came with a cry of his name - at least, you hoped the sound that came out resembled his name.

Chris groaned, doing his best to fuck you through your orgasm until he came with a shivering gasp, almost pained, high pitched whines falling from his lips with each wave; his dick quickly being surrounded by the warmth of his cum filling the latex.

Hours could've passed before you were able to come back to your senses, blinking your eyes open and dazedly looking at the man above you.

Even after sending you to the moon and back, he looked as breathtaking as ever; chest heaving and head tossed back, large hands now caressing your thighs as your feet met the mattress once more.

"Fuck." He laughed breathlessly, lifting his head to look at you with glittering eyes, "You okay? That- I didn't go too far, did I?"

Oh, he was going to be the death of you.

Shooting him a tired smile, you shook your head, "I'm more than okay - that was amazing, daddy."

You didn't miss the way his dick twitched inside of you from your words, his hands squeezing you softly.

"Princess, as much as I love hearing you say that, I might end up fucking you through the mattress if you keep it up."

Biting your lip, you not-so-subtly glanced at the open box on his nightstand before looking at him with daring eyes, "If I call you my boyfriend, can you fuck me into the next morning?"

He paused as if heavily pondering your words, then slowly pulled out of your sensitive walls with a grunt, "If you let me call you my girlfriend and let me take you on a date, you can call me both and I'll fuck you until you can't walk."

A bright smile found its way to your face and you nodded happily, "Deal, boyfriend."

With a grin as bright as the sun, he made quick work of taking off the used condom before tying it and tossing it in the small trash near his nightstand; returning to hover over you with warm eyes, "Deal, girlfriend."

Safe to say, he upheld his end of the deal with flying colors, and you planned the date as soon as you regained the ability to walk a day later.

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies: @goblinracha, @having-an-internal-crisis-rn, @midnightfrog625, @anyhow-everything, @bangchanbabygirlx, @sweetracha, @j-onedrabbles, @happilydeepestwonderland, @nightimescapes, @caitlyn98s, @ch4nn13luv, @ihrtlix, @sometimesleeknows, @jeonjungkookenthusiast1997, @instabull, @maximumkillshot, @y-ur--i, @acker-night, @dreamescapeswriting, @specialstay, @broken-glowsticks, @s00buwu, @dancerachaslut, @junglyric, @tinyelfperson, @jj-stay, @katsukis1wife, @inlovewithmusician, @keen-li, @armystay89, @main-character0, @vampcharxter, @ddyskz, @prettymiye0n, @bbgnyx, @ivyisnotokay

✧. ┊Tagged lovelies for Pt. 2 [If you want to be added to my official tag list please fill out the form below]: @turtledove824, @boi-bi-ahaha, @skzworlddomination44, @brojustfknkillm3

✧. ┊If your username is in bold italics that means tumblr won't let me tag you. If you’d like to be added to the taglist, fill out this form!

#skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #bang chan smut #bang chan fluff #bangchan smut #bangchan fluff #bang chan x reader #bangchan x reader

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shellshocklove · 2 months ago

Text

brat three: i don't wanna feel feelings | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x brat!female!reader – no outbreak

summary: joel’s brat summer is coming to an end.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so mdni! age gap, enemies to lovers vibes? swearing, drinking of alcohol, smoking, reader wears a dress, heels and makeup but otherwise no other descriptions, use of pet names, some angst, smut, brat tamer!joel, dom!joel, some daddy!joel, manhandling, some light bondage, degradation (whore, slut), oral sex (f+m receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, unprotected sex (don’t do it!!), no use of y/n

a/n: ok so here's part three to brat! there's one more part planned, and then that's it! <3 big thank you to @dustydaddyyy for reading through this, i love you!! <333 happy reading! 💚

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

The gravel moaned under your heels as you carefully left your uber at the foot of the driveway. The air smelled of summer; flower-y notes with a hint of anticipation. Cars lined the driveway, tightly parked with the wheels almost hanging in the air over the ditch. The sky turned purple then pink as the sun started to dip beneath the horizon, the small beams of light coming through the doors of the big barn beamed brighter and brighter the closer you got.

This wasn’t the first time you’d crashed a party, but it was your first wedding. You’d looked up the place online, Pecan Grove Ranch. It was nice, but pedestrian, not filled with the extravagance a party of this size would rank up in your father’s circles – the ones you’d been dragged too ever since you were old enough to put on a charming smile. This felt real, no fake happy smiles and secret codes, just people gathering to celebrate love.

Love.

It had always been a thing that happened to other people. To your friends, to the protagonist in a movie, to the person on the other side of your kiss. They always thought they were in love with you, but love always felt like a joke everyone was in on except for you, a story told to sell movie tickets or for a song to hit number one.

Sex was different, sex you understood. It was like acting, and you had no problem slipping into the role. It was fun, it was a release, it was a fleeting connection you couldn’t help but chase.

One you were chasing right now.

Maybe Joel was right, maybe you are desperate, but it was his fault for leaving you like that, right on edge but without the release. Honestly, it was his fault you were here, you thought as you stood outside the open barn doors.

Off to the side a few of the guests had gathered around a picnic table. Billowing white smoke clouded them as you watched their animated conversation between drags of their cigarettes and sips of their drinks. A small boy ran past you, almost crashing into you as a little girl chased after him with a giggling laugh. They chased each other on the grass, as they ran between the large trees where a million lighting bugs danced between them.

The air felt light like cotton candy, a sweetness of celebrated love coated the faces that emerged as you stepped inside. The picking guitar intro of TLC’s ‘No Scrubs’ met you at the door, followed by a large cheer, bordering on collective scream, coming from the people on the dance floor. Walking slowly, you followed the back wall of the barn. A light breeze came through the open doors and windows, and tugged at your dress as you closed in on the bar.

Open bar… Nice, Tommy.

Most of the guest had their assigned seats at the round tables pressed up against the wooden walls of the barn. They must’ve been moved to make room for the dancefloor, you thought as you leaned up against the side of the bar. It was rustic, made entirely of untreated wood and decorated with large white bows. The bartender was around your age, handsome, and painfully bored it seemed by the way he lit up when you approached.

“What can I getcha?” he asked, a charming lilt to his voice.

“Um…” your teeth caught on your bottom lip, as you scanned the drinks menu. They all had quirky names, most likely inside jokes or references to the wedding couple that mostly went over your head.

“One ‘Contractor Juice’, please?” you ordered, holding back from cringing at the name. At least you got this reference, and the promise of mint and citrus mixed with alcohol had never failed you before.

“Sure thing, doll,” the bartender smiled, a little too sweet for your liking, or maybe you’d developed a preference for grumpy frowns.

“So… bride or groom?” he asked, making conversation as he worked.

“Um… groom,” you told him, leaning your back against the bar as your eyes rolled over the tables, searching.

“Ain’t seen you up here yet,” he said, a question unsaid hanging in the air as he handed you your drink.

Turning around, you thanked him and slipped a five-dollar bill in the tip jar. “There,” you said, “Now you can turn off the charm.”

You watched how he tried to hide his smile, as he held up his hands in a surrender, “Who’s to say I can turn it off?”

He smiled when you rolled your eyes at him. It was cute, two dimples separated by perfect white teeth. At the start of the summer, you might’ve let him fuck you at the end of the night, but the summer was coming to a close, and you had your eyes set on someone else.

He had his back turned, but you knew it was him, you’d recognize those broad shoulders anywhere. Something bubbled under your skin then, and your hands felt clammy around your glass – you were nervous, there was a whole room between you, but he still managed to make you nervous.

Maybe this was a bad idea?

He sat with his body turned, his hand around a beer bottle, as he watched the dancefloor move. Your eyes followed his and found Tommy where he danced, his hand clasping a woman’s, a woman you’d only seen in photos.

Joel’s daughter.

She was beautiful. Clad in a dark lavender satin dress, matching the other bridesmaids. Her dark hair was slicked back and gathered at the nape of her neck, held together by a matching satin bow, perfect curls spilled across her back. Her smile was even prettier as she laughed and sang with her uncle, swinging to ‘Build Me up Buttercup’. It was the same smile you could see across Joel’s face as he watched them.

The drink burned slightly from the acidity at the back of your throat, and you were grateful that he’d been heavy on the liquor. You needed to catch up, let the alcohol loosen you up, pull away your unexpected nerves.

“Who’s that?” you heard behind you. A warmth coated your neck and cheeks at being caught staring, and the embarrassment mixed with anger.

“I don’t think that’s any of your fucking business,” you scoffed.

The bartender huffed out a dry laugh, “Jesus, it’s wedding small talk, no need to bite my head off.”

“Well, I’d prefer it if you didn’t talk,” you told him, sending him an annoyed look over your shoulder.

When you turned back around, Joel’s seat was empty, the beer bottle he’d nursed left behind on the table, the only sign he’d ever been seated there in the first place. Your tongue found the straw of your drink, twirling it around while you sipped, eyes scanning the dancefloor.

Nothing.

Did he slip out? Out to catch some fresh air or go to the bathroom? Maybe you could find the restroom, hover outside the door and ‘accidently’ bump into him?

No.

You cringed. Did you even hear yourself? As you took another sip, trying and failing to come up with a plan, a familiar gruff voice heaved a heavy sigh behind you.

“You got to be fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

He didn’t look angry, but the way his hand rubbed over his face was worse, he was disappointed to see you.

“What the fuck you doin’ here?”

“Celebrating Tommy, and–” you squinted your eyes, looking at the name scrawled elegantly next to Tommy’s on the bar menu, “–Maria... aren’t you?”

You gave Joel an easy smile, and stepped closer, crossing one foot nonchalantly over the other. There was no way in hell you’d give him the satisfaction of seeing you even a bit phased he’d caught you crashing his brother’s wedding.

A huff escaped Joel at your lie before the corners of his mouth pulled ever so slightly in a dry, sarcastic smile.

“That’s cute,” he told you, his voice devoid of any humor in it, tone entirely disbelieving.

“I’ve been known to be described as such,” you grinned.

Joel didn’t seem to like your joke, his face not moving an inch. “You know this is way out of line, right?”

“What?” you snorted, taking a sip of your drink as your eyes fanned out over the room for a second, before landing back on Joel, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Joel let out an almost incredulous scoff, shaking his head as his eyes quickly scanned across the room, going to Tommy still on the dancefloor with Sarah. Something seemed to flash over his eyes, or maybe it was the lights but he leaned forward then, fingers wrapping around your forearm in a firm grip.

“Way to make it obvious,” you said under your breath as he pulled you a bit. Not letting him have it, you planted your feet, “What the hell are you doing?”

“Don’t be a fuckin’ brat,” he told you, his voice filled with annoyance.

Something ignited in you then, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him. Unable to contain your smile as the words crossed his lips, you felt them settle in your core, drip down your thighs like sticky honey.

“You’d know just what do about that, wouldn’t you?” you challenged, your eyes burning into his, and for a second, you had his attention. He held your gaze, and his eyes flickered with the same intensity you felt.

A beat passed between you, and you watched as his jaw tightened, waiting for the bomb to tick down to zero.

Then it popped.

The guests cheered as a song faded into another, and Joel took a step closer to you. His hand released your forearm to slip around your waist as his eyes never left yours.

“Come,” he spoke through his teeth, his voice low and quiet.

The feel of his hand so close to your skin sent your brain into a temporary reboot. You’d craved it all week, missed him so close to you, missed his scent on your skin, and you let yourself be steered away.

Quickly, Joel led you out the barn doors, his hand firmly pressed against your lower back as he looked over his shoulder. The music faded as he guided you towards a handful of small, scattered cabins hidden away behind a grove of trees. The trail snaked its way from tree to tree, your heels digging into the gravel making it hard to keep up with Joel’s pace. He walked with haste, passing cabin after cabin until the hand on your lower back looped around your waist, turning you around to face him as he came to a stop outside the last cabin.

His eyes drilled into your own, giving you a wild look, “I want you to leave,” he said, voice stern.

Leaning into his touch, you tilted your head to the side and let your eyes roll over him. He’d combed his hair back, wavy curls held back by gel. You raised your hand to cup his cheek, letting your thumb run through his trimmed scruff, hints of salt and pepper shone under the rising moonlight. The full of his lips was pressed together in a tight line, your eyes trailing your thumb as you let it gently run over his lips. Something softened in him under your touch, his eyes brown and deep as they watched you, it made your heart pick up its beat, hammering out of your chest.

Leaning closer, your eyes flickered to his lips again, and you thought about how you didn’t know what he tasted like, didn’t know how his lips felt against your own. You were so close now; his breath came out in small puffs against your face. Slowly you tilted your head, your nose accidentally brushing up against the crook of his own.

“You owe me a fucking orgasm,” you whispered.

His hand around your waist tightened, and with a small huff he tilted his head back.

“I owe you nothin’, princess.”

God, he could be stubborn sometimes.

It might’ve annoyed you if it didn’t turn you on as much as it did. You loved how he made you work for it, and he was worth doing the work. Something deep down inside you knew it. Joel was a good man. If you weren’t careful he’d remove the walls built up by that lonely girl you’d kept hidden inside; one emotional stone at a time. Maybe it was ironic? The man who’d devoted his life to building walls, now breaking them down?

“Why do you deny yourself something you want?”

“You...” Joel swallowed hard, dark eyes watching your face with an unreadable expression, “You're a piece of work, you know that?”

The words stung more than you’d like to admit, and when Joel’s hand slipped from your body as he stepped away, a wave of anxiety washed over you.

Had you gone too far?

Joel didn’t look happy, and a small knot started to tie itself in your stomach under his gaze. You watched as he unbuttoned the top button of his tuxedo jacket, making it fall open and showing you his perfectly pressed shirt underneath. His right hand dug into his inner pocket, fishing out a white key card.

His steps were heavy up the front stairs to the cabin, almost dragging, like he moved through molasses. The lock clicked as he held the key card against it, a green light blinking before he opened the door.

Dumbfounded, you stood at the foot of the front steps. You’d riled him up, played your little game and he’d gone along with it like always.

Was this how it was gonna end?

He stood in the opening, hand on the handle with one foot on either side – halfway in, but also halfway out. He didn’t move, his head tipped forward, weighing his options. Then he sighed and pushed the door open, and stepped inside the darkness.

“C‘mon, get in before anyone sees you.”

The cabin was quaint, but cozy, with only the necessities. It was more like a hut, not bigger than a hotel room. A narrow hallway opened up to the bedroom, with a door to the right leading to a bathroom. Joel had placed his overnight bag on the chair in the corner, a worn leather duffle bag with a dark t-shirt and pair of jeans thrown over it, clearly thrown in a hurry to get ready. White lace curtains hung over the windows, bright against the dark wood of the paneled walls.

The clinking of Joel’s belt pulled you from the silence, your head twitched like a reflex turning towards him. He’d shed his tuxedo jacket, his broad shoulders fighting against his pristine white shirt. He walked towards you slowly as he removed his cufflinks; the warmth in his eyes had turned darker. Taking a step backwards the back of your thighs pressed into the chair, almost tipping you over, but he caught you, one arm tight around your wrist while the other threw the cufflinks on the pile of clothes behind you.

“You say ‘red’ ‘nd we stop,” he told you, eyes holding your gaze so intently you didn’t dare look away. An inaudible breath pressed past your lips when his other hand cupped your cheek, the touch reminding you to nod your head.

“Or I pinch you,” you said.

A pleased smile spread across his face, “Good.” He punctuated his approval with a light pat to your cheek.

Stepping away, he nodded towards the bed, an unspoken order, while his hands found his tie around his neck where he tugged at the knot. You sat at the foot of the bed, knees pressed together, waiting for him to make the first move. The white sheets smelled strongly of detergent, nothing like the faded hints of his cologne mixed with sawdust you’d smelled on his own sheets that first night he’d fucked you.

The tie slipped from his neck and you fell back on your arms, feigning boredom while you let out an audible sigh. It made him laugh.

“What’s so funny?” you queried, your brows pulled together in a frown.

A smile leftover from his chuckle coated his lips as he stepped closer, your legs spreading for him to slot between as he threw the tie on the bed beside you.

“Nothin’.”

Over you, he gently rolled up his sleeves with practiced hands before he wrapped a hand tightly around your upper arm. Then he tugged.

“Hey!” you said, fighting against his grip as he manhandled you. He turned you roughly, his other hand fingering the zipper of your dress, while the other held you in place. “Be careful with the dress,” you whined.

“Stop actin’ like a fuckin’ child,” he muttered, helping you out of your dress.

“A child? Well… that doesn’t bode well for you with what you’re about to do.”

That stopped him in his tracks, eyes burning as he let go of you. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed, throwing your dress over his pile of clothes, “you’re fuckin’ unbelievable.”

Freed from his grip, a smirk pulled at your lips as you shuffled up the bed. Leaning back on your elbows, you seductively parted your legs for him, showing him the darkened patch of fabric scarcely covering your cunt.

“You keep saying that,” you smiled, saccharine and sticky like syrup.

“I’ll stop when you finally start behavin’.” Joel’s hand wrapped around your ankle, tugging you towards him with a hard jerk, making a giggly squeal escape you.

“Never– HEY!”

A ripping sound tore through the room, your skimpy panties tattered in his large hands. A smirk spread over his face. The motherfucker looked mighty pleased with himself.

“Surprised you’re even wearin’ these,” he said, thumbing at the wet patch of arousal, before he tossed them to the floor. “A slut like you should’ve gone without, shouldn't you?”

The warmth of his touch over your knees had you twitching for him, goosebumps following his hands as they rubbed gently up and down your legs. His eyes never left your face though, watching every reaction you gave up.

“I…” your rebuttal trailed off when he fell to his knees, slotting between your own and spreading you open for him, one hand glided down the outside of your thigh to your ass, while the other found your aching clit.

Then he spat. A thick blob of saliva ran from the top of your mound down your clit, where it combined with your arousal shining through your glistening folds.

“Joel!?” you gasped when the rough pad made contact, pressing down with just the right amount of pressure, spreading his spit around in small circles.

You kinda hated this part; getting eaten out. No partner had gotten it right before. Not that it wasn’t enjoyable, it could be, but never seeing stars good… And you couldn’t help but think about that first time someone had gone down on you, about the boytoy you’d had wrapped around your finger freshman year. He’d given you an orgasm maybe 60% of the time he’d fucked you (which was a better successrate than your later hook-ups), but his comment as he’d gotten on his knees for you for the first time still rang loudly in your head.

It’s not supposed to look like that, is it?

The small laugh he’d let out had only made it worse, and you’d dumped him less than twenty-four hours later. Now, you hated having a man this close to your pussy.

Your hand found Joel’s shoulder, where it pushed. “I don’t…” you interrupted yourself with a hand over your face, not wanting to look at him.

“What, baby?”

Suddenly he was there, hovering above you, caging you in with his body, heavy hand pushing at your own over your face.

“Ain’t in the mood for the orgasm I owe ya, is that it?” he smirked, and you stayed obstinately silent for a second.

“What is it, hm?” he asks you, “Not gonna let me taste that pretty pussy?”

Pretty…

“Joel…”

Your eyes searched his face, looking to find where he’d hidden his lie. His face grew sterner, eyebrows pulling together in a furrow.

“Tell me.”

Your front tooth caught on your lip and a heat prickled up your neck. You couldn’t tell him, you just couldn’t. Joel’s palm found your cheek, heavy and safe against your skin, letting his thumb sooth you and your eyelids fluttered from his touch. A breath got caught in your throat when he leaned forward, placing a soft kiss to the column of your neck, your pulse vibrating under his lips.

“Do I have to wring it outta you?” he whispered against your skin, his hand gliding from your cheek to fit around your neck. The air between you changed and you forced yourself to snap back into your disguise.

“I’d like to see you try.”

A deep rumbling laugh vibrated against your skin and Joel found your eyes again. His hand around your neck soothed over your skin and you found yourself pushing up into his hand, daring him to tighten his grip.

“There she is… my brat,” he smiled.

Mine.

He was gone before the possessive word could settle, hovering over your body as he rid himself of his shirt. You couldn’t help but drink him in, he was so handsome, broad and strong with speckled grey hairs trailing to the heavy bulge hidden away behind the soft fabric of his dress pants. His undone belt clicked as he moved closer, climbing onto the bed between your legs.

“Scoot up,” Joel ordered with a tap to the outer skin of your thigh.

The huff you let out was exasperated, earning you a stern look as his large palms found the cheeks of your ass, patting your skin lightly, before he helped you move. The way he fluffed the pillows behind your back was almost tender, and your eyebrows pulled together in the slightest frown.

“Is your definition of ‘wringin’ it outta me’–” you mocked his drawl, “–fucking like a boring old married couple in missionary? Is that what you used to do with your wife?”

The way Joel’s eyes hardened made a smile break over your face. Quickly, you regretted the smile when his hand clasped around your wrist, bending it backwards towards the bed post.

“Hey! What are you doing?” you demanded, playfully fighting against his grip, but Joel was too strong.

“Behave.”

“But I hate that,” you exclaimed with a sigh, pushing your head back into the pillow.

His silk tie tickled against the thin skin under your wrist, and you had to turn your head to watch him as he tied your hand to the bed. The way he did it exuded no nonsense; his eyebrows were tied together in concentration as practiced fingers danced over the knots, testing them with a light tug.

“I’m givin’ you what you ain’t closed to earned– so you oughta be grateful, princess, ‘nd thank me,” he told you as he moved on to your other hand.

Joel raised an eyebrow at you when he grabbed a hold of it, daring you to put up a fight again.

“Thank you, Daddy.”

The way you said it was sugary sweet, and you knew he didn’t believe a word you said, but a pleased smile settled over his lips either way. Then his fingers found his belt, tugging it from his waist all in one go, his muscles moved under his skin from the strain. The leather felt harsher around your skin than his tie, but Joel made sure to not tie it to tightly. When he was pleased with you, he found his spot between your legs again.

His rough hands teased over your naked skin, eyes fixed on the way it gave way for him when he squeezed ever so slightly. You couldn’t help but watch him – there was nothing you could do now, your hands literally tied.

“I oughta tie these too I reckon,” he mused, pushing your legs wider, “but I’m outta rope,” he chuckled, way too pleased with his own joke.

“Ha-ha-ha,” you said, voice dry with an unimpressed look on your face.

Lowering himself, he placed playful lovebites to the soft skin of the inside of your thigh. The lower he got, the closer he got, you felt yourself brace for impact as your eyes found the ceiling.

You felt his hot breath first, gentle huffs against your spit-soaked clit. How soft his kiss was, you didn’t expect– didn’t expect the fluttering touch of his lips down your pussy, so gentle against the core of you. A stuttering breath caught in your throat, and quickly you melted against the pillows.

“Hey,” Joel caught your attention. He had that look in his eyes, something dark and filled with lust as he let the scratch of his rough beard rub against the thin skin of your inner thigh. “Look at me, only me, you hear?”

He underlined his order with a soothing kiss to the sensitive skin, pulling a nod from you. Pleased, his lips skated downwards, teeth nipping playfully at the skin, leaving small bursts of electricity in the wake of his touch.

“Such a pretty pussy, baby– all wet ‘nd messy f’me.” Joel spoke with a deep bass, as two fingers found your seam, swiping them through your folds. “Listen,” he told you, as the slick sound of your arousal filled the cabin.

The beat in your chest seemed louder and louder in your ears the more he taunted you. You didn’t want to do this with Joel – fake it – feel that stone of disappointment sink into the depths of yourself as the orgasm you so desperately wanted fizzled away into nothing. Couldn’t he just rub your clit a little? Finger you instead?

With his fingers Joel spread you apart and a heat travelled up your neck. You felt so exposed, and you had to fight not to look away from him when he leaned forward with the flat of his tongue, tasting you. A breath caught in your throat like a reflex, and a low hum rumbled out of Joel’s chest, almost in… contentment. Your eyebrows met in a furrow then.

He couldn’t seriously like this?

He continued to lap at your folds, taking his time, and it felt… good, really good. When he licked a stripe from your hole to your clit, you couldn’t fight back your moan.

“C’mon, let me hear you, princess,” he said, his tone of voice way too cocky.

He latched on to your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue in a way no man had ever done before. It was intense, sloppy, almost primal. Small, breathy sighs built in your chest, and you wished you could touch him, hold on to him.

Joel licked down through your folds again; his tongue teasing at your hole. “Is–” you cut yourself off with a surprised gasp, reeling from the way his tongue pushed into you. “Is t-this what you call e-eating pussy?” you tried again to taunt, far from convincing.

Joel didn’t bother with a reply. Instead, he switched his tongue with his fingers. The wet mix of your arousal and saliva made the slide easy. A breathy whimper escaped your lips when he curled them, hitting the spongy spot inside you and hurling you quickly towards your release.

“Fuck,” you sighed, bucking your hips against his lips closing around your clit again.

You couldn’t stay still, your hips moving erratically to meet the swipes and zigzags of his tongue. Never had it felt like this, this good, this perfect. His fingers moved easily in and out, in and out, with a slick squelch. Squeezing your eyes shut, Joel coaxed you closer and closer to your orgasm. The pads of his fingers hit you just right, massaging with every thrust. An increasing pressure swiweled in your stomach around the laps of his tongue around your clit. Your back moved on it’s own, arching off the bed as his makeshift restraints tightened with your movement. A hand found your ass then, holding you flush to his face and you felt yourself starting to wither.

“There she goes… my good girl,” he hummed against you, “Come all over my tongue, princess.”

You let the wave of pleasure wash over you with a broken scream. You didn’t have to fake a thing as your whole body shook with your orgasm. His fingers continued their pace, pushing through your spasming walls and prolonging your ecstasy. Every sigh and whimpering moan was real, and you lost yourself in the buzzing feeling of Joel taking you apart and putting you back together again.

When the aftershocks fizzled out Joel pulled his fingers, slicked up and soaked from your cunt. A cocky grin coated his face as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking your cum off his fingers. When your eyes found his, something in them had you slipping under, a want so strong to drown in them.

He climbed off the bed, your blissed out gaze rolling over him as he removed his dress pants and underwear. You could feel yourself go doe eyed when he took his hard cock in hand, giving it a few practiced tugs as he studied you at his mercy, spread apart and dripping with a mix of your pearly arousal, his spit and your cum.

He was perfect; his broad chest, tanned under the Texan sun with speckled hairs trailing down his torso where it ended in a dark wiry patch at the base of his impressive cock. Your mouth dropped open in the smallest of o’s – you wanted to taste him again, feel your spit mixed with his precum on your tongue, the thick head of his cock knock at the back of your throat.

“Daddy…” you pleaded, putting on your best puppy dog eyes.

“What, princess?” he taunted, voice laced with fake pity as he climbed on the bed again. Letting go of his thick cock, he wrapped his hands under your armpits and hiked you upright against the pillows. Under him you couldn’t help but soften at the edges.

“What d’you want, huh? What does my slut want?” he continued, straddling your body, two strong thighs on either side of your torso. He was so close like this, veiny cock inches from your waiting mouth. Reluctantly, you tore your gaze away to find his eyes, focusing hard on finding your words as you could see him start to stroke himself again in your peripheral. The large head of his cock grazed your lips with every stroke, pearling a salty taste of precum for you to taste.

“Why do you ask, when you already know?” you said, your voice lacking your infamous bite. A smile tore at Joel’s face, and a rumbling laugh escaped him as he moved closer.

“Maybe my cock pluggin’ up that throat will make you behave f’me?” he mused, like he was speaking his inner thoughts out loud and you weren’t even there. “At least you’d be quiet for once.”

His other hand found your chin, then, robbing you of your answer as he squeezed at the flesh, forcing your mouth to pop open. “Kiss it for Daddy, princess,” he ordered, slapping his cock on your waiting tongue.

When he let go of your face, you wrapped your plush lips around his thick head, suckling wet kisses to the tip. A lewd moan escaped you at the familiar taste of him, his musk filling your nostrils. It was addicting, Joel was addicting, and you needed more.

The desperate whine you let out, earned you a reprimanding slap to your cheek. “Don’t get greedy now, ‘m gonna give ya what you want,” he told you and pulled back, while the sting prickled away. You couldn’t help the pout forming, and Joel was quick to sooth it away with his thumb tracing over your lips.

“Listen, baby,” he found your eyes, “You kick me, alright? You kick me ‘f you wanna stop.”

“Okay,” you sighed.

“Okay, what?” he demanded with a slap of his cock against your cheek, smearing glistening precum over your skin.

“Okay, Daddy,” you smiled and dropped your mouth open so he could feed you his cock – all the way this time.

“That’s it, my good girl.”

Eagerly, your plush lips wrapped around his cock, his heavy cock plugged up your throat as he made room for himself. You didn’t gag right away like last time, you had practice now. As he pushed himself deeper, his hand braced himself against the headboard, while the other cradled your head – his rough thumb skated gently over your skin as he gently rocked his hips.

“Fuck,” he moaned above you, “That’s it, slut, let me feel your throat open f’me.”

Closing your eyes, you tried to calm yourself, holding back your gag reflex as tears started to prickle at your eyes. Even with practice, Joel wasn’t easy to take. Your lips stretched wide around the girth of him, swollen and used as spit slicked up his pubes. With each rock of his hips you felt the bulbous head knock at the back of your throat, bruising your flesh.

The sight of you must’ve been pornographic; your throat bulging with every rock of his hips as your spit dripped down your chest, pooling at his thighs stretched over your chest.

A vicious gag choked you, and Joel pulled back quickly, his cock wet with your spit bopping heavily in front of you face. You spluttered between gasps of air, spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth as tears ran in a steady stream, smudging your make-up. His hand cradling your head tightened slightly, tilting you to catch his eyes as something close to worry flashed over his face.

“Don’t close your eyes, you hear me?” his voice was strict, “‘nd I need ya to kick me!”

“Keep going!”

Your voice was hoarse and wet, but it didn’t seem to convince Joel. His face gave nothing away, stern and hard, teeth biting down a scowl – but his hands were tender, stroking at your skin.

“Ain’t ever been with a woman who’s as much of a slut as you I reckon,” he mused, his hand leaving your face to grip himself, tapping the length of himself against your skin.

“Embarrassing way to admit you haven’t been with a lot of women, Joel,” you told him, hiding your smile behind a soft kiss to the wet head of his cock.

“Jesus Christ.” A laugh escaped him, surprisingly light for someone out to punish you.

Moving your head, you started to press light kisses down his shaft, waiting for Joel to take control again, to punish you – like you ‘deserved,’ but all he did was a whole lot of nothing. When your tongue finally reached the base of him, your cheek pressed into the crease between his thigh and hip as your lips brushed gently against the soft skin of his balls – so heavy and full. Wrapping his hand around himself, he stroked in languid motions, like he savored it, wanted to memorize every calculated jerk.

“‘s that what you want, huh?” he asked, voice low and dark, almost tainting, and you couldn’t hold back the mewl escaping you. “Go on then, princess, suck on my balls like a good whore.”

With his other hand he guided one of his balls to your mouth. When you wrapped your lips around him, suckling gently at the sensitive skin, a deep groan fell from Joel’s lips.

“That’s good, princess, that’s so fuckin’ good.”

Being so close, breathing in the masculine musk of him, you almost squirmed under his weight, your cunt desperate and dripping with arousal. You felt so dirty, sucking on the balls of a man more than twice your age as he had his way with you. It would never feel like this again with anyone else – you knew it, you didn’t know how, but you did.

“C’mon, give the other one some sugar too.”

Humming out in an agreement, you let go with a pop as he guided the other ball into your waiting mouth for you to suckle around. The rhythm of his strokes picked up when you flattened your tongue, licking at the seam.

“God,” he groaned, “such a fuckin’ slut f’me– so fuckin’ desperate for my balls in your mouth–”

Joel cut himself off with a deep groan, as he backed up, making you chase after him as he held himself at the base, squeezing. Your restraints dug into your wrists, and you whined in defeat.

This bondage act was starting to get old.

“Gonna come already, old man?”

Joel didn’t seem to like your attitude, his joints cracking as he climbed back onto the bed, the welcomed weight of him now gone.

“That’s rich,” he spat, “coming from the one showin’ up here all desperate for me to fuck her.”

“Well, I’m waiting,” you told him with a roll of your eyes, voice bored.

That seemed to finally inspire some action in him. With stern eyes, and a stern grip, Joel parted your legs to slot between. The way his hands dug into your skin hurt, angry finger-shaped welts as he manuveroured you, had you wishing for the dizzying pain of a bruise tomorrow to remind you of this, of Joel.

Your hips bucked when you felt the blunt head of his cock against your clit, making him throw a hand over your waist to keep you still. A heat coated your cheeks when you heard it, the slick sound of your wet cunt as he dragged himself up and down your folds, coating himself in your desperation.

“Missionary?” you bit, fighting hard to hold back your moans as he teased at your dripping opening, “You’re so old fashioned.”

“I like to watch brats break when they finally get a cock in them,” he bit back, “Now beg f’mine.”

“No,” you hiccuped, with a weak shake of your head.

Joel played dirty – his thumb came up to graze over your clit, as he continued to tease his cock at your opening, pressing in slightly and then pulling out again just as quickly. He had you squirming for him in seconds, desperate to feel him make a home for himself inside you.

“Beg, brat.”

His thumb on your clit pressed down harder in tight, practiced figure eights, and you had no choice but to break. You needed him, needed Joel inside.

“Please,” you gasped, “Please, fuck me.”

But Joel continued circling his thumb, drawing you closer to the edge again. It got harder and harder to stay still as he pushed at your boundaries. Everything inside you screamed for him, like you were a piece of metal and he was the magnet. You couldn’t stay away, you’d always end up pressed against him.

“Whose cunt is this?” he demanded, suddenly hovering above you, dark eyes staring into yours. A large palm held your head in place, anchoring you to him, his face, this moment.

“Yours,” you whispered, “Yours, Joel.”

His name left your lips as a sight, the syllables stolen out of the air when he pushed at your opening, heavy cock splitting you in two and seating himself in your heat. He had your legs shaking, head lulling into his palm at the pleasurable pressure poking at the depths of you, where no one but Joel could reach.

“It’s okay, baby– you come on that cock if ya need to,” he hummed, a hint of condescension in his low voice as he continued to rub your clit.

Everything was coming to a head. Pleasure beamed through your body, like a supernova, as you exploded for Joel, shaking under his body as your eyes rolled back in your head. Whimpering moans stole your breaths, and you almost didn’t register Joel’s deep voice rumbling against the collum of your throat.

“C’mon… that’s it… good girl, that’s my good girl– y’feel so good, baby.”

His warm breath felt sticky against your skin, and you found yourself hoping he’d never leave; that you could somehow tattoo how he felt against you on your skin, let him mark you as his.

When your legs stopped shaking, Joel’s thumb stopped bullying your clit. He let you catch your breath, heaving chest slowing to steady rhythm again. His eyes found yours again, and for a moment they were almost tender, as something real started to weigh between you. You wanted to say something, anything, but Joel pulled away, hooking his arms under your knees before he finally started to pound into you, chasing his own high.

“Fuck,” you gasped, your walls already sensitive from the multiple orgasms he’d already given you. The way he split you open around the girth of him, it was always too much, you couldn’t see how you’d ever get used to the feeling of him.

Joel's breath got heavier as he picked up his pace, balls slapping wetly against your ass, as deep groans vibrated through his chest.

“That’s it, princess, you take it,” he rambled, “Good girl– go dumb on that cock f’me.”

His hands dug into your skin, his mind so caught up in you, in the way you felt squeezing around him.

Slap, slap, slap.

He was so deep, he must’ve fucked his way into your stomach. You felt yourself go limp in his arms, letting him take what he needed, letting him use you for his own pleasure.

“God, y’were made f’takin’ my big cock, baby.”

“Gonna fill up this pretty cunt– watch it leak outta ya.”

“Please,” you begged between harsh thrusts, your tits bouncing with every sway of his hips, “Please, come inside me, Daddy.”

With a particularly sharp thrust, his balls pulled tight against your ass, and Joel came. Deep groans of satisfaction filled your ears, the sweetest sound, as he pumped you full. He rutted into you until there was nothing left, your cunt overflowing with his sticky seed. A content sigh left your lips at the feeling, your body finally sated.

Thoughts traveled to the next moments, how you wanted him to pull you into his chest, strong arms pulled tight around your body as you both calmed down. To be held close in his embrace, a comforting hand at the back of your neck. You wanted him to kiss you, longed to feel his lips brush over yours. You searched for Joel’s eyes, searched for a small inkling of reciprocation.

Maybe you’d say something stupid – finally let go of all the feelings you can’t control anymore.

But Joel’s eyes didn’t want to catch yours, and he pulled away too quickly, sliding his softening cock from your ruined cunt. You were gonna make a mess of his sheets, you probably already had judging from the slick feeling on the inside of your thighs as you closed them.

Something in the air felt loaded suddenly, and you wanted to reach for him, touch his rough skin and ground yourself away from your nagging insecurities– But you couldn’t, your hands were bound. His strong back muscles moved under his skin as he fished his shirt from the floor, now crinkled, ruined.

“Wanna go again?” you tried, pushing at his back, barely out of reach, with your foot.

He let you push at him, but the sigh he let out as he stood to his feet to get dressed had your stomach tie itself in a knot.

“This ain’t happenin’ again,” he sighed, getting dressed.

“Sure,” you nodded in a scoff, unconvinced as a mischievous smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. Between your legs you felt yourself start to leak, his thick spend running down your folds to your ass, and onto the sheets.

When he finally turned around, large fingers fiddling with the small buttons of his shirt, his eyes finally caught yours. Biting down on your lip, you spread your legs coquettishly, showing him where he’d claimed you.

His eyes, however, never wandered, the familiar warmth that you had seen barely a few minutes ago now gone, his expression stoic and unreadable. You felt the knot in your stomach from earlier tighten.

“I’m serious,” he told you, and almost on instinct you felt your legs close as he leaned over you, untying one of your hands, “You ever pull something like this again, and it’ll be the last time you ever see me.”

You felt your face drop despite yourself as he untied the other hand, the corners of your mouth straightening out as a small frown appeared between your brows. You were silent for a moment as Joel walked to the other end of the room, plucking his jacket up off of the chair. Your eyes tracked his movements apprehensively.

“I thought you liked it when I behaved this way,” you said eventually, and you hated the way your tone sounded. You had meant for it to be a challenge, a call-out of his hypocrisy, but instead you sounded like a child; disappointed and petulant.

“Listen,” he started, voice calm but with a seriousness that made a nervousness tug at the back of your neck. “You’ve had your fun, and I can tolerate a lotta shit, but–... you gotta learn some fuckin’ boundaries.” Your frown only deepened at his words.

“Comin’ here–” his voice stalled as he shook his head, shrugging on the jacket “This is my family, my brother’s wedding– my fuckin’ daughter is here… You can’t just show up in my life like some kind of trainwreck every time you need me to fuck you.”

“How else am I supposed to do it? You don’t exactly text,” you bit back, “And don’t pretend like you don’t like it,” you fumbled for a retort.

“That’s just a shitty excuse for unacceptable behaviour, and you know it,” Joel said, and you felt yourself get angry at how calm he was.

It was embarrassing; your cheeks burned bright like a flame, and it fueled a deep pit of annoyance inside of you, one you didn’t even know existed as your jaw bit down in a clench. Lifting your chin in a defiant scoff, you’re not proud of the next words out of your mouth.

“You’re full of shit,” you said with a shake of your head, “You’ll barely last a week and you know it... you love it, love putting me in my place like this.”

“Sure I do,” Joel said with a nonchalant shrug, “But I sure as shit didn't sign up to deal with your antics... that’s a job for your real Daddy, sweetheart.”

That last comment felt like a slap in the face. A job for your real Daddy. In your chest you felt something cave in, as a paralyzing shock swept over your body. You went cold, so cold as your eyes drifted past Joel, and swiveled into the wood walls. He was right, Joel was right, but you never imagined he’d slap you in the face like this with the truth.

“So, listen up now, this is what you’re gonna do,” Joel said as he stepped towards you, looking you straight in the eye, ”You're gonna take your shit, ‘nd your shitty attitude, ‘nd you're gonna quietly slip outta here ‘nd pretend like you were never even fuckin’ here in the first place. ‘s that clear?”

You were barely able to nod before he stepped back and turned his back on you. When his hand found the doorknob, he threw you one last look.

“You better not be here when I get back.”

part four -> here!

hopefully this was okay? please let me know what you thought of the new part! a comment telling me your favorite part is always welcome, and my ask box is always open to chat <3 and thank you for reading!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us fanfic #the last of us smut #tlou smut #tlou fanfic #brat!reader #pedro pascal

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unholyverse · 6 months ago

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MYSPACE 1.0 THEME REFRESH (originally by conkersradfurday, refreshed by unholyverse)

live previews: 1, 2 / download (pastebin)

hi! i've been using this old theme for years now because other myspace themes don't hit the same, but i've been tweaking a lot of it for personal use. i think it's been long enough since this theme has been abandoned that i can upload something that can handle itself better on modern tumblr.

main features

asks are formatted to look like myspace comments. fun!

four custom links

myspace buttons to follow, message, or block the blog owner

a bunch of info spaces so the world can know what you're about

extra font options

functional search bar (but this is tumblr so...semi functional?)

that web 2.0 ugly goodness

other features + info below the cut

new features

friend space - ever wanna show off your friends? now you can with the friend space to show off your top 8 9 friends on your blog. don't have enough friends? no worries, you can always toggle it off

image space - wanna put a bunch of blinkies somewhere? you'll need to have a bit of html and css knowledge for it, but you can go into the code and add as many images as you'd like. just look for the section and start pasting those images. it's a little tedious but tbh that's just the authentic myspace experience isn't it? but if that's not your thing, you can also toggle it off too.

tweaked/deleted features

had to delete the music player :( sorry but it used flash and i'm not really sure how to make a music player in javascript yet

added username input because it was annoying me that your title could be your name and it didn't make sense in most cases

deleted infinite scroll because the script was super outdated

added the ability to change the "online now!" gif. the original gif will always be in the defaults of the code.

changed the text post header font to verdana because it was impact and you could not fucking read that and it wasn't accurate to a myspace bulletin anyways

deleted the feature that force showed all the pages you made on your blog. so annoying. it will look a little weird if you have asks/submissions deactivated, but i doubt many of you using the theme will have them closed anyways

changed the dead links to redirect to the actual myspace site

extra recommended add-ons

scm music player: a customizable music player with tons of different skins and tons of songs you're able to add

unblue polls by @glenthemes: what it says basically; allows you to customize the colors of tumblr polls on your blog

cursors-4u.com: i love these dinky little cursors they're so fun. great if you really wanna lean into the 2000s aspect of the theme

cursor sparkles: what else is there to say about this they're just fun

notes

i plan on updating the theme semi-regularly if bugs are brought up and stuff (which you can tell me through my inbox)

hopefully i can work on extra tweaks as time goes on (such as figuring out how to add a footer image to videos, toggle tags, etc)

don't repost/claim as your own because it already isn't mine in the first place

like/reblog if you use!

update log

added a tags toggle + tweaked the video post sizes

made the "is in your extended network" status customizable to add different text. feel free to tell the world how many gas station boner pills you took

added an official theme link

#tumblr themes #free themes #myspace theme #myspace #tumblr theme #webcore #2000s web #old web #i.html

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xtreklx · 1 year ago

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Low ~ Raphael x reader

One-shot: bayverse Raphael x reader Word count: 3.7k Warnings: cursing, mature themes, and slight NSFW, so this one is rated 18+ (minors DNI, see my masterlist for disclaimer) A/N: holy Toledo this one's a doozy. I've been working on it for a while, and it's def one of my favorite things I've written so far (at least, for now..). loosely based on the song Low by SZA, and lyrics are included in the text where I see fit. also I added color-coded dialogue for funsies. thank you guys for all the love on my stuff, and I hope you enjoy :)

__________

As a young, blossoming adult, your life so far has been overall steady. It staggers here and there, of course: moving in waves as life often does. But for the most part, it is everlasting mundanity. Your early twenties are supposed to be where it begins to roar; when you obtain the dizzying adrenaline and overwhelming fear of free will. Empty wallets, fleeting romances, broken hearts, anxiety, love, hurt. These emotions are meant to be felt, and life is not lived without them.

So, as life would have it, your steady mundanity was indeed set ablaze in your early twenties, when you fell in love with someone you had originally thought you hated.

Some might call that cliché. But, in actuality, not quite.

You had been friends with the mutant ninja turtles for years, ever since they saved New York City from the infamous Kraang attack of 2016. Your father was a police officer, and you had all met at the post-battle award ceremony and celebration. You and the turtles were 17 at the time, and you saw them repeatedly after that as they continued to work with the NYPD. Over time, you grew to become the friends you were now.

Well, not all of you. From your first encounter with the brawny brother in red, you discovered that he had quite the knack for pushing your buttons. While Leonardo, Michelangelo, and Donatello became some of your closest friends in the world, Raphael did everything he could to block you out. He was argumentative, temperamental, and unpredictable. You two could fight about anything: what kind of toppings to put on pizza, DC vs. Marvel, song or movie choice, even knitting patterns. The two of you were always bickering, always finding some way to make a snide comment or butt heads about something. You couldn't stand him, and the feeling was very obviously mutual.

On the topic of heads: flash forward five years later, when it finally came to one. You had been spending a lot more time with your turtle friends after finishing off your online degree program. While you were happy this was the case, the tension between you and Raphael seemed to be growing the more often you were around.

One day, the guys had gone out on their regularly scheduled patrol, with Raph staying behind because of a particularly nasty fight with Leo. You were waiting in the lair for them to return so that you could have your weekly movie night, but you were growing bored, and Master Splinter was nowhere to be found. Thus, you made the difficult decision to go bother Raph as he worked out in the dojo.

When he saw you approaching his bench, he groaned through a rep, his eyes rolling back into his head. "What do ya want, shortstack?" He grumbled as he continued to bench press his barbell, the veins in his big, green arms flaring with each movement.

You crossed your arms over your chest and huffed. "Save it, meat head. The more entertaining members of this family are gone, so I'm stuck here with you and nothing else to do. So..." You paused for a moment, watching as a scowl grew on his face while he continued his reps. "Do you want a spot.. or something?"

Raphael let out a breathy laugh as he set the barbell down back onto the stand. "Easy, tiger," He spoke as he sat up on his bench, side-eyeing you. "Even if you could lift this bar, I sure as shit ain't letting ya spot me. You'd purposefully drop it on my head before I could even bat my eyes at ya."

Your arms uncrossed and your hands went to your hips as you took a step closer to the red-masked brute. "Pssh, like I'd ever let you bat your eyes at me. I'd gouge out my own eyeballs before that could happen."

He scoffed up at you as he began to unwrap the bandages on his hands, which had been protecting his calluses from the aggressive texture of the metal bar. "Gee, yer a real charmer, aren't ya?" he questioned sarcastically, slightly under his breath. "Must be why you gotta line of men falling at your feet. Someone's gotta tame the tiger."

The dig at your love life (or rather, lack of one) made your face heat up, and you clenched your fists at your sides, taking another step closer to the brute. After all these years of bickering and insults, you were finally nearing your limit. "God, I try to be civil with you for one single day and you're a total asshole for no reason. What's your damage, Raph?"

Raphael whipped his head to you, the bandages he had just finished unwrapping long forgotten as he tossed them to the floor. He stood up from his bench as he spoke, taking a step towards you. "Ain't that easy. Yer my damage, sweetheart. Always have been, always will be."

"Oh, yeah?" You two stood not even a foot apart, and you were glaring up at him with the most intimidating look you could muster. "And just what exactly is your problem with me?" You could feel your heart rate increasing from the growing tension in the room. The air surrounding you felt like it had been injected with adrenaline, and you felt your temperature rising by the second. "Another easy one," Raph growled, looming over you. "You annoy the shit outta me, and ya never know when to shut yer goddamn mouth."

Your rage was increasing by the second, and by the fumes you felt radiating off of his mutant green form, you could say the same for the turtle in red. You were practically pressed against each other, him with a scowl on his face and you with a fire in your eyes. Your chest puffed up, and the words were out of your mouth before you could have a second thought.

"I bet you'd like to make me, wouldn't ya?"

It was silent after that. After quickly thinking it over, you almost gasped aloud at the implications of your words. The eye contact changed from a heated stare battle to his hazel eyes dominating, searching yours. You had been feeling very confident up until this moment, but that sentence alone caused the confidence to wither away, confusion at yourself taking its place. What the fuck did I just say?

Raphael's snarl had changed into a look of surprise. Confusion. And then back to anger.

With a frustrated grunt, he grabbed your waist and smashed his lips to yours.

And that was the kerosene to the match that set your young adult life ablaze.

The kiss was all burning rage, gory passion. It was tongues brushing and teeth clashing and a harsh grip on your waist and an even harsher grip on the tough, scaled skin of his shoulders. It was embers and flames and then the roar of a forest fire.

You couldn't help the sounds that the kiss drew from deep within your chest. You didn't know how or why, but your soft lips fit oh so perfectly against his rough, scarred ones. Your mouths moved together in a harmonious rhythm despite the chaos, even as he gripped you by your thighs and carried you to his bedroom, as if you had practiced this a hundred times before. It felt like second nature to kiss Raphael, even though this was your first time doing so.

And you hated that you felt that way.

What followed could, in no universe, be described as love-making. It was desperate and reckless ecstasy, a steaming release of the fury and tension you had been feeling towards one another for all these years. It could be seen in the way your nails clawed at his tough skin, in the way he pounded himself in and out of you, in the way your needy moans synchronized with his low grunts, in the way you clenched ever so tightly around him as he filled you with himself; it was aggressive, rough, almost mean.

You and Raph stilled for a moment after it was all over, breathing heavily and not saying a word, when you suddenly heard commotion coming from the living room. You made eye contact quickly, eyes widened, before scrambling to get dressed and cleaned up. You scurried out of his room and into the hallway, making it look to the returning brothers like you had been merely using the bathroom. And neither one of you spoke of it.

If you see me out in public, you don't know me, keep it silent In the bedroom, I be screamin', but outside, I keep it quiet Keep it on lowski, I'm the lowest of the lowest Wanna see if you can keep it like nobody know shit

The months that followed held similar tales of hidden passion. You and Raph never outright discussed what was transpiring, but assumed the unspoken rule of not mentioning it to his brothers. You continued to hang out with them when you could; on movie nights, you told them that you liked to wait in the lair for them to return from patrol so that you could eat all the popcorn without them. If Raphael stayed back from patrol, you snuck into his room or the dojo with a sarcastic remark and a smug look to annoy him to the point of 'teaching you a lesson'. If one of you was feeling particularly desperate to let off some steam, he would sneak out to your apartment on their nights off, telling his brothers that he was going to go get some air to 'clear his mind'. No matter what time he called or texted, you answered. It was almost like an addiction; you couldn't get enough of each other, and you couldn't deny how the other was able to satisfy you perfectly.

You know how to reach me every time and it plays in your mind With a rush that feels like we committin' a crime You know where you belong, I'm gon' save you a spot But we can't be outside 'cause the block is too hot And I'm all on your mind...

At first, as stubborn as you both were, you kept up your gig of hating each other, despite the passion you were displaying. Between kisses and within sexual acts, your bickering continued relentlessly. "Wow, ya didn't even wear panties today. Gettin' desperate, are we?" "By the looks of your crotch right now, I don't think I'm the desperate one, dumbass." "Ya better watch yer fuckin' mouth." "Why, Red? Can't handle the heat?" "Oh, I'm boutta show ya heat, sweetheart."

It was a balancing act, both of you trying not to break face and show the other how much you were enjoying these rendezvous of yours. Pride is a crazy thing, however, and as the situation went on, it began to manifest itself in other ways.

Raphael was the one to start it, about a month into the endeavor. He couldn't help himself; after a day of arguing with Leo and feeling like a disappointment, he sought you out to release his frustrations. And the way you looked writhing and whining above him (as he munched like his life depended on it) had him feeling real smug. His hazel eyes watched you as he worked, the liquid gold shining with mischief. When he came up for air, his hands still keeping busy, the pride emerged.

"Anyone else make ya feel like this, doll?" He asked, his low voice scraping your ears like gravel, a dark smirk spreading across his face. "Tell me. Can anyone else make ya feel this good?" You had rolled your eyes and scoffed in the moment, but couldn't help the moans that continued to emerge from your mouth at his actions, clenching the sheets beneath you. He saw your bratty behavior and abruptly halted his movement, holding your hips still so that you were trapped. "Answer the damn question, or I'm stoppin'." You squirmed for a moment, whining, but your need had consumed you like a demon. "No!" You yelped. "No one else makes me feel this good, Raph! No one else makes me feel like you do! Please don't stop, please!" You wouldn't have called it begging after the fact, but he most certainly did.

After that, something shifted. Sure, your sessions were still utilized for tension release, but there was more of a possession between you two than there had been before. The two of you were hanging out more often than you ever had. The bickering lessened, and in its place was validation, need, and your names on each others' lips. The contact grew more tender, and the conversations afterwards were more joke-y and only held friendly fire.

"So... do ya wanna put on that movie you were tellin' me about the other day?" "Wow, you wanna watch a movie with me? You must reallyyyyyyy enjoy spending time with me, Red~" "To be honest, I'm not here for you, I'm just here for the take out I know yer gonna end up orderin' later." "I love this hot n cold thing we have going on here. It's really turning me on." "Yer such a fuckin' goofball."

Between the two of you grew a mutual respect, an understanding, a cooperation: a love.

You found yourself thinking of things you wanted to tell Raph about when he wasn't around, and craving his input when you sought him out for advice. You yearned for the sound of his gruff voice and his blunt choice of words that always made you laugh or eased your mind. He found himself longing for the random questions you asked him or the jokes you'd regularly crack (whether they were funny or not) and the angelic sound of your laughter. Neither of you told the other about these feelings you were having, but they continued to develop on both sides.

Raphael found himself pondering these feelings one day while hitting the bag in the dojo, growing frustrated with himself. You had been in the lair hanging out with his brothers, and he continued his workout routine in the interest of being discreet, but he longed for nothing more than to hang out with you. To just be with you like his brothers were right now.

Of course, a particular brother in blue was bothering him more than normal. Leo was closer to you today than he normally was: giving you long hugs, sitting close to you on the couch, making you laugh with his idiotic jokes. Raph scoffed as he heard your laugh from the living room now, throwing an extra aggressive jab. What did Leo know, anyway? He'd bet that he could make you laugh twice as hard. He stopped, annoyed with himself for being so worked up, and stepped away to grab a towel and some water.

As he made his way over to the mini fridge to grab a bottle, he was surprised to see you making your way over to him. Normally, on nights like these, he didn't expect anything from you besides your staged bickering until his brothers went to sleep or you went back to your apartment. You had a playful smile on your face as you approached the mini fridge, a message in your eyes that he couldn't quite make out, but goddamn he knew they were trying to say something to him.

"Hey, big guy. Leo sent me to grab some water," you looked up at him as you spoke, the smirk still on your face. And all the hope that Raph had felt in that moment dissipated, like popping a balloon. He scoffed at you, rolling his eyes before grabbing a water bottle and walking away.

"Wait, woah. What's the matter?" He heard you ask from behind him, confused. He shook his head as he walked. "Nothin's the matter," He spoke slightly under his breath, but you could still hear him. "Why don't ya just go back to Leo? You're all over him, anyway."

He heard your footsteps as you followed him over to his bench. "Hold up, do you have a problem with me hanging out with your brother?" Raph couldn't make eye contact as he turned around to face you, so he looked down at the ground and huffed, eye ridges furrowed. "Well, ya know me, and I don't like ta share. So if you're gonna hang out with him like that, then go ahead."

"And just what would you be sharing?" You stood your ground a couple of feet in front of him, arms crossing at your chest and a determined glint in your eye. "Be straight with me, Raph, 'cause it's time we talked about this. What's going on between us?" He let out a grunt, shocked at your sudden confrontation, but still refusing to make eye contact. "Obviously nothin', if yer gonna go hang with Leo like that."

You inhaled, trying to maintain your patience. From the proximity you now held with the turtle in red, you knew you wouldn't get anywhere by fighting back. "Let me rephrase that. What do you want to be going on between us?" Raph moved to turn away from you, huffing again. "I don't know! Geez!" He exclaimed, before you grabbed his large bicep. He faced you, his massive form towering over your frame as you stepped close to him. He finally looked into your eyes, and saw nothing but a genuine question. No teasing, no tormenting, just a silent plead.

"Hey, talk to me, Red. It's just me." You smiled softly, begging eyes searching his liquid gold ones for something, anything, to grab onto and run with. He let you for a moment, before looking down at the ground again, growing more and more frustrated with himself. He took a deep breath, and kept his gaze on the floor as he spoke.

"...I'm not very good with words, ya know that." He paused for a moment, making quick eye contact with you before looking back to the floor. "But I just... I like how this is goin'. How we're goin'... I like us together. I like bein' with ya, Y/N, and I just wanna do that without any of the other shit. I..." He stopped again, taking another deep breath. "I want to be with ya for real. And I'm sorry if I messed this up and that's not what ya want--"

"I want that, too, Raph," You cut him off with a rising smile on your face, not being able to wait any longer. "That's all I've been wanting to be honest. I should have mentioned it earlier." Raph returned his eyes up to your face, shock gracing his expression. "Wait, so yer not into Leo?" He questioned, slightly caught off guard. You rolled your eyes and gave him a playful shove. "No dumbass, I'm into you." He watched your smile grow into a beam, silent, before a smile began to grow on his face as well.

"God, finally," a voice exclaimed before Leo came out from behind the entrance of the dojo, walking up to the two of you. "It took you guys long enough. Even I was getting impatient." "Thanks buddy," you said to him, smiling as you guys bumped fists. Raphael watched the exchange, confused. "Wait... what?" He asked gruffly, eyes flicking between you and his brother. "You knew... about.. us?"

"Dude, we've all known for a while." Mikey shouted from the living room. Donnie walked past the entrance of the dojo and paused, a newly filled cup of coffee in his hand. "Yeah, you guys aren't exactly the most discrete," he said, before continuing his stroll back to his lab. Leo chuckled before turning back to his brother.

"I was tired of watching you guys sneak around, so I finally confronted Y/N about it last week, and she spilled the beans on how she felt about you. Something told me you felt the same way, call it a brotherly instinct. Or maybe it was all the times you not-so-secretly snuck off to her apartment." He gave his muscly brother a playful punch to the bicep. "So pardon me for playing matchmaker a little bit."

You took a step closer to Raph, hugging yourself around one of his arms and looking up at him through your lashes. "Yeah, I mayyyyyyy have gotten impatient and recruited Leo to help me move things along. That's why we were all cuddly today. But you don't mind, right?" You jokingly pressed him, batting your eyelashes.

He rolled his eyes at you and scoffed, removing you from his arm, but wrapped his arms around your waist instead of pushing you away. He pulled you from his side to his front, turning you to completely face him and ignoring his older brother present in the room. "Yeah, I guess it's fine or whateva," he fake-sighed, bringing you close to his plastron and leaning in toward you. You, too, leaned in, your arms reaching up to wrap around his neck.

"Okay, at least wait until I'm out of the room to start sucking face," Leo commented, turning around and booking it out of the dojo. The two of you turned your heads to watch him leave before facing each other again, glowing smiles on your faces.

"So... I guess I tamed the tiger, huh?" He teased gruffly, nudging his snout into your cheek. You giggled, a mischievous glint reaching your eyes. "Who said anything about tame?" You teased back, playing with the ends of his blood red mask.

"That's my girl," he murmured, before smashing his lips into yours.

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woso-dreamzzz · 1 year ago

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Homework

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: You try to get someone else to do your homework

Studying was such a bore for you. You hated sitting in a classroom and studying. Lucy told you that you had a restless soul and that's why you would prefer to be out on the pitch rather than stuck inside.

Playing for Manchester City had been a perfect outlet and the call to play for Barcelona had been a dream come true.

It was just a shame that the schooling system still kept you shackled.

Taking online classes was better than physical school but it just meant that the actual studying and doing homework was left solely on you. Keira sometimes would allocate times for you to do it but Lucy would always stage what she would call a jailbreak and take you to the park or get a snack.

Either way, actually doing the work was something that you struggled with.

Which was, as you glanced around the break room, you had an empty word document and a sheet of questions of Spanish open in another tab.

Most of the team were either in meetings or getting food so it was just you and the younger members of the squad. Your eyes roved over them all, glancing back at your screen.

Esmee and Salma were playing each other on FIFA. Jana and Bruna were watching with rapt attention. But you found your target in Ona, who was throwing grapes into the air and trying to catch them in her mouth.

You slumped into the seat next to her, placing your laptop in her lap.

She raised a brow at you. "What is this?"

You gestured to the screen. "What does it look like?"

"Your homework?"

"Wow," You said sarcastically," Well done. It is my homework. Has anyone ever told you you're a genius?"

She rolled her eyes. "I meant, what is it doing here? On my lap?"

You sent her an award winning smile. "Do it for me?"

"Isn't that cheating?"

"It's not a test," You said," Just homework. Besides," You shrugged," It's been melting my mind. None of it makes sense. You'd just get through this so quickly."

She narrowed her eyes, easily seeing through your mediocre manipulation attempts. She glanced at your questions for a moment before she slapped some money into your hand.

"Get me a chocolate bar from the vending machine," She said," And an energy drink too..." She thought for a moment. "And you've got to be the one to ask Lucy and Keira if I can crash around your place tomorrow."

You almost groaned. You and Ona had been planning a movie marathon for weeks now but the tv at your place with Lucy and Keira was better than the one at her apartment so you had been trying to drop hints to Lucy and Keira about Ona staying over but neither had quite picked up on them.

"Fine," You said begrudgingly, standing up," A chocolate and an energy drink. Got it."

You slipped out of the room with little fanfare. If Ona managed to get your homework done quickly then the rest of your afternoon would be free to snack and muck around until Lucy and Keira came to take you home.

With the staff and the rest of the girls in meetings, the hallways were empty. You got to the vending machine with ease, punching in the code of Ona's favourite chocolate and energy drink. You've just fished them out when a shiver ran down your spine. A shadow fell over you.

You turned around slowly and was met with the face of your captain, dripping in disapproval.

"Nena," She said and your usual nickname struck fear into your heart," Aren't you supposed to be doing your homework?"

While Keira grew bored of making you study and do your homework, Alexia did not. Your very first day in Barcelona consisted of you walking into the locker room to see her standing by your cubby with the school schedule you had given over to the staff.

You were pretty sure that if you didn't already know Keira and Lucy from City then you would have ended up moving in with Alexia, if only so she could keep a close eye on your studies.

"I...er...Went to get some snacks?"

She raised a brow at you. "Really? Ona's favourite snacks? What were you meant to be studying today, your Spanish? If I go into the break room, will I find Ona doing your work for you?"

You didn't answer.

But that was answer enough.

Alexia sighed, one of those long drawn-out sighs that only ever really got used on you - and sometimes Mapi, when she was acting particularly like a kid.

"Sorry?"

"No, you are not." She took you by the shoulders, making you walk in front of her all the way back to where Ona was sitting, dutifully typing away at your homework. She cleared her throat.

Ona turned and immediately went pale. She looked at you. She looked at Alexia.

"She bullied me into it!"

"Liar!"

Alexia fixed you both with a stern look that you wilted under. "So, you're telling me a sixteen-year-old bullied you into doing homework, Ona?"

"Er...yes?"

"Go and do three laps."

"Alexia!"

"Do you want to make it four?"

Ona took off running and you shoved the drink and chocolate bar into her hands as she passed.

With her gone though, Alexia's ire was firmly back on you. She plucked your laptop up from the sofa and placed it on the table. You knew what she wanted so you went without fuss, slumping into the seat.

She made you watch as she deleted all of the work Ona had done for you.

"You're smart, nena," She said as she did it," You just do stupid things. Do I have to take you with me to my meetings now? To make sure you get your work done?"

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, not wanting an even longer lecture. You, however, didn't keep your feet out of your mouth because you replied," You hover enough. I don't need you watching my every move."

Alexia sent you a withering glare and you shrunk in your seat. You hastened to placate her and started typing. It seemed like you did understand what you're homework was telling you, the little break to get Ona's snacks must have given your brain the respite it needed.

Alexia slid into the seat next to you. She didn't do much - barely even checked her phone - but made sure to look over your shoulder as you wrote.

By the time, you've finished, it's time to break for lunch. Esmee and Salma had just left so you tried to catch up with them but the hand at the back of your collar stopped you in your tracks.

"You're coming home with me tonight," Alexia told you succinctly," I've still got clothes left over from when you last visited. You'll sit at the table and do that economics essay you've been putting off and, if you get it done without complaint, I'll check over what you just finished."

You made a face. "Is this your way of saying I completely flunked it?"

Alexia rolled her eyes and you knew by the way she tucked you under her arm, that she was no longer mad. "Focus on the positives, nena. If you're very good, we'll even order dinner to the house."

#woso x reader #barca femeni x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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quickbarcode11 · 2 months ago

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formulaforza · 1 year ago

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💐 hi my wonderful birthday girl !! so i was thinking about a dress coded lewis blurb (because i was born a lewis and ts girl) where they just get drunk together and there’s teases flying and stuff. keep it as brief as u wish <333

—you can take it off

lewis hamilton x merc!reader summ. thank you stephy i love u bad <3 inspo from... ur never gonna believe it... this. hope it's up to your standards my love. 2.7k (kind of got out of hand)

You were half-asleep and half-drunk the night of the Belgium Grand Prix. The air was cool, recycled like all air seems to be in hotels, smelled of too-strong perfume and was filled with the dull noise of elevator jazz. What had begun as a before-we-go-to-bed night cap in the hotel bar with Bono had turned into a seemingly never ending addition of guests.

Valtteri was first to join—never could pass up the opportunity to give you shit, to offer you job postings at Alfa Romeo that weren’t job postings at all—and with him around, there’s no casual drinking. You don’t try to keep up, not really, because you know you don’t stand a chance, but also because he would never let you. After all these years of being just a few months younger than him, he still calls you kiddo, still promises to call your parents when you’re out after dark, and always sends you a text after a race with some… questionable strategy decisions you’re catching flack for online.

A brief appearance from Toto and Susie, just long enough for them to know they had no business trying to go drink for drink with Valtteri, and then they’re wishing all three of you a wonderful summer break and retreating to whatever room is considered prestige enough for Motorsport’s it-couple.

And then there was Lewis, the last to arrive, who never called you kid, who never viewed you as one. He sits adjacent you in the red, high back leather booth and takes up a seat and a half, the toe of his shoe brushing against the side of yours, flashing you apologetic puppy dog eyes every time he bumps against yours.

It’s somewhere between drink number five and six that Lewis gets his first, insists on a toast to the summer break that officially began… six hours and fifty-three minutes ago. For a long season this and a too-short summer break that, you lot had a mouthful of things to complain about, but a million more to be grateful for. “To not having work for a month,” Lewis proposes, clinking his glass against yours, offering a quick wink and holding it up properly over the table.

“To no racing-talk for a few weeks,” Bono adds, clinking his glass against Lewis’.

“To summer-fucking-break,” Valtteri chimes in, laughing at himself before the rest of you get the chance to match it.

“To summer fucking break,” you repeat because you know there’s no better way to sum it all up.

Unlike the other two, you slowed down when Lewis joined, wanted to give him time to catch up, to give yourself time to meet him somewhere in the middle. A glass of water and a virgin rum and coke and another water and the night is still young.

“First summer break as the big boss, kiddo,” Valtteri remarks, and you have to squint to hear him through the alcohol-induced thickening of his accent.

“That’s right!” Bono laughs. Your cheeks run hot at their mention of your title, of your promotion following James’ departure earlier in the season. Lewis smiles against the rim of his glass, bumps his foot against yours and doesn’t give you apologetic eyes. No, he raises his brows so slightly you think you’re the only one that notices, which is probably exactly the way he intended it to be. “Little miss queen of strategy is making the big money now, got any big travel plans?”

Lewis clears his throat, and your eyes dart over to his almost instinctively. “You’re staying in London, yeah?”

He’s right. Your summer-break plans consist of four weeks of trying to remember what it feels like to do nothing, failing at that task pathetically, and spending the rest of the time meticulously picking apart every call you’ve made all season and imagining the million and one things you could’ve done differently and their billion and two outcomes.

You pick apart the drink napkin, tear it into tiny little pieces. “Yeah, yeah. Just staying home, catching up with friends and family,” you clarify, try not to sound as pathetic as you feel. It’s hard not to when you’re sitting next to the guy who spends his offseason snowboarding in Antarctica with his celebrity friends and his weeks off traveling to Paris fashion week for front row seats next to supermodels. Anything you say would sound pathetic to someone who makes thirty-five million a year.

“I love it,” he nods, stares right through you and into your soul so you know he’s being genuine. “That’s awesome.”

You nod, swallow hard, purposely angle your body away from his, to the rest of the group. “What about you guys?”

Lewis laughs, soft, quiet, completely under his breath. The kind of laugh that deserves to be bottled into a jar and kept on a shelf for safe keeping. You know he’s always laughed like that, even before he knew you, but in the last few months it just feels different. Good different, like he’s laughing just for you now instead of everyone else too.

You know you’re crazy, that he’s just Lewis being Lewis and you’re just single for the first time in a long time and also drunk. Not half drunk anymore, just drunk—even if you do think you’re meeting him in the middle, you’re not. He’s just chasing after.

“Back home, too,” Bono concludes. “Take a breather, might head up to the country with the family.”

“You’ll take pictures, yeah?” Lewis asks, starts to pick up the pieces of your napkin tear pile and move them in front of him like a kid who isn’t patient enough to share or destructive enough to rip up his own. You watch in your peripheral, the way he fiddles with the wet paper, gets it stuck to his fingertips. You can’t laugh, so you don’t, but you want to. You think he knows you want to.

Bono scoffs, nods while swallowing a sip of his drink—something dark, something pungent. Not what you would have pegged him for ordering, even after knowing him as long as you have. “So I can compare with the likes of you lot and,” he turns to Lewis, leers around you to emphasize the eyeline, “your million dollar vacations or,” and then the other way, back to Valtteri, “your olympic cycling events?”

Valtteri smiles, swirls his drink—gin, you think. Expensive. “Yes.”

“No chance.”

“I’ll be sure to send you a picture of me having a meltdown when I think about our side pods from the beginning of the year,” you chime in, because it’s not like they all don’t know you well enough to know exactly what you mean by spending time with friends and family at home.

“What sidepods?” Lewis chuckles.

“Fucking exactly,” you add, mirror his mannerisms without even realizing it, all the way down to readjusting in your seat when you’ve had your laugh.

“Could be worse,” Bono offers. “Could be last year.”

Lewis nods, holds his drink up in the direction of Valtteri across the table. “We never should have let you leave.”

He smiles, weak, lips pursed. “I could have told you that.”

The night continues on, all drinks and laughs and yawns, occasional remarks that it’s about time I head up, followed by another round, another joke, another comment about this, that, or the other thing.

You’ve always liked Lewis when he’s a little tipsy. He lightens up a bit, you can actually watch the stress drip from him like sweat, all the titles and the wins and the losses, they all just fall away when he’s relaxed like this. You’ve always liked him like this. Always. Before he was king of the world and before he was the prodigal son and every moment in between.

After every joke he makes—or, after every comment he makes that he thinks could be considered a joke—you find yourself laughing, because it’s Lewis and you have a crush on him and of course you do. And, without fail, everytime you laugh, he winks, like you’re in on some inside joke even though he’s making it to the whole table, like there’s some double meaning to all of his words that are meant just for you, just for the two of you to understand.

Somewhere in it all, it comes back to Lewis, because, well, it always does. “Is your back still bothering you?” Bono asks, and you think you already know the answer. You think you know, because you can’t remember the last time you;d seen him take careful consideration of his posture when he sits. Not even now is he sitting up straight, with his legs perfectly spread a shoulder’s width apart and his feet flat on the floor. Instead, he’s taking up more room than he needs to, all relaxed and comfortable on the leather booth bench.

He swipes his thumb over the condensation of his glass, looking up from the action at you, and then to Bono. “No, no. All good there.”

“All good?” Bono prods, because he was on the receiving end of a year and a half of complaints from Lewis.

Lewis nods, clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth. “No Paracetamol in a month.”

Across the table, Valterri chimes in. “None?”

“None for my back,” Lewis says, and the whole table laughs. You just watch him, though, because who laughs better than he does? You could wax poetic about it without a second thought, the way that his lips upturn and his cheeks round and his eyes crinkle and go soft in a way that makes you feel like you’re the funniest person in the world even when you’re not making a joke. The way that his smile is brighter than anyone’s you’ve ever seen, and the way that if you look at it for too long, you think about how it would feel to run your finger along the gap in his teeth.

“That’s what I thought,” Valtteri mutters off the end of his laugh. “You're getting old.”

“Not too old to make half a million.”

The entire table’s heads fly to him. You gasp, an embarrassingly wide smile on your face. “You didn’t!” You almost yell, smacking his upper arm with a weak hand.

He mocks your gasp, makes it somehow more dramatic and over the top and laughs sweetly, shrugging your hand off his arm and letting his hand fall to your leg, bumping your foot with his again. “I didn’t.” The table chuckles, you pout, and then you realize that his hand is on your thigh, that it’s staying there quite comfortably, and that you mind it less than he does.

“Don’t be a tease,” you sigh, take a swig of your drink. Your knees are suddenly weak, like you know you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you wanted to. It’s like he can sense your change but can’t quite read it, because then he’s moving his hand back to his own lap, interlocking it with the other and resting it there.

He nods, suddenly shy, suddenly guilty. “It’s as good as done.”

Valtteri laughs. “Yeah, I’ve heard that one before.” You hear what he says, but you’re not listening, not really. Lewis stares into you like he wants to look anywhere else—apologetic eyes and a fear he’s taken a misstep. He hasn’t, you want to tell him. You haven’t, put your hand back, please. Silently, you try to convey what shouldn’t dare be spoken. “I’ll believe it when pen is on paper.”

He snaps his eyes away from you, back to Valtteri. You don’t follow suit, stay fixed on him, on trying— hard—to get your message across. “I’m telling you, they’re announcing it after the summer break.”

“Whatever you say, Mate.”

Bono nods around a mouthful of alcohol, sets his half-empty glass down with an incidental thud. “Who’s to say we still want your geriatric ass?”

Lewis raised his interlocked hands from his lap, to the tabletop, resting his elbows on the wood grain and rattling the empty glasses when he does it. He leans in towards the center of the table, even though the only person separating him and Bono is you. “Would you tell Schumacher ‘no?’”

“What was that?” You ask, your words a convenient excuse to lean in closer, to settle into a spot that much closer to him without raising any brows. To brace for the shift, you leave your hand on his thigh with less subtly than your original movement, but it’s okay. It’s okay—only Lewis knows where your hands are, and you don’t want it to be subtle, don’t want anything to be lost in translation. “I can’t hear you over your ego,” you smile, and your fingers dance up his leg just a few, careful inches.

He drops back into his seat, drops his hands back into his lap. Under the table, he grabs yours and laughs, but it’s stifled, stunted, not quite relaxed. “Very funny,” he humors, and moves your hand back. His stays too, though, and he crosses one leg over the other under the table. His thumb moves over the fabric of your slacks in shudder-worthy circles.

“Someone’s gotta check you,” you smile, nod in the direction of your tablemates without ever looking away from him. “These two won’t.”

Bono scoffs.“Are you kidding?”

Your smile grows. “How do you want me to answer that, Peter?”

“Damn,” Lewis laughs so hard he coughs. “She Peter-ed you. That’s cold.”

“You’re the one comparing yourself to Michael fucking Schumacher,” Bono scolds.

“I didn’t say that, but,”

“But!” You interject.

“But,” Lewis laughs, threatens to continue even though all at the table know he won’t, knows that no matter how often the media and the girlfriends and the friends and the family tell him he should put himself up there with the greatest, he’ll never quite see himself in the same light. “But it’s about time I head up, I think.”

“Ah, see,” Valtteri chuckles. “Old man Hamilton can’t hang.”

“No, he can not,” Lewis remarks, pulling his phone and his hotel keycard from his pocket, setting the latter on the table and if you were feeling a little crazier than you are, you’d swear he nudges it ever so slightly out of his bubble and into yours. He types away rapidly at his phone, and you try to pay attention to the jokes Bono and Valtteri throw around, the pokes at Lewis they make, but suddenly you’re feeling like it’s a good time to head up, too. You try to shake the crazy, to leave it with your backwash in the final sip of your drink, and you do. You do.

You do, but then he’s slipping his phone back into his pocket. He’s leaving his glass just beyond his keycard and telling you to feel free to finish it. He’s saying his goodbyes while he moves out of the booth and his hotel room key is still sat on the table next to you. It stares at you—the hard, thin plastic. Stares at you in its white paper pocket with the intricate printing of the hotel label and dares you to look at him when he walks away.

You do, begrudgingly, subtly, and his eyes are already on yours. They’re expressionless, and yet, say so fucking much. You hold the remainder of his drink in his direction before downing it in a single gulp and then he winks at you. He looks at his keycard on the table, and then to you, and then he winks, and you’re sure you’re absolutely crazy.

You swallow.

“Oh, fuck,” Bono says, reaches over you to grab the keycard from the table. It’s like you were zoned out and he snapped in front of your face, the way it pulls you from Lewis to the table. “He forgot his key.”

“Oh,” you squeak, and then louder, “I can take it to him.”

“No, no, It’s okay,” Bono says, and he makes you stand up to get out of the booth. “I should be heading up anyway.”

“Really,” you half-insist, trying to convince him you can handle it without letting him in on why you’re convincing him. “It’s no problem.”

Bono pulls out his wallet, flips through the pockets of it and fiddles with his bills. “Our rooms are right by each other,” he insists, tosses his share onto the table. “I got it.”

“Okay,” you nod, accept your defeat. “Yeah, I should be heading up, too, I guess.”

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strawberrystepmom · 5 months ago

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nsfw - minors/ageless dni, i will hard block you. narumi x f!reader. they are online dating. gen is so cringe fail loser online boyfriend coded to me and i'm utterly obsessed enamored in love with him. back and forth, mentions of mutual masturbation and sending nudes, suggestive conversation, open ended to write more about them. | divider thanks to cafekitsune, wc 1.7k

Gen’s phone pings with a notification on this desk. His eyes widen despite the fact he is mid digital conflict, tossing fireballs at the final boss of the latest game he’s managed to master and beat in roughly three days, muttering to himself while clicking the direction pad with one hand and sliding his phone haphazardly into his lap with the other.

A tiny piece of him is hoping that the notification is thanks to new results showing up under his saved search for Captain Narumi though he isn’t angry at what he does see on the screen when he looks down at it for the briefest moment, ignoring his handheld boss battle.

fallingstarwishes: you are always online at the strangest times…

The little icon of a cartoon version of you, the character you play in the game where the two of you originally became friends, next to the message stirs a little warmth in his face. He presses his lips together to hide a smile and turns back to the fireballs being hurled at the titular hero of the game, dodging them expertly, inevitably going to win this battle just as he wins all of the rest.

Another ping distracts him, at least momentarily, and the screen in lap lights up.

“Shit, just give me a minute,” he mutters impatiently toward his phone, red eyes flicking down to see another message from you.

fallingstarwishes: don’t you ever sleep? it’s so late (early?), silly.

It may be 4 am for him and roughly 2 pm for you but what you don’t know is that an hour ago he was spearing through the technicolor core of a kaiju four times his size that leveled three city blocks with just the sound of its roar using just his bayonet. He can’t leave blanks about who he is and what he does for much longer. As badly as he’s wanted to boldly brag to you about his prowess, he has always known it can make or break the two of you when the truth comes out.

The right time to mention the whole life threatening and dangerous job thing hasn’t quite come up yet, though. You know he’s in the military although he has never been entirely forthcoming about what that entails and you’ve never asked.

He thinks about how fresh things still are between the two of you. Less than a year of knowing one another, a chance meeting in a large server for a big title slice of life game that came out last year, that has since turned into late nights (for you) messaging, gaming, and eventually voice chatting and giggling together until one of you is forced to go - either to bed or work.

He fires off a few more fireballs at the boss, dodging the weakly tossed few they return, and the screen goes into the cutscene that effectively declares yet another victory for him. Smiling, he sets the handheld console aside, and curls his fingers around his phone. The screen fills with the conversation between the two of you, messages sent all hours of the day every day, the last one a picture of you laying in bed last night in a suggestive position claiming to be thinking of him.

His gaze fixates on the photos for a moment, greedily looking at what he was only able to glance at before he left for his mission. He slides down to the chat bar and smirks, seeing your status go from idle to online when you notice he’s typing back to you.

captaincool: Aren’t you at work right now?

You grin from miles away, discreetly looking around the office to make sure nobody can see you using a messaging app that is very obviously not work related during your paid hours. It’s not like you’re in danger of getting caught but there is something particularly delicious about having your own little love affair nobody else has to know about. It’s just the two of you, always, in a world (or worlds, when you consider how many hours the two of you have spent across games) you’ve created to enjoy together.

Tapping out a message, you furrow your brow and jiggle one of your ankles where it’s crossed over the other.

fallingstarwishes: stop answering my questions with new ones of your own!

Gen smiles down at the screen, thumbs tapping the edges of his phone, anxiously waiting to see what you’ll say next.

fallingstarwishes: now, what are you doing up?

fallingstarwishes: bored?

fallingstarwishes: lonely?

fallingstarwishes: need me to sing you to sleep?

Chuckling at the singing suggestion, he scrolls back up enough to see that pretty picture you sent him and hisses to himself, his adrenaline finally coming down to a normal enough level he can focus on something else besides the rapid beating of his heart and the thrill of the battle.

captaincool: A song? Just for me? Aren’t you sweet

Raising a brow while firing off his message, he wonders what the two of you actually are. There are times he absolutely considers you his girlfriend or something like it. You’ve discussed crossing the ocean to come and see him more than once though the concept of actually having a girlfriend makes him unexpectedly anxious. Someone to remember birthdays and anniversaries for. Someone who wants you where she wants you when she wants you there. Someone with demands, a comically large pair of scissors to cut his wings and keep him from being himself.

Although you’ve never given him any indication you’d want to do that, it’s something he has to reflect on. His feelings are real but so are the ties that come with them if he were to act on them.

fallingstarwishes: that isn’t even the sweetest i’ve been to you this week. did you forget last wednesday night already?

Damn, you make it hard for him to not act.

captaincool: How are you going to tell me to sleep and then remind me of that?

Of course he remembers Wednesday evening for you (early in the day on Thursday for him). He remained locked inside of his room for an hour while your soft moans of his name filled his headphones over video chat. Begging him please, telling him how badly you wished it was him instead of your short fingers…he remembers every last moment.

He remembers most of all the sound of his name from your mouth. It’s what sends him over the edge every single time the two of you are able to sneak in a session of mutual masturbation from all these miles and hours away. It also is what he cums to when he’s simply listening back to videos and voice notes or his own imagination.

fallingstarwishes: :) <3 just making sure you remembered who you’re dealing with. you didn’t even react to the picture i sent!

Gen scrolls back up to glance at the photo, sliding downward in his chair, thighs spreading instinctively. He places his phone down on his desk and slides his hand beneath the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling them down enough that his half hard cock pops over his underwear. Reaching for his phone, he positions it so that the camera captures just the cut of his Adonis belt and the barely visible crown of him, snapping a picture to send back to you. He holds the phone back from his face and smirks appreciatively at his own artistic ability, happy with the subtle gleam of his arousal beginning to flow and bead on the tip of his dick.

The photo is fired off with an accompanying cheeky message.

captaincool: Is this confirmation enough that I liked it?

Your eyes widen when the photo comes through, hands shaking slightly. He isn’t the only one who recalls the sound of a name from a pair of lips they wanna feel on every inch of their body in this scenario, now is he?

fallingstarwishes: you should have spoilered that! what if my boss would’ve walked up?

Gen chuckles at your response, pulling down his underwear and letting his now fully erect cock spring free. He’ll handle this and then he’ll be more than ready to pass out although he wishes he could stay up all through the day just to talk to you. He throbs, needy and wanting for a fist that he knows would grip him just right that sadly exists an ocean away and only in his mind. He taps out a message with his free hand, rubbing the thumb of his opposite hand over his slit and moaning low in his throat.

captaincool: Then you would have to explain why you are on your phone during work anyway.

Giggling to yourself, you know he’s right. You spare a few more seconds to glance at the pretty picture on your screen, thinking about your attachment to the man and his penis both, wondering if there will indeed be a day where you are faced with them both in person. Your thumb swipes across the screen, a small gesture that is full of longing while your heart beats in time with your rapid thoughts, and you finally respond.

fallingstarwishes: handle that and then get some sleep. i’ll be around tonight and hope we can spend some time together. sweet dreams gen ♥️

His fist works up and down his shaft and he reads the message with a satisfied half smile, discarding his phone to focus on how good he feels imagining bouncing you up and down on his cock. He’s powerful and strong, more than you could even imagine, and he’d make quick work of you if he were to have his hands on you.

God, he needs his hands on you. He whimpers and shuts his eyes tightly, the slick sound of his motions bouncing off of the clutter and boxes in his room that he’ll eventually get to clearing out. It doesn’t ever take him long when he pictures you, his balls tightening, threatening to spill across his fingers in damn near record time compared to how long he likes to make himself wait when the two of you are doing this together.

But don’t worry, when he finishes, he’ll make sure that you see his pearly release all over his knuckles with a message promising he’ll have sweet dreams because you will be in them.

#kendall writes #narumi gen x reader #narumi x reader #kn8 x reader

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